#when shes starts having the bug problems again hes in her house making sure she doesnt leave out the window

[abimee]

im so sorry if you dont like that long post about chefant and ruyan wait until i tell you about whatever is going on with hades and althaea

[xxchumanixx]

No problem ma dear. I'm sure you're going to make the absolute freaking best our of my request. Happy to hear that you are going to make a story out of it 🥹♥️

Restoring faith

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tag: fluff, language, comfort, angst, hurt, readers ex was abusive, grumpy Tim (yes, he's a warning), not entirely proof read yet Word count: 5.933 Authors note: Hello love, thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun writing it, and again, I'm sorry for losing the original request (but, tell you what, I managed to get the request at least copied and pasted, because I hadn't closed tumblr on my laptop yesterday and it was still there (even though it was just a bug, but hey, i managed to copy the text)) Fun fact: My daughters name is gonna be Hailee one day (If I ever get a daughter). Also, I might have messed a little with the timeline (in terms of Celina appearing a little earlier) Here's the original request:

"I currently can't stop thinking about Tim Bradford so I came up with this grumpy Tim request, cause I need grumpy Tim becoming the protective sweet guy he is. Tim has a new neighbor, a single mom. Afraid that now his peace and quiet in his home will be over, he's convinced of the contrary when reader's little girl wrapped the grumpy neighbor around her little fingers.  

Reader wants to start a new life away from her abusive ex and so she moved states with her daughter. Tim instantly melts when the cute little girl gets bubbly when she sees Tim. 

In the meantime Tim has a suspicion why reader is a single mom, she flinches when there're loud noises or when he gets too close to her. One night she wanted to do something in her apartment and fell from the ladder hitting her head hard. Her daughter runs to Tim telling him her mommy is hurt. Reader has a bad concussion and at first doesn't recognize Tim thinking it's her ex hurting her. From that moment her secret is revealed and Tim swears to himself he's going to protect these two at all costs. Perhaps we can also see Tim nursing her back to health with her concussion 😱🙃🥹 "

Now, without further ado, enjoy!

"Hailee?"  

Rolling your eyes you sat the box in your hands down. Where did she go now? "Hailee?" you repeated louder, leaving the kitchen to go look for your daughter.  

Leaving the house you saw her at your car, with a stranger.  

"Hailee!" you called, as you suddenly panicked, running towards her. The stranger took a step back, holding up his hands.  

Stopping in front of your daughter, shielding her as you softly pushed her behind you, you looked up at the stranger.  

"Can I help you?" you asked, heart racing. 

Did he find you? But he was in jail - he shouldn't even know you moved states.  

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." the man returned, smiling slightly. "My name's Tim Bradford, I'm your neighbor. I saw that your daughter was alone and I just wanted to make sure she's okay."  

Eyes widening, you sighed in relief.  

"Sorry, I just-" you started, but cut yourself off. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N. We just moved here. Nice to meet you." He nodded, eyes wandering over the many boxes in and around your car. 

"Do you need help?" he asked, motioning at the boxes. "Oh..." you made, swallowing. "Yeah, some help would be nice, thank you." He smiled, a smile that caused you to return it.  

"Okay..." he mumbled, randomly picking one of the boxes and starting to walk towards the house. Picking up a box as well, you let Hailee walk in front of you, following Tim.  

He stood in the entryway, looking around. "Where do these boxes go?" he wanted to know. Reading what was written on the side of the box you motioned for the living room.  

He nodded, putting the box down.  

His eyes wandered over the numerous kids toys already scattered on the floor, cocking a brow.  

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you put your box down beside his.  

"She loves these toys, she's five." you explained, licking your bottom lip. He didn't seem too convinced of a five-year-old in his neighborhood, but you wouldn't let him judge early. 

Motioning outside, he walked out, picking up another box.  

"Hailee, honey, would you please stay here and wait for mommy and Tim to get the boxes inside?" you asked of her, motioning at the toys. She nodded, sitting down on a blanket and grabbing a few of her barbies.  

Nodding to yourself you walked outside, as Tim met you halfway, box in hand. 

It took an hour for you to bring all of the boxes inside, but when you were done you sighed in relief.  

"Thank you so much." you thanked Tim, handing him a beer. "I wish I could invite you for a dinner as a thanks, but my kitchen isn't ready for cooking yet, so more than takeout isn't possible for tonight." 

"Oh, don't worry, me and my girlfriend are going out for dinner tonight." he responded, smiling as he sipped his beer. 

His girlfriend. 

Damn, you should have known that a man this handsome would be in a relationship. 

Keeping a straight face, you nodded. "Well then, even better." you told him, smiling.  

When he was gone you and your daughter decided what to eat. "What about chicken nuggets?" you asked, watching her, as she drew flowers. 

"And fries?" Her eyes lit up, as she looked at you, hopefully. "Fries and nuggets for the lady it is, then." you told her, smiling. She cheered, eating a blueberry, before she continued drawing. 

_____ 

It had been a month, since you and Hailee moved into the house.  

The boxes had been unpacked and the house looked finished. You had seen Tim a few times, had talked to him and met his girlfriend Ashley.  

She seemed nice. 

Your new job had already begun, and Hailee was at the kindergarden. It seemed all good, letting you breathe more freely, since you moved states.  

Tim seemed hesitant whenever Hailee was near, like he was afraid she could disturb his peace, the quietness that convinced you to move to this street. 

You had just been grocery shopping, Hailee was playing with a stuffed animal you had bought for her, whilst you were unloading the car, when Tims truck parked in his driveway. 

He got out, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, as he saw you. Coming over, he greeted you. "Hey." you gave back, heart pumping a little faster. 

Even though he was in a relationship, that didn't mean that he wasn't handsome.  

His eyes briefly wandered to Hailee, who was playing with the stuffed animal, making sounds to emphasize it. He bit his cheek, not seeming convinced that she wouldn't start shouting any second. 

Clearing your throat you averted his attention back to you. "How is Ashley?" you asked, smiling. He stiffened, biting his cheek, but he tried to cover it up. "Oh, she's doing great." he lied, wearing a tight lipped smile. 

Biting your lip, you nodded. You weren't bad at profiling people, but you could've still been wrong about it. 

"How was work?" he wanted to know, adjusting his backpack. "Oh, it was great." you told him, nodding with a smile. "The coworkers are very nice, I think I'll stay."  

He nodded, and you made a little more smalltalk, before you realized that you had groceries that needed to be cooled.  

Apologizing, you said goodbye, before you and Hailee went inside. You looked back over your shoulder, seeing as he did the same. He waved goodbye, and you did the same, before closing the door. 

"Mommy?" Hailee asked, sitting down on the couch as you began to unpack the paperbags. You hummed, signalling for her to continue. "Why did Tim lie to you?"  

Eyes widening, you halted for a second, before you continued to pack the grocieries into the fridge. 

"What makes you think that he lied?" you wanted to know, surprised about her even noticing. "He..." she paused, searching for the right words. "He seemed like he didn't like your question."  

Huffing to yourself, you smiled. She clearly came after you. 

"You know, honey, sometimes people don't like to talk about their private life." you told her, continuing to unpack some fruits. "If he doesn't want to talk about breaking up with his girlfriend, than that's okay." 

"But mommy, you told me not to lie." she gave back, brows furrowing. "Lying is bad."  

You nodded, walking over to her with a small juice box with a tiger on it. Handing her the box, you sat down beside her. "That's right." you agreed, as she took the box and opened it. "But some things are private. And maybe he's just too hurt right now, to talk about it." 

Drinking the juice, she nodded. "Okay." she spoke, after putting the juice down on the coffee table. "Can I have some cookies?" Laughing, you shook your head. "No, honey, we'll cook now - cookies later." 

_____ 

The next day was your day off. Hailee stayed at home as well, so you could spend some time with her.  

You were baking, Hailee helping with the batter. Going through the list of things you needed for the batter, you noticed, that you didn't buy milk. 

"Damn it." you mumbled, biting your lip. "Dam-" Hailee wanted to mimick you, but you shut her up, your hand over her mouth as you sent her a pointed look. 

She grinned, causing you to shake your head, a smile on your lips, as you let go of her.  

You had real luck with her. She was a calm kid, one that wasn't stubborn or petulant - only in the right ways.  

Not like her father. 

Contemplating where to get milk from without driving to the next store, you bit your lip. 

You could go to Tim and ask him. 

"Hailee, what do you say if we ask Tim for some milk?" you asked your daughter, whose eyes lit up at the mention of him. She seemed to have grown a liking to him. 

"Okay." you mumbled, helping her down from the kitchen aisle. She ran forward and to the front door, before you stopped her. "Do you really want to go to Tim with your Frozen slippers?" you asked, cocking a brow. 

She blushed, giggling. "Do you think he likes Elsa, too?" she wanted to know, eyes sparkling. Chuckling, you kneeled down to help her into her boots.  

"I bet he loves her, just as much as you do." you told her, smiling. Giggling again, she slipped into the boots, the little lights on them flashing in multiple colors.  

Opening the door, she ran foward. Luckily Tims house was next to yours, so you didn't have to worry about her running out on the street.  

Picking her up, you helped her to ring the doorbell. It took a few seconds, in which you sat her down again, for Tim to open the door. 

His eyes widened slightly, as he saw you. "Hi." you greeted, blushing a little. "Hey." he returned, eyes narrowing. "We're sorry to interrupt, but we wanted to bake and I forgot to buy milk." you explained, sending him a crooked smile, as you wrung your hands nervously.  

"Do you happen to have some spare, that we can borrow?" His brows rose, one corner of his mouth turning upwards. "Borrow?"  

Biting your lip, you chuckled. "Yeah, with the intention to buy a new one." you explained. He huffed in amusement, before he nodded. "Sure, just give me a second." he told you, before he disappeared back into the house. 

A few seconds later, he returned, handing you the milk. You shrinked back, flinching, before you reminded yourself that he didn't want to cause you any harm. 

His mouth slightly opened, as his arm sank down a little, brows furrowing. Taking the milk from him, you breathed in deeply, trying to cover your reaction up. "Thank you." you nodded, forcing yourself to smile. "I'm gonna go grocery shopping tomorrow, then I'll get you a new one." 

He nodded as well, still a little confused from your reaction.  

When he was about to say goodbye, Hailee spoke up, holding up the new stuffed animal. "This is mr. Bubbles." she told him. You hadn't noticed her bringing it along.  

It was an elefant in the shape of a teacup. She had instantly loved it, after discovering it at the kids section.  

Tim looked at you, like he was looking for help. Motioning at your daughter with your head, you smiled a little. He looked down at her, inspecting the toy.  

"Cool." he told her, forcing himself to smile. "Looks... interesting." She giggled, not noticing his discomfort. But you did. Swallowing, your hand found her back. "Say bye to Tim." you told her. "Bye Tim!" she shouted, already running towards your front door.  

Clearing your throat, you nodded at him. "See you." He nodded in return. "Yeah, see you." 

Sighing on your way back, you swallowed.  

He clearly wasn't fond of the idea of a child next door.  

_____ 

When the pie and muffins were done, you sighed. 

Your kitchen looked like shit. 

Starting to clean up, your daughter came up to you, chewing on a muffin. "Do you think Tim would like some muffins?" she wanted to know, batting her lashes. 

Licking your lip, you knew exactly what she tried to do.  

But the amount of muffins you had baked, convinced you to say yes - right after her hopeful eyes. 

Nodding, you started to pack some muffins into a box. "I bet he'll like a few muffins." you agreed, smiling encouragingly down at her. She jumped in excitement, waiting for you to put the muffins into the box. 

"Do you want to give him the muffins?" you asked your daughter. She nodded, smiling brightly, as you handed her the box. 

Humming to herself she walked to the front door, slipping into her boots, as she patiently waited for you to follow. 

When you were both ready, you left the house, walking over to Tims. Ringing the doorbell, you waited for him. When he opened the door, Hailee was the first to speak.  

"Hi Tim, I have muffins for you!" 

His brows rose, mouth agape. Swallowing, he licked his lips, crouching down to get a better look at the box in Hailee's hands.  

You were surprised that he did so, after he was so hesitant towards her before.  

"We want to cheer you up!" Hailee told him, smiling brightly. Tims gaze wandered towards you, brow cocked in a silent question, but Hailee was faster than you. 

"Mommy said that you broke up with your girlfriend." she explained, causing his eyes to harden. Your mouth opened, but you kept silent. "When I'm said, I ask my mommy to have some sweets. So I thought, you could use some as well, so you wouldn't be sad anymore."  

He nodded slowly, biting on the inside of his lip. 

God damn it. Kids and their fast mouths. 

"Thank you, Hailee." he told her, smiling at her, as he took the box from her hands. Then he stood back up, gaze fixed on you. "Listen-" you started, but he cut you off. "Thanks for the muffins." he told you, before he went back inside his house, closing the door. 

"Mommy?" Hailee tried to gather your attention, tugging at your sleeve as your gaze was glued to the door. "Did I do something wrong?"  

Looking at your daughter, you knelt in front of her. "No, honey, you did nothing wrong." you told her, stroking her arms lovingly. "He just didn't know, that we know about him breaking up with Ashley."  

Her eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry!" she apologized, eyes watering. Hugging her, you stroked her back. "Don't be, precious. It's all fine." "Is he angry with me now?" she cried, causing your heart to ache.  

The last time she said these words, her father had yelled at her for letting a cup of water drop to the floor.  

It was the last time she had seen him. 

Sighing to yourself, you picked her up. One of the curtains moved, as you walked past them and back to your house.  

Did he see Hailee cry?  

Shaking your head, you stepped inside, closing the door, before setting Hailee down to remove her shoes.  

"Are you angry at me?"  

Your brows furrowed at her question, as you shook your head. "No!" you told her, brushing some hair out of her face. "I'm not angry at you, honey. You did nothing wrong. But, next time, I would be grateful if something like this stays between us, okay? I'm not angry, Hailee."  

She looked up at you with big, round eyes, sticking out her pinky towards you. "Pinky promise?" she asked and you nodded, as your pinky curled around hers. "Pinky promise." 

_____ 

A few days later, the box you had brought Tim sat on your porch, cleaned and emptied.  

Hailee was at the kindergarden, as you came home. Your work ended earliy, so you had some spare time until you had to pick her up. 

Taking the box, you wanted to open the door, as someone cleared their throat behind you. You flinched, instantly trying to shield yourself, as you turned around. 

It was Tim. 

Letting go of the breath you had held in, your heart hammered in your chest.  

"Hi." you said out of breath, as his brows furrowed in worry. "Are you okay?" he asked, licking his bottom lip. Nodding, you adjusted your bag, as it slid down your shoulder.  

"Everythings fine." you assured him, swallowing. "Just easy to startle, thats all." He nodded, before he cleared his throat. "Listen, I appreciate the muffins - I really do -, but my love life is something I'd like to keep private." he explained. "Yes, Ashley and I broke up, but thats my business, not yours." 

Your cheeks reddened, growing hot.  

"I'm sorry." you apologized, fumbling with the strap of your bag. "My daughter - she was just curious, she thought that you might have not been honest when I asked about Ashley. I know that its not my business, really. I just told her that you might not want to talk about it, and that she shouldn't worry about it. I didn't think much of it."  

He took a deep breath and you flinched again - you just couldn't help it.  

"Is really everything okay?" he asked. You knew it wasn't what he initially wanted to say. "Mhm." you made, biting your lip. He didn't seem convinced, but he didn't press further. 

"Its okay, I just wanted to make clear that its my business." he spoke instead, sending you a crooked smile that was surely meant to lighten the mood a little.  

Nodding, you agreed. "Yeah, I totally get that. Won't happen again." He nodded as well, a light smile gracing his lips. "Okay, thanks for the muffins again." he said, taking a few steps backwards. "They were great." With that he turned, walking to his truck. 

Only then did you notice the backpack resting on his back, indicating that he was off to work. You didn't know what he worked as, but it seemed to be in shifts. 

Getting inside, you breathed in deeply. 

He seemed reserved, but he was nice enough.  

_____ 

A week later, you and Hailee were at a BBQ hosted by one of your neighbors. You couldn't help but look out for Tim, waiting for him to appear.  

The atmosphere was nice, the people were all friendly and open. Hailee was playing with a few kids around her age, as you were sipping some coke.  

The food was almost ready and you slowly lost hope that he'd still come. 

The fire crackled, heating up, as it suddenly banged, something inside it most likely having caused a reaction. 

You flinched, shrinking together almost unnoticably, as you frantically looked for Hailee. Finding her, still playing chase with the other kids, you breathed a sigh of relief, slowly calming down. 

But, as one of your neighbors - Jeff - pushed another - Henry -, they started to fight. Walking over to Hailee, taking her by the hand, you made sure to be out of harms way, as the men punched at each other. 

When no one was able to stop them, Monica, the wife of Henry, called the police. 

It took them only a few minutes, in which Henry knocked Jeff out, to arrive. When they entered the garden, you couldn't believe, who it was. 

Tim. 

"Mommy!" Hailee whisper-yelled. "Its Tim!" You nodded, somehow flooded with relief. He was a cop. He was one of the safest neighbors you could have. 

Tim and the other officer, a young woman, took a few statements, as you others waited. When they were done, Hailee let go of your hand and before you could have stopped her, she was on her way towards Tim. 

You followed her, sighing. 

"Hi Tim!" she greeted him, smiling up at him. He blinked a few times in confusion, before he smiled, kneeling down in front of her. "Hey Hailee." he greeted her, before his eyes landed on you.  

"Hi, sorry for that." you apologized, blushing. "I couldn't stop her. I think she's excited that you're a cop." He smiled, huffing quietly. "Don't worry." he told you, as you greeted the other officer - officer Chen.  

"It was all fine, until that douchebag-" you cut yourself off, as you squinted your eyes. "Until Jeff pushed Henry." you corrected yourself, sending Hailee a warning look not to repeat what you accidentally said. 

"Don't worry, we have them under control now." officer Chen told you, smiling slightly at Hailee, who seemed far more excited to see a cop, than some others would have been. 

You nodded, thanking her, as Hailee started to ask Tim questions about the various things clipped to his belt. He chuckled at her curiosity, explaining what the things were. 

You huffed to yourself, a little confused.  

She seemed to have him wrapped around her little fingers, after all.

That would surely get interesting. 

_____ 

A few days had passed since the BBQ, leaving you to think more and more about Seargent Bradford.  

You had learned that he was a Sergeant, working for the LAPD. That explained the shifts.  

You were currently trying to fix a light that bothered you for quite some time now. Sometimes, it would work, sometimes not. 

Even though you were afraid of heights, you had climbed up the old ladder that you found in your basement, having your fingers crossed that it wouldn't shatter under your weight. 

Hailee was sat in the living room, playing with her dolls, as you tried to reach the lightbulb. Taking a shaky breath, you stretched a little further, as you suddenly slipped. 

Losing your balance you fell, your head hitting the ground rather hard. Your sight blurred, as you heard your daughter call out for you.  

She seemed to panic and you wanted to tell her that you would be alright, but you couldn't, as suddenly, the lights went out. 

"Tim!" Hailee called, crying as she frantically kocked on his door. "Tim!"  

The door opened, revealing Tim who looked down at the little girl with worry in his eyes, it only intensifying at her tear stained face. 

"Whats wrong?" he wanted to know, crouching down. "M-My mommy!" she called out, sobbing. "Its my mommy!"  

As fast as he could he picked her up, running towards the open front door of her house. Cursing at himself for not bringing his weapon, he slowly inched forward and into the living room, where her mother lay unconcious.  

"Fuck!" he breathed out, setting Hailee down and calling an ambulance, before he approached her mother. 

"Y/N?" you heard someone call out your name, luring you back into conciousness. "Y/N!"  

Your eyes slowly opened, trying to make sense of the blur you saw. "Hey, what happened?" the person who called out your name wanted to know. Its silhouette came into view and your eyes widened, as you sat up and inched backwards. 

"No, no, no, no!" you breathed out, as the person followed you, before your back hit the wall. "No!" you shouted, as he wanted to grab you, shielding your face with your hands. 

"Why are you here?" you wanted to know, as tears made their way out of your eyes. "You should be in jail, Robert!"  

He halted, you could sense it. "What?" he said, sounding confused. "Who's Robert?" He must have been messing with you, after all you were sure it was him you were seeing. 

"Go away!" you yelled, crying as your thoughts were with your daughter. "Where is Hailee?" "She's here, sitting on the couch." he told you, crouching down in front of you, as he carefully grabbed your hands, removing them from your face.  

"It's me, Tim." he explained, as your view slowly got clearer. "What?" you breathed, searching his face for any indication that it wasn't Tim. But you found none. 

"What happened?" you wanted to know, as you heard sirens. "Hailee came over, calling out for me." he explained, swallowing, as his gaze never left yours. "She said it's her mommy, so I grabbed her and went looking. You were unconscious. I assume you fell down the ladder?"  

Looking over at the ladder, you flinched. Your head exploded. 

"Don't move your head too much." he advised, as paramedics entered the room. "You might have a concussion." 

The paramedics asked what happened and Tim explained, saying that you were unconscious when he found you, that you had fallen off the ladder.  

They put you on a stretcher, securing your head and neck.  

"Wait," you told them, eyes widening. "What about my daughter?" The paramedics looked at each other, as Tim spoke up. "We'll drive after you to the hospital." he assured you. "Okay, thank you." 

He nodded, before you were brought to the ambulance. 

_____

Once you were checked, the doctor, Dr. Sierra, told you the results.

"You have a concussion, miss Y/L/N." she said, reading through the papers she held in hand. Tim and Hailee were at your side, your daughter sitting on your bed.

"We made a scan to see if you have other injuries and requested the data from the hospital in Ohio, which you used to visit rather often, as I see." the doctor continiued, and you swallowed.

Your cheeks got warmer, as she closed the chart.

"There were multiple traumata, broken bones and other injuries." she explained what you already knew. Glancing at Tim she sent you a silent question, but you shook your head.

"No, he's in jail." you explained quietly, fumbling with the bedsheet. The doctor nodded, seemingly relieved.

"You can go in the morning, if your condition stays good." she explained, before she bid you goodbye.

The room grew silent, the only noise being the bedsheets you fisted rather aggressively.

You sensed that Tim had questions; he wanted to know what happened and more importantly, why you were so scared of him at first.

Sighing, you contemplated where your daughter was supposed to stay the night. She couldn't sleep at the hospital, they wouldn't allow it.

Swallowing, you looked at Tim.

"Can I ask you something?" you wanted to know quietly, brushing through your daughters hair absentmindedly. "Sure." he gave back, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"You don't have to say yes of course..." you started, looking away for a split second. "But, can Hailee stay at your place tonight?" You prayed he would say yes, otherwise you didn't know where else she could stay at.

He nodded, as he bit his cheek.

"Of course." he said. "Where else should she go, when she could cuddle with Kojo?" He smiled, one that made your heart flutter despite the headache that was killing you.

"Thank you, Tim." you returned sincerely, smiling back through the pain. He nodded, before he brushed over his chin, thinking about something. You patiently waited for him, as Hailee played a game on your phone.

It wasn't the best way to keep her occupied, but right now it had to do, especially if it meant she was distracted enough to not listen to you two.

"I don't know what happened back then, but maybe you want to talk to me about it tomorrow?" he offered, sincerity in his eyes. "Or whenever you feel ready."

He was right. He deserved to know.

You nodded, flinching at the pain that shot through your head at the movement. He nodded in return, before he stood. "Hailee, what do you think about ice cream and nuggets?" he wanted to know, looking down at her.

She looked at you, unsure, but you smiled at her.

"Go with Tim, honey." you told her, hugging her. "He'll look after you tonight, whilst mommy stays at the hospital. You can trust him."

She nodded, kissing your cheek and you did the same. "I love you, buttercup." you told her, causing her to smile. "I love you too, mommy."

Tim picked her up, deciding to carry her to the car, as you handed him your keys.

"She's gonna sleep when you're at the car." you whispered, and he nodded, grinning. "I know." he mouthed back, before he said goodbye.

Your daughter waved over his shoulder at you, and you waved back, smiling at her.

_____

The next morning, Tim came with Hailee to pick you up.

Your daughter was excited, jumping into your arms after not having seen you for a couple hours. You hugged her tightly, making her giggle as you tickled her.

Tim smiled, he seemed to be in a good mood.

Not grumpy anymore.

The doctor had dismissed you earlier, right before Tim and Hailee arrived.

When you left the room, walking into the waiting area, you were greeted by two officers. "Sergeant Bradford." one of them greeted him, a man that seemed around his forties.

"Nolan." Tim returned, nodding at him, before he looked at the woman beside him. "Juarez." She nodded in return, greeting him as well, before her gaze landed on you and Hailee, eyes widening.

"Oh, is this your girlfriend?" she asked curiously, but still a little hesitant. Your mouth opened, eyes widening as well.

Why was it so hard for you to respond, suddenly?

Clearing his throat, Tim looked at you, before he looked back at officer Juarez. "No, but she's a friend." he told her. "What are you doing here?"

Officer Nolan seemed hesitant, before he answered Tims question. "We have arrested a robber, but he fell, and we just wanted to make sure, that he's okay, before we bring him in."

Tim nodded, but you were sure there was more behind the story.

He motioned towards the exit, and you nodded. "Was nice to meet you." you told the officers, before you followed Tim out of the hospital and towards his truck.

When you arrived home, you weren't sure how to thank Tim for looking after Hailee, whilst you were at the hospital. Should you invite him for dinner?

Getting out of the truck, you helped Hailee to get out as well. Your head still hurt a little, but it was already better than hours ago, thanks to the painkillers they gave you at the hospital.

"I have a few days off from work, so I can help you with a few things." Tim spoke up, when you and your daughter rounded the truck and came to a stop beside him.

Mouth agape, you looked at him in shock.

"You don't need to do that." you told him, still grateful, but he shook his head. "I want to. Your concussion isn't gone after a day, and you need to rest or otherwise it could get even worse."

Biting your lip, you nodded carefully.

"Thank you, Tim" you gave back. "I really mean it." He smiled slightly, walking towards your front door and you followed him with Hailee by your side.

"You can thank me by getting well."

_____

A few days had gone by, in which Tim had helped you with a few things. He played with Hailee, so you could take a nap or a bath, or would help to cook, so you wouldn't overstrain yourself.

He was different than before.

His grumpiness was all gone, replaced by a person as sweet as the muffins you and Hailee had baked together.

You weren't sure how he got to take these days off from work, but you were grateful for it. One time he was called to the station, because of an emergency that had occurred, but he came straight back afterwards.

You had gotten to learn a few things about him during the days you had spent together, about his past and the things he had seen in his life.

Deciding to make pizza, you made the dough with him helping you, kneading it with his big and strong hands.

Hailee had fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from playing with him. She only had fallen more for him during the last few days. She really liked him, and so did you, you had to admit.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tim asked, looking up from the dough.

You knew what he meant, still you had a lump in your throat at the thought of it. Biting your lip, you nodded. He deserved to know, if not for saving you, then for his help during the last couple days.

"I married rather young." you began, licking your lip, as you wiped your hands on a towel. "I was dumb and naive, not having seen the obvious warning signs that came with Robert."

He nodded, as his suspicions about the name you had called him, after you hit your head, were proved true.

"He was abusive." you continued, eyes watering as you bit your lip to stop the tears that threatened to spill. "Even when I was pregnant with Hailee he didn't stop. He took drugs, drank a lot. He used me as his very own punching bag, letting out his anger on me."

You breathed in deeply, leaning against the kitchen counter, as he continued to knead the dough, still listening.

"Half a year ago, he got arrested. He sold drugs, but the cops caught him. When he was finally gone, I made sure to get the divorce through as fast as possible, before we moved here. He'll be in jail for twelve years."

His brows furrowed, as he paused.

"For selling drugs?" he asked, confused. Shaking your head, you swallowed. "Homicide." you breathed, clearing your throat as your eyes filled with tears again. "After he got arrested, they found out that he had killed someone only a few days prior. He was able to make a deal."

He sighed, nodding as it made sense now.

"That's why you flinch, when there's loud noise or when someone gets too close." he concluded, setting the dough aside, wiping his hands clean on a towel.

You nodded, looking away for a split second, before you reminded yourself that you could trust him, looking back up.

"It's something I adapted after all these years with him."

You covered the dough up, so it could rise. It felt good, talking about it with him. Tim cleaned the countertop, before he put the cloth in the sink, drying his hands.

"Now you're safe." he told you, his eyes finding yours. "I promise. I'm gonna protect you and Hailee, as long as you let me." You nodded, cheeks heating up. You already felt safer than you had during the last years, all because of his presence.

“You have some flour on your cheek.” he told you, motioning towards it. You tried to remove it, but he shook his head. “Let me.” he mumbled, his thumb softly brushing over your cheek, removing the flour.

For the first time in years, you didn’t flinch at the contact. 

His thumb rested on your cheek, as his breath fanned over your face, causing your heart to race dangerously fast. Slowly, he leaned closer, your noses brushing as you did the same. 

Your lips softly made contact, his slowly moving against yours. You leaned more in his direction, deepening the kiss. His lips felt perfect, like they had been made to be kissed by yours.

His hands found their way to your hips, tugging you closer, as yours rested on his muscular chest. You knew that it was muscular, because you could feel it through the shirt he wore.

He softly guided your head back with his lips, deepening the kiss even more. His tongue brushed over your lip, asking for entrance.

You gladly granted it.

The kiss was soft, not demanding. His tongue brushed yours, fingers lightly digging into your hips.

Your hands went upwards, one finding his cheek, as the other stopped at his neck.

Only when you almost suffocated, did you break the kiss. It definitely was worth it.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, his gaze finding yours. "What do you say," he started, hand resting on your cheek, sending a warmth through your body, that you hadn't felt in years. "if we go out for dinner?"

You smiled up at him, having a hard time to believe the luck you had. How could someone this perfect be interested in you?

"I'd love to go out for dinner with you, Tim." you told him, causing him to smile as well, before his lips connected with yours again.

It felt like he filled you with energy through his kisses. They caused something inside you to come alive again, only tearing apart as you suddenly heard your daughter behind you.

"Ew, mommy!"

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 5/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader (Enemies to Lovers) (Fake Marriage Trope)

A/N: I think we are staying on track for this to wrap up within two more chapters, but again, we are both in the dark if that's the case😂 Thank you guys for the love! If you are wanting to be tagged, please send me an ask. It's a lot easier for me to keep track of who's been added and who hasn't :)

_________

Y/N’s POV:

Okay, so maybe I blew up a little more than necessary, but I tried to chill out before he started chasing me, ordering that I didn’t walk away and talk to him. Let a girl try to get a hold of her emotions for a second big guy.

I’ve been anxious all day, waiting to talk to him about some deep seeded trauma, and then he comes and screws up all of it with a simple exception to an invitation. I know he didn’t mean harm by it, but he’s a trained professional. That was not a trained professional response. Plus, stepping out of my normal routine of being a bitch to him to keep him at a distance wasn’t just a switch I could flip.

Again, I could have handled that better, but now my brain is in mission mode, trying to reprogram what this night has set up for us. Considering the invitation was for tonight, it gave me little to no time to prepare.

“What time did she say dinner was?” I shouted from my bedroom, where I was going through our small, hidden arsenal of gadgets Tony had made for us.

“Six,” Bucky replied from his room down the hall.

Great, that was forty-five minutes from now… “Ok, I can do this.” Deciding it was best to keep some bugs on hand in case we could plant them in the house, and we would be planting them, I needed to consider sizes and placements.

“Should we bring over some wine or something?” Bucky’s voice was now in the doorway to my room, but I kept my back to him as I sifted through our tools.

“I made a pie earlier today. We can take that,” I answered absentmindedly.

“Why’d you make a pie?”

“Felt like it,” I shrugged and walked out of the closet with three small wires/ bugs in hand. When I looked up, I saw he had changed into a nicer button-up and was tightening a tie around his collar he hadn't been wearing earlier. “Why are you wearing a tie?” I examined him.

“Same reason you’re wearing a nicer dress. I want to make a good impression,” he shrugged, straightening pieces of his outfit.

“I’m wearing this because we were going to our ‘anniversary dinner,’” I made sure to put the lie in hand quotes. “I had a story that went with it, but this can pass as casual, too,” I motioned to my dress and moved toward him, placing the wires on the bed. “This looks like you’re about to give a sales pitch.”

Without thinking, I pop his collar up and loosen the tie to get rid of it. The whole time I’m focusing on untying it, I ramble about what the plan is for the night.

“I’m going to give you a wire to put wherever you see fit, and I’ll do the other two. I’ll excuse myself to use the bathroom and sneak it where it’s needed. I feel it’s important we look for cameras already in the house in case it’s a setup. We don’t need them having hard proof that we bugged their place. We want to come off as simple yet good assets if we want them to bring us on board for their work,” I struggle with a certain spot on the tie he somehow fixed in an efficient way I’d never seen. “Jesus, were you a sailor in another life? Might as well have knotted it.”

He doesn’t respond, but I get it off in the next two seconds and look at him to see he had been studying me intently as I invaded his space. I see my slip-up, push the tie into his chest, and take a step back.

“Sorry.”

“No problem,” he answers rather calmly, and I look at his eyes, seeing patience there. Always that damn patience. How did he still have it with me even with how I’ve treated him? “Listen-”

“About last night,” I say at the same time, and he seems shocked but gives a single nod to tell me to continue. “I want to say I’m sorry for being all over the place recently. From last night to thirty minutes ago.”

He seems frozen by my apology, and I became anxious enough that I start to word vomit.

“I took some time to think after last night and spent the day stressing, thinking how I was going to talk to you about it because I do want to. I want to get what I can out on the table if you’d be ok with that,” I look up through my lashes, and I see the most subtle turn of his lip as he watches me attentively.

“Are you hinting that there’s a chance I’ll get to see the side of you others are lucky enough to see?” he retorts, grin growing and taking a step closer to me.

His use of the word ‘lucky’ shortcircuits my brain, and all I can do is nod once, slowly, as my answer. He takes another step, and I match it with one back. I feel more vulnrable than I was expecting to.

“You can understand now why having our plans for the night changed made me slightly temperamental.”

“I think slightly may be an understatement.”

“I think you still should choose your words carefully,” I say, tightening my smile. However, it doesn’t shut him down like normal. Instead, he laughs under his breath, and the doorbell rings.

Both of our heads shoot toward the noise, and solemnity takes over the room.

“You don’t think that’s,” Bucky pauses as he turns back to me.

“How often am I wrong?” I take a deep breath in and smooth my dress out as I walk over, pausing beside him. “Hide the wires. I already did a sweep of the house while you were getting ready to make sure we didn’t have anything out of place. I’ll tell them you’re getting ready.”

I don’t need to open the door to know who it is, but when I do, the urge to yell, “I told you so!” in Bucky’s face is strong.

“Bethanne!” I smile kindly and immediately notice the dish in her hand. Reggie is behind her, holding two others, looking like he just got off work and had been dragged over here. “Did Beau tell me wrong? Are we not eating at y’all’s house tonight?”

She scrunches her face in a practiced motion and lifts the ceramic bowl up as she explains.

“I hate to ask this of you, but our oven is still the old rickety one. The new one had some faulty design, and we had to ship it back. Needless to say, it decided to give out on us today of all days,” she raised her shoulders. “I know we sprung the dinner on you suddenly, but would you two be willing to host if we provide the food?”

Not on the money of what I guessed, but pretty fucking close to the money if you ask me.

“Who is it, Doll?” Bucky’s voice carries from the hallway he’s now emerging from. The first three buttons on his dress shirt are undone, and he’s messing with the cuffs on the sleeves. “Hey, Bauers,” he smiles yet still holds shock in his features by the neighbor's appearance. “Did we get the time wrong?” he asks, looking at his watch before coming to my side, where I've now moved and am letting themselves in.

“No, no, no,” Bethanne shakes her head and hands off one of the pots to me as she takes one from Reggie, who looks more bothered to be here than happy. Long day human trafficking, asshole? “We had some appliance issues thanks to some of the renovations we were doing. I was just asking your wife if we can use your house as tonight's setting and possibly use your oven while here.”

Without hesitance, Bucky takes the dish from my hands and the dish Bethanne had swapped for and nods for Reggie to follow him.

“No problem at all. Let me help you ladies with that. Char," A nickname he had never used for my character before, but it seemed to work fluently. "Would you like to get some wine for the two of you while I get this organized in the kitchen?” he asks me, placing a kiss on the side of my head while his hands are full as he walks towards the other room.

I don’t know how he’s learned to play his role so well, but it’s convincing, even to me.

“Uh, yeah,” I almost stutter in my response as I motion for Bethanne to follow me to the wine cooler out in the garage. “Red or white with tonight's dish?”

"Do you have any more husbands like that in the back I can steal? What a gentleman," she coos, shoulder-bumping me.

___________

Half an hour of baking the food and getting it plated, and our conversation continued with questions mostly strictly about us, which would have been fine if not for the reason behind such invasive intentions.

They started off simple. How’d you guys meet? Who made the first move? What did we love about the town so far? What kind of hobbies and adventures did we take on before moving here? All questions we had prepared for, and if not, could easily improvise.

So far. No slip-ups. If anything, we sold the scheme far better than I’d imagined we would even when they became more personal. And our discussion on being the ‘prude couple’ last night seemed to affect Bucky’s actions a lot more than I was expecting.

An obvious hand on my thigh under the table and an arm thrown over my seat in a slightly possessive manner seemed to catch the eye of Reggie, who mimicked some of the moves as if it were a competition.

In addition, Bucky kept making small compliments about how I looked and how smart I was when they asked about my job. Dropping little comments about things I did (not my character) that he loved and appreciated.

“She’s always doing things like that. I almost never have to worry about making coffee in the morning because she has it all set up just to hit a button and go.”

“You should ask Charlotte about that! She’s the reason our house looks like a home. I’m sure she could give some advice on the kitchen backsplash.”

“She may not know how to boil an egg correctly, but her baking skills are unmatched. I've put on a few pounds now that we have a nice kitchen to spend time in."

I did my best not to act shocked every time he dropped a compliment, but the fact he could have made shit up for my character and used those details as conversation pieces, yet he went the honest way (although more convincing, of course), shocked me.

“Speaking of baking skills,” Reggie nodded his head back to the kitchen counter behind us and smiled at me. “I spied a pie on the counter. Any chance we can have that to finish off this dinner?”

I was still staring at Bucky from his last form of appreciation when I blinked out of my distraction and returned to our neighbor.

“Oh, of course! I was just about to offer,” I smiled, standing up, and Bucky quickly stood next to me, pulling my chair out. “Thank you.” I smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm as I moved around to the counter.

“How sweet. Oh, Charlotte, would you mind telling me where the bathroom is?” Bethanne asked, standing and giving her husband a look for not showing the same chivalry as Bucky.

I watched her, knowing that I would have used the same excuse to do what we planned to at their house. But I was two steps ahead of her.

“Of course! Beau, do me a favor and get some plates out for dessert. I’m going to show Beth-”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find it,” she waved off, coming around the table and moving to the hall promptly.

Yeah… Not without a chauffeur, honey.

“No problem,” I waved off, moving with her casually. “I need to grab some floss from my bathroom before dessert. I’ll show you to it.”

I can see the most subtle glaze of annoyance at my insistence, but she smiles and walks a step ahead of me.

I show her to the bathroom and make it seem I’m going into the master down the hall while she’s in there. And I do, but I keep an eye to make sure she isn’t snooping in any other room besides the one. We’ll have to survey it after they leave, but better that and the dining room than the whole house.

Once we’re back with the boys, no wandering to be done, Bucky helps me plate a slice of chocolate pie for each of us, and I offer to move the conversation to the porch. Any kind of redirection from the comfort of the inside of our home is welcome.

“I love how you’ve decorated your porch. It’s so cozy,” Bethanne notices, pointing out the colorful decorative pillows, hanging swing the size of a daybed, and loads of plants and decor that make the space more intimate. She and Reggie are sat on the two rocking chairs facing the front yard, and Bucky and I are sat close together on the swing, where he’s controlling the tempo we sway in.

“I always wanted a spot outside to escape. We didn’t really have that at our last home, and it was important for me to have this time around,” I replied.

My answer is actually very true. I loved being outside, especially when it was something as simple as sitting in the backyard or swinging on a porch. I had one requirement about this mission, one I’m not even sure Bucky knew about. But I asked Tony to supply a nice budget for the porch.

Call it cheesy, but growing up in such an unnatural and dehumanizing way, you crave a small part of that normalcy you see on the movie screens. For some reason, a porch I could escape on but still be within the comfort of my own home was a dream. And because it was, I thought I’d make this situation a little more bearable by granting that small wish I always had.

“Well, I may have to start budgeting for a new kind of renovation,” she patted Reggie’s back, and he gave her a tight-lip smile. "What do you say, Reg? Do you think we can get a swing like that one?” She smiled over at us just as Bucky pulled me into his side, his arm going around my waist and his hand resting on my hip bone.

“I have a feeling we might as well have built a home from scratch by the time you’re happy with the renovations we’ve taken on,” Reggie answered with a nod before taking a swig from his beer. “Get that recipe for the pie from Charlotte, and I’ll consider buying you a new porch,” he winked my way and turned back to the front of our lawn.

I instantly found Bucky’s hand tightening, and his thumb started rubbing in an up-and-down pattern along my hip. When I turned to him slightly, his gaze stayed on Reggie.

Before finishing cleaning up for the night, we said goodbye to our guests, and just when we thought we hadn’t made any headway in our conversation about work (mind you, we had dropped hints and notices about it all night, but neither of the two seemed to take the bait), Reggie stopped on the last step to our porch and turned to Bucky.

“You mentioned working in transportation, and by the sounds of your new job up here, if you’re interested in a more innovative place, I may have some ins for you,” he shook Bucky’s hand. “I have some coworkers around the states that could use some employees like you on their route.”

“I may take you up on that offer. It all depends on how this week rolls out,” Bucky answered perfectly. The Bauers said their goodbyes, and we watched them walk home before turning to each other.

In a silent celebration, we grinned at the invitation and then sent wordless glances to tread carefully when we got in before scoping the place for bugs…

_______________

Bucky’s POV:

I’m not surprised that the blonde sole cycle instructor of a neighbor was able to get a wire in our bathroom, but neither Y/N nor I were in the mood to remove it right away and give away our knowledge of it, so we each grabbed another drink for the night and debriefed subtly on the porch where the only bugs we had to mind were the crickets chirping their music for the night.

Bethanne was right. Our porch was nicely done, and I hadn’t even noticed Y/N had hung lights out here until she plugged them in.

“I feel like this spot is more put together than the rest of the house.” I noticed the details when we were out here earlier. Now, we both have taken up spots in the rocking chairs our neighbors had vacated.

“I may have focused more of my attention on this spot than the others,” she smiled as she brought a tumbler glass up to her lips. She had drank wine while Bethanne was here, but as soon as they were gone, the whiskey I had made a glass for myself was stolen out of my hand before I could take a sip. Now, we had each of our own.

“Was what you said about the porch a real thing? I mean, we have balconies at the compound,” I looked at her as I sat my drink on the small table between us.

“Balconies and porches aren’t the same. At least in my head, they aren’t,” she nodded, taking a deep sigh and resting her glass in her lap. “Did you mean what you said when you were complimenting me all night?” She lulled her head to the side to look at me.

I had been making compliments. It felt easier to use the ones I had picked up on than the ones I made up. Yet again, I think anyone should get the recognition they deserve when they excel in something. Y/N just tended to excel in more than I think she was aware of. And I was learning she didn’t seem to be used to people taking note of those things.

“Why lie?” I shrugged, starting to rock in a steady pattern.

“Because that’s this whole gig. A lie,” she answered, taking another pull of the hard liquor.

I considered her perspective and shook my head, looking out to the lights on the other side of the street. “I guess it gets tiring at points. Don’t really feel like doing it if the truth can be just as usable.”

She didn’t answer for quite a few seconds, and when I turned back to her, she was staring at me like she was waiting for another shoe to drop.

“How are you so patient? Seriously, is it a drug Tony made you before you had to deal with me on this mission? I don’t get it,” she laughs, but I can hear the genuine confusion in it as she sits forward and turns her body to me.

Honesty. I’m in a mood to be 100% honest.

“Want me to be real with you?” I asked, turning my own body.

“It’d be preferred,” she nods and rests both her arms on the armrest.

“I don’t know anything about your past, but I know most people have a reason for acting the way they do. It took years and a ton of patience before I felt like I was even close to who I used to be. I still struggle to come to terms with the fact I’ll never be who I was before the train incident,” I sigh and rest my head back against the chair as I look at her. “I guess I have understanding more than patience. I understand that you have a history of your own that I don’t know, and I can’t blame you for a lot of the things you do.”

“But you should. I’m an asshole to you,” she says, and the admission is kinda nice to hear, even if it is sad.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you’d be willing to share why that is,” I reply calmly.

She tenses some and sits back in her chair, pulling her legs under her to sit crisscrossed, the chair rocking with her movement and her dress overflowing past her knees.

“I guess now is as good a time as ever…” She looked at me sidelong before finding comfort in the view in front of her instead. “I didn’t really have a chance to develop a personality of my own because of my time in this lifestyle,” she motions around her, “started as soon as I could walk. So I had no identity to fall back on since I had to find it after I escaped.”

I had questions, but I found it best just to listen. Clearly, what she was talking about wasn’t something she brought up lightly, and being an ear to listen was what she needed right now.

“I was left behind by whichever no-good parent gave me up, and Adonis Hummel took me as his own and decided he’d try to recreate the famous assassin, The Winter Solider, from birth practically.”

The name drop came quickly and struck home. I didn’t know her whole story, but I had enough imagination and experience to believe where she was going.

“Wait, Hummel?” I started because the name sounded familiar, but…

“He was a low-level scientist who worked for Hydra when they were still using you under Pierce. He thought he had the brains and resources to create his own version of you. A version that would be more undetectable as a woman and a version he could tweak however he wanted,” she rolled her shoulders. “Lucky for him, I didn’t have to be brainwashed since I knew nothing besides the life of abuse, experimentation, and a shit ton of conditioning... " 

"To clarify, I say that for context, not sympathy,” she straightened, and I could see her shifting back to her unbothered disposition, but the truth was shining through the cracks. She may not have wanted sympathy, but something about the vulnerability seemed to lighten the load on her shoulders.

“As for why I may have built a wall around you, an unhealthy and senile wall, I felt as though…” She gulped as if the next part was harder for her to say than the abuse of her past. “I felt as though you had been my competition my whole life, and a part of me, a young and in-need-of-therapy part of me, thought it was best to keep you as far away as possible and hold onto that anger instead of work through it. It felt easier than facing the fear that I didn’t actually equate to you in any way. So that’s another reason why I felt everything with you was to prove a point.” She lets out a short breath after using all the air in her lungs in one swift swoop.

I-

It’s a lot to take in…

She doesn’t move her head back towards me after her confession, and I can’t seem to break my stare from her.

“This is where you say something like, ‘Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m actually an asshole either way, so we can go on hating each other for completely understandable reasons!’ or I don’t know? Anything but silence would be preferred, though…”

Her hand is gripping the arm rest unconsciously like an anchor keeping her on earth.

On instinct, I reach across and pull her hand into mine, keeping my stare heavy, enticing her to look at me.

She closes her eyes at first and takes another short breath before turning.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel unworthy of being on the team.” I feel like I personally am the reason for her suffering, even if I had no correlation with her before I joined the team. "You are more than an asset to the team and are your own kind of weapon. It's incomparable."

“Ugh,” she sniffles and rubs an eye with the heel of her free hand as if to disguise a possible tear as allergies. “This would be so much easier if you were a piece of shit misogynistic asshole, but you're part of the few good ones out there. Steve, Sam, and Clint included, not Tony,” she noted.

I smiled, thinking about how I’d make a team like that even if she had me believe otherwise for so long.

“What I’m trying to get at, B, is you’re not the one I should be blaming for my past. You’re just as much a victim as I am, but I took the easy way out of making it more manageable for me, and I only made it harder for us both in the end. And for that,” she turned and stared into my eyes fully, the hand she held squeezing my own. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve an ounce of the kind of cruelness I tried to bury you in. You are the opposite of what they tried to make you, and you’re genuine in proving that to anyone who meets you. I've been envious of the strength you have, and I can say confidently that I deeply regret ever blaming you for that.”

I once again have to process yet another collection of words I’d never thought I hear. From her. Ever. A part of me believed this was a dream, but the part that Y/N had a grip on was practically pinching me into reality.

Without hesitating, I stood up, pulled her arm up with me, and yanked her into my body in a crushing hug.

She froze at first… The motion was quick and surprising, but slowly, she unhooked our hands, brought both of hers tightly around my waist, and laid into me. I rested my head on top of hers and pulled her shoulders in with my arms, wrapping both of my own tightly around her.

I wasn’t going to let go until she did, and by the looks of it… She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for calling my boyfriend babygirl

let me clarify upfront: my boyfriend has never expressed discomfort with this, and says he likes it, so it’s potentially a non-issue, but it’s still bugging me. this has been ongoing for a little over a month and i feel like i’m going nuts. forgive me if any of the language i use here isn’t correct, i don’t know how else to get the ideas across - feel free to correct me if i could be saying things more inclusively. sorry that this is rambly also. small nsfw warning (nothing too explicit)

i (22m) have been dating my boyfriend (19ftm) for a little over a year. i’m cis and he is trans. admittedly i’m not like… the most well versed in trans issues but i love him more than life itself so i really try to be respectful of him. he was bullied pretty severely in highschool, not just for being trans but his gender identity was no small part of it, and even though he’s not super dysphoric day to day he’s definitely got some boundaries about it. there are certain compliments he likes and some that upset him (he doesn’t enjoy being called pretty or cute, typically) and he’ll snap at people for referring to him with feminine names or titles like “sis” “girl” etc even if it’s done jokingly.

the thing is he’s rarely, if ever, done that with me? i call him pretty and cute all the time (because he is) and he’s always been fine with it. admittedly the first time i did it i didn’t know it was something that usually bugged him, but he’s never said anything to me about it. everytime i have he’s seemed happy. he’s very outspoken, i pretty firmly believe if it was a problem he’d say something about it - again, he has no issues being firm about this boundary with any of his other friends and family. i was doing this before we started dating, so after we started dating it sort of bled into pet names

again, it was never something i asked him about expressly, but at some point i started calling him, like… princess, babygirl, etc. i only ever do this in private, when its just us or when i’m pretty sure only he can hear me, for a few reasons. my boyfriend doesn’t really pass (entirely his choice. he doesn’t bind his chest and he doesn’t want any gender affirming surgeries or hrt - again, he’s not super dysphoric day to day, he only gets upset when it’s commented on and he can bounce back from it pretty quickly) and again, it seems like it’s always made him happy. at the risk of tmi, it especially seems to make him happy in the bedroom, which is another reason i avoid dropping these pet names in front of anyone else. it’s private and i don’t think it’s anyone else’s business.

so. to put this mildly. we went to a house party together recently and i got super smashed. it was a pretty big party so we were sticking by each other, and when you’re drunk and your partner is there… well, yeah. i was admittedly being pretty handsy. he didn’t tell me to knock it off or anything, he was reciprocating. at some point he started talking to his best friend from highschool (19mtf, i’ll call her Z) so i reigned myself in but i was definitely still drunk and horny and being clingy. i don’t know Z all that well - she and my boyfriend are very close but she can be pretty harsh, and i appreciate all she does for him so i like her, but we never talk unless he’s there. i’ve had maybe one one-on-one conversation with this woman ever.

they’re talking. i’m also there. i’m not trying to rush him but i definitely want to get home. the conversation lulls and i take the chance to ask my boyfriend if he wants to leave soon, and because i am aforementionedly drunk and horny i drop one of those earlier pet names. before he can respond to me, Z snaps at me. she says not to call him that and that i was being a creep - this alarms me and was kind of frustrating since i wasn’t even talking to her, and i recognize i’m not in a headspace to argue? with her? so i just tell my boyfriend to come find me when he wants to leave and i wander outside. he finds me about 5-10 minutes later and we head home.

it doesn’t get brought up again that night but a day or so later i text Z to ask her what she meant by me being a creep, because it was bugging me. she says that it’s obvious i’m fetishizing my boyfriend’s gender identity, that the fact i call him those things brings up major red flags, etc. i tell her that my boyfriend doesn’t have an issue with it. she says it doesn’t matter and asks me why i want to call him those names in the first place, and posits that maybe i don’t actually want to be dating a boy - that i just like the idea of dating a boy and actually want to be with a woman. i’m gay, so this is VERY out of pocket to me. i tell her my boyfriend is not a woman and end the conversation there, but it DOES stick with me. so, very belatedly, i ask my boyfriend what he thinks of all this. i adore him so much and i hate hate hate the idea i could’ve been treating him like that, even unintentionally. he says the pet names never bothered him and he’s never felt like that, and that he’s fine with me specifically doing it because he trusts me and knows i don’t see him as a girl.

so, whatever. she has a problem but me and my boyfriend don’t. i try to move on, but the next time i see her she asks if i’ve apologized/reflected at all. i tell her no, because my boyfriend said i have nothing to apologize for and it seems like a non-issue. she is now avoiding me, refuses to be in the same room as me, and will declare to anyone who asks that she doesn’t want to be near someone who fetishizes trans people and she doesn’t feel safe around me. my boyfriend tries to talk to her but she insists i need to apologize at the bare minimum, but to who? even if i did apologize to my boyfriend i wouldn’t mean it and he wouldn’t want it. Z is his long-time best friend, i can’t exactly go the rest of our relationship just avoiding her. so i have no damn idea where to go from here.

on some level, i worry she’s right? i honestly don’t know why i started calling him those things. i think it started as a joke but i just kept doing it when i noticed he seemed to like it. in hindsight that was maybe shitty of me, but i trust him to tell me when something i do is making him uncomfortable. it’s not like i can do that over, but if he ever told me to stop i would. it’s definitely true that if you saw my boyfriend on the street you’d probably assume he’s a woman, but i’ve never been attracted to anyone who actually identifies as a woman before. i’ve only ever liked men, and no matter what he looks like he is a man. this whole situation did make me think about how i think about him, and i’ve realized that, like… i want to have kids with him one day, and ideally i’d like him to carry them. ideally, but id never make him. if he decided tomorrow that he wanted to medically transition and go the whole nine yards i’d support him. he’s my whole world, i just want him to be happy. but does the fact i want him to carry children prove her right?

i’m just. confused. i feel like i’m running myself in circles. Z knew him in highschool so she was there when bullying over his gender was at his worse, so i get why she’s protective. she’s also trans herself so she undoubtedly understands this stuff better than me. but i’ve heard it’s normal for trans people to have complicated relationships with gender, so it’s normal to be okay with gendered language from some people and not others (like only letting close friends use certain pronouns for you). i figure it’s like that, but it’s not my gender so… i don’t know. should i just stop calling him those pet names altogether, even though i know at this point he enjoys them, to be safe? am i an asshole for calling him those things in the first place / would i be an asshole if i kept doing it?

What are these acronyms?

[zoeysdamn]

Bloodied petals - Xavier Thorpe x reader | Part.4

Summary: You remember memories of your childhood with Xavier, hoping to get some courage from it to talk things out with him. Wednesday starts to suspect something, and Principal Weems isn't happy with either of you.

Warnings: angst, mention of blood, underage drinking, swearing. IMPORTANT: the last part of the taglist had made my tumblr bug so hard so it didn't work, I'm sorry for those who hadn't received a notification while being tagged. If the problem continues for further parts, I'll consider deleting the taglist bc fuck I just lost 40 minutes re-editing this chapter 3 times before finally achieving to post it

[Masterlist] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3]

Xavier had been your first kiss. You doubted he remembered it but you definitely did. When your aunt had dropped you at the Thorpe manor for the first time, you were just turning 6 and had that funny haircut that almost hid your eyes. Your aunt Cordelia wasn’t so fond of this hairstyle, but things had been hard for you since your mom’s passing less than six months ago; taking care of the birdnest you were calling hair could wait for the situation to settle down. 

Aunt Cordelia had explained to you that you were going to live with a dear friend of hers for some time because she couldn’t take you with her to an upcoming witch congress on the other side of the world. Couldn’t or wouldn’t you didn’t know, to you the only thing that mattered was that you were going to a foreign place, and your mom wasn’t here anymore to comfort you. 

“You’ll be fine here,” had assured your aunt while your luggage was taken out of a car by the butler. 

“Can’t I come with you?” you had asked again with a wobbling lip and watery eyes. 

“You know you can’t pumpkin,” said Aunt Cordelia. “Mr.Thorpe has a son about your age, I’m sure you’ll become friends very fast.” 

And just like that, she left, and you found yourself alone in a manor you didn’t know. 

Mr.Thorpe had been intimidating but the good thing was he hadn’t more time for you than your aunt did, and as soon he introduced himself to you he left too. So you had fled to your new room and hidden in the closet to cry. You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t even want to be raised by Aunt Cordelia ; you wanted your mom, but that was impossible now. 

Then, you had heard the creak of the closet’s door being opened and you had timidly peaked up from behind your hand. A little boy was crouching down to your level, looking at you curiously with his big hazel eyes. 

“Why are you sad?” he had asked with his childish voice. 

Taken aback by his question, you had wiped the tears on your cheeks, “I’m not sad, I’m just lonely.” 

He had looked at you curiously; then he had raised his little hand to brush away the hair that was obstructing your face. The gesture had made you flinch a bit, but he was gentle and somehow, you had felt like you could trust this boy. He had beamed, exposing the gap left by a missing tooth. 

“You have pretty eyes!” he had exclaimed. 

“Thanks?” you had said unsure, still sniffling. 

He nodded vigorously, his smile plastered on his chubby face. Then he extended his hand to you. “Wanna get out of here? I know where the cookies are hidden, we can search for them together, it’ll be fun!” 

This brought a small smile to your face for the first time in weeks, and you had taken his hand. Within the next few days, you had your hair cut. That’s how you met Xavier Thorpe. 

From there, your friendship bloomed. Aunt Cordelia tried to spend at least six months a year with you, and you lived at her house for that time. Well, she tried, and sometimes you found yourself dropped by the Thorpe manor more than intended. This didn’t bother you, you enjoyed Xavier’s company, and you were best friends after all. And considering his own father was also absent frequently, he loved when you were there. When you turned 12, your aunt brought you along on her trips to make a sort of pilgrimage around all the important sites of witchcraft around the world. According to her, it was time for you to learn more about your history and soak up their energy. The trip was so long, you didn’t see Xavier for two whole years. And when you came back to the Thorpe manor at 14, the both of you had changed a lot. Gone was the little boy with scraped knees and round cheeks, the teenager you met at the door was lanky and definitely taller than you now. 

“Hey,” he had greeted you with a lopsided grin. The twinkle in his eyes though hadn’t changed the slightest. 

“Hi,” you had smiled back. “You’ve let your hair grow,” you noticed. 

“You lost the braces,” he counter-attacked, not losing his smile for a second. 

He opened his arms and you didn’t lose a breath before diving into the hug. Oh, you had missed him. You had thought that everything would be like usual, but since puberty, you definitely noticed that things had indeed changed between you two. Your aunt asked a little more about Xavier when you went home, and you didn’t look at him the same way. He was more…attractive somehow; you loved the long hair. The same week you came back, the two of you went to a party with some of his friends from the normie school he went to. This wasn’t the first time any of you had alcohol, but it definitely was the first time you got drunk. A silly game was suggested and in your already advanced tipsy state, you and Xavier had thought this would be fun. You remembered vaguely the rules being to spin a bottle and then kiss someone or drink to avoid it, or something. To be honest most of your memories of that night were kind of blurry ; but when the bottle had pointed in your direction and your eyes had met Xavier’s, you distinctly remember your heart missing a beat. Maybe you had thought about protesting or something, maybe your mind had been too cloudy to properly ponder whether or not you should do this. It didn’t matter, because the next thing you knew then, Xavier had leaned to you and had pressed his lips against yours. That’s how you got your first kiss, by kissing your best friend during a drinking game. 

The next day the hangover had been so hard, Xavier didn’t remember half of the previous evening, not even your kiss. But you definitely did. Over the years you had forced yourself to push it down, thinking it was only a silly teenagers game and that you shouldn’t get too excited about this. 

Thinking about this now, you thought that you had been in love with Xavier for far longer than you imagined. You should have seen it coming, and yet here you were, with flowers slowly growing in your lungs because of your feelings. 

You were wandering in Jericho as the other Nevermore students were dispatched in different areas for Outreach day. Principal Weems had reminded you that everyone’s presence was requested for the inauguration ceremony at the end of the day – that yes, even you miss L/N are to attend this. Then she had let you free for the remainder of the day, and you were glad she did. You had a few things to buy at Jericho, this could be the occasion. But while you were making your purchases you were starting to realize that you were only postponing the moment when you’ll eventually have to talk with Xavier. 

He had left the Nightshades’ crypt quite upset, it pained you even more to know that he was mad at you. You needed to fix this and fast. So you ended up pushing the Weathervane’s doors  open, eyes searching for familiar hazel hair. Enid had texted you where Xavier had the displeasure of working that day and reading the coffee shop's name had made you wince. Hopefully, Tyler won't be working today. 

“Hey L/N,” you heard from the counter and you cursed internally. Turning to the counter, you narrowed your eyes at the curly-haired boy. 

“Galpin,” you greeted him half-heartedly as you came closer. Ever since what he and his friends had done to Xavier on last year’s Outreach day, you despised him. 

“Do you, uh, want to order something?” he asked. 

God, the way he acted all innocent and kind made you want to punch him in the face. On any other day you probably would have, but right now you were just drained. 

“Sure,” you finally let out, “I’ll have a large cappuccino with two shots of espresso, please.”

“Coming right up,” he said before starting to make your order, and you find a seat next to the window. 

For a moment, you put your face in your hands like it would give you some peace for a while. Everything had escalated so quickly, you didn’t even know if there was going to be an actual end to all of this. 

The sound of a mug being dropped in front of you on the table made you look up, and the sight of Xavier surprised you. 

“Tyler mentioned that you had ordered something,” he explained to your surprised expression. 

Glancing to the boy awkwardly standing behind the counter, who tried to look like he was busy and not looking at the two of you, you gave him the slightest nod of the head as a thanks. Xavier sat on the opposite bench, arms plopped on the table nervously. 

“Look I–”

“There’s something–” you both started at the same time. It made you chuckle nervously, “Go on,” you pressed him gently. 

He passed a hand through his hair nervously, “I- I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick yesterday, okay?”. The guilt in his eyes was evident and you were relieved to hear that he had calmed down. “I shouldn’t have called you a liar.”

“No, that’s on me,” you muttered, playing with the still untouched mug. “I’m…not feeling well these days,” you finally admitted. 

Xavier’s eyebrows knitted together in worry. To his knowledge, you never had any serious health issues. The flu once in a while maybe, but nothing that sounded that bad. He leaned closer to you over the table, a serious look on his face. 

“What’s going on?” he asked in a hushed, yet gentle voice. 

Suddenly, all the courage you had built up vanished. You had been so confident that you were going to tell Xavier everything, that this was the only way of making things right. You felt like you owed him that, after all, he had everything to do with your condition. 

But as you were about to expose the truth to him…something stopped you. 

The feeling of a warm hand on your trembling ones made you snap back to reality. Xavier’s face was fully painted in worry now. 

“You okay?” he asked. “You zoned out for a second.” 

You nodded slowly, gulping. No need to lie to yourself, you knew exactly what was stopping you from telling Xavier everything. The fear of losing him. Deep down you were afraid that if you told him about the Hanahaki disease, and what – who – caused it, he would end up leaving you. And you were far more afraid of losing Xavier than you were of coughing flowers. Because without Xavier, you feared that you'd end up alone again. And you never wanted to ever feel like that again. 

Licking your lips, you wondered what you should say to him. So you lied again. 

“I’m ill,” you blurted out. “I got sick around a week ago, that’s why I’ve been so distant lately.”

Technically, you weren’t really lying to him. It had been more than a week since the first symptoms, but the rest was true. You simply choose…not to disclose everything. 

“Shit,” he swore under his breath, “are you feeling okay? What is it?”

“I’m fine,” you squeezed his hand in reassurance, “I had no idea of what it was until recently so…”

“Is this serious?” he inquired again. 

Flashes of the pages mentioning the inevitable death of patients appeared in your mind. 

“No,” you finally let out. “I’ll get better at some point I’m sure. Bought a few things to make a potion to ease the symptoms.” 

Xavier glanced at your bag and nodded. Whether or not he believed you, he didn’t press the matter further. 

“I should have been honest with you sooner, it’s just…it had been a couple of rough weeks,” you said with a weak smile. 

He nodded in understanding, still you could see he was still worried about you. “Yeah, I get it…between that, Wednesday's arrival and the whole monster thing it had been a little bit crazy, right?”

You slightly frowned at him. It wasn’t it, he was misreading the situation completely! As you were about to say something, you suddenly became very aware of faint whispers around you. So did Xavier apparently because the two of you whipped your heads around at the same time. Glancing behind your shoulder you noticed a group of normies teenagers throwing glances at you, whispering and giggling among themselves. Some of their words reached your ears.

“...think…’re together?...”

“maybe…freaks…from Neverm…”

“...kinda cute…couple…”

You felt your face burn. Not in shame, but for the first time in the possibility of what it implied. Many people had mistaken Xavier and you as a couple before, but it was the first time you truly felt flustered by the idea of it. 

Then Xavier pulled his hand off of yours and the sudden loss of contact made your heart drop. He sank into his seat further, putting more distance between the two of you. Eyes flickering to him in disbelief, you only met his sorry expression. 

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he muttered while casting his eyes away. 

You wanted to protest, to say that it didn’t make you uncomfortable at all, but words were stuck in your throat. As were petals. 

“I should probably go back to work,” said Xavier while getting up. “But I’ll finish in an hour, if you want to wait?”

“Sure,” you mumbled. 

Tears started to burn behind your eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. The light ring of the doorbell made both of your heads turn to Wednesday who had just arrived. Her sole presence, usually not unwelcomed, was dreadful to you and you felt like you were becoming lightheaded. The burning inside your chest bloomed and the whole coffee shop felt suffocating. Raising from your seat abruptly you gathered your bag and vest without a word. 

“Where are you doing?” asked Xavier lightly touching your shoulder. 

“I’m- I’m not feeling well,” you excused yourself, which made Wednesday raise her eyebrow as she came to your side. “I need some air.” Feeling Xavier’s worried eyes on your back you squeezed the hand on your shoulder. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?” you whispered to him. 

He seemed to hesitate, but between your pleading eyes and the intense bored expression on Wednesday’s face, he finally conceded. 

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll see you later.”

You smiled weakly at him before rushing to the exit, head low. Walking rapidly through the streets you hurried until you found an empty alley which you immediately rushed into before throwing up in a garbage can. The flowers and blood mixed together regurgitated from your sore throat, as quickly as they had appeared within your chest. Tears flooded down your cheeks as the last petals left your mouth. Coughing fits were getting more and more unpredictable. You choked on your own breath, mouth tasting bitter and throat ablaze. If you didn’t do something real quick, you were going to die. But for now, you just felt so, so tired. Weems and the inaugural ceremony be damned, you were going back to Nevermore to sleep your problems away. Then, you’ll take it from here. 

In the end, returning to the school to sleep and avoid facing your problems gave you more problems. A few hours later you were standing in Principal Weems’ office alongside Wednesday, getting a lecture about setting Crackstone’s statue on fire. 

“For the hundredth time, I didn’t set fire to that statue!” you pleaded to the principal. 

“And what evidence of your innocence do you have, miss L/N?” snapped Weems back. “Should you have attended the ceremony like you were supposed to, we wouldn’t have this conversation.” 

“I attended this ridiculous ceremony,” noted Wednesday out loud, “yet you’re suspecting me too.” 

She shot a deadly glare at your impassable roommate, “And I have every reason to miss Addams. The two of you had good motives to set this statue on fire, and miss L/N had mysteriously disappeared just before the ceremony.” 

“I wasn’t feeling well that’s all,” you tried to defend yourself. “Do you really think I’d brand myself a witch in front of all of Jericho? Those people hate my guts, I don’t want to have anything to do with their shitty town!” 

Weem’s hand hit her desk with force, “Mind your language, young lady!”

Wednesday only rolled her eyes at the whole ordeal. You on the other hand, were pretty sure she had something to do with it – but unlike you she had a solid alibi. And surprisingly, she stepped in your defense. 

“Y/N is right about not feeling well these days,” she interjected, making both Weems’ head and yours snap to her. “She sometimes coughs in her sleep, this is very unpleasant.”

Principal Weems narrowed her eyes at you, “Is that true, miss L/N? Have you fallen ill?”

You nodded slowly, “Just small flu. Must’ve caught a cold during the Poe cup.” 

The principal looked pointedly at the two of you, breathing hard through her nostril. Then she threw an accusatory finger at your pair.

“I want,” she articulated slowly, “the two of you out of my office. Now. And I don’t want to ever hear about you either.” 

None of you needed to be asked twice. Once in the corridors and far enough from Weems’ office, you turned to Wednesday. 

“Thank you for having my back with Weems,” you said quietly, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“No I didn’t,” she repeated. “I was right, you do cough at night and it is unpleasant.” 

That made you frown slightly. None of your roommates shouldn’t have been able to hear you, you still casted the silencing spell every night. 

“Since when?” 

“About a week,” she said, while narrowing her eyes. 

You started to think hard. It had been far more than a week since you had started to cast the spell. This was basic magic, a simple but efficient spell that you had been practising for years. There was no reason for you to fail it. The only logical explanation…was that your magic was weakening. The natural reaction for your mind would be to list every reason for it not to be possible, but then you thought about the sudden stop of your spell during the Poe cup, which had made your boat stop dead in its tracks; and so it added up. The disease had not only damaged your body, but it had also consequences on your powers. This was definitely concerning. 

“You are indeed sick, aren’t you?” asked Wednesday. At the surprised look on your face, she quickly added, “Don’t think I care, I’m just readjusting your position on my suspects' list by considering all the parameters.”

You scoffed in disbelief “I’m on your suspect list? No shit, Wednesday?”

“It is perfectly plausible,” she said plainly. “With your powers and knowledge in potions, you have the ability to increase your strength I suspect, and you know the school’s grounds by heart,” you heard her listing, “you’ve spent more time alone than usual for the past weeks, with no one to testify of your presence elsewhere than on the crime scenes, and when I started to suspect Xavier you immediately fled to his defence without proof, like you knew for sure he couldn’t be the monster. So tell me Y/N,” she continued while looking at you dead in the eye, “why couldn’t you be the killer?” 

Struck by her question you could only blink in disbelief. What. the. hell? 

“Excuse me what?” you articulated after long seconds of silence. 

“You should be honored,” she said flatly, “it requires some skills to be added to a potential suspect list.” 

“I don’t want to be on a fucking suspect list,” you spat, “you’re delusional Wednesday.” 

“My observations and suppositions are rarely wrong, I’m not the one burying herself in denial.”

Stepping closer to her you gritted your teeth together. “I can’t be the monster, I literally can’t.” 

“What proof do you have of that?” she retorted. 

Fuming, you tried to not play her game. But staying calm in front of her insolent lay back behavior was starting to be incredibly harder. “Drop it,” you spat. 

“You’re just proving me right.”

That’s when you lost it, “I CAN’T BECAUSE I’M FUCKING DYING OKAY?” you roared at her. 

For a moment, nothing but echoes of your words resonated within the corridor’s walls. Your ragged breaths contrasted with Wednesday’s neutral expression, unfazed by your scream. Only after a few seconds of a mortifying silence did you realize what you just did because you had lost your nerves. Shutting your eyes tightly you internally prayed that no one around heard you. 

“I don’t think you’re lying,” simply said Wednesday. 

You let out a scoff, “I’m not, trust me. I’m sick, and my health is deteriorating every day. If you don’t want to believe me that’s fine but leave me the fuck out of your stupid list.” 

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at you, “Until you’re blessed with black plague, I doubt you’ll die because of whatever sickness you have.”

“God, can you stop being that infuriating for once?” you snapped bitterly. “I’ve done every possible research on the subject and I know I’m doomed, okay?” 

A silence took place between the two of you. You whipped away tears that had gathered at the corner of your eyes. It was the first time you had admitted it out loud ; it hurt more than you thought. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your condition,” said Wednesday quietly ; and now matter how surprised you were by her words, you still thanked her quietly. “Does a cure exist?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you muttered. “It…healing doesn’t depend on me.” At her frown, you lightly shrugged. “Flowers are growing in my lungs because of unrequited romantic feelings,” you explained quietly. “Eventually, I’ll either die from internal bleeding or choking.” 

This time, it was her turn to scoff, “You’re plagued with a deadly disease because you have feelings for someone? You just gave me the final proof that feelings are indeed useless, thank you.”

“I don’t fucking need your sarcasm,” you seethed, “if you want to be a stone-cold bitch that’s on you, but no need to mock me for having actual feelings. I didn’t choose this.” 

She looked at you closely, like she was trying to figure out something. Which she apparently did rather quickly: “It’s Xavier, isn’t it? He’s the one you have…feelings for.” 

You turned your face away, licking your lips. Wednesday was really the last person you wanted to have this conservation with. 

“You’re getting weak and you’re losing your powers because you have feelings for a meaningless man,” she repeated. “I thought you were better than that.”

“Fuck off Wednesday,” you cried, finally reaching your breaking point. “I’m not asking to understand, I’m not even asking you to be compassionate but shit, for once in your life be respectful of someone’s privacy.”

With that, you turned away and rushed into the corridors. You didn’t want to hate Wednesday, she had done nothing to you ; even regarding Xavier’s feelings, you were confident that her arrival hadn’t triggered your condition. Maybe it had accelerated it, but sooner or later Xavier would have fallen in love with someone else, and you would have been doomed anyway. So yeah, you didn’t want to hate Wednesday Addams ; but she definitely didn’t make things easy. 

A little less than an hour later, you found yourself walking through the school’s woods. The heated discussion with Wednesday had strangely given you enough courage to go and find Xavier, and finally explain everything to him. Weakened by your feelings? My ass! you thought. You were going to tell what was going on with you to Xavier, and to hell with the consequences on your friendship. 

You soon reached his artist shed in the middle of the woods. Its reassuring aura made you a little more at ease than the very public space of the Weathervane. Knocking on the door, you waited for Xavier to answer you. When he opened the door, you let out a loud gasp at the wound on his neck. 

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” you asked while pushing him back inside immediately before coming in. You immediately went to take a look at his bleeding jaw, carefully tilting his chin to the side. 

“Just an accident with a painting, nothing too bad,” he tried to reassure you. 

“Nothing bad? Xavier, you have claw marks bleeding on your neck, this isn’t some small scratch!” 

You could see that he was trying to brush it away, but you forced him to sit on a stool while you inspected the extent of his injuries. It didn’t look so bad, you could probably do something about it. Carefully dragging your fingers on the outlines of the claw marks you whispered a healing spell. The bleeding gradually stopped, and the cells of the skin started to slowly repair themselves. Though it started here, and the marks were still here looking like fresh scars. You gritted your teeth in frustration. With the full extent of your powers, you could have probably healed him completely. 

“That should do,” you muttered with a small smile. 

“Thanks,” he smiled back. “So,” he said after a few seconds of silence, “guess we need to talk, uh?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckled awkwardly, “guess we do.”

You fidgeted with your sleeve, toying with words in your mind. It was always more difficult to launch a subject when the time had come. 

“I’m not doing well,” you said, trying to resume the discussion where it had been left out back at the Weathervane, “and I’m not sure if I can really get better…on my own.”

Xavier leaned forward, fully focused on the matter. “How can I help you?”

You almost wanted to cry. He wanted so much to help you while having no idea of how bad the situation was. 

“This is…kind of complicated to talk about,” you hesitated. But to your surprise, Xavier gently took your hand into one of his bigger ones. 

“Hey,” he called softly, “you know you can tell me anything, right?” 

After a slight hesitation, you nodded slowly. Yet words didn’t seem to come out of your mouth. You started to open your mouth to finally confess, but something caught your eye. A large canvas hung on an easel, all in black and white tones. Like pulled by the invisible force of curiosity you slowly approached it, your hand slipping away from Xavier’s. As you approached and noticed who was painted you felt your heart sink into your chest. The painted figure of Wednesday playing her cello was taunting you, and it painfully reminded you of that night in Xavier’s room, when he had started to sketch it. It reminded you that you had no chance. 

Xavier called out for you from behind. But when you turned back to him, he was met with the look of your teary eyes. 

“You see, that’s why I can’t tell you,” you whispered sadly, “I can’t spoil this from you.” 

“What are you talking about?” he frowned. 

“This,” you said, gesturing at the portrait, “I can’t ruin your happiness with my burden, Xav.”

“Y/N please,” he said getting up, “please tell me what’s going on.” 

You shook your head, defeated. “I can’t,” you whispered weakly. “Sorry I- I got to go.” 

Before Xavier could react you slipped away and rushed outside of the shed. Tears were running down your cheeks but you couldn’t care less. It was clear that you could never interfere in Xavier’s feelings for Wednesday, so why bother saying anything to him at all? You heard him call you as soon as you had crossed the door but you didn’t dare to turn back and face him. He managed to grab your wrist when you were barely a few meters away from the shed. 

“Please don’t shut me out,” he begged you. You still couldn’t face him on your own, so he gently tucked on your hand, turning you to him. “Please Y/N, tell me what’s going on with you, ‘cause I can guess on my own.” 

Hesitantly, you looked up at him. Even though your eyes were blurry because of tears, you couldn’t help yourself but lose yourself in the admiration of his face. His brown eyes, so deep and full of compassion, his sharp features framed by soft hazel eyes…you wanted to print this image in your mind for however long you had still to live. Just like that night in his room, your eyes flickered to his lips. This time you didn’t hesitate, and you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. 

He flinched slightly, for the first second. But then he surprised himself thinking how soft your lips felt against his own. 

You stayed like this for long seconds. Keeping your eyes closed and savouring the moment, you then realized that Xavier wasn’t moving at all. Biting back the bitter feeling within your guts, you slowly parted from him. Xavier simply stood up there frozen in place ; not understanding why you had kissed him so suddenly. At his lack of reaction and dumbfounded expression, you wanted to cry again so badly. Instead, you looked up at him.  

“I wanted to do that at least once,” you whispered. No matter how you had tried to keep them at bay, tears were flooding down your cheeks now. 

Still stuck down in place, Xavier didn’t know what to say. But the face of his best friend, teared apart by pain and sadness, was already too much to handle for him. 

“I- I’m sorry Y/N,” he muttered, “I don’t…I like you, I truly do but…but not like this.” 

Through your tears, you tried to smile ; it was a pathetic attempt. “Yeah…I know,” you whispered weakly.

It would have been easier if you had the ability to vanish away on the spot. It would have made you avoid moving away from Xavier and returning to the school painfully slowly, each of your steps burdened by the weight of your broken heart and the knowledge that Xavier hadn’t even tried to stop you. It would also have saved you from running into Wednesday once again, and hearing her asking Xavier out for the ball in the distance. It would have. 

But you couldn’t vanish, instead, you were here shedding every tear you had along bloodied flowers, not even trying to stop either of them. 

You just had your heart shattered into a million pieces and the confirmation that there was no hope for you. You were doomed, and the flowers growing inside of your lungs would soon reach your body’s breaking point.

[Part.5] 

A/N:  Thanks everyone for your incredible support, I hope you enjoyed this part ♥

Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist: 

(no need to ask at every chapter, you're added once, and you're added for the whole fic :D)

@apocalypticnovaa ; @libdarkheart ; @ameliabs-world ; @certifeidlovergirl ; @aeisnoa ; @cat-loves-music ; @coolchick333 ; @eringaitskill  ; @sweaterxav ; @sssleepless ;

@l4venderia ; @persipeoni ; @coldheartedmar ; @chaosfrisur ; @littlebabyk  ; @pinksirensong ; @nushy ; @raribella ; @igotanidea ; @ali-r3n ;

@cafeaueva ; @queenofshinigamis ; @xxhospital-for-soulsxx ; @imtherealslimmoony ; @one-oblivious-nerd ; @amphitritesangels ; @valckenaux ; @aliciahlewis ; @lilsunshine1092 ; @ell0ra-br3kk3r ;

@hershey2813 ; @ahmya-4 ; @katkoosik ; @maggie-da-rat ; @hopelessnessforthehopeful ; @mk-the-great ; @neenieweenie ; @steviesbergthuis  ; @rayliz793 ; @poison-ivy-737  ;

@katiemrty  ; @vanillaarr ;  @corpsebridenightamare ; @ghswlz ; @siriusblacksl0ver ; @poppyalice2001 ; @mypsychoticlove ; @jointherebellion215 ; @siriwhitewolf​ ; @miinnttyy​ ;

@teaganthemorningstar ; @oblivion-void ; @fandomstoryreader25 ; @darkdaydreamer ; @engenelxver ; @maddiechapman15 ; @hannahnikohl ; @pajerita19 ; @i-like-trains ; @tinafuentes ;

@slngarza ; @lqveharrington ; @honethatty12 ; @users09 ; @honestlyka ;

Usernames not found by Tumblr and notified by DM:

@flowersownme @eileen201804 @peacheskiwi @spiceyhotsherbet @ramiiroll @theweirdone2468 @tempressofthetarot @bambi-munson @apollo3475 @engenelxver @2000bitf @hes-club

Plz tell me if I’ve forgotten you in the taglist (or if you wanna join!)

[jungle-angel]

Dude, Where's My Underwear? (Frat!Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Rhett has a royal freak out after a Friday night rager at the frat house and literally no one can remember what happened

Warnings: Frat life, waking up with an unholy hangover, reader missing her underwear, implied orgies etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @sebsxphia @bradleybeachbabe

Notes: RIP Toby Keith, without "Red Solo Cup" I never would've gotten the idea for this fic (lol).

Rhett slowly blinked his eyes open, his vision blurred even as he rubbed away the sleepy grog.

The house was a fucking shithouse mess.

Everybody who was too drunk to stumble home had passed out on the floor with everything in disarray. Red solo cups were strewn everywhere along with a bunch of pool noodles, fading glow sticks, empty bottles and a huge pile of cans that had built up in the living room. Not since him and the rest of his Delta Tau brothers had cleaned up a notorious hoarder den off campus, had he ever seen a shithouse mess like this.

The light from the kitchen and living room windows had hit him with the white hot intensity of a thousand exploding suns, his head throbbing at the sight of it. It took everything in Rhett's power not to puke as he crawled towards the coffee table where his phone began vibrating.

"Aw fuck," he groaned when he felt his stomach lurch. It took him a minute to settle, but when he finally did, he picked up his phone and saw your contact picture.

"Hi baby," he croaked.

"You ok?" you chuckled.

"Debatable," he answered. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the grocery store," you answered. "You need anything?"

"Some Tylenol and the will to live would be great babes."

You laughed a little bit. "Alright I'll bring it over and make everybody a hangover breakfast," you told him. "Just promise me one thing though?"

"What's up?"

"No more Friday night ragers until finals are done?"

"I make no such promises sweetpea," he chuckled.

You laughed again knowing that him and his brothers would probably be doing it all again at some point or another. "Oh before you go," you said. "I'm gonna run to Wal Mart and get some extra supplies and some clean clothes. I'm missing a pair of panties and I have no idea where they went."

Rhett suddenly clenched his lip, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when you hung up.

"MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!" he suddenly blurted out.

The pile of empty beer cans suddenly slid to the floor, clattering and clanking as Kayce rose up out of it. "Good God what a battle," he groaned. "Are there any survivors?"

"Kayce get the fuck up!!" Rhett blurted out.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Kayce asked, running his hands over his groggy face.

"I can't find (y/n)'s panties anywhere!"

"And this is a problem why?"

"Because the last thing I want is fuckin Smitty gettin his hands on'em," Rhett told him. "That piggly little rich asshole has been after (y/n) since she started here and I'm not about to let him claim anything I've already marked."

"Dude ya'll sound like a male cat during mating season," Kayce laughed.

"I'm serious Kayce!!" Rhett blurted out. "I've gotta find her underwear and I swear if that slimy little piece of snail cum has'em......"

"Bruh did ya'll happen to look on the turtle tank?"

Rhett's gaze turned to the turtle tank near the couch. Sure enough, there they were, a pair of red lace skivies, haphazardly thrown onto the little rock inside.

"Aw fuck," Rhett laughed. "You poor little guys, I'm so sorry."

He gave Speedy, the little brown tortoise and his female mate, a few pets on the shells, letting them lean their heads into his palm. Rhett was surprised their terrarium had survived the rager but duly made a note to have one of the freshman in the dorms take them for the weekend the next time they held a rager.

He had been about to reach in and grab the pair of underwear when Speedy somehow picked them up and stretched his little head, giving the panties to Rhett.

"I have never fuckin seen'em do that before," Kayce laughed.

"Ya'll got it on video?"

"Fuck yeah I did."

Despite the nasty hangovers, the boys made an effort to try and get some sunshine into the house. You rang the doorbell a minute later with you and two other girls from the Phi Gamma sorority, coming in, your arms full of groceries for the best hangover breakfast you could possibly make.

"Oh my God this place looks like a tornado ran through here," you laughed.

"We'll get it cleaned up sweetheart," Rhett assured you. "For now I've gotta get these assholes up."

It was a Herculean task to say the least. So many people were dead drunk in every corner of the house that Rhett was half tempted to go around with the ship's bell in the kitchen and wake everyone up. Bo had passed out in the living room with at least two other idiots having used him as a pillow, Kyle was still asleep under the coffee table, Cody was right under a window with Wes not far by. Ravi had passed out upstairs with at least three other girls and Foster had passed out in his room with his boyfriend. The newly accepted pledges were mostly in the basement while others had taken to whatever space they could find.

You cracked a few eggs into the freshly buttered pan on the stove, the sizzling loud enough to rouse a few of Rhett's brothers from their deep sleep. The whole kitchen soon smelled of eggs, bacon, sausage toast and pitch black coffee that was sure to soak up all the booze from the night before.

"Thank you baby," Rhett mumbled, wrapping both his arms and the heavy couch blanket around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"You're welcome," you chuckled kissing him back.

"Still can't remember what the hell we did last night," he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"Did anybody take any video evidence?" asked Jessica, Bo's girlfriend from the sorority.

"I think Foster was the only one sober enough to remember," Rhett chuckled.

Foster came stumbling down the kitchen steps a split second later, hungover like the rest of them. "Oh my God, never again," he groaned.

"Your boyfriend still upstairs?" Rhett asked him.

"Yeah he was the only one sober enough to remember what happened last night," Foster answered. "Oh wait a sec....."

Foster checked his phone and sure enough, there was an unread message from his boyfriend. "Oh fuck," he said nervously.

"Wassup?" Kayce asked him.

"You guys are gonna wanna see this."

You plated Foster's breakfast before joining Rhett at the table, watching the video evidence unfold from last night. Your jaw dropped, trying to keep in the laughter of everyone's drunken shenanigans. You couldn't contain it anymore when you heard the drunken frat boys singing "Red Solo Cup" like a bunch of screeching seagulls and saw a bunch of girls throwing their underwear all over the room.

You looked at Rhett who sheepishly handed you your skivies. "I was gonna wash'em later with everybody's clothes," he told you.

You kissed him again. "No need Rhett, you're good."

And indeed he was good.

[asprinbrews]

Chapter 1: Welcome home.

-Wally Darling + Reader

———

It was a day like any other.

Eat, sleep, work, rinse, repeat.

I’m not sure what happened between 17 and 18, but whatever it was sucked the life out of me. And as my Uber took me home on that late Friday night, the whole world flashed by my head like a shooting star. Sitting good and quiet. I noticed my fingernails overgrown, and how dry and cracked my skin was. Like one of those nightmares where your teeth fall out, except my disfigurement was very real.

But what to do? You don’t cure your funk in a night. I had to take a few nights, maybe call in sick. If I got fired for this it’d be a problem.

No. No, I had to stop thinking. It’s not my problem tonight, I reassured myself. So arriving home and settling in, I planned on completely disconnecting. And I engaged in…a guilty pleasure.

My body ached as I pulled out the VHS player, sending dust down my crusty airways. Along came my favorite tape.

The title’d long worn off, but it didn’t matter. It was the only one I kept.

And so I sunk beneath my comforter, biting back my anxiety and letting the fuzz lull in time with my breathing.

Unfortunately I didn’t make it through the intro credits. I never did nowadays.

—

“What’re we s’posed to do about this?!?!”

A squeaky quirky voice pinched my ears between fog and drowsiness, and I felt as a circular object tapped the tip of my nose.

“They aren’t wakin up, Franky!! I’m scared!”

A deep grunt contrasted her whining, “I…” he seemed at a loss for words; I then felt the thing bump me again. A loud wailing followed, which showered an…insane amount of tears onto my face. That was when I finally had the gall to snap my eyes open.

Screaming above me was a big-mouthed girl with big blonde hair, I saw her first. Her colorful clothing fading into the distance as she ran like the devil. And then the other…

Me and Frank blinked slowly at one another. Quietly. A dapper-dressed man with proportions stranger than the girl’s personality. A gray face full of concern and just a little disgust. Like he was looking at a dead body.

I didn’t move, but I eyed the world around me carefully. And for a second I was worried that I had a concussion; the grass, the sky… everything had an antique-like tint to it. And it felt wrong.

“Are you feeling okay?” Like he’d snapped back to reality the man crouched down beside me and dropped his net. I noticed a small bug sit inside it calmly…much unlike a butterfly. “Oh- yes, I’m okay. I’m just…” I scanned the area again, “I’m not sure how I got here.”

“Can you stand up?” He asked, and I pushed myself off the ground. “I’m going to walk you to the neighborhood… we’ll get you some help there.”

The neighborhood? Why did that sound so familiar? “The neighborhood… alright.”

He walked ahead of me, checking back every couple of seconds to make sure I was still behind him.

How did I get here…? More importantly, I had work. I had to get to a phone, as quickly as possible. “Your name’s Frank, right?”

He gasped softly, “how’d you know?”

“I heard it earlier. I’m guessing Franky isn’t your preferred name.”

“Right, right.”

…

“Do you have a phone I could borrow?”

“Heavens no, not right now. Those are far too big to carry around.” He replied, and then it was quiet again.

I noted him down as awkward, which was fine. I was a stranger, anyways. And I probably looked like death. Eventually though we came across houses, and he brought me straight to a big red barn.

Looking it up and down, I was skeptical. But out came whiffs of smells. Baking smells. The kind where you’re not sure if you’re smelling bread, fruit, or pure sugar. Seeing the bird that hussled out in front of us though I started to understand pretty quickly.

Before I had the chance to say anything she was all over me: lifting my arms, pinching my face, and squawking on in a shrill voice. How my face was so pale, my eyebags so big, my posture terrible. “Frank! Where did you find this one?? They look dead! The walking dead! Dead but walking!” Then she sat me down onto a haybale, holding my face in her wings. “Stop walking! You’re going to die!”

I couldn’t see over her big rainbow feathers but I could tell he was just as overwhelmed by this lady as I was. “Excuse me ma’am…” I croaked, “can I…”

She craned her head towards me as I asked, “can I borrow your phone…?”

The chicken loomed over me in a dead silence before I found myself dragged inside and nearly force-fed a multitude of different pastries, which I then tried to pay for. Unsurprisingly this earned another shriek. “What kind of money is this??? Where did you come from??”

“My house! I came from my house!” Like a hostage I lifted my hands up in surrender, and I’d expected another argument from her. But…no. Something clicked behind her eyes, and without speaking she disappeared and returned with a plate.

A plate of apple crisp.

I knew it as soon as I smelled it, feeling my eyes widen as the aroma hit my nose. Like a faint memory, nostalgia panged through my chest and reverberated like a brand new heartbeat as I took that first bite. Marveling in sweet fruit nestled under a warm blanket of thick brown sugar.

Once it was over with I was going to ask- except she’d already disappeared to her phone. A landline. Busy feathered fingers nervously fiddling with the curly wire, I caught bits and pieces of her loud voice. Concerned, suddenly frantic! Then quiet. I leaned in over the table to hear more but then was met with a shriek. “My goodness! Your clothes are getting in your pie!”

Indeed, looking down I realized I’d leaned so far over the table that I’d begun to crush the pastry. Leaving a dark stain on my T-shirt. The bird rushed around and started trying to wrestle it off of me— “No, hey!!” We struggled with the article, she shouted “I need to wash it! Come now!”

“What on earth is going on!?” Gray hands forced us apart and Frank pushed the bird lady for an answer while I caught my breath and smoothed my clothing.

“Look at them! They got their shirt all dirty, I was only trying to wash it.” She huffed, to which Frank pinched his brow with concern. “Polly… that’s beyond impolite!”

“It’s just Y/N!”

The man double-taked for a moment, slowly turning to me then raising a hand skeptically. “No, no… that can’t be right. They’re a lot smaller than that.”

“That’s what I thought!” Polly said, “but look at that face! And you know they loved my apple crisp! It has to be!”

I stood frazzled in front of them as they marveled, “did you just say… my name?”

Slowly stepping forward, Frank reached out as the bird suddenly rushed me. She hovered over me and ripped off my shirt with such momentum to tear the neckline. My arms rushed to cover my body in shock while the grey man swiveled to face the other direction. He shouted, “well they’re far too old for that!”

“Po.. Polly!” But she didn’t seem to hear me, sauntering off to a wash bucket and beginning to soak it. She waved a feather, “now then, go play! I’ll take care of this.”

I felt heat rise to my face, in disbelief at this woman. First she feeds me, then tears my clothes off?? “I’m so confused! And half-naked!” Crying out, even Frank seemed at a loss. He didn’t look and made his way to the door, “I’ll- I’ll find you something to wear! Stay right there!”

So there I was, half-naked in a barn-themed bakery waiting for either Frank to come back or Polly to be done with my shirt. I’d given in at that point. Notably despite Polly being a bird, she was really sentient. I saw other chickens but she was different. At least Frank resembled a man… but she was a straight up chicken.

Then a slow, steady knock came. The barn grew quiet, and it’s large doors creaked open. Standing in the center a silhouette of someone. His voice broke the silence, soft and calm if not monotonous.

“Aw Gee… it has been a very long time, Y/N.”

————-

<a/n>

Hi! Hope you enjoyed the first installment. This is mostly a comfort character series, so things between Wally and reader won’t get very romantic. Still! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Feel free to ask me questions or give me ideas, since this is in progress!

Bye now! You are the absolute most!

[bassettmemes]

YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME. XOXO, GOSSIP GIRL. ↳ a collection of sentences from the Gossip Girl (2007) series.

"I'm not a stop along the way. I'm a destination."

“Three words. Eight letters. Say it and I’m yours.”

“If you’re going to be sad, you might as well be sad in Paris.”

“Once men have tasted caviar, it baffles me how they settle for catfish.”

“Whoever said money doesn’t buy happiness didn’t know where to shop.”

“We’re sisters. You’re my family. What is you is me. There’s nothing you could ever say that would make me let go.”

“You can’t make people love you, but you can make them fear you.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the crazy bitch around here.”

“Here’s my advice. Have a little faith, and if that doesn’t work, have a lot of mimosas.”

“Don’t go all Notebook on me. Not now. I need you.”

“I have an idea for you: quit. Your boss is a bitch. Let’s go to lunch.”

“Destiny is for losers. It’s just a stupid excuse to wait for things to happen instead of making them happen.”

“We’re not servants to our emotions. We can control them, suppress them, stomp them out like bugs.”

“You need to be cold to be a queen.”

“Don’t let people tell you who you are. You tell them.”

“I didn’t come back for you.”

“I’ll just stay home, eat lots of gelato, and write about how true love is nothing but a myth.”

“I’d ask you how you are, but I don’t really care.”

“You know my mom: If it’s not broke, break it.”

“There’s something vibrating in your pocket, and I really hope it’s your phone.”

“I hate that stupid headband.”

“I remember everything you’ve read to me. In case you haven’t noticed I don’t really let go of things so easily.”

“I like the way I feel when he looks at me. Like I wanna believe in myself.”

“Earn the spotlight on your own merits. You’ll feel better.”

“Even if it’s the biggest kamikaze disaster of my life, it’s my disaster.”

“You are no one until you’re talked about.”

“When Prince Charming found Cinderella’s slipper, they didn’t accuse him of having a foot fetish.”

“I don’t read Gossip Girl. That’s for chicks.”

“So, actually, I’ll be living out my nightmare. Trapped in the city with only you to talk to.”

“She doesn’t know me. Nobody knows me. It’s cool. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, well, your fashion emergency was solved so I figured my work was done.”

“You can’t fight against who you are.”

“You gonna strangle him with your scarf?”

“You don’t just give up because things are hard.”

“You know it’s love when you start talking like an assassin.”

“I just want to be the person you can bring anything to.”

“Affairs with married people, threesomes — it just so happens everyone’s problems are within my area of expertise.”

“I just don’t get it. I organized everything the way she likes it. I mean, I even made sure my bowtie matched her dress.”

“Listen, there’s nothing wrong with keeping your options open. I don’t think your parents are going to be mad at you for choosing your own path. Unless… they’re related to my parents.”

“Some might call this a fustercluck. But on the Upper East Side, we call it Sunday afternoon.”

“There’s a weak link in every chain, and it’s just a matter of time before this one snaps.”

“One thing about being on the top of the world? It gives you a long, long way to fall.”

“So we should just be anonymous losers who eat lunch alone and never get invited to parties?”

“Well, keep dreaming. Maybe one day she’ll actually know your name.”

“The sound of your own voice annoying you?”

“Even you should know that jealousy clashes with L.L. Bean pants!”

“I came to tell you in person. You win.”

“The only human contact that you don’t pay for is the people in this house.” 

“That’s not fair. Everyone’s topless on Valentino’s yacht.”

“You know you really put yourself on the radar tonight. Better not make that mistake again or you’ll pay for real.”

 “Don’t look now, but those are the JV mean girls.”

“He gave six girls from Nightingale gonorrhea of the throat last year.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it if it weren’t for your smear campaign against me.”

“If we wanted to have sex, we’d just go to a hotel.”

“You’ve come to my rescue enough times, let me help you for once.”

“I don’t need a guy to make me feel fulfilled, especially when he’s unavailable.”

[collapsedglasshouses]

An Angel For Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 2]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PART ONE

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules (she/her)

SUMMARY: Jules knew it would be hard to start her journey as an guardian angel, but the harder part was to let go of her past...

WARNINGS: mentions of panic/anxiety attacks, mentions of blood, swearing, (let me know if i missed something)

A/N: Let me just start with this: AAAAAAAH... thank you... Okay, let's just say this, I cried a little while writing this... This fanfic is gonna break me into pieces, but I can't suffer alone so here is part 2...

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens (if you wanna be added, pls let me know in the comments)

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

Jules took a deep breath and stared ahead of her. She didn't even know what to do now. Keaton had given her a name and where to find that guy. Noah Sebastian, singer of a metal core band called "Bad Omens", was living somewhere in this street and her first task was to find him.

Jules swallowed hard. She knew Keaton said, it would be easy and how guardian angels are always similar to the person, they need to protect, but at this moment, she couldn't think of a single thing she should have in common with this Noah guy.

She had been a violinist for most of her live, had been what people described as prude or boring and always obeyed to her parents rules. Literally everything she wouldn't think, when thinking of a metal band member.

She never had been a big fan of the harder kinds of music, calling herself a die hard Swiftie, during her short lifetime. The life size cardboard cutout of Harry Styles that was probably still standing in her bedroom couldn't have agreed more to that.

She sighed while walking down the street. She asked herself if Keaton couldn't have been a bit more precise with his explanations and instructions, when she walked up to the third door and didn't read the names she was looking for. It bugged her that she couldn't just pull out her phone to type in the address and she found it rather bold from those angels that they hadn't given her some kind of device or powers to make it easier for her to find her target. What made her even more mad was, when she realised she couldn't fly. She felt robbed. She was literally just an invisible spirit with a task to fulfill that wasn't just finding her well deserved peace.

She couldn't do anything cool and she was literally invisible to everything and everyone.

She stopped in her tracks, when she realised that. She was in fact invisible. How the hell was she supposed to help Noah, if he can't even see her? Was he even allowed to see her? She felt like she was part of an episode of Supernatural and was about to meet the Winchester brothers.

When she started to walk again, she let her gaze wander over the houses. At least she would be in a good neighborhood. Not like she had to worry about being kidnapped anymore (you know, the sad things women need to worry about) but it was still somehow calming her nerves a bit.

When she walked up to the fourth house, she finally read the last names Keaton had told her about. She was about to be pleased with her work, when she notices the next problem.

What now?

She couldn't just ring the bell and show herself.

Like...

Hey, I'm your guardian angel, your friend Keaton sent me.

She was pretty sure, she couldn't even show herself at all.

Jules let out an frustrated groan, before looking around, trying to find another way to get into the house. Sadly she had also learned the hard way, that she couldn't walk through walls, when she tried it about an hour ago.

She snuck around the house, just to find a fence, she definitely couldn't just climb over. She sighed again and looked at the building. It looked like a typical upper class house in Los Angeles. At least it looked like their music was starting to pay off.

She still tried to climb up the high fence and if she would have still been alive she definitely would have broken at least a bone.

"Why can't I just fly!" She screamed out in agony. "This is such bullshit."

While she continued to mutter out profanities and tried to climb up the fence, the front door opened and none other than Folio and Davis step out of it.

She stopped in her tracks, when she heard their voices.

"I thought Noah already went grocery shopping with Ruffilo?" She heard one of the guys say and was sure she almost reach high speed after hearing that name while sprinting to the door. She saw two men, one with with short dark hair and one with long hair and a streak of grey in it.

"Nah, Noah was in the studio all day and Nick drove to his girlfriend. I think that's on us today." The man with the grey streak in his hair answered, while fidgeting with his car keys.

She couldn't concentrate on their conversation any longer, her only goal being to slip into the house as fast as possible before it was closed again. Right before the second guy got the chance to lock her out again, she, again, ran as fast as she could and soon found herself standing inside the house. She literally felt like an intruder.

So, where is he? She thought to herself and carefully looked around the room, she was standing in. It was the living room. To her right was a staircase. When she heard some noise from above, she decided it would be best to go after it.

She took her first steps really quietly until she released that nobody would hear her, so her steps became a bit more eager. Quickly, she found the room the noise was coming from and to her luck and surprise, the door to the room stood slightly open. Just far enough that she would fit through.

From the inside, she heard someone singing quietly. She felt the goose bumps creeping up her arms and instantly knew without a doubt, that she would find the person she was looking for inside this room.

When the guy stopped for a second, she carefully made her way inside the small studio and took a first glance at the person she would protect from now on. When her eyes laid on him, she felt something inside of her, she never felt before. A feeling she couldn't quiet describe. There were no words in the world for the pureness she felt when her eyes laid on him. Something inside her just clicked and she knew she needed to be close to him.

She took a careful step towards him and took in his form. He was sitting there and played some soft tunes on a keyboard that was connected to his computer. His ears were covered with headphones. From her perspective, she could get a quick glance at his tattooed neck. A hand grabbing an apple and a snake wrapping around said apple perfectly. A clear reference to the story of Adam and Eve.

When he began to sing again, she felt herself drawn even closer to his presence and without even thinking she stepped next to him to get a better look of his face.

He had really beautiful dark eyes and if you looked close enough, you could notice the small freckles on his face. In this moment she was more than glad that he couldn't see her, because she was creepily leaning on the desk to see him better.

Than for a brief second his eyes shot in her direction. That almost made her fall over in shock. She held her chest when she backed away from him. For a moment she legitimately thought, he had looked her dead in the eyes. When her breath finally started to settle again, she noticed it must have been a coincidence, because when she dared to look at him again, he had gone back to his normal position.

At this moment she realised, how bizarre this whole thing really was. She was sitting in the room of a singer, who she hadn't seen or heard of before and was literally as dead as it gets. She stared at a stranger, while just being a fucking spirit in his room.

She wiped over her face in disbelief, before starting to walk up and down his room, while he was humming a melody. She had a feeling, like she couldn't breathe anymore. She was fucking dead. Her live on earth was over.

How the hell was she fitting to be a guardian angel? She didn't have a good attention span and now was suppose to watch a stranger's every move.

Why couldn't she just have her well deserved rest? She was fucking run over by a car. She hadn't even had her first relationship before she died. Why didn't her grandpa just babysit Noah? He had literally 70 years more of life than she had.

When Noah stood up from his spot, Jules was in tears. It was so unfair. Why her? What did she do to deserve this? She was a literal Straight A student, had good friends and did her utter best. Tried to be as perfect as possible. But nothing mattered anymore. Nobody would remember her and the afterlife was cruel enough to not give her some rest.

Noah made his way out of the small studio, but Jules couldn't get up. Her thoughts just didn't stop. She just wanted to go. She wanted to go back.

She couldn't even think about her parents, her chest starting to burn when she thought of them. They showed her nothing but love throughout her life and right now she had a feeling, like she never appreciated them in the slightest. While she was grateful for everything, she still thought far too often that everything in her life was simply given to her. Her parents worked their asses of for her to get the opportunity to go to Juilliard and she was so dumb to get run over by a car, because her phone was that much more important.

With that it was over for her. It felt like someone was clutching her throat. She couldn't take full breaths anymore. Her mind started to race even faster, while her tears felt like literal lava on her skin. She wanted to go back. Wake up in that hospital bed. See her family. Hold their hands. Never let them go. She couldn't do this. How the hell was she supposed to do this?

She cradled her head in her hands and laid on the floor in fetal position, when suddenly...

It was warmer around her. She instantly was able to breathe again. She opened her eyes and found herself back in that white room, where she landed after her grandpa talked to her.

She sat up and looked around.

Next to her sat Keaton.

"What's going on, Jules?" He asked her and stroked her back reassuring. Tears were still running down her cheeks.

"I can't do it, Keaton." She cried out so quietly, Keaton almost didn't hear her. "Why are you even here? Aren't you suppose to protect your people?"

"You are one of my people." He quickly told her. "Just because you are as dead as me, doesn't mean you don't need someone looking over you."

Her heart warmed with that statement. She couldn't believe her ears. Never had she felt so save like she did with him next to her. He made her feel save.

"How am I suppose to help Noah, when I couldn't even help myself?" She asked with a raspy voice.

"You can do it, believe me. I could do it too." He reassured her. "I thought I couldn't do it myself and look at me now. Sitting next to the girl I should have protected." He laughed bitterly. "It's okay to fail. It is more important to know you tried."

She saw how his eyes became watery and quickly reached out to put her arms around him. When he hugged Jules back, it was everything the both needed to go on. For the moment, she didn't want to let go of him, knowing the seriousness of their task would come back soon after. But suddenly...

... Jules heard a shattering noise from downstairs and was quickly snapped out of her thoughts and the save room. She set in the studio for a second. But without even thinking she found herself next to Noah.

She looked around her and was shook to see she teleported herself right next to him. Tears were still streaming down her face, but she immediately looked for Noah, who was now bent over the sink and rinsed his finger, which he cut. He was muttering profanities under his breath, while Jules still tried to contain her cries.

She knew she needed to get over this. It was hard, but this was her life now, if you could even call it that. This was her existence now and she needed to make sure Noah would be save.

She couldn't fail him too.

READ PART THREE HERE.

[spidercookie18]

I've had this idea in my head that Paul uses M&M tubes to keep his joints in! They're perfect, they start out having candy AND they're air tight! If you can make anything out of that for the love of all that lives, you gotta.

Summary: Paul is a fiend, and makes it grandpa Emerson's problem Word Count: 2.5k

Great ask! I love this one a lot, you’re gonna get a crack response, but it’s a good response. Cause I’m smoking a crack pipe full of these fruity little bitches!

So, I’ve been toying with the idea of the boys going to COSTCO; hear me out. Any TLB AU where everyone survives, means Lucy will take the boys in; no if’s and’s or buts about it. She is the best 80’s mom ever, she’s for sure adopting them. Which makes the whole David x Michael thing weird bc they would be…stepbrothers? Whatever, vampire relationships are complicated. She would also have to be feeding like 10 people. Hold on, lets actually count. It’s the boys, that’s 4 + Lucy, Sam, Michael, Grandpa E, another 4, then Star, and Laddie, which is 2 AND maybe Max, and the Frog brothers… depending on how that goes. Anyways, that’s still at LEAST 10 mouths to feed.

So, Lucy, being the mom that she is, would get a COSTCO membership to get all the things that her new, big family would need. Now, you’re probably wondering, “Ari, where the fuck are you going with this?”

WELL

Lucy would get a COSTCO card so she could get these rambunctious fuckers what they need. Max would foot the bill, and everyone would be ‘happy’ about it and shut up forever.  (FYI, Costco in the 90’s looked more like a Home Depot, which I hate).

Lucy notices, IMMEDIATELY that her new sons have some interesting snack choices to say the least.

David is waaay too into eggs, to the point where she doesn’t know if he’s even eating them, or if he’s just hiding them somewhere. Marko goes through wheels of cheese like they’re apples. Dwayne likes… pickled fish and marshmallows. And Paul… well, she’s concerned for all of them, but she’s most concerned for Paul.

He’s quickly becoming her favorite. He always helps with chores, even if he doesn’t want to.  He changes light bulbs for her, even catches and releases the bugs that get in the house for her. Sure, he’s screaming and yelling the whole time it takes him to get the damn bug outside, but it’s the thought that counts. He's a mama’s boy through and through.

Lucy started worrying for him though, the second she noticed he would go through candy so quickly.  And not just go through candy, he would go through the damn candy. Paul could eat a whole box of candy, within a few minutes. When she got trick or treat candy for one Halloween, Paul went through several hundreds of dollars’ worth of candy within a few hours. Specifically, she noticed, he would tear through the mini m&m tubes like nobodys business.

Which, if you asked Paul, he’d say it really was, “nobody’s business.”

She would buy the giant COSTCO boxes that had 24 tubes and he would just walk off with the whole box. After he’d done that three or four times, she brought it up to David.

Lucy: I’m worried that Paul is… going to make himself sick.

David: *Leaning against the kitchen counter* We’ve been worrying about that for a lot longer than you have, he’s just like that.

Lucy: No, I mean, he keeps stealing these… little… *gestures with her hands* tubes of candy and I don’t know what he’s doing with them.

David: Oh, *rubs his chin* well that would be concerning… if it wasn’t Paul.

Lucy: Can you just make sure he’s not eating all that candy, can you boys process sugar fine like that?

David: *shrugs*

Michael: *walks into the kitchen, and grabs something from the fridge*

Lucy: OH, oh, Michael, *waving her hands* tell David about the thing.

Michael: *closes the fridge* Oh, no, not this again. *To David* Is she bothering you with this? *To Lucy, pointing with the soda bottle* Are you bothering him with this?

David: *snorts* This is a real hot button issue, eh?

Lucy: I’m worried about him, is no one else worried about him?

Michael: He’s a weird guy, mom. He’s just like that.

Lucy: But-

Michael: Mom if it’s that big of a deal why don’t you ask him about it?

Lucy: I TRY. But every time I try to ask him about it, he bolts. And, *pointing at Michael and David* with all that damn candy, I might add.

David: *laughing* Yeaah, that sounds like Paul.

Michael: Don’t encourage her.

Lucy: *glares at Michael*

David: Listen Ms. E, I wouldn’t worry about it making him sick. But if it means that much to ya, I’ll talk to him about it.

Lucy: Thank you, David, *pats his back*

David: *already halfway out the room* okay byeeeeeeeeee

What lucy didn’t know, was while, yes, Paul was a fiend for sugar, he was hoarding the m&m tubes for a much more nefarious reason.

Paul was like a pack rat. Step one foot into the cave, and you’d think it was just a mangled mess of shit. But, if you looked closely, you’d notice all the little things hidden away.

Paul had been, for the last several months, eating, emptying, and refilling the plastic, airtight containers with grandpa E’s marijuana. He had been sneakily snatching the sticky green buds in the middle of the night and stashing them away for safe smoking.

Albeit, not as sneaky as he thought. Cause, on more than one occasion, grandpa E had been waiting outside in the garden with the spray hose for Paul. Whenever Paul would slosh into the cave the boys knew he got hosed again, and they’d laugh at his ass.

But, Paul, the ever persistent, learned grandpa E’s habits, and how to better sneak the weed away undetected. He’d crawl on his belly across the roof of the house with a bag slung across his shoulder (think army style, when they make them crawl through the mud; that’s Paul). He would peep his little face over the side of the roof and watch for grandpa in the garden. The first few nights, grandpa E stood outside for a few hours with the hose, waiting for the wild blond.

His persistence paid off, after a few days, grandpa E thought it was safe, and Paul snatched up his goodies. Paul thought he was being sneaky by hovering above the ground and not leaving boot prints; but the next morning, when Lucy, Sam, and Michael were having breakfast and they heard a string of old man cuss words, they knew ‘smokey the bandit’ struck again. Lucy didn’t believe for a second that sweet Paul could steal from her dad, so she chalked it up to her dad smoking too much and being old.

The next night when the boys went to visit for ‘pizza night’ grandpa E railed into Paul. He would not stop ranting and raving about how he was, “going to hog tie his ass,” and, “turn him into the ugliest taxidermyed vampire there ever was.”  Lucy gave the boys some money and sent them to get the pizza to let her dad cool down, but when grandpa E insisted he didn’t want Paul back in the house until he apologized, she told the boys to just go out for pizza.

Marko: Paul, you asshole, just apologize so we can go back.

Paul: If I apologize, then that proves I did it- which I didn’t.

Dwayne: Dude, we all know it was you.

Paul: Hey, he’s getting old, that’s 100% not my problem.

David: You know, if you strip the stalk, that kinda makes it more obvious, dumbass.

Sam: You shoulda heard him this morning,

Michael: Yea, it was pretty bad. I’ve never heard him blow up like that.

David: Really? What happened

Sam: He went crazy! He wouldn’t stop screaming!

Marko: *giggling*

Sam: It’s not funny dude, okay? He said words I’ve never even heard before!

Dwayne: Like what? ‘Dagnabbit?’

David: *snorts*

Michael: *Pulling Paul’s jacket by the sleeve* You know if he catches you, you’re dead.

Paul: I’m already dead, also, I’m so not scared of your ‘pappy’.

Michael: Hey, it was a fair warning.

After that, grandpa E went through with operation: catch that flying asshole. He brewed pots of coffee to stay up all night and traded in his hose for a shotgun. Grandpa E sat outside with a chair and his shotgun across his lap, just waiting for Paul to show.

Paul, the ever persistent, waited over a week for his prize. Lucy watched from the kitchen window, as her dad sat outside and stared at the night sky. Her, and Sam were beginning to worry about his mental state. He’d been forcing himself to stay away for hours, and whenever he did fall asleep, Paul would chuck pebbles at him to see if he’d gone to bed for good. Grandpa E would immediately wake up, startled, and one time he’d rang a shot off into the night. Lucy scolded him, saying what if he’d hit a bird, or one of the boys. And his response was, “good! Those fuckers need to learn to stop stealing my stuff!”

One night, after almost 10 nights, there was an opening.

Paul laid on his back, staring at the night sky, rolling the little grey pebble around between his fingers. He was getting sick of waiting, and if he wasn’t worried about what Lucy thought of him, he would have just gone and taken the whole damn garden already. He stared up at the stars, watching the clouds roll in.

Clouds.

He listened to the water as it began to fall softly onto the roof. The pitter-patter came slowly, then faster, then it came in a downpour.

Grandpa E: LUCY!

Lucy:

Grandpa E: LUUUCYYYY!

Lucy: What dad?

Grandpa E: Lucy! Bring me the umbrella!

Lucy: No Dad!

Grandpa E: WHAT?! But it’s a downpour!

Lucy: If you want the umbrella, you gotta come get it yourself!

*Lucy had had enough of her dad’s shenanigans and was determined to get him to come inside from the cold. She hoped this rainstorm was the wakeup call he needed. *

Grandpa E:

Grandpa E: SAM! MICHAEL!

Lucy: They’re not here dad!

Grandpa E: LUCY, YOU BRING ME THAT DAMN UMBRELLA BEFORE I CATCH MY DEATH OUT HERE!

She was done entertaining the notion that Paul, her sweet, kind, always there to help anyone, Paul, was stealing from her dad. He would have to come inside one way or another.

Grandpa E grumbled as his button-up shirt started to get soaked.

Paul turned to lay on his belly and watched his nemesis shift around, trying to determine what to do next. “Go inside, you old bastard,” Paul mumbled to himself. The rain was coming down hard now, if it wasn’t for his vampire eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see anything through the rain. Paul could stay out in the cold and wet forever if he needed to, but he knew grandpa E had to go inside, “go in,” Paul insisted.

He watched as grandpa E pulled the shotgun off his lap and scampered inside. He could hear him mumble something about an umbrella as he ran through the screen door into the kitchen.

Now was his chance!

Paul quickly flew down to the garden. He planted both feet firmly on the ground, what did it matter if his boot prints were in the ground, grandpa knew he was there, and also the rain would wash them out. Paul’s boots squished under him in the wet, burbly mud, he squatted down and grabbed the plant from the base of the stalk and ripped it out of the ground. The roots of the plant dripping down with mud and rain. He repeated his process a few more times. “Fucking old bastard,” he grumbled, as he pulled another plant up by the roots, “making me come out here in the - *grunts* FUCKING RAIN.”

He grabbed a few stalks, tucked them under the strap of his bag and flew off into the night.

Grandpa E heard the “woo-hoo” as he was reaching for the screen door. He ran outside, looking for the umbrella was a flop, it took him too long to search in the cramped closet, so he gave up and decided to return to his green patch of goodness. He scampered back to the kitchen and saw a hurried mess of hair shifting around in the garden.

Grandpa E: Look! There he is! *Pointing out the window*

Lucy: *Walking to the window* Dad, I don’t see anything?

Grandpa E: What do you mean?! He’s right there!

Lucy: *straining her eyes* Dad, it’s a downpour, I can’t see anything.

Grandpa E: *running to the screen door* I got your ass now!

But, as we all know, by the time he got out there, it was too late. Grandpa E, stared at the ground in defeat. He watched as the holes where the stalks used to be burbled and filled with mud and water. The boot prints were fading before his eyes. He knew no one would ever believe him now, and he knew Paul knew that too.

If he didn’t hate him so much by this point, he’d might have applauded him. But for now, he just fell to his knees, the mud sloshing under his pajama pants, and he wailed into the night.

Paul laughed the whole way back to the cave.

When he finally landed, he happily stomped down into the cave. He leaves of the stalks rustling, mud dripping off the stalks and the roots.

His boots squelched under his weight and the mud tracked in behind him.

The other boys and Michael watched as the cocky, rain washed out blond walked into the cave.

Marko: No fucking way.

Dwayne: Oh, Paul you didn’t

David: Atta boy!

Michael: Oooooh, I’m not here.

Paul hummed happily to himself; he ignored his brothers’ jeers as he walked to his alcove. He slung the bag off around his head set the stalks down next to his bean bag chair. He sat down on the tattered, ratty thing with an oomph. He looked at the stalks, he’d clean em and prep em for use later. Paul intended to pluck the seeds out and plant them near the cave, entirely done with being ‘smokey the bandit’.

He shifted to one side and reached a hand under the bag. He rifled around under the chair for a second before he produced what he was reaching for, an m&m tube. He patted his jacket for a lighter and popped open the blue plastic container. He wafted the open container under his nose and turned the tube upside down. A joint slid out into his open palm.

Paul plucked the twisted white paper and set it in his mouth. He flicked the lighter on and lit the end. He took a deep inhale and laid back further in his bean bag chair, still ignoring his brothers half-assed remarks.  

Victory never tasted so sweet.

[absolutely-esme]

I've been enjoying sharing some of my headcanons, so I thought I might share some little tweaks I like to make to canon when I think up possible fics.

Most of these are not exactly headcanons. These are actual changes to what happened, or interpretations different enough from the view presented that it feels like a change. They don't alter the overall flow of events much. They are mostly just changing little things that bug me into things I like better.

When Danny is talking about his situation in the first episode, Sam doesn't spontaneously switch to complaining about her parents mid-sentence. She stays on the topic of Danny's very serious and potentially existential problem, but her advice on the matter is still influenced by her relationship with her own parents.

Sam is still going through her "not like other girls" phase, but is not correct about other girls. Paulina is a whole human being with her own internal life. Girls with more traditionally feminine interests are not vapid caricatures. This primarily manifests by changing or getting rid of some bits of dialog/actions driven entirely by stereotypes.

In the episode with the dance and the dragon amulet, Paulina didn't say yes to Danny because she wanted to steal Sam's boyfriend as petty revenge for an insult. Sam calling her shallow in a creative and scathing way in front of everyone made her feel self-conscious. She felt the need to prove that she wasn't shallow; she could give the weird kid a chance.

Tucker's reason for wishing for ghost powers is not just envy. Sure that's part of it; superpowers are cool. That's not all, however. Tucker and Danny have been been friends for years. They shared everything and presumably faced everything together. Now Danny is fighting battles that Tucker can't fight alongside him. Sure, Tucker is there and helps however he can, but Danny is the only super-powered heavy hitter on the team. When he's out there grappling with some kind of nightmare monster, Tucker is on the sidelines watching him take hits and hating it. His best friend is suffering, and he's not in the trenches with him.

In the episode where Desiree makes it so that Sam never met Danny and Tucker (and Danny never became a halfa), Sam doesn't immediately set about trying to re-ghostify Danny or change his ghost form purely for her own preference. Both of these things kind of creep me out because they involve imposing on another person in a way that feels like it should merit at least some hesitation.

Upon realizing what has happened, Sam initially decides to try and deal with the ghosts herself. She needs ghost-hunting tech, and the only place to get that is the Fentons. She tries to be sneaky, but Danny notices and realizes something is up. Unfortunately, a lot of Fenton tech is less effective without Danny fixing it, and Sam is working with human limitations like the inability to fly or pass through solid objects, and even if she caught Desiree, there wouldn't be a working portal to send her through. It's not working.

Ultimately, she decides to recreate the accident, this time with her instead of Danny. Danny and Tucker catch her in the lab and confront her (because they were suspicious of this weird girl who started sneaking into Danny's house right when all this other weird stuff started happening, and they want to know what's going on). Sam is incredibly stressed after trying to deal with all this alone while simultaneously losing her two closest friends and ends up spilling everything.

Danny decides to become half-ghost again. Not because Sam dressed up in pink and wore different makeup up for him. Not because he wanted the pretty girl to like him. This person cared enough about him and his best friend that she was willing to let them go for their own sakes, even if it meant she was going to miss them. She tried so hard to protect everyone alone. She was willing to die in his place. He didn't want to let her. He also didn't want to stand on the sidelines knowing there was something he could have done, that he could have protected everyone and chose not to.

Tucker and Sam both argue against it.

Sam says something to the effect of "You're not dying because of me again!" Turns out, she's been harboring some guilt over the accident. Danny says that it's not because of her and he's making his own choice.

Tucker doesn't want his best friend to get hurt in a way that will permanently change him. If he can't talk him out of it, he at least doesn't want him doing it alone. Danny points out that they only really know that Danny can survive this. It's entirely possible that growing up exposed to ectoplasm makes a difference. The risk would be higher for Tucker and Sam.

They all argue a lot more, before settling on a course of action.

The DP symbol was something Sam had previously designed at Danny's request. He hoped that something that would make him look more like a superhero would help him be viewed a little more positively. However, they hadn't been able to figure out how to add it to his ghost form. Once she realizes she's not going to be able to change his mind, she offers to add it to his suit before he goes in. She still has the vinyl decals in her backpack. One of them mistakenly made with black material instead of white.

Rather than wishing everything back to normal during the fight, Sam simply wishes for her friends to remember her.

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - VJ's little problem

After Morgana reached the small hospital, she warmly greeted her colleague Jamie. Not only have they become closer professionally, but also as good friends. After making a plan together for the day shift, the patients were cared for.

It's not just the adults who stop by, VJ also seems to have a concern today. "Hey, how are you?". He shrugged his shoulders and replied almost indifferently. "Could be better, but I'll be fine. Do you have anything for a rash?"/ "Depends what kind of rash… And where". VJ became a little embarrassed. "mmh, it's enough if one person looks at it, not both of you". The two doctors quickly understood that it must be a more "intimate" thing. "hnhn, all right, then come with me to the examination room….".

VJ followed Morgana into the back room, where the patients were examined first. "But you won't tell anyone, I'm really embarrassed…"/ "I swear I won't tell anyone, you know medical confidentiality. Now please take your clothes off, otherwise I can't help you…"

VJ had to strip down to his underwear. But what he was uncomfortable with was hidden underneath. And Morgana had to look at everything. "Mhm, o.k. …. Do you have a girlfriend?"/ "Why, is it contagious?"/ "No, at first glance I don't think there's any risk of infection. What about your hygiene?"/"I wash myself in the lake"

"in the lake?? Oh dear…do you at least have soap?"/ "Where am I supposed to get it from, hey? I can't cut it out of my ribs"/ "They're not made of soap either,. giggles..never mind. It's not really a good idea to wash there, it's teeming with bacteria and little animals, you know? How do you carry yourself, you can dry and wash yourself as much as you like"

"And now?"/ "First of all, you should make sure you boil the water before washing. And I'll give you a lotion to apply to the affected areas after washing. Then it should be gone again in a few days, it must be terribly itchy"/ "yes, yes…can something like that also come from bugs?"/ "oh yes, bedbugs for example…"/ "Then it's time to finally repair all the walls"…

Once everything was done, he was allowed to get dressed again. "As I said, it's better if you boil the water before you wash yourself with it. And you should also wash your clothes from time to time…". He gave her a reproachful look. "Hey, I don't stink, otherwise my girlfriend would have left long ago"/ "I didn't say that either… I just want you to live at least reasonably clean so that something like this doesn't happen more often".

There was one thing VJ Morgana hadn't said - he didn't have the opportunity to boil water at home. So he had to come up with a solution. he went to the scrapyard and hoped to find the right equipment there that would allow him to boil water. And he was surprised when he came across some familiar faces.

VJ never thought he would meet Candy and Davy here. They are schoolmates he never thought he'd see again. "How did you manage to save yourselves?"/"I was out with the Keatons at the time, … Then we ran towards the swamp hut, hardly anything came down there… We barricaded ourselves in until it was over"

"That's really tough… sorry for the stupid question, but… do you two live here now?"… "Sure, there's no one else here".

"And what was it like for you that day?"/ "I had a discussion with my father. When it started, he told me to go into the cellar… But he didn't follow… When it was quiet at some point, I went out… He was lying under the rubble…". VJ's look changed for a moment to a sad expression. "hh… I'm sorry, similar to me… May I have a look at your place? "/ "O.K., but don't tell anyone that we live here." / "tz, everyone here is happy to have a roof over their head, I have to close mine first".

VJ looked around the inside of the house. "Was it all like this already?"/"More or less, yes. We just have to fetch the water ourselves. It works quite well with a rope and a bucket"/ "Can you get the water to boil?"/ "Sure, with a pot over the fire"/ "Please don't think I'm stupid, but… can you show me how to do it? I don't have any hot water…".

"Sure… I'm sure there's enough stuff here to put something together for you. an old grill and a bucket, you can use that to heat the water"/ "and what about tools? Can I borrow some?"/ "If you bring it back later, sure…"/ "Thanks. I still have a lot to do, I don't want to sit in the snow in winter".

"Is there anything else to get here?"/ "Oh, definitely, people often come here and dump their stuff, but some of it is still quite usable. Just take what you need"/"o.k…. Let's see what I find. Maybe there's something in the garbage can too… (Then at least I'll have a bigger reason to wash myself)…" he thought to himself. Candy helped him find everything he needed to heat water, then he went home with the stuff.

A simple device, but one that made perfect sense to get the water warm somehow. It wasn't a bad idea on Candy's part, but it took longer than VJ had hoped. Nevertheless, he finally had warm water and the bucket was enough for one wash.

Now I've managed to get a lot done after all. And I hope this stuff helps, it's so itchy. And I hope the pillars hold up the roof,"….

"oh man…is this miracle stuff? It's not gone, but the cooling effect makes it more comfortable…phew, o.k., and I thought it was really something contagious, otherwise we couldn't…aah can't even get condoms here anymore…shit, man!"…

After he'd finished, VJ went to bed. He's not really the type to accept help from others. But in these difficult times, it's important to know friends or other people who can help you.

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

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

Ok for the request of Evan taking care of you while you are sick or on your period. I went with sick because I did do a period one a looong time ago. If I can go on the way back machine, I will resend it. Also, a weird tidbit about me is I have very vivid sexual dreams when I'm sick. I have no idea why 😂. Here you go my little horny she devils 😈

I'm sitting on the couch in my living room scrolling my recorded programs and trying to figure out what to watch. I decide on Dr. Pimple Popper. I hit play and there is Dr. Lee in all her adorableness. As I'm watching the background story of the first client, I suddenly get a wave of nausea. I brush it off as my phone chimes. I pick it up, having lost interest in the sob story of people that let things go for 25 years and then want to cry about it. Evan is texting me that he's almost to my house, but traffic is a bitch. I tell him to take his time and be safe. I'm just watching TV.

There is a lot of actual pimple popping going on in this episode and usually it's a very satisfying watch for me (I never claimed to not be weird). Usually, I can watch this shit with no problem. But, when a second, more intense wave of nausea comes over me, I know something isn't quite right. Once again, Evan is my distraction, as I hear him come through the front door.

"I'm finally fucking here.." he mumbles as he takes his jacket off and hangs it on the coatrack adjacent to my door.

"Hey babe" it comes out breathy because I'm trying not to barf all over myself. My tone makes him forget his grumpiness and look up at me.

"You look kinda green. No joke. Are you ok?"

I groan and sit on the edge of the couch, now taking breaths and letting them out slowly. My hand on my stomach. "I don't feel well.."

It's all I can manage before I'm up and running to the half bath off my living room. I skid in my socks as I try to stop and kneel in front of my toilet seat. Lifting the lid a split second before I release my lunch. Puke water pellets hitting my face from the impact.

I vaguely hear Evan come in the bathroom, but before I know it my stomach is lurching a second time, and I'm vomiting again. My hair is being held back from my face by one big gentle hand. The other hand is rubbing my upper back. Evan is kneeling next to me and whispering "It's ok, baby" in my ear. It's so soothing that I almost start sobbing. Having to spit several times into the toilet mutes my emotion enough for the moment to not lose my shit.

I slip away from the toilet bowl and sit on the floor. Evan getting up and taking action. He grabs a washcloth from the cabinet I keep in the bathroom. Sometimes, I take my makeup off downstairs when I'm lazy or don't want to miss a minute of whatever show I'm obsessed with watching. Evan soaks the washcloth in cold water and slings it around the back of my neck. He sits down next to me and takes my hand.

"Talk about a stomach bug" he says with concern in his voice.

"It's not really flu season. I probably just ate something bad." I answer with my eyes closed and my head resting against the wall. The wet washcloth feels fantastic.

"We both ate the same thing yesterday though"

I open my eyes to look at him and his face is thoughtful. "I'm ok, babe. Thanks for helping me"

He doesn't answer. He just stares at me.

"What?" I say

He gets a weird smirk on his face. "You aren't pregnant are you?" A little twinkle in his eye.

I practically roll my eyes into the back of my head and just give him a look.

He chuckles "What is that look for?"

"You sound hopeful. What is that about? Besides I'm about to start my period in a day or two. I'm sure I'm just sick or have food poisoning. It's par for the course I would get my period at the same time." Disdain in my voice.

I move to get up and Evan is quickly on his feet extending a hand to me, helping me to my feet. I look at the toilet and sigh. "I need to definitely clean that" I say.

"No, I will do it. Why don't you just go lay down in your bed." Evan to the rescue.

"Babe, thank you, but I would never ask you to clean up my barfy toilet..."

"That's total nonsense. Go upstairs and lay down. I'm here and I'm not leaving you tonight. I will clean up." When I give him a look he points out the door and says sternly "Go. Now."

"I'd kiss you but I have barf breath" I say to him as he ushers me out of the bathroom.

He chuckles "That's ok, I'll pass"

I laugh lazily as I make my way up the stairs to my bedroom. I don't even try to change my clothes. I pull the duvet down and climb in. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep. It always seems to be that way when I have tummy troubles.

I drift off and before I know it, I'm immersed in a very vivid dream about Evan. To say it isn't tame would be an understatement. I am completely naked on top of my bed. No covers. My hands are tied to the bedpost and I'm blindfolded. There's a ball gag in my mouth. Evan is on top of me, but in my dream I only see his bare naked ass and his muscular back. His hands are gripping my hips and his face is buried in my neck. He's slamming into me and the headboard keeps softly hitting the wall with each hard thrust. I'm screaming in pleasure, but the ball gag is muting the sound. Evan is whispering in my ear how good my pussy feels and then as his thrusts get sloppy and slow, he screams that he's coming and loud cries get muffled in the crook of my neck. His hips bucking along to the sound of his moans like he's dancing to his own sexy music.

In my dream, I start hearing Evan telling me to wake up. I feel a light shaking of my shoulder. I realize he's trying to wake me up, and with sadness, I let go of my beautiful dream and open my eyes. It's dark in my room except for the soft yellow glow of my bedside lamp. It lights up Evan's face just right. His brows are furrowed. He's holding a clear liquid in a glass. His other hand still on my shoulder.

"Babe are you in pain?" He asks me concerned

"No, why? I feel a bit better" I say as I realize that I actually do.

"You were moaning a lot and I was worried"

I look at his beautiful, sweet face and want to cry again because he's so adorable. He would shit his pants if I told him about my dream. Never in a million years would he stick a ball gag in my mouth. And his sweet thoughts were concern for me possibly being in pain.

I touch his face and tell him I love him.

"I love you too, but, how can you watch pimple Popper? No wonder you felt queasy" he kisses my forehead.

"Oh, sweetie, I watch that show all the time. It's not the show" I say between giggles.

"I brought you some sprite. I hope it settles your stomach. It was in your fridge.I didn't want to leave to get Vernors in case you needed me."

I smile up at him. "You're really such a sweetheart" I put my hand out and he takes it and gently kisses it.

"Bathroom is cleaned and I found some soup in your pantry if you feel hungry. But, for now just see if you can keep the sprite down. We'll go from there. You need water too."

"Baby, will you lay with me for a bit?" I ask him

He silently gets up and climbs over me and lays behind me, spooning me. He brushes my hair off my face and kisses my cheek. "You're fucking beautiful" he whispers in my ear.

"You better be careful with those words." I rock my butt into his crotch.

"You don't feel good, honey" he says it, but it's breathless.

"I wasn't in pain. I was dreaming about you fucking me" I blurt it out.

I don't need to rock into him again to feel the sudden hardness poking me.

"Mmm" Evan groans in my ear.

I take his hand and place it on my braless breast. My nipples poking into the palm of his hand. He squeezes gently. I push myself into the arch of his pelvis again. I look behind me and only one word needs to be said. Pleaded really. "Please?"

He wastes no time pulling down my leggings to my knees. He shimmies his pants down just far enough for his erection to spring free. One finger curls around the crotch of my lacy, stretchy panties, pulling them to the side. I move my top leg forward and he plunges into me. He cries out and I gasp.

Oh, fuck." He mutters. He starts pushing. Sliding his dick in and out of my soaking wet pussy. He pulls out completely and hovers behind me, purposely waiting for me to beg him.

"Baby, please.." I whine. He lets out a chuckle only the devil would be proud of and slams himself back into me. This time it's my turn to cuss and I let out a string of moans as his middle finger finds my clit and starts rubbing it. I feel like I won't last much longer. It might be my dream, but I feel over sensitive. It won't take me long. His free hand finds it's way under my head and he shoves his finger inside my mouth. I suck on it and wiggle my tongue against it.

"Oh shit! I'm not gonna last much longer baby..." Just like in my dream, his thrusts get sloppy. His finger is still pressed to my clit. I feel his body stiffen behind me. His thrusts are barely there. I start rocking my hips fast and hard. Going in circles, his massive dick rubbing against my walls and my clit circling around his finger. He helps as much as he can until we both lose control at the same time and start screaming in unison.

When we finish, he gets out of bed and grabs a towel out of my hamper. I watch my sexy man wipe my cum off his dick and then he comes over to me to help me clean up. We will worry about the rest of it later.

He shuts the light off and gets in bed with me again. This time just holding me and whispering sweet things into my ear as we drift off.

--

Over the course of the next few days, I oddly feel sick now and then. There's something nagging at the back of my mind, but I can't quite put a finger on it.

I find a weird show on TV about women that don't know they are pregnant until they are giving birth in their bathroom. I roll my eyes. Really?

One woman talks about having weird sexual dreams and being over sensitive and possibly feeling sick from day one.

I spring up from my laying position on my couch as I suddenly realize I haven't started my period yet.

(little twisty-twist at the end for ya folks, let me know if I should continue it)

--Writer Anon ❤️

writer anon blesses the tweam again

[foomoosworld]

THE RAVEN AND THE FIREFLY

CHAPTER 1 - QUOTH THE RAVEN NEVERMORE

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Joel is put onto garbage duty in the QZ and he finds a woman he never thought he would meet. She makes him see stars.

Minors DNI. Drug use, violence, overdose. But no smut. So we'll tick that off next time.

Also, welcome Stars Too Far readers that figured it out!

“Fucking, Tommy…”  Joel muttered, irate, as he stepped in the door to his house.

“Ah, don’t blame him.  He’s just working through some stuff.  Besides, if he was more responsible, I’d be out of work.” A man followed in behind Joel.  They’re both covered in dirt and sweat from working all day and their work boots clunked on the floor as they walked.

“I guess you’re right.” Joel stubbornly admitted, “But we would have been done at a reasonable hour if he had at least called and told me he wouldn’t be coming in.  His childish crap got us three hours behind today.  I could have seen my daughter before she went to bed.”

“Yeah, that’s rough.  They grow up too fast.  We spend too much time working to provide for them.” Joel’s co-worker says as he flops down on the old couch and looks around Joel’s living room.  Joel moves to the kitchen then points at him and asks, 

“You want a beer?”

“God, yes.”

Joel comes back and twists off the top of a bottle of beer and tosses the cap onto the coffee table then hands it to him before he does the same with his and sits down on a large comfortable chair, putting his boot up on the coffee table, swigging his cold beer and sighing with exhaustion.

“So… ‘Poe’... That’s a funny name.  I thought you said you were from Guatemala?  Is that short for something?”

“Nah… My father was just a big Edgar Allen Poe fan, I think.”

“Ah, ‘Quoth the raven Nevermore’ and so on?”  Joel quotes.

Poe nods and laughs, “Yeah something like that.”

“I never really caught the bug for reading except to Sara when she was little.”  Joel admits.

“Me neither.  But hey, Dr Suess is still a doctor, right.  That counts as intellectual reading”

Joel laughs and leans over to cheers Poe, “Man, I miss the years of reading to Tan and Amy.”

“Those your kids?”

“Yeah, Amy is 9 and Tan is 11.”  Poe nods as he sips his beer.

“‘Tan’?  Your family is big into unlikely naming conventions, huh?”

“Short for Tanner.”  Poe explains.

“Oh, right,”  Joel laughs at the now obvious answer. “I’d like to meet ‘em sometime.”

“Sure, well, you can meet Amy.  I haven’t seen Tan in years.  He’s technically not my kid but I raised him for a long time.  His mother suffered from mental illness.  Times got tough for a bit and I didn’t know she went off her meds to try to save money for us.  She started having delusions, thinking Tan was some prophecy from another galaxy.  She took off with him.  I filed missing person reports but the cops don’t care about a Gringo like me and his broke family.  Swept it under the rug.  I looked for them for years but they both disappeared without a trace.  I know they're out there somewhere though.  One day I’ll find ‘em.  She’s not a bad mother.  She would never hurt her kids.  She just can’t tell what’s real and what’s not when she isn’t on her meds.”  Poe shakes his head, sadly as he stares off to somewhere in space.  

“I’m so sorry.  Between the addiction problems, mental illness and everyone being broke these days it’s tough but no one should lose their family from it.”

“Yeah…Life happens too fast sometimes and we’re just left struggling to try to keep up and slow it the fuck down again.”

“I’m glad I met you today, Poe.”  Joel says.

“Yeah,  I’m glad I was available to help today.  You really remind me of someone I met a long time ago, actually.”

“A good guy, hopefully?”

“Yeah.  He really was.  Lives really far away so I don’t see him anymore though.”  Poe finishes his beer then as he puts it down notices the time on his watch. “Oh shit… it’s really late.  I gotta get going.  Do you need me on the site tomorrow?”  Poe asks Joel as he gets up and puts his jacket back on.

“Yeah, come on by.  Even if Tommy does manage to bless us with his presence tomorrow I can always find some work for you to do.”

“Thanks, man.”  Poe extends his hand and heartily shakes Joel’s hand. “It really means a lot to me that you’re helping me out like this under the table.”

Joel waves him off as he walks him to the door.

“I know how it is.”  He comforts him, “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

Poe thanks him again then turns and goes to get in his truck as Joel closes the door.  Joel rubs the back of his neck tiredly and walks into the kitchen with the empty beer bottles and puts them in the sink.  As he walks out of the kitchen to go upstairs to bed he passes a calendar that has tomorrows date circled that says in Sara’s loopy handwriting, “Dad’s Birthday”.

Joel shuts the lights off and goes upstairs to bed leaving the house blanketed in the silence of night.

…………………………….

A large dirty handkerchief is tied around Joel’s face and his clothes are covered in grime as he wipes the sweat dripping from his forehead in the blazing summer sun.  He’s taking a momentary break as he unloads garbage from a large truck into the local landfill.  A job he didn’t outright hate.  It paled in comparison to sewage work or worse, burning the infected corpses in mass open graves.  It could have been worse work today, however, the downside is the worse the work is, the better the pay is.

Sure, the landfills smelled horrible, so bad in the heat of the summer it could make your eyes water, but there were no people out here.  It was like being in outer space.  Just miles and miles of nothing.  Technically, it was outside of the QZ, but it still had a large concrete wall around it so the infected couldn’t get in.  The government liked to needlessly protect their trash and use everyone’s tax dollars on useless expenditures rather than giving the people proper rations or access to consistent clean water.  Staring at the landfill wall always sparked some silent anger deep down in Joel’s chest but it was just one of many things in the world after the outbreak that enraged him.

Seagulls suddenly fluttered up from a spot in the distance then circled frantically around the area, cawing and creating a ruckus.  Joel shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted into the distance to see what could have possibly startled them. 

“What the?”

A figure emerged on the top of the trash heap in the horizon, wearing a tattered shawl.  It seemed to turn and look at Joel and the truck then skittishly, turned and disappeared on the other side of the trash heap.

The driver of the truck came around and elbowed Joel to get his attention.

“What are you doing?  Get on the truck.  We’re done for the day.”

“Wh-”  Joel turns and looks to the driver. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”  The driver asked, feigning interest as he walked back to the driver’s seat.

“That person… over there on the hill.”

The driver laughed at him, “You’ve been out in the sun too long.  Here,”  He tosses Joel a water bottle which Joel unscrews and takes a sip but never takes his eyes away from the horizon to see if they will appear again.  “There’s nothing out there but old mattresses, wood skids and the occasional dead seagull.”

After a moment of staring into the wavy heat of the distance Joel concludes it must have just been a heat mirage and shakes his head to regain his composure then heaves his tired body into the passenger seat of the truck.

“Get yer eyes checked, old man.”  The driver says as he puts the truck in gear and it grinds into motion, jerking and bouncing over the neglected, gravel landfill road.

……………………………..

Joel is sitting at the rickety, worn, wood table in his dilapidated studio suite.  It’s a tiny room with dusty windows and cracked walls.  It didn’t make any sense to put money into anything nicer.  He had given up on planning a future beyond these cracked walls.  Not that there was anything nicer to live in anymore in the QZ.  Everything was crumbling and no one knew how to fix it.  From the living spaces, to infrastructure, government, laws, morals and hope.  From the top to bottom the entire thing was crackling like an old statue, every now and then a facial feature would just slide off without warning, forever changing the once beautiful place and making it ugly, scary and dangerous.  

An open bottle of unlabeled dark liquor sits on the table next to him and a greasy, fingerprint smeared glass holds a splash of whiskey still left in the bottom.  Joel  looks down at his broken watch in front of him, the one Sara had fixed for his birthday.  That fateful night that she was shot to death by military when the outbreak started.  The night his entire life lost its meaning and any sense of purpose.  But the entire world seemed to have lost its meaning and purpose that night, Joel realizes as he downs the last bit of whiskey in his glass and refills it.  Why should his life be any different? 

He gets up, swaying slightly and suddenly feeling how tipsy he is.  With his glass of whiskey in his hand, he steps over to the window to look out over the city.  The dust had amounted thickly on the window so he had to use his flannel shirt to rub a circle in it to look out.  He, mostly, didn’t want to know what was going on in the world outside unless it had to do directly with him so windows often had no purpose other than free light or an escape route.

No one dared to walk the QZ at night.  The military jeeps were full of young men, mostly hopped up on drugs that Joel sold to them, with itchy trigger fingers and anger from having their future robbed of them.  Joel didn’t blame them for their anger.  Hence, why he justified selling drugs to people barely adults.  They had no future.  They were born into this godforsaken place, would never leave it, and deserved a break from reality now and then.  However, anger and mind altering substances often make terrible bed partners and oftentimes innocent people would be shot after dark, almost as if target practice. The only ones scurrying around were the thieves, drug runners, some Fireflies and anyone up to no good.  Joel had been one of those for years.  Less and less now as he ages but, on occasion Tess will bring him a job and he finds himself trying to cloak himself in night as he’s dodging headlights and cowering in the shadows of crumbling buildings for a few measly bucks.

He looks down at the street below and sees Tess dodge across the street between military vehicles passing and he shakes his head with a sigh, “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”  His hand reaches up to his dusty window and draws a sad face in it.

The eye of that sad face flickered at him.  Joel did a double-take flicking his eyes back at the dust drawing he just did.  Again, he saw the flickering just beyond the sad face in the dusty window,  He quickly used the sleeve of his flannel shirt again to clear another patch to look out and there it was, clear as day, a small fire, with smoke pluming up from it, coming from the landfill.

“I knew I saw you!”  Joel whispers to himself proudly.

He watches for a few moments more before the fire suddenly seems to go out as if water was dumped on it.  He eventually turns and flops down in bed.  The alcohol taking hold, and the pills didn’t hurt either.  He would sleep for 8 full hours tonight, but restless, synthetic sleep.  Never the less, sleep that was welcomed.

……………………………

There’s an arm around him.  He stirs suddenly and looks down with a start as Tess’s voice rings out from her position curled up to him,“One of these days you’ll get used to me sleeping next to you and not wake up like I’m going to murder you.”  She smiles as she, too stirs from her sleep.

“Yeah, well… maybe you’ve murdered a few too many people for me to consider that option.”  Joel grunts sitting up.

“Hello Pot, this is Kettle and he is black.”  Tess jokes.

“What were you scurrying around for last night?” Joel grogilly rubs his face.

“You saw that, huh?” Tess quips.

“If I saw it, then you know the military saw it too.  Or worse, the Fireflies.”  Joel goes to put on a pot of coffee.

“Maybe the Fireflies sent me out there last night.”  Tess teases as she raises an eyebrow at him.  He looks over his shoulder hesitantly then decides to drop it.

“Why do you keep coming here?”  He turns and leans against the small kitchenette counter.

“Dancing is more fun with a partner.”  She snarks.  “Not that you are ever sober enough to stand after 7 PM.”  Joel shoots her a glare, pours coffee into a mug for himself and one for Tess and hands it to her.  She nods and takes a careful sip.

“The Fireflies did send me out last night.  There’s been camp fires in the landfill and they want me to find who is lighting them.”

“Hm.”  Joel says sipping his coffee, deciding not to disclose what he had seen the previous day in the landfill.

“They think it’s a woman and they want to speak to her.”

“Is that so?”  Joel fakes disinterest.

“There’s a big pay out if I find her and bring her to them.”

Joel puts his coffee down and Tess knows she has his attention.

“How much?”

“Enough to get us out of here.”

Joel sighs in exasperation.

“We’re not getting out of here.  There’s nowhere else to go.”  He states simply and slightly frustrated to argue this with her once again.

“You’ve seen it.  I can tell.  You’ve been on the landfill crew for the last few weeks.  You’ve seen something.”

Joel buttons up and sits at the table, concentrating on his coffee.

“Joel - “ Tess approaches him and crowds in excitedly, “Have you seen her?”

“You need to work on getting a battery for that car if you really want to drive out there to your death.  Don’t worry about what isn’t living in the landfill.”

Tess watches him intently for a moment.

“You’re a terrible liar, Joel Miller.”  She stands up with a huff. “I’m going out to the landfill tonight,” She states as she slings on a backpack and moves to the door. “Come with me or don’t.  I don’t care.”

“I won’t.”  Joel sips his coffee, faking disinterest.

Tess opens the door and before she leaves, she says over her shoulder, “Hurry up  You’ll be late for your shift shoveling garbage until you die on your feet.”  She steps out and closes the door.  Joel sneers at the door once she’s gone then looks at the time and jolts up, realizing he’s late.

“Shit.”

…………………….

The garbage truck jolts and jars as it enters the landfill as Joel sits silently in the passenger seat.

“You smell like a brewery.”  The driver says.

“Last I checked booze aint prohibited.”  Joel snaps at him looking forward out the cracked windshield.

“You got anything for me today?”  The driver changes the subject.  Joel sighs, knowing he’d be kicked of this gig if he didn’t keep brigbing the driver with fentanol pills.  He hands him a small zip lock bag with four pills in it.  The driver smiles and exclaimes, Ha!  There it is.  Come to Papa!”  He chimes as he drops a pill into his mouth and swallows.

Joel shakes his head and grunts to himself, seeing the irony of the driver’s guilt trip.  But that’s the thing with the younger generation.  Pills to numb the pain of living has become so common place that it’s not even blinked at when someone is high all the time.  But someone who works and connects and pulls strings to find alcohol is shunned.  Joel partook in pills as well, but he knew how quickly they could ruin your ability to make money.  And money keeps you alive in the  QZ even if you go crazy by not medicating with drugs.

“Get out and shovel.”  The driver ordered.  Joel opens his door that creaked and groaned it’s own symphony of discontent, then jumped down to begin shoveling the garbage off the back of the truck. 

He started by tossing out some large, broken and forgotten furniture into the landfill and suddenly, his back spazmed and he felt a shot of pain that sent him to his knees.  He cried out in pain but the driver didn’t respond.  He couldn’t move as he crumpled to the ground and called for the driver, “Crankshaft!”  He called out the driver’s nic name but there was no response.  He crawled around the side of the truck and saw his door still open and a cloaked figure bending into the cab of the truck.

“Hey!”  He shouted.  You looked back at him momentarily from under your hooded, tattered shawl, then went back to what you were doing in the cab of the truck.  “STOP!”  Joel commanded but you didn’t back away.  After a moment you pulled out Crankshaft and laid him on the ground.  He was foaming at the mouth, overdosing.  You began giving CPR, pumping hard on his chest, rhythmically then breathing into his mouth.

“What are you doing?”  Joel shouted as he crawled closer.  You worked on him over and over but it was obvious he wasn’t coming back.  You fall back, your cloak falling off your face as you panted, exhausted, “Is he….”

“I’m sorry…”  You say, “He’s gone to the stars now.”

Joel notes your odd phrasing of his passing.

“Fuck.”  Joel hangs his head.

“He was a friend of yours?”  You ask.

“No.  He gave me a job.  And now I’m fucked.  They will blame me for him overdosing”

“Ah…”  You trail off, not understanding but also not caring and look to the horizon. “Goodbye then.”  You get up, lift your hood over your head and goes to walk away.

“Wait!”  Joel raises a hand to you from his position on the ground.

“I can’t walk.  And they’ll blame me and kill me if they find out he overdosed.”  He knows pleading won’t work on people so he pulls out his bag of fentanol.  “I’ll give you these pills to sell if you help me to where you’re staying for tonight”

“The pills that just killed your friend?”  You raise an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah.  It’s all I have to offer.”

You approach him then with a studious pause lean down and wrap your arms around his midsection, hefting him to his feet..  Joel shouts in pain.

“Stop.”  You hiss at him. “We can’t hide if you’re screaming.”

Joel nods between pants and the two of you slowly make your way over the landfill.

It took hours but you made it to a small hill of garbage where you pulled back some wooden skids and tarps to reveal a hole that went down into the landfill.  You struggled to get him inside then pulled the random trash to hide the door again.  You sat with him in complete darkness for a moment before you fumbled around and managed to lite a lantern made of an old, dirty jar and coat hangers.  You grabbed him with your other free hand and hobbled him into a small room that opened up with a wood burning stove, a bed and a broken bookcase that had shattered kitchenware.  You lower him onto the bed..

“You’re the one I saw the other day that frightened the seagulls.”  Joel tiredly states.

“Yes.”  You admit openly.

“Who are you?”

“People call me Amy.”  You say warming up a kettle in the wood burning stove.

“What do you call you?”  Joel weakly asks.

“My real name is Ameo”

“Huh… I used to know a guy that worked for me who had a weird name.  He named his kids normal names though.  Probably the trauma of being named after a horror writer.  One of his kids was named Amy, actually.”

“Common name.” You shrug.

Joel relaxes into the bed as you pour the kettle into a bowl and soak long strips of fabric in the hot water.  You pull up his flannel and undershirt,  “What are you.-”  You place the long strips of warm fabric along his back and he immediately understands what you’re doing as the warm fabric strips begin to relax his back.

“What was your friend’s weird name?” You ask smoothing more strips along his back.

“Poe.  After Edgar Allen Poe.”  

Amy stopped what she was doing.

Joel looked back, “Are you okay?”

Amy’s hands shook and her eyes grew wide.  Joel tried to turn to look at her as much as he could.

She asks,

“Are you Joel?”

THE RAVEN AND THE FIREFLY MASTERLIST

[mercurygray]

for thirsty Thursday, recovery with lip and marj ? :0

recovery - rubbing someone's back repeatedly to help work tension out their body

The worst part was the knowledge that nothing he had was going to make it better.

Bronchial pneumonia, the surgeon had said. Not a damn thing to do about it except warm blankets and hot drinks and somewhere without a draft - all the things they really didn't have at the moment. Penicillin would clear it up, no problem, but they didn't have that, either - still no medical supplies.

So Carwood Lipton was carrying a bucket of boiling water up from the cookhouse, and hoping that none of it spilled.

The house the CP was in had been nice, once, before the war - peeling wallpaper and a dilapidated piano were a testament to that. The couch Marj was lying on was nice, too, or had been - not that it mattered now. Everything was covered with plaster dust and who knew what else.

"What's she got to complain about?" Luz was asking some unseen third person as Lipton carefully made his way back inside. "She's got a couch, she's got a blanket, Lip's gonna be back in a minute with some tea. She's fine. Snug as a bug in a rug."

But she wasn't fine - nothing near fine. Every time he heard that hacking cough he was back to being eleven or twelve, listening to his sister suffer through whooping cough in the second bedroom, his mother staying up to all hours to make sure she was still breathing.

But she could still look up when he came in - could still smile. "Is that hot water?"

"Thought you could breath the steam," Lip offered, setting the bucket down gently so Marj would have space to swing her legs down and lean over. He fumbled in his pocket for the teabags, eventually finding them and dipping his empty canteen cup into the water, dropping the bags in and watching the color change. After a minute or so he glanced at the other people in the room - a new lieutenant, who still very much had a shine on his boots, and a face that Lip had to work for a moment to place.

The name came to him eventually. "Webster. How you doing?"

"Just fine," Webster said. "How are you, Sergeant Lipton?"

He didn't want to answer that, not really - and was spared from doing so by Speirs returning to the command post, and Marj struggling to sit up a little. "Captain Speirs, this is lieutenant Jon-"

"Gordon, for christsakes, will you go and get some sleep or something? There's a bed back there with real sheets."

"Just want to be helpful, sir," Marj offered, the water forgotten for a moment before she started coughing again.

Winters and Nixon made another sudden appearance, and Marj struggled, again, to get up, but it was no use - Lip held her down, his eyes meeting Winters' with desperation.

"Gentlemen, why don't we give Gordon some space?" Winters said lightly. "You'll hear better what I have to say out here."

The new lieutenant snapped his heels in a salute, a movement that made Nixon laugh, and Lipton sat down next to Marj on the couch, carefully holding his canteen mug while she tried to sit up a little and set off another coughing fit. He pressed a hand to her back, rubbing slowly and feeling the heat build between his hand and her jacket. Maybe, if he did this long enough she would warm up, and the pneumonia would go away, and she could get a little peace. But that didn't seem likely any time soon.

Marj finished coughing and looked at him with a tired, bleary eye. "You know, if you wanted to get my brassiere off you could just ask."

Lip rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking of doing. Have my way with you and then have you cough all over me all night."

Another cough, smaller this time. "I probably got this from you."

"That is very uncalled for, Sergeant Gordon. I resent the implication."

Marj smiled and tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat and went into another coughing spell. Lip tried to rub her back the whole time, and when it subsided she looked over at him. "Please don't stop, Car. It feels really good."

Never, Lipton thought to himself, hand still moving back and forth. "You want to drink this tea? Should be good for your throat." She nodded, and took the cup, holding it under her nose to breath the steam again, sipping gratefully.

"When this is over," he said, quietly, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "I want to sleep for a month. I want a real bed, with real sheets, and a dozen real eggs for breakfast."

Marj made a mumble of agreement, still sipping her tea, and Lip continued to move his hand up and down her back, still thinking to himself things he didn't want to jinx by saying aloud.

I want cream in my coffee, and sunshine, and the morning paper. I want to wake up next to you and know exactly where I am. I want to make it better, Marj Gordon. Always.

[beatleszeppelin]

Puddles (of Water) on the Bathroom Floor

Summary: Dwayne is sick, really sick, so when Olive has a pageant in California, you get called to babysit. To babysit Dwayne!

Category: Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: vomit, fever, taking medication, lots of crying, swearing...

Word Count: 3.5k

Note: This is an unfinished work, I don't know if it will ever be finished... but here it is anyway.

Babysitter in the Bathtub

You are in the bath, and you hear  a call on the landline. Your mom yells through the bathroom door to tell you that Sheryl called and she has a babysitting job .

You have your mom give you the phone while you are in the bath, hand creeping around the door.

You put it on speaker on the toilet lid, and ask when she needs you. 

“I actually have a weird request.” “Okay shoot” 

“Well, for the school break there is going to be a pageant that my sister wants Olive to be in, Frank is also going, because he hasn’t seen her since he’s been out of the hospital. And Richard refuses to stay home, because of some work thing.” “No, yeah I totally understand, but what is it that you need me to do?” 

“Well Olive was sick last week, with a stomach bug, she’s all better now,” she added, “but Dwayne has it, and I just don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone when he’s sick.”

“I’m available anytime.” 

“Thank you so much, we’ll be gone from the 8th to the 11th, unless Olive wins top three, in which we may have to stay in California ‘til the 14th for some sort of ceremony, but I doubt he will still be sick by then.”

“Do you need me to stay at your house then, or…”

“No, no, just once or twice a day, to check up on him. Maybe make sure he eats something, and force him to take medicine when he needs it, he probably wouldn’t take it even if his temperature was 110,” she sounds exhausted.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I’ll be over tomorrow morning, what time are you guys leaving?”

“Too early, I’ll leave you a note with instructions walking you through everything.”

“Sounds good, and make sure to call and tell me how Olive does, and wish her luck for me.” You start finishing up the call to let them pack.

“I will, and thanks for helping on such short notice.”

“No problem, and Sheryl, I hope you have a good time on the trip.”

“Thank you, I’ll call you when we get there, bye.”

“Bye.”

Your arm was dripping on the floor, as you hung up the phone. 

Shot Glass of Pink Syrup

Late morning the next day, you knock on the Hoover’s door, after waiting a minute, you let yourself in.  Dwayne isn’t in the living room or kitchen, so he must be in his room. 

A bottle of liquid Tylenol was set next to a shot glass on the dining table, and a note was left on a yellow legal pad. The note reads: Left at 5a.m. He was feeling fine, so he didn’t take medicine. However, Dwayne was up, miserable all last night. I will write you a check when we get back. I also left $40 on the counter, if you need to order a pizza… Thanks again for doing this! 

And at the bottom of the paper was their sister Cindy’s number, just in case you needed to call.

Your feet sunk into the shag carpet with every step down the hall to Dwayne’s room. After the last trip, Frank got his own room, so Dwayne was alone in here. You stood outside the door, left open a jar, seeing him lay on his bed. His sheets were sagging down the edge of the bed, dripping down to the floor.

“Dwayne, you awake?” There was no response, meaning you would need to wake him to take his temperature. It felt strange, entering his room without him knowing. You walked in, shimming in through the crack in the door, so his door didn’t squeak to wake him. 

He lay on his side, in grey sweatpants and a white shirt, face half pressed into the pillow, and his mouth open. His feet were tangled in the remnants of the bedding. 

You looked around, the Nietzsche banner was down, and his room was warmer than you remember, not just in color, temperature too. You got close to the bed, “Dwayne,” you said again. You reached out to shake him, not knowing where to touch, so your arm stayed out for a long moment. 

You set your hand down on his hip, but not letting your fingers grip down to touch his butt. You shook him a little, repeating his name in a louder tone. 

“Mom?” His eyes barely opened. 

“Ummm no, it’s me. I’m just going to take your temperature.” You looked to his side table, a thermometer was laying next to a half full movie theater cup of water. You picked it up, and his head fell back to the pillow, and with seemingly no depth perception he reached for the instrument. 

He placed it under his tongue, mercury rapidly rising. 

After an awkward moment of you standing over him, he took the tube from his mouth. The numbers had peaked at a little over 101. 

“Woah, okay. You must be burning.” You ran your hand up his arm, and squeezed at his shoulder. He flinched away, skin probably sore. “I’m going to grab you some medicine, how are you feeling?”

He didn’t respond, rather shrugging in place.

You walked back down the hall, and straight to the counter, where a bottle of tylenol sits. You pick it up, reading for the dosage, but they all seem to be for children 12 and under. You decide that filling the shot up would get the job done, and return to his bedside, walking tentatively, as to not spill. 

He was more presentable, his hair was laying more smoothly than when you’d left him, and you noticed his dyed black hair was a light brown at the roots now. He was also sitting up. 

You handed the shot glass of pink syrup to him. He shivered, and shut his eyes tight. “You really don’t like this stuff do you?” You picked up his water and held it out to him.

He swallowed the medicine swiftly, gagged once, then his hand shot to his stomach, and the other over his mouth. Dwayne groaned, taking his hand off of his mouth to take your drink offering. Every swallow was loud, like he was trying to keep something down, by drinking quickly.

“I was gonna check on you, then go home to eat. Come back tonight,” you said, sitting next to Dwayne on his bed, “but I could go get food for the both of us, and maybe stop and get you some adult medicine if you want.”

His lip was still wobbly. He hummed a pleased sound, that you decided to take as a yes.

“Should I wait until the medicine starts to work or should I leave soon?” You asked him.

“I am getting hungry,” he said bashfully, setting his now empty cup on the nightstand.

“I’ll leave now, then.” You picked up his cup and took it to the kitchen to fill. 

It fills slowly under the low water pressure of the facet, giving you time to look at the art and pictures that seem to riddle every corner of the house. Photos of Sheryl and Richard’s wedding overlapped report cards with A’s and B’s in every subject and Dwayne’s name at the top. You never knew his last name until looking at it; you had always assumed that his last name was just the same as the rest of the Hoover’s. 

The water had filled and overflowed into the sink. You dump some out before returning it to its rightful place on the nightstand. Dwayne was in the bathroom, so you yelled that you were leaving, and grabbed your keys off the table. 

Frozen Taquitos on a Sick Stomach

An hour and a half of running around town brought you back to The Hoover’s house, with a full tank of gas, a five dollar footlong from Subway, and two cans of soup. No medicine. 

You walk in their front door, and are met with Dwayne sitting at the table reading a book. He stands to offer you help, and you wave him off. 

“I got a sandwich for myself, and I got you some soup,” You set the bag on the table, “I couldn’t get the medicine though, apparently you need to be 21 for that.”

He dug through the bag, and held up the two soups. 

“Thank you for trying, I’m going to eat the soup later I think. Right now I could go for some real food though.”

“Are you sure? That might make you sick.” You got your sandwich out of the bag, unwrapping it, and Dwayne handed you a plate.

“I am fine, right now at least,” he said standing by you at the table.

“You’re free to have my other half.” You slid the plate over to him, and opened the bread, exposing the sandwiches middle. The fileted sandwich had jalapenos covering the top layer of anything edible so he had to refuse. “Just because you aren’t sick right now, doesn’t mean that the symptoms are gone, so you might not want to eat anything too harsh. Just incase it fucks with your stomach.” He was already digging out a box of taquitos from the freezer, covered in ice. “I think I’m fine,” he mumbled as he put them on a plate. He wrapped them in a paper towel and threw the plate into the microwave.

A minute…

He takes the wrapped taquitos off of the hot turntable, and grabs some salsa from the refrigerator. He, along with the plate and jar, go and sit on the couch to eat.

You join him and reach for the remote on the middle of the coffee table. You turn it to Nick, and enjoy the shows about kids going to school, and living without adults.

After a couple episodes pass, Dwayne sits up. He’s pale, and looks like he’s sweating. 

“Are you okay, you look like you’re going to be sick?” You lean toward the edge of the couch ready to stand, just like he is.

Dwayne picks his plate up to take to the kitchen, but bending down must not have helped his stomach. He sets it back down, and slowly starts walking out of the room. He only gets half way across the carpet before he says, “I don’t feel good.”

Almost immediately after announcing, he falls down to his knees behind the couch, and he turns his head away. His fists are tight, and he rubs them up and down his legs. He is shaking, but you can’t see his face.

His hands stop making fists, and he moves them up to cover his face. 

You don’t move.

After a second however, you ask, “do you need help getting to the bathroom now?” 

He nods.

You tiptoe around the coffee table, behind the couch, and meet him still in a ball. He doesn’t lift his head when you approach, rather he tucks it closer to his chest. You place your arms under his armpits.

He’s sweaty and hot, and you assume that his medicine has worn off by now. You walk him to the bathroom down the hall, holding up most of his weight.

You leave him at the door, and ask that he keep the door unlocked, in case he needs you. Then you yell from outside the door, “where does your mom keep the towels?” 

“Hall closet,” speaking loudly makes his voice break.

Opening the hall closet, you see a tower going to the ceiling of towels, sheets, blankets, and what might be curtains, (but you didn’t see the metal rings). You pull out a dark towel, straight from the middle of the stack and surprisingly it doesn’t fall. 

“Can I hand it to you,” you ask, already prepared to close your eyes tight. A skinny arm shimmies around the corner, and you pass it over.

The water starts and you decide to sit on the floor outside, like camping out overnight for a concert. You need to be there for him, just in case he needs you.

Sitting on the floor back to the wall, you play with the carpet. Then after a few boring moments, you stretch your legs out and reach for your toes as far as you can. You can hear water splashing down, and bottles clunking and sputtering out soap or shampoo, or whatever part of the process he may be at.

Wonder if you can do the splits? You stand and start inching yourself down, until your legs start burning, and you topple back. 

Boredom overtakes you and you wander to Dwayne's room and start looking at his bookshelf. Symposium, Thus Spoke, Remembrance of Things… 

The hot water hitting Dwayne’s back felt good at first, but soon the heat overcame him. His head felt heavy, dizzy, and faint. He tipped his head down, and held on to the side of the tub, this only worsened the feeling. The room spun and his stomach growled angrily. “Are you out there?” He could only conjure a whisper while bending down, before he started to burp. “Can you come in and help? Please.” He tried swallowing back this nauseous feeling, but it quickly turned. 

He swiped the shower curtain away, and his hands hit the edge of the toilet, catching his falling body. With a crash he opened the toilet…

And a crashing sound pulled you from your snooping. You stumbled around the doorway, and hesitated by the door, until you heard gagging. 

You opened the solid wood door, and saw Dwayne’s head in the toilet, one leg in the shower, the other dripping puddles of water onto the linoleum floor. The wet shower curtain clung around his body, which was wracked with gags and/or sobs. He heaved breaths, and choked on the mostly liquid that quickly evacuated from his stomach. 

You took his towel off the floor and held it out for him. He soon got a break from his violent vomiting, and wrapped the towel around his body, replacing the shower curtain. You could then help him get his footing and turn off the shower, ignoring the pile of wet clothes in the bottom of the shower from earlier. 

Now, hugged into his own body, he shook, near the toilet. His hair dripped shampoo, and he sat in the puddle of water he had created. His lip wobbled and he hummed a whimpering tone to keep his gag reflex at bay.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to help you,” you said as the first thing since you entered the room.

He cried at your statement. Bubbles from his hair dripped down into his reddened eyes, burning on contact. 

“Where are your washcloths?” You started looking in the cabinets before you could even finish your question. 

He pointed to the hall, and you ran out to the hall closet and the tower of towels. Which sounds like a ride at Disneyland, but now was not the time.

You pulled one from the basket, feeling for the softest one in the bin. More retching stopped your testing, and you returned to his side. 

You put your hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently for the wave of nausea to subside. Guttural sounds and high scents filled the tiny bathroom, making you feel sick. Now was no time for you to throw up, though so you kept it to yourself.

Minutes of retching, dry heaving, and sobs, left Dwayne exhausted with snot and tears all over his face. You turned around for a second so he could put on boxers off of the counter, and dry off his lower half. 

“Can I look now?” You were turned toward the bathroom door, with your hands covering your eyes so you couldn’t accidentally see anything in the mirror.

He pulled at your shirt, since his throat was probably killing him from the horrible gags and sobs. 

Turning, you find him slumped down on the toilet, wearing blue checkered boxers, and a towel around his shoulders. His eyes are a painful red. They are puffy, and pathetically swelled. He still has shampoo falling down his half black hair.

“If you sit on the edge of the tub and lean over, can I get the shampoo out of your hair?” 

He stood up, and sat at the edge. He leaned forward, and sat back up abruptly. He looked to you with a whine and a waver of a frown. You took the washcloth from earlier, and wet it in the sink, then took it to his snotty face. After that you wet it again, ringing it out on top of his head, excess water running into his towel that rest on his tired shoulders.

A couple more times and the suds were gone. He reached up like a toddler who wanted to be picked up and you knew his mission was a similar one. He put his hands on your shoulders to help himself stand, then kept them there as he finished getting dressed in his most comfortable pajamas.��

You walked him to his bed, whence he finished getting dressed. And pulled back his covers for him. The less bending he does the better.

The movie theater cup still stands on the nightstand, empty. A helpful thing that you decide to do is fill it up again and keep Dwayne hydrated. So this time, not wanting to stray too far, you take it to the bathroom to fill. You walk out with the cup, and hear a small noise, and assume that it is Dwayne getting comfortable in bed. The tap runs cold, and the pressure fills the cup slowly.

You shut it off with a squeak, and carry it carefully back to the bedroom, not spilling any more puddles of water. 

When you arrived at the side of his bed, Dwayne had rolled away from you. His shoulders shook and he shivered in his [color] shirt. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You grabbed his trash can from the side of his desk, and thankfully it was lined. “Are you gonna be sick again?”

“I’m sorry,” he whined, and shook his head.

“It’s okay,” you said, not knowing exactly what he was meaning, but knowing what it was about. “What do you need?”

He rolled back over to face you, and his eyes were puffy and his cheeks were red. He started to cry, and you repeated your previous question. “I want… I want my mom,” he choked out.

Your eyes welled up at his request, and you felt it all the way to your stomach. But not a moment later, you composed yourself. “I can call her if you’d like.” He covered his face with his hand, and you heard a muffled, “No, I just want her.”

“May I sit down,” you gestured to the edge of his bed.

He started crying harder, and you made the split decision to sit down next to him. His childlike sobs were loud, and shook the bed you shared. He whined a little, too. 

You rubbed up and down his shoulder, offering comfort in any way you could. Soon, you lay down next to him, and started to play with his still damp hair. 

He bit his hand to quiet the sobs that wrack his body. But quickly you pulled his hand away, so he didn’t hurt himself. Although you were too late and a bruise in a crescent moon shape was already visible.

After a little time, his breathing had become more calm, and his body was only slightly shuddering.

“Hey Dwayne, do you want to try to fall asleep? After a fever, everything in the bathroom, and now this, it’s no wonder you felt like crying. Anyone would be exhausted. And that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, btw’s.”

He peeked out from behind his hands, eyes still glassy from the tears, and he lay his head down on the pillow next to the one you leaned back on. You rubbed his back. His eyelids fell closed, and his eyelashes stuck together from wetness. 

The sun shone in through the gaps in the blinds and lit up his chest, and created reflections across the tear tracks on his cheeks. His breathing was now deep and even, so you eased yourself off of the bed. 

You cleaned up lunch from the living room. Throwing both of the leftover plates away. And then you remembered the clothes in the shower, and all of the water on the bathroom floor that you could help clean while you waited for Dwayne to wake up.

You pushed open the bathroom door, keeping a hand on the handle so you wouldn’t make much noise, then you almost slipped and fell on your ass, so the handle really helped.