Chapter 1: Paperback Traps
Chapter Text
"Hey love, time to get up
I think you've been sleeping to long
My day started when you were still yawning
One room just ain't enough
When it's two folks just trying to get along
But it's hard to leave you alone"
Distance by Emily King
Flaky should have been wedged deep in her corduroy couch right now, stuffing her face full of microwavable barbecue wings, and rewatching the Rambo trilogy. It would have been ideal to just relax, and take full advantage of the cozy weather on her day off from work. Unfortunately, her two so-called ‘best friends’ had dragged her out of her quiet apartment just to hang out in the town’s plaza. Which of course, despite the weather, was still somehow crowded with locals. She cursed the soul that came up with end of season sales. She silently seethed as the bouncier of her two companions pulled her along, making her continuously bump into unknown shoulders. She hoped their lives were discontinued.
A cold sweat dampened her forehead, along with the drizzle of rain above as she maneuvered through all the shoppers and families. She pulled her black windbreaker tighter to her body as she tried to keep up with the two energetic men that subjected her to this torture.
After loitering at knick knack shops—where her two friends frustratingly didn’t buy anything—they decided to wander into the local library. On any other occasion she would have been relieved to stop by such a quiet setting, but it seemed fate always had a vendetta against her happiness. A few months ago, the towns dreaded ‘war hero’ decided he wanted to add librarian to his list of accomplishments. He was there now, peacefully enjoying his shift inside. And she had absolutely no intention of crossing paths with him on what should have been her ideal day.
The moment she saw him sitting at the checkout counter through the glass doors of the entrance, she desperately tried to point out a novelty sock shop for her friends to waste their time with instead. Unfortunately her distraction didn’t work. Cuddles was often the de facto leader of the group, and once his stubborn head fixated on something there was no going back. When she offered to wait in her car, Cuddles just threw her sorry attempts at escaping away, and pushed her inside. She rolled her eyes as she was basically dragged in. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Cuddles wanted to be an avid reader.
Her eyes locked on to the large mahogany desk close to the entrance of the library, where the object of her paranoia was seated. When they entered, the veteran’s crooked nose was buried deep into the pages of a thick red book. His face was craned so close to the pages, he hadn’t noticed his reading glasses were on the verge of sliding off. His distraction was obvious, as he didn’t glance up once, probably too engrossed in what he was reading to greet whoever was coming in.
She was absolutely relieved by that, since interacting with the man was the last thing on her to-do list. The library was once Flaky’s favorite place to be, but she now avoided it, and him, like the Black Death. Yet despite her best efforts, she now found herself standing in a maze full of bookshelves, dark wood tones, and the smell of aging paper. The sound of light rain hitting the high windows echoed through the building, and the gray sky cast a soft white glow over every surface. The cool atmosphere only slightly calmed her nerves.
It had been awhile since her and the veteran last spoke, and she remembered why. She shuddered at the memory of him screaming and throwing chairs at the birthday party they threw him a year ago. He had broken a window, and the police were called. It was a mess.
It had been some kind of post-traumatic stress outburst that would often plague the ex-soldier’s life. Despite her brief history with him, she had long since decided that his baggage was far too much to handle, and frankly scared her to death. This fear seized her every time his presence was close, and overpowered any affection she once held for Flippy.
Whenever his trauma would bubble up to the surface, his personality would completely change. It was as if he was a completely different human being. Soft warm eyes would turn empty and cold. The facade of a healthy mental state would melt away. She dreaded being under the gaze of that side of him.
Although, a slight guilt hung in her mind for not saying ‘hello’ at least. She understood why Flippy became the way he was. She wasn’t a monster afterall. She and everyone else followed the news stories of the conflict overseas as it went on. The war he served in was a terrible one, and his deployment only ended a few years ago.
The town’s respect for Flippy would always be there, but the fear everyone now had towards him tainted that immensely. Afterall, who knows what he got up to in those far away jungles. There was a reason the term ‘cub-killer’ was said in hushed tones by some in regards to men like him. And it was not lost on her that he was very secretive about his time out on the front lines. What atrocities could he be guilty of?
Her paranoia had once again taken over, and her eyes frantically glanced around the interior of the building trying to find the comforting red glow of the emergency exit sign. But before her eyes could pinpoint its exact location, another large heavy text was slammed onto the already growing pile of books in her arms.
“C-Cuddles,” Her sneer was slightly pacified by her nervous stutter. “How many books do you plan on borrowing? A-are you even gonna read these?!” She did her best to hush her irritation out of respect for the quiet setting, but she couldn’t help the gradual raise in her tone due to her thinning patience. She then craned her neck to glance at the title. It was a Chinese philosophy book of all things. Before she could let out another exasperated sigh, Nutty threw an even heavier book into her struggling arms. The sudden added weight almost toppled her over.
“Probably not, but you're the only one here with a library pass. So, we have to take advantage of it,” Cuddles smiled as he continued to comb through the organized shelf. As he did so, her eye twitched from his mind-numbing logic.
Nutty let out a goofy laugh as he flipped through a book about what appeared to be Ancient Greek orgies. Flaky stared blankly at him as he politely placed it on top of the other books, and patted its glossy surface with a smile. He continued his ugly giggling, before they heard a distant ‘shush.’
Cuddles and Nutty continued rummaging and zipping through the aisle's selection while Flaky irritatedly stood there holding all the knowledge they most certainly will not consume, and probably will not return on time… leaving her with the bill. She should have murdered these two morons a long time ago, the fact that she hasn’t should have earned her sainthood.
Cuddles was crouched down shifting through the bottom shelf, when his movements suddenly halted. He stared at the novel that was now in his hands. His shoulders began quivering as he struggled to stifle a laugh. For some reason this piqued her curiosity. Flaky’s eyes narrowed as she tried to crane her neck to see what was distracting her friend, but the height of the book pile was above her eyes now, and his back was turned to her.
“Hey, Cudd—”
“Alright! I’m done!” He cut her off, and a mischievous grin was drawn on his lips as he slammed the text shut. He hurriedly placed the book on top of the column of novels she struggled to hold. And added another random book for good measure.
Flaky’s earlier curiosity was now squashed and forgotten as the relief of impending freedom was so close. Cuddles grabbed Nutty to his feet and pushed Flaky along to the checkout counter. She decided to stifle her complaints about them not helping her carry their books. Opening her mouth would only risk more time being spent in the building. She just wanted to get through this as fast as possible, and she knew that leaving the premises would be a quicker process if she carried the cargo. When they get outside, then she’ll make them carry their books to her car…she then wondered why on Earth did she have friends that couldn’t drive?
She rolled her eyes as she thought about how Cuddles crashed his car weeks ago and was still getting it fixed. Nutty got his license revoked. They’re lucky they have her, or they wouldn’t survive. However she was getting tired of being their designated driver.
She’s known them both for years, and had a lot of history with the young men. Despite her annoyance at their antics, she begrudgingly reminded herself that they stood by her during her worst times. She sighed for the umpteenth time, and just focused on not dropping everything. Centering her mind on the hopeful idea that they might actually get so engrossed in reading them that they’d leave her alone for a day.
Her daydreaming was cut short, as the sight of the mahogany desk was getting closer. And of course he was still there, and still flipping away at his text with his large hands and long fingers. He hadn’t worn his signature green beret to work this time, so his neat pale green hair was free to shimmer slightly from the lamp light beside him. And his forest green eyes were cast down to absorb whatever intellectual property had piqued his interest today. It had been a very long time since she saw him like this—calm, with an air of gentle focus around him. For a moment, she went back in time when things between them weren’t so… complicated. Flaky only reminisced for a second until she remembered why she was so nervous in the first place. She then slowed her pace into a full stop.
She turned to Nutty and Cuddles behind her. “Hey, I’ll just give you my card, and you guys could—” Her sentence died on her tongue. She gasped in utter disbelief and annoyance at their discovered disappearance. She frantically scanned the room, and finally found them huddled near a vending machine in a far off corner. Nutty’s spindly arm was busy trying to snake its way up the snack machine’s impenetrable barriers, while Cuddles scrolled through his phone completely oblivious to Flaky’s murderous stare intensifying by the second.
Flaky grumbled the most heinous swear words she had in her arsenal under her breath. Her panic heightened as she stood there like a vulnerable doe in an open meadow, all while uncomfortably shuffling under the weight of the books. She glanced back at the now empty desk, then back at them, and she wondered what to do. Wait. her mind stopped dead in its tracks, where’d he go? All of a sudden all the weight was taken out of her hands, giving her instant relief. Her solace was short lived however, for when she glanced up she found herself face to face with the exact thing she was dreading. The doe had been spotted by the predator.
“Flaky!” Flippy proclaimed her name excitedly, as he held all the heavy books effortlessly like they were made of feathers. She hadn’t been in his presence for so long that she had forgotten how much he towered over her. He was probably six feet tall, which was massive compared to her five foot stature.
He was also built like a tank. His few years out of the service had done nothing to weaken his strong physique. He almost looked silly wearing that green sweater vest over his freshly pressed white button down shirt. His outfit barely concealed the outlines of his well toned anatomy. The only part of him that wasn’t technically covered were his strong forearms, since the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Somehow, it felt immodest, so she blushed and bit her lip nervously. She would have felt bad for staring, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was openly staring at her too.
His big green eyes had widened to take her all in. “Sorry to scare you!” Boy, was that an understatement. “But, I couldn’t help but notice all the books you were carrying. I’d hate for you to injure yourself, although I’m happy to see you so enthusiastic about reading again!” His words were punctuated with a toothy smile. He turned his body to walk towards the check out desk, but his eyes stayed glued to her. It made her skin crawl.
Flippy continued his happy rambling as she followed a few feet behind him. Her cold sweat was back as she again attempted to look for the emergency exit. A tactical evasion strategy was almost finished forming in her mind when they finally reached their destination. As he settled down the tall stack of books and went behind the counter, he continued his one-sided conversation. “So anyways, how have you been? It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.” Flaky heard the barely noticeable quiver in his voice as he stated his last sentence.
“I’ve been ok…” She answered politely, but kept it brief in order to hint that she had no intention to linger. Unfortunately, Flippy only saw it as an invitation to continue.
“That’s great! Oh, we have so much catching up to do! I’ve been wanting to ask if you’d like to get coffee together really soon. There’s a new coffee shop that’ll be opening up next to the library!” She did in fact vaguely notice signs of early construction within the small building next door as she was being forcibly thrown into the lion’s den.
“I know how much you love coffee!” Everyone likes coffee, she thought sarcastically, but she bit her tongue. “I even remember your usual order—a hot cinnamon latte with two extra shots of espresso, right?” Flaky did her best to not feel uncomfortable with the fact that he remembered such specific details about her.
While he continued talking, he began to scan and stamp the first books on top of the stack. Her habit of fidgeting was taking hold of her, and she began to nervously pick at the ornate carvings of the desk. She wanted more than anything to run out the front door, but instead she hummed politely and nodded appropriately in response to the pauses between Flippy’s prattling. “I love trying new things, but it’s even better when you’re not alone, and so I thought…” All of a sudden his voice dried up, and he was dead quiet.
Flaky felt relief in thinking that maybe he had gotten the hint that she wasn’t interested. She glanced back at him, only to find him frozen in his seat with his mouth slightly agape, and his eyes widening at the book below him. A beet red blush gradually spread across his face and neck. She then followed his line of sight and saw exactly what was holding his gaze hostage.
Laying there innocently between them on the desk was one of those raunchy paperback romance books, but this one had a shirtless military sergeant with a scantily clad woman posed sensually in his arms. And, of course the woman was a redhead like her. They both gawked at the novel in front of them, both too stunned to speak.
What finally broke the heavy silence was Cuddles and Nutty bursting into utter hysterics. The memory of Cuddle’s peculiar behavior before he finished rummaging through the stock pile of books flooded back into Flaky’s mind. A flurry of embarrassment took over her once she finally snapped out of her shocked gaze, and her fight or flight instincts took over her.
“Flippy!” His gaze snapped to her. “I-I s-swear I-I-I did not pick out that book! T-these aren’t even my books! N-none of t-these are!” Her words stumbled over each other as they frantically fell out of her mouth.
Her excuses and flailing hand gestures, however, were overshadowed by her treacherous friends’ echoing laughter. Flaky whipped her head around to face them with a raging fire blazing in her eyes, matching the hot redness her cheeks. She had officially lost her patience. Without a second thought she grabbed the cursed book, and threw it at Cuddle's pretty blonde head at breakneck speed. It hit him square in the face, her skilled pitcher's arm never missing. After all those years playing baseball, it was good to know she wasn’t rusty.
Nutty broke his fall, toppling the lime green haired man over as well, but the laughter never stopped. Cuddles was impervious to pain when he’s had too much of a blast. He quickly got back up, and while completely ignoring his bloodied nose, lifted Nutty to his feet.
“We’re gonna bounce Flaky!” He yelled across the room in high spirits, as he balled the edge of his shirt over his nose, getting it soaked in blood. “We’ll see you later!” The two men rushed out the door, still laughing at her expense. Flaky huffed in anger. Her hands wanted nothing more than to be strangling their necks, but settled for shaking a fist in their direction instead.
Flippy let out an ‘ahem’ to gently grab her attention, yet it still startled her. Her shoulders seized as she remembered that Flippy was still behind her, and watching her every movement. She slowly turned to face him, and found that he had changed into a more relaxed position. His elbows were placed on the table, with his hands knitted together for his mouth to rest on. Despite obscuring the view of his lips, she could tell he was smiling from how the skin around his eyes crinkled. There was also, of course, the sparkle of amusement in his gaze.
Her blush deepened, and she opened her mouth to continue her tirade of reasons on why she couldn’t possibly be interested in a steamy romance novel about a dashing army soldier. But before she could, she was interrupted by a deep chuckle.
“Don’t worry Flaky, I understand… I’m sure your friends can be a handful sometimes.” She relaxed a bit at his compassion towards her grief. “On behalf of them, I apologize. Boys will be boys, afterall.” She rolled her eyes, and let out her deepest, longest sigh yet.
“They are going to be the death of me.” Flippy let out a gentle laugh in response to her melodramatic statement. And somehow, in spite of herself, Flaky found herself laughing with him. It had been a long time since they shared such a pleasant moment, and it almost made her forget why she feared him…almost.
“Oh trust me, I understand how you feel. I used to know two people like them, and they drove me crazy. But not a day goes by without me wishing to hear their laughter again.” Flaky watched as his smile faltered slightly, and his eyes softened. “You’ll find that you’d miss it once it's gone, so I suggest that you savor it…”
Flaky stood there a bit at a loss at his unexpected vulnerability, but before she could unpack exactly what he was trying to tell her, he let out another cough. He thought perhaps he had shared too much... It was very rare that Flaky ever saw the solemn side of Flippy, and she had to admit it always piqued her curiosity. Though she was always too polite, and much too frightened at whatever he might tell her, to pry.
“Umm…anyway, since I unfortunately can’t take back the book because of its…damages…” They both paused to glance at the now ruined smut novel that was drenched in blood laying pathetically on the floor a few feet away from them, “…why don’t you just keep it.”
Flaky gave him a perplexed stare. “Y-you want me to have it?”
Flippy looked at her apologetically. “It’s a bit of a biohazard in the building… and I’d take care of it myself… but to be completely honest, I can’t stand the sight of blood. It makes my stomach turn. So I’ll just hand the responsibility to you. I’ll even pay for the damages out of my own pocket, as a thank you for the community service.” He finished his call to action with a nervous grin.
Flaky bit back a passive aggressive remark. Her lips tightened to a thin line. “Sure, Flippy… I’ll uh… throw it away.”
“Oh, don’t do that!” he hurriedly remarked, to which she responded with a raised eyebrow and a sound of confusion.
“But you just said—”
“I know! but I hate the idea of throwing away any form of literature… Plus I actually know about that author! His works are very rare, and perhaps that book could be worth something one day. I’m sure you could find another use for it.”
“I suppose… I could continue using it to beat Cuddle’s head in…”
“That’s the spirit!” Flippy sheepishly laughed at Flaky’s uncharacteristic savagery. She took that as her queue to turn around and go pick up the book in question. With her back to him, she bent over to grab the ruined text. As she held the novel in her hands, she noticed that most of the blood covered the soldier, making him look much more eerie and grotesque. Suddenly the image didn’t look quite as romantic, and she shuddered.
“Oh… and Flaky…” She jumped at his sudden voice pulling her out from her dark thoughts. Her eyes widened in confusion, and her mouth opened slightly in fear as she sensed a change in the air. Did his voice get deeper? A chill went up her spine, because she knew what that meant. The threat of violence was a hair’s breadth away. She trembled as she slowly turned to face him again.
He was still seated, but had taken off his reading glasses, and somehow his eyes had a darker gleam to them. His once gentle, apologetic smile was replaced with a crooked one that promised nothing but ill intent. Were the top buttons of his shirt always undone? Her brows knitted in worry as he bit down on the temple tip of his reading glasses with his shockingly sharp canines. Perhaps in another universe she would have found that alluring, but it only served to heighten her terror.
“…if you ever do read through that book… and find that you enjoyed it… I wouldn’t mind… humoring you.” He leered at her, and his wicked grin widened as he watched her squirm and shudder under his intense gaze. Flaky didn’t know why, but a sudden warmth sparked in her core, and she started to sweat. A different type of adrenaline rushed through her, and she found that the air was suddenly far too heavy for her liking. She needed to get out of there—now.
“Uh… thanks!” She mentally drop-kicked herself at the awkward response. She then quickly pocketed the small book in the leather bag she had slung across her chest, and half-walked, half-ran towards the front doors. She almost tripped over herself a couple times. A deep guttural laugh, that sounded like a bastardized version of Flippy’s usual gentle chuckle, followed her as she exited. The terror of another potential violent outburst willed her into more of a sprint.
She had no idea what that interaction was, but she knew she had Cuddles to blame for it. As she ran back to her car, she promised herself that she really was going to use that stupid book to beat Cuddles’ brains out.
She threw her body into her red Prius conveniently parked across the street of the library, and jumbled the keys into the ignition. She briefly thought about calling her two traitorous friends, in case they needed a ride back. But she quickly brushed off the thought. Damn them . They could find their own way home. She then sped off out of the parking lot, completely oblivious to the watchful gaze that never stopped following her.
Chapter 2: Cluttered Minds, Cluttered Hearts
Chapter Text
Smeared black ink
Your Palms are sweaty
And I'm barely listening
To last demands
I'm staring at the asphalt wondering
What's buried underneath
The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service
The rain evolved from a drizzle to a downpour as Flaky carefully maneuvered her car down the wet streets. The slippery pavement didn’t help her frying nerves from the encounter she just had. It would seem like the day would keep handing her threats of hazard after hazard. She shook the anxious thoughts away in order to focus on the road before her.
The continuous tapping of droplets on the windshield was helping distract her. As her fury and anxiety settled, she began feeling guilty about leaving the boys to their own devices, with the weather having turned so harshly. But then again, they did abandon her to drown in utter humiliation, alone. She played with the idea of completely ignoring them for the day, as revenge, but ultimately decided against it. Flaky let out a tired breath, If they call me for a lift, I will drive back and get them. I’ll apologize for leaving… then beat them to a bloody pulp.
She was used to their pranks, but this one grinded her gears more than usual. They knew how she felt about Flippy. And, they knew why. But Cuddles had a habit of ignoring dangers as they squared him in the face, and Nutty just loved cruising through his life as if on autopilot. It was why they needed her. She always got them out of trouble. Her constant nagging, and paranoia was the key to their survival.
When Cuddles broke his neck from a stunt involving a skateboard and semi truck—after she adamantly warned him not to attempt—she nursed him back to health. When Nutty needed help studying for his GED test, she stayed up all night with him cramming for weeks. Where would they be without her? She laughed under her breath at the thought, but then remembered all that they’d done for her over the years...
…How Cuddles supported her when her mother passed. He held her steady as the grief almost broke her. And without Nutty, she would have never survived Rehab. Even after her short lived fiancee walked out on her, they never left her side. And of course, the issues she had with a certain ex-boyfriend… Where would she be without them? …Certainly at home, and miles away from Flippy. Her crooked smile flatlined on her face.
As her mind wandered back to the veteran, blood rushed to her cheeks again. She could only imagine how Flippy felt about their little shenanigan. Flaky thought back to the intense blush tinting his fair face, making his cheeks look like bright red apples. He must have been so embarrassed, probably more than her. Though if his change in demeanor at the end had anything to say for it, he seemed to have adapted comfortably to the situation. The look in his eyes as he leered at her made the hairs in the back of her neck stand up. She offhandedly wondered if he was used to women’s attention. It would make sense. Despite making her fear for her life, Flaky could admit he was objectively… not so bad looking. He wasn’t her type of course, and would never be. She preferred… well who knows.
Flaky felt herself getting caught up in her own thoughts again, and switched on the radio. The rest of the drive was occupied with her struggling to find a broadcast station that wasn’t staticky from the bad weather.
…
The door unlocked, and relief immediately washed over her. She chucked her keys in the little china bowl resting on the table by the front door, and threw her bag on the rack hanging near the kitchen counter. She peeled off her damp windbreaker, and then the rest of her clothes. Finally, she dove into the couch she should have never abandoned.
She let the softness of the couch’s fuzzy upholstery soothe the bare skin of her aching back. With all her limbs stretched out, she took a moment to take in her surroundings.
She had left her lamp on, which bathed everything in a warm glow. Such a contrast to the harsh darkness beyond the main window of her living room. It made her beige walls take on a gentle golden color, and brought to life the old picture frames that held different magazine and newspaper cut-outs. Some of them were pictures from nature articles, others were illustrations and photos of vintage punk bands, and a few were just miscellaneous snippets. Basically, they were just anything pretty and colorful that caught Flaky’s eye.
All her furniture was thrifted or gifted, and she loved how mismatched everything was. Each surface had some kind of knick-knack or trinket that was collected over the years. Her home was a bit disorganized and dusty, but it all somehow fit together like puzzle pieces. It felt like an antique store full of forgotten treasures just for her to discover over and over again. It was a comfortable little nest that she seldom left unless she had a shift at work, or forced out the door.
Her nest was also used to hosting many visitors. Parts of her decor were just things her friends had left behind, but somehow found the right nook and cranny to nestle in. There was a memory in every corner of her small apartment, and nothing had ever been left untouched. Cuddles would sometimes mention how boring and quiet it must be in her apartment when she’s alone. But in truth it was always filled with energy. Life, her life, breathed energy into every room. This humble little flat was the only place where she was hidden enough to be herself.
With that, she arched her back and stretched one more time before closing her eyes. She settled herself into a more comfortable position, and let the cool air of her apartment embrace her half naked body. The sound of the rain hitting the glass window before her began lulling her to sleep, and soon everything faded into darkness.
…
Flippy had watched Flaky drive off from one of the tall windows facing the street. He had to willfully stop himself from running out after her, and offering her an umbrella, or opening the car door for her. He had a gut feeling that any sort of chivalrous act wouldn’t help make her feel better. His brow was knitted with worry, and a deep frown was drawn on his lips. Anxiety brimmed at his core as he processed the situation.
“Why did you make me say that?” He spoke aloud to, seemingly, himself. There was silence for a moment until a gruff voice inside his mind met his question with a mocking laugh.
Say what?
“That! That was disgusting!” Flippy said exasperated through gritted teeth. “We already make her so uncomfortable!” His desperate complaint only made the voice laugh harder.
So, then there’s nothing to lose.
Flippy made a frustrated noise. “There’s everything to lose! We were making progress!”
You call that progress?
“Shut up!” Flippy face fell in his hands, and he groaned. “She probably thinks I’m some kind of pervert now.”
You are .
“I said shut up!” Flippy punched the wall, to which he felt immediate regret. Anger made him uncomfortable, and he would rather not take out his emotions on his beloved library. He awkwardly patted the now slightly dented part of the surface. One of the pale flowers decorating the wallpaper, which had the misfortune to be in the way of his fist, was now a little more wonky than the rest of the pattern. He rubbed the back of his neck, and apologized to it.
Flippy could practically see his counterpart roll his eyes in his mind.
If anything, I only helped.
“No you didn’t! You made it worse! You always make it worse!” Flippy grumbled as he walked away from the window.
How so? You wrote the damn thing. And , you gave it to her.
A fierce blush bloomed across his face at the confrontational reminder that he did in fact write that book. It was a complete deception that he merely knew the author. He was the author. It was even, in fact, the only book he ever published. He had released it into the world a year after leaving the army. It barely got any attention, not to say he expected it to gain any kind of popularity. He was kind of glad it never did. He looked back at that novel with a bit of embarrassment.
It was the consequence of an endless stream of lonely nights on the battlefields. Writing it during the rare moments of rest when the war allowed him was the only escape from the hell he lived in at the time. He tried his best to hide the novel in the deepest crevice of the library, and buried it under several other books he believed no one would ever trifle with. How it ended up in Flaky’s dainty hands had to have been the work of fate itself trying to make a mockery of him. Given the context of the story… he was almost in awe at the coincidence. Of all people, Flaky now had it in her possession. Flaky… the woman he based the female lead on…
When he came face to face with the novel he created, the desire to jump out of his seat and run away almost overtook him. Flippy might have even chucked the book himself if Flaky hadn’t beaten him to the punch.
He almost laughed out loud as he witnessed Flaky’s fuse finally blow. Her fiery anger was such a rare treat to behold. As he remembered her chucking the book at her poor friend, he couldn’t help but admire her skill. The movement was so fast, and he could tell from her action that she had a good arm. He was awestruck for a second. And while her breath was heaving from her physical exertion, his heart fluttered in his chest.
Ever since their first real exchange of words, he was held hostage. She never failed to intrigue him, no matter how much time passed, or the ocean of distance that grew ever wider between them.
Especially when she bent over to pick up the discarded book. She hinged her body in a way that made a woman’s rear stick up front and center. The stiff denim of her faded high waisted jeans hugged her round assets perfectly. He had vaguely wondered if she was aware of how delicious she looked. He had to stomp on his own foot when he heard his counterpart’s inappropriate wolf whistle echo through his mind. The sight definitely, and unfortunately, woke him up and got his attention. Which of course, led his counterpart to unexpectedly take control for a second and puppet his body to say the most embarrassing thing he could have possibly said in the moment.
Isn’t that what you want? That bitch getting off to you?
Flippy scowled as he collected discarded books around the library to return them into their designated areas in perfect alphabetical order. “Don’t call her that.” He stated sternly. “…And no… Not necessarily… Look, I shouldn’t even be thinking about that.”
Then, why did you force it on her? Dipshit.
Flippy coughed nervously at the question. He couldn’t deny that he opened the door of opportunity for her to read it. He didn’t want to admit it, but a perverse part of him had gotten excited at the idea of Flaky flipping through the book that was designed around his fantasy of her. He wondered if she’d like it, and even dared to wonder if she might enjoy it enough to… use it… Flippy couldn’t help but shudder in delight at the thought. That is of course, if she actually decided to read it, instead of going against his wishes and just tossing it in the garbage. The revelation that that might be the realistic outcome, brought him down from his high a bit. He bitterly thought it was probably for the best. He swore to himself that he wasn’t normally this much of a creep as he shooed the disappointment away. Flippy then continued on to his usual librarian duties.
It was a Sunday, which meant that Flippy would have to start closing up shop earlier than usual. Because of the weather, barely anyone else entered the building, which made cleaning up and locking up much easier. He secretly loved the days when hardly anyone came to visit. He reveled in the quiet freedom that was granted to him whenever the library was completely empty. He was free to get lost in any book he chose to crack open, and wander in it for hours. He could be anyone, and anything. Anywhere, at any time. Though preferably, not anyone like him, and preferably not during a war. He avoided war stories if he could help it. His therapist was very adamant about keeping himself away from anything that reminded him of his deployment.
He also just detested the cold brutality that usually accompanied novels about war. He wanted to seek refuge in a story, not get thrown back into the fray by it.
He indulged more towards poetry, and romance novels. Hence, the choice to create a love story rather than a bloody biopic like some of his surviving comrades had decided to do. He ached for the sorrows of love, and ate up passion as it spilled from the pages. He had cried for Elizabeth Bennet countless times, and memorized almost all of Romeo’s lines. Which he would often rehearse and repeat absentmindedly when no one was around. He wondered with a heavy heart if Flaky would ever get to meet that side of him, or if she’d even like that side of him.
Oh, she's definitely going to get to know it soon.
Flippy groaned in disgust. “Oh God, you’re back.”
I’m just telling you, she’ll figure out you wrote it.
Flippy had been in the middle of locking up the front doors to the library as quickly as possible to keep his time out in the rain short. “What the hell are you talking about? No she won’t. That would be a nightmare, don't even say that.” He gritted his teeth as he jiggled the key into the lock, struggling to get it to click.
You fucking dense moron! You should have thought of that before you gave it to her! Do you not remember your ‘Dedicated To’ page?
The rain was unrelenting above him, but its frigid temperature wasn’t what froze him in place. Flippy’s eyes widened in realization. The lock finally clicked.
Chapter Text
"God, I wished you were mine
As your skin light up from the sunrise
I was dangerously tangled,
second time I met you
Now I'm so impatient to adore you
I crashed my car last night"
Second Time by Bruno Major
On the far west end of Happy Tree Ville, two masked brothers wearing all the darkest shades of green, made their way through a dense forest that surrounded a gated neighborhood. They bickered at each other, despite the crashing noise of rain muffling their accented voices. Sharp twigs poked at their trousers, and loose rocks threatened to twist their ankles as they climbed up a steepening hill. Their ski-masks clung to their faces uncomfortably, freezing their noses off, and would no doubt leave them both sniveling with a cold later.
The now harsh storm was making things exponentially harder, as the once solid ground turned to muck under their feet. They could feel the mud rising to their ankles with each step. Their only advantage during the whole ordeal was that they knew the way to their destination like the back of their hands. It had taken weeks of planning, but they no longer needed a map. The way, and the plan, was drilled into their minds. Unfortunately, the plan didn’t account for mother nature throwing water buckets at them.
“I thought you said it was only going to be a drizzle! This ain’t a fucking drizzle, Shifty!” The youngest of the twins screamed at the older brother leading the way. His voice barely made it to his twin’s ears.
“You think I can control the weather, Lifty? You think I planned this, Jerk Off?” Shifty turned to look at his twin to emphasize his annoyance. He could barely see him through the wall of moving water between them. When they first headed out on their little expedition, the rain had only been light, and the weather forecast promised clear skies for the rest of the day. But, when the weight of the rain drops started feeling heavier on their heads, Lifty strongly suggested turning back. Yet frustratingly, Shifty stubbornly refused. The owner of the house they were going to break into was only going to be out of town for a few days, and their trail couldn’t be fresh when he returned. They had been planning this heist for too long to suddenly turn back now.
“With how much you love to piss me off, and make my life a living hell—I’d say yeah!” Lifty answered back from behind his brother, as he clung to the branch of a tree to steady his footing while he followed along. Why he always followed along, he had no idea. Somehow, he was just always dragged into his brother’s messy plans. It was his punishment for losing the rat race to get out of their mama’s hole, he supposed.
“Why don’t you just shut your peesa shit mouth , and focus on climbing up this hill! We’re almost there!” With that last utterance of words, a glimpse of a large looming wall appeared in the near distance. This motivated both of them enough to quicken their pace.
As they reached the wall, Shifty immediately pulled at a rope that he had already tied in place at the top days prior. Neither of them wasted any time to start climbing. The rope was wet and the rain was making the bricks almost too slick for their footing. Still, they persevered up the brick wall, only falling to the bottom once… then a second time, three-fourths of the way there. But like their late father said about his third marriage… ‘Three times the charm!’ Although, he did end up getting married a fourth time a year later.
It took them an hour, but they finally got over the forsaken wall, and into the promised land. Lifty grimaced when he looked down at his bloody and aching hands. He then glanced at his brother who was covered in mud and grime, and he knew he probably looked as weather-beaten as him. As they heaved to catch their breath, they looked around to scan the surroundings.
Before them was a large peanut shaped pool, with a water-slide built into its end. There was also a multi-colored jungle gym to its side, with toys and play sets scattered around the grassy section of the expansive backyard. The house itself was beautiful. It was at least three stories high, with red ivy covered bricks that matched its surrounding walls. Large windows no doubtably gave the occupants a beautiful view of the rolling hills and small town in the valley below.
As Lifty tripped over a tricycle, Shifty had walked over to the side of the house to dismantle the security system’s power box. It took a lot of research on the internet to figure out how to do it, but once Shifty was determined to learn something, he could actually catch on fairly well. If only he had applied himself in school, but to the dismay of his teachers, he enjoyed playing with other people’s locks more than writing research papers.
Pulled out wires sparked in his gloved hands, and he smirked satisfyingly at himself. He then looked up to find Lifty huddled behind an expensive looking grill under the veranda. Shifty called out to his brother, “Alright, the cameras are down, and the doors should be unlocked now.” Lifty nodded at him in response, and went to open the sliding glass door that led into one of the living rooms.
The moment they entered the house, warmth embraced them like a long lost mother, and they both simultaneously groaned out a sigh of relief. “Thank, fuck!” Lifty let his voice echo through the dark empty hallways, and he went to sit in one of the large leather armchairs, not caring about the mud stains he left.
“Oi, cocksucker—don’t make a frigging mess! We need to focus! I want to be in and out of here—Quick.” Shifty scowled when Lifty’s only response was to flip him off, and pull on the armchair’s lever to swing open the leg rest.
“You dragged me through Armageddon’s washing machine, and now you’re telling me to hurry my ass up? Why don’t you give me ten god damn minutes.” Lifty snapped, as he peeled off his dark green ski-mask and drenched muddy overcoat. Shifty just rolled his eyes and tsked. He mirrored his twin’s actions, and granted his little brother the few moments of respite he adamantly asked for. He then gathered and threw their soaked clothes and shoes in the wine bar sink next to the pool table. After taking his own moment to settle himself down, he started rummaging through his bag and pulled out two burlap sacks and a flashlight.
He threw one of the sacks and the flashlight over to Lifty, which his brother barely caught. “Alright Stinkles, break times over. Let's grab everything we can before papa bear comes home.”
…
Flippy was driving a tad bit erratically through the storm as he made his way to Flaky’s home. He thankfully remembered the address to her apartment complex. Actually, he never forgot—he kept the information stored in his brain, praying for the day to come where he could use it again. Unfortunately, this was not the reason that he had hoped for. Fate just loved to toy with him it would seem.
“She’s going to hate seeing me again…” he mumbled under his breath. But, what choice did he have? Proof of his debauchery was printed in fancy cursive on the first delicate page of the book. He outwardly cringed as he remembered his flowery choice of words.
This story is dedicated to the woman
that stayed in my dreams,
despite the nightmares around me.
I do not know where you are,
but I know where you will always be.
In my heart, my Felicia Bernardi.
Flippy’s alternate counterpart repeated the words out loud in his mind, the deep timbre of his voice laughing mockingly after every phrase. Flippy scowled at the menace that inhabited his mind day in, and day out.
You really had to write her full name, didn’t you?
“At the time, I didn’t think it was a bad idea. I didn’t even know I’d ever see her again…” Felicia was Flaky’s real name. It wasn’t until she moved to Happy Tree Ville for college where people started calling her ‘Flaky.’ It was the town’s strange tradition that everyone had a silly little nickname.
They had gone to the same University just outside of Happy Tree Ville all those years ago. She was a new freshman on campus before the Tiger War began. Meanwhile, he was a senior getting ready to graduate with a Bachelors in Archeology before the big draft happened. The fall semester was just starting when he first saw her walking across the campus grounds. Although there was no opportunity for interaction, nor did they even really notice each other. It wasn’t until that fateful morning on the road bridge, which connected to the main street of the campus grounds, where their lives finally interlaced.
The air had been crisp and heavy with fog in those early hours, and the rushing currents of the river beneath them promised nothing but endless cold darkness. The sun had yet to rise, and grace the earth with its presence. The world was so quiet, it could have been dead…
He remembered when their eyes locked for the first time. He had been wiping away tears, believing he was completely alone. When he finally looked up from the view of the murky waters below him, he found her suddenly standing there. He promptly let out a girlish yelp. She seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and she had already been staring at him intently. For a second he was scared he had come face to face with a ghost. But she didn’t disappear. Instead she stayed solidly before him, quiet and leaning on the rusty metal railing. She had heavy bags under her eyes, and long messy red hair laced with dandruff. Her clothes looked disheveled, and she stunk of alcohol and melancholy. Her face wore a similar look of emptiness that had greeted him in his bathroom mirror every morning for years. Except this morning, he didn’t hide it behind the facade of a polite smile as soon as he walked out his front door. No, that morning he decided to wear it openly for the world to see. He thought he’d dignify himself with honesty this time around, given what he planned on his itinerary that day.
The look of gloom in her eyes was then replaced with a twinkle of amusement as she observed his features contort in discomfort and confusion at her presence. The deep frown twisting her small plump lips then transformed into a crooked smile. She let out a loud hearty laugh that echoed against the cold concrete and metal foundations of the bridge. He was taken aback as she continued to laugh. It then settled into giggling, of which she could barely contain. When she finally did quiet down, and finished wiping the little tears that formed in her eyes, she looked back up to find that his discomfort had morphed into disgruntled annoyance. She responded with one more shakey chuckle, and an understanding smile.
“I’m sorry dude… I just… I get it. It’s been one shitty night for me, too.” He responded to her lazy smile, and slightly slurred words with a blank stare. She ignored his obvious irritation, and pressed on. “Listen if you’re going to kill yourself… Could I go first? I don’t want your body to break my fall. Plus I love an audience.”
He was again, taken aback by her morbidly nonchalant attitude. As his eyes widened, and mouth went agape in shock, her laughing started back up. But strangely, this time, her laughter was contagious. And before he knew it he was following her into hysterics, bent over and holding his stomach, cackling away. He remembered vaguely wondering if he was actually going insane when both their laughter started turning into crying. Who was she? Why was she here? And why was their sorrow suddenly harmonizing on that fateful morning.
When their shared swirl of emotions had finally died down, the sun’s rays had begun peeking out from the horizon. As the gentle beams of light touched her, he swore her deep red hair ignited into a blaze, and crowned her head in firelight. Her dark skin had glowed into a reddish gold, and her brown eyes twinkled like rubies. Despite her messy state of being, he felt like he was looking at the most beautiful women God had ever sent to Earth.
They stayed on that bridge talking for hours, swapping stories and sharing jokes. Whatever sadness they each carried had been momentarily forgotten. They both ended up missing class that day, but they didn’t care. Because they knew they were going to make up for it the next day, and the next day after that. Just as long as they saw each other, they’d continue on.
Their lives were intertwined for only a brief six months. Then he was shipped off to a far away continent without the promise of ever returning, or ever seeing her again. Letters were swapped, and phone calls were made, but dwindled over the early years of his deployment. And seemingly in the end, she really did become a ghost. His memory of her faded, as his thoughts and attention focused on survival. But it certainly never did die, for the nature of any ghost is to haunt.
Despite the hell that rained down on him every day, her visage would appear in his mind and linger in his thoughts every so often. Even after the stream of letters had eventually dried up, and he no longer knew how she was, or even her whereabouts. The thought of her would sometimes help distract him from the terror of being lost in the jungle with enemies, or deadly animals stalking about. The fantasy of her was one of the few comforts he was allowed to hold on to. And as every day became a battle with death, and his certainty that the war would be his end grew, so did his fantasy of her.
He would let himself daydream about sharing a life together, which gradually led to thoughts of sharing a bed together. Though they never did share a bed, he imagined the softness of her skin and plushness of her lips holding him in ecstasy. When he held himself in his hand on the loneliest nights, he’d get lost in the idea of her legs wrapped around his waist as he entered her. Pleasuring her with all his might, and kissing every inch of her body over, and over again. And without her real presence in his life anymore, his creative nature was free to wander. He found himself filling in the blanks, and creating little storylines of her. He pretended she was with him, constantly playing a part in his harrowing excursions. Eventually, he couldn’t help but write it all down. It became a hobby he liked to indulge in on the days he was back on the base awaiting new orders, or recovering from an injury. It kept his mind away from the fact that he'd probably be dead soon. Whether it be a bullet to the head, or stepping on a landmine that killed him, he didn’t know. He only hoped it would be quick and painless.
By some miracle though, he somehow survived. However, seven long years of fighting had passed before he was finally able to return to civilian life. He, of course, didn’t return the same. And, in more unusual ways than one would expect.
He was once just a normal young man named Phillip Rothman. But somewhere along the lines, his mind snapped, and the curse of shell shock took over his life. A chunk of himself was stolen on those battlefields, that not even the fantasy of his dear redhead could save. And, it was replaced with something else. Or more accurately, someone else.
It began with the sound of gunfire echoing in his mind. Then it transformed into a murmur of words, and broken phrases. Gradually, it started forming sentences with a voice that was deeper and darker than his. And one day, it wasn’t just an it anymore, but a him . When he came back from the war, his therapist had diagnosed him with Dissociative Identity Disorder. But at the time, he thought he was getting possessed.
In the chaos of a warzone, his voice would just start screaming in his head until it got so loud he would just black out. Then he would wake up from the darkness only to find himself covered in various injuries, and all kinds of viscera that was once a human being. He could still remember the ringing in his ears, and the wetness of blood drying on his bruised and battered skin as he came to.
When he would return from a mission with the other soldiers that hadn’t gotten shot to pieces, or had their bodies blown up, they’d tell him stories of how he’d change into a completely different person while out there. A person who seemed immune to pain, with ruthless strength, and inhuman-like endurance. The retelling of the events that he could scarcely remember had always filled him with a sinking dread, since he did not have any control of his body. But what chilled Philip to the bone most of all, was learning that the person he’d transform into was a man with absolutely no mercy for anyone who found themselves in his way.
They started calling him ‘Flippy’ on the front lines, on account of him “flipping out.” He hated the nickname at first, but it stuck to him like bullet wounds to a corpse. But at the end of the day, it's what his late comrades had called him, so it eventually grew on him. He decided to carry the nickname with him, even keeping it after he came back home. It truly seemed that nothing of himself that came back, was exactly how it was when he left… except for his feelings for her. Despite every horror he endured, she remained. And so did the leather bound journal that held a record of every passionate thought he had of the woman.
He had it in his very hands when he stepped off the train wearing nothing but his worn out BDU uniform, and carrying his standard issue military duffle bag stuffed with what little belongings he had left from his time in the war. He had decided to come back to the same town he was plucked out off before he was able to graduate. Flippy hadn’t come back specifically for Flaky, since he believed she would have probably moved on with her life, and maybe even be married with a family by now. He had swallowed that notion woefully, and did his best to bury her in the past at that point. No, he came back because of nostalgia, and for the sense of freedom he had finally felt back when he first moved to that town.
He was a fresh faced college boy who left behind the ruins of a broken home that his parents caused. That town had given him some happy memories and stability despite his depression, and of course, his first love. Perhaps another new beginning here would bear even better fruit a second time around. And as a final goodbye to the past, he thought it would be a good idea to publish his half fictionalized journal… under a pseudonym of course, since some of the content in the manuscript was admittedly too embarrassing for him to acknowledge. He had heard from other members in the military that publishing any writing made during time in the service was not only profitable, but cathartic.
It took a few months to find a publisher to produce his first novel, and within a year of being settled in Happy Tree Ville, a few hundred copies had entered the world. Flippy remembered the quiet pride he felt when he opened up the first batch. He had always wanted to be a published author, but he always thought his subject of focus would be about the intricate and political wars taking place in the dark ages, or the ancient trade routes through Eurasia. A smut novelist would have surprised his past self. But he supposed interests changed, and this story was really more for himself than anyone else.
He remembered looking over the illustration he had commissioned for the cover. He made very specific instructions to the artist to follow the description from what he could recall of Flaky. The image of wild blood red hair and bronze skin was forever imprinted in his mind. Meanwhile, he had his self insert look only slightly like him, since he didn’t want to make the source material of the manuscript too obvious. The artist did a decent job recreating Flaky from his faded memory of her beauty, so much so that the night Flippy first saw the finished artwork he couldn’t help but lock himself up in his room with it for a couple hours. After all these years she still riled him up, and he off-handedly wondered if she ever thought of him… wherever she was.
He never thought their paths would ever cross again. That is until about a month after his book was released into the world. Fate must have had a sick and twisted sense of humor, because on another chilly morning where the light-beams echoed the joys of a familiar day… she stood there… simply stood there, in the way of his usual walk through the market square. He didn’t believe it at first. It had to be a trick of the light, but the more he stared the more he knew it was unmistakable.
She had been viewing red roses nestled in one of the many bouquet filled bins at a flower stall. Her body was arched slightly forward to smell them, leaving her wild red hair to cascade down past her waist. It had gotten longer, and she had gained weight that filled out her figure, which looked healthier than the slight hallowed stature she once had. She was familiar, but at the same time, had changed so much. She stood taller in her adulthood, and wore all the wear and tear that came from seven long years of whatever life she lived beyond him.
Yet, despite the endless unknowns between them, he could see her so clearly in that moment. Worlds away, a war transformed him from a boy into a weapon. Meanwhile, she had grown from a girl and into a woman. That very woman chipped off the cold steel and scorch marks that branded him a monster, and simply left him as a man in love. He didn’t know what to do, but his heart just held his hand and walked him towards her…
As Flippy finished reminiscing, his jeep skid to a stop in front of the small building complex Flaky resided in. At this point, the darkness of the night was at its peak. The only break from the pitch blackness was the flashes of lightning ripping through the sky. As well as the few street lights lining the crooked pavement polluting parts of the darkness with a sickly orange glow, and reflected on the rippling puddles under constant attack from the rain water above. The fractured reflections of light was one of the few things that reminded Flippy there was solid ground beneath him, and that he wasn’t lost in the void. That, and the soft golden light pouring out of her window and cutting through the dark storm.
He sat there in his parked car staring at the window with a furrowed brow, wondering what to do. His thoughts were soon interrupted.
The tree branch by the window looks stable enough to carry our weight .
“What are you talking about? Actually, just shut up. I’m trying to think.”
Yeah well, you’re really bad at that. So, I’m helping you out. We can infiltrate the building by climbing up the tree, and entering through the window. Looks like the idiot left it unguarded. Seems simple enough. If you let me take control, I’ll find a vantage point to see if it's a trap.
“W-What? No! God, no! I’m not breaking in!”
Yes, WE are. How else are we going to secure your pussy-ass little book?
“I am going to ring the doorbell, and ask for it back. It's only been a few hours, I pray she hasn’t read it yet. Why do you care anyway?”
I’m stuck in your head with you, dumbass. You really think I want people believing I wrote that embarrassing smear of shit? You must be smoking dick if you think I’d let that happen! Over my dead body!
“Okay, okay! Calm down! Just let me handle it! I’ll figure this out.”
“You fucking better. Or, I WILL.”
Notes:
Bernardi, Italian surname meaning 'strong bear'. Rothman, German surname meaning 'red haired.'
Chapter 4: Warm Operations
Chapter Text
I wake up at 4
Go over to check that you're still there
Soft and pure, like my personal anchor
And I feel adored
You say with your eyes that you so care
And for that I'm sure
You keep me from danger
Crowbar by King Princess
Flippy Steeled himself for the inevitable look of despair she’d throw his way once she opens the door to meet him. He cringed at the thought as he grabbed his coat, and green beret that rested in his passenger seat. It crossed his mind that his old piece of military garb might be overkill, but his jacket didn’t have a hood leaving him little choice. Plus he didn’t feel right without it, especially after forgetting it in his car all day. Dawning his hat, he anxiously exited the vehicle, and began walking into the very wet street.
As he approached, he scanned the premises through the chain link fence. The fence was unsurprisingly padlocked, and the thought of just hacking through it with the machete he always kept in his trunk crossed his mind. Though the idea was immediately discarded since property damage probably wasn’t something Flaky, or the rest of the residents would appreciate. He stood there getting colder and damper as he strategized another way into the main yard.
Just climb over it dumbass. The wall we had to climb in boot camp was bigger than this.
Flippy was about to tell him off again, until he realized that it probably was the only option he had. He wished he could just call her to let him in, but he knew Flaky had blocked his number ages ago.
I’ll do it, if you’re worried about falling on your ass.
“You think I forgot how to climb? I said let me handle this!”
Flippy looked around nervously to make sure no one was around to see him commit the very illegal act of trespassing. Thankfully no one else in their right mind would be outside in this weather, and the cover of the darkness and rain gave him all the camouflage he needed. He gripped the rusting wire frames and started moving his body up his first obstacle. As expected, it wasn’t a difficult climb, and in a few minutes he was over it.
His landing to the ground was controlled and quiet despite his stature. He allowed himself a small smile at the confirmation that his domestic lifestyle did nothing to lessen his skillsets. The gruff voice in his mind scoffed.
He made his way across the front yard and up the staircase to the second floor of the complex. He was careful to avoid the windows of the neighboring apartment. After tip-toeing around, he finally reached Flaky’s front door.
It stood right about his height, and was coated with a deep red paint that was chipping at the corners. The numbers nailed to her door were supposed to read as ‘66’, but the nails were loosening. This made the last digit swing around, making it look like a lopsided ‘69’. He had no doubt that this has made Cuddles laugh at least once or twice.
The doorway was lovingly decorated with various potted plants and local fauna, and there were little porcelain critters and gnomes scattered about the tiny makeshift garden. The only thing rescuing them from the darkness right now was a dim doorway light that probably needed a new bulb.
Hanging between the door frame and front window was a colorful wind chime which Flippy didn’t doubt looked pretty in the sunlight. At the moment however it was shaking in the harsh wind, and added violent chiming to the atmosphere. Though, even in the rough weather, Flippy had to admire the attention to detail.
He leaned into the small window by the front door to peer inside. Unfortunately, unlike the other window he spotted, this one hid its interior behind a heavy curtain. With a nervous sigh, he gulped and rang the doorbell.
He waited there for several minutes before ringing it again… and again. He then started knocking with increasing desperation as the unanswered minutes lingered on. Beads of sweat began forming on his temple as his anxiety and fear was reaching an all time high. The idea that Flaky had already read it and connected the dots sunk his body into a state of heavy nauseousness and deep dread. If she finds out… it's over. All of it. She’d never look at me the same. She’ll hate me. She’ll think I’m a sick demented monster. She’ll never love me again. She might even already know. She might be hiding from me. The paranoia began to fill his mind to the brim as the door remained unmoving.
He tried knocking one more time before letting out a strangled groan and clawing at his head in frustration. The wind was beating at his back, and the roof barely shielded him from the rush of elements whirling around him. He rubbed his face as he began to hyperventilate.
“Oh God. Oh God! What am I going to do? This is all my fault. This is all my fault!” He spoke rapidly between his sobs and gasps for breath.
You gotta be fuckin—Can you get a fucking grip? You’re acting like we haven’t seen a man’s head get blown off! Stop blubbering, you’re pathetic!
“FUCK OFF YOU MINDLESS TRENCH MONKEY PIECE OF SHIT! I WISH YOU WOULD JUST DIE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE . I HATE YOU!” Flippy heaved as the words flew from his mouth like gunshots. His teary eyes then widened in shock at his own unyielding temper. He doesn’t like to swear…
The voice was silent for only a moment. You’re a fucking child.
Before Flippy was able to rip open another slew of frustrated ranting, a giant bolt of lightning cracked open the black sky and filled the air with the loudest roar of thunder yet. All of a sudden his mind was transported to an endless field of landmines, and enemy missiles scorching the ground he stood on and bringing Hell topside. The noise of war echoed in the thunder overhead.
Flippy broke out in a cold sweat as he keeled over. He looked at his hands and realized his whole body was shaking. His vision began to blur, and the voice in his head began screaming like an animal. The sound was so utterly raw, and in so much pain . It sounded like a man about to die. It sounded like death.
Flippy cradled his head that was now splitting apart. “No. NO! PLEASE NOT NOW!” He begged with himself for mercy, but it was too late. There was nothing Flippy could do. He wanted out.
His eyes screwed shut, and his face scrunched as he clawed at his head. Flippy tried pushing him away with all the mental strength he could muster, but his efforts were futile.
His movements stilled, but his body trembled. His heartbeats marked the long moments as he devolved into an empty man lost in a blackening storm. Then finally, his eyes revealed themselves to the chaos, and his mouth opened to greet it.
“I’m free.” It was a low rough whisper, drowned out by the warings of water and air. Lightning flashed again overhead, the violent strikes of light reflecting off a cold dead stare.
The trespasser let out deep breaths and refocused on his surroundings. His lips peeled into a jagged grin, as he pulled himself up from such a lowly position. He stretched his body to test out his limbs, as if his entire frame was cramped from weeks of no movement.
The black sky poured out its insides like a disemboweled prisoner overhead. He opened his hands and watched as water droplets hit the surface of his rough palms before balling them into fists. He was cold, drenched, and alone. He scowled, and his initial satisfaction from being free subsided. The rainforest never gave warm welcomes, nor did the enemies skulking in the trees and hidden caverns.
He couldn’t exactly recall how he entered this enemy encampment, but from what he could tell he was leading this operation alone with no weapon. Scratch that, actually. He patted himself down to find a Swiss Army knife among a wallet and a ring of keys. His confusion only deepened as he realized he was in civilian clothes.
His brows furrowed in confusion and irritation over how ill prepared he was for this mission. He supposed he’d been dealt worse hands, but this was pathetic. Where were his grenades? His guns? His favorite Bowie knife? Had he been captured by the enemy and stripped of everything? They might as well have thrown him out naked. Nevertheless, somehow he had escaped and there was still a mission to complete. What that mission was, he only had a vague idea. But he knew he had to infiltrate the fortress through the west wing window, and no one was going to stop him.
He whipped around and grabbed the wooden banister beside him, and not caring about the wet splinters, leaped over the railing and onto the muddy ground below with a hard loud splash. Wasting no time, he marched his way around the building towards the tree he had a vague memory of spotting earlier. His inability to remember things didn’t bother him, in fact he made sure nothing ever did.
The mud squelched beneath him, ruining his nice dress shoes. For some reason he felt a spark of irritation in the back of his mind. He brushed the feeling off as he got to the tall oak and began grappling at the thick branches. Besides dirtying his clothes a bit, the slick wood did little to hinder him as he climbed.
He finally reached the base of the branch closest to the window and cautiously scooted forward, conscious of how his weight would affect the branch’s stability as it tapered towards the glass. As he reached the frame he pulled out his army knife and started clawing and hacking at any weakness in the framework. He was wary of any booby traps, but he was surprised to find the threshold barely had much in the way of defensive reinforcement. As he was prying at the window lock, he took a glance into the room. Immediately, his eyes widened. He froze…
Before him, through the window pane was a nude woman peacefully asleep on velvety cushions, with the dim glow of the lamp caressing her flesh and softening the curves of her body. The thin blanket wrapped around her form barely shielded her from his eyes. Instead it silhouetted and framed her femininity perfectly. It was akin to the stone drapery carved onto the ancient statues of forgotten goddesses, deep in the long abandoned jungle temples that he encountered during a mission some time ago.
Her arms laid above her head and tangled into her deep red hair, tousling it alluringly. His mind short circuited when he couldn’t help but notice her ample breasts rise and fall with her breathing. As his hungry eyes had gotten a fill of her upper assets, he greedily cast his gaze down to and past her lean torso. Her short yet toned legs were spread slightly, revealing thin white panties that were shallow enough around her nether regions to hint at a bit of a bush. That itself made his mouth go dry. He glanced back at her face and simply concluded that her, and her entirety… was beautiful. Questions then reeled in his mind. Is she a prisoner? Does she need to be rescued?
His trance was cut short when another strike of thunder blasted through the air, and he violently tore his gaze away. He snarled through his clenched teeth before looking back at her, but his eyes immediately refocused on the reflection of his visage in the glass. His reality reared its ugly head to the forefront once more.
He bared his teeth menacingly and snarled. “This is a trick!” He hardened his grip on the knife, clenching it to the point his knuckles whitened. “This is a trap! And I’m not fucking falling for it!” He was getting ready to punch through the glass with his bare fist in anger, when suddenly a strong wave of panic and the stab of self hate struck through the core of his mind and overwhelmed his senses.
NO!
A booming voice that was almost his roared through his mind, stopping him dead. His eyes widened as his body stilled in confusion. Then he blinked. He realized there must have been an important order to stay undetected by any enemy occupants. “Hurting her must not be essential to the mission…” he uttered under his breath as he stared at her menacingly. Regardless of his disagreement with this strategy, he was resolute to accomplish this mission without error. He refocused his attention on getting inside. He quickly found the latch, and with deft movements he twisted the swiss army knife into its weakest point, releasing its lock.
He held his breath as he slowly opened the window, and cringed internally as its rusty hinges creaked. He glanced back at her, and noticed she barely stirred. Carefully, he maneuvered his body into the room and slowly shut the window behind him. He only looked at her tranquil form a few feet away for a handful moments, before backing into the shadows of a nearby hallway. The creaking of the floorboards raised his alarm, but when she only kept snoring in response he wondered how heavy of a sleeper this bitch was.
He stayed close to the walls as he scanned his surroundings. He realized that in short maneuvers he had already left muddy footprints. He facepalmed internally at his lack of sense.
He had a creeping feeling that he needed to search for something in this facility while remaining hidden, but he couldn’t do that if he made it look like he threw mother earth in the mud, then screwed her on every surface. He looked down at his ruined clothes knowing that they only hindered him… A deep frown began carving away at his face as he realized what he had to do. Yet he resolved himself. A war is won through sacrifice, afterall.
He began with his now ruined dress shoes, putting them against a shadowy corner. Then in one motion, peeled off his muddied white shirt, and plaid vest. He then stood up and slowly unbuckled his belt and slid off his trousers, careful to not let the metal of the buckle make too much noise on the way down his legs. He lastly took off his jingling dog tags, and piled them all up with his shoes. Once he believed they were well hidden enough, he began creeping down the hall in only his boxer briefs and beret.
He began scrounging through what seemed to be the woman’s sleeping quarter. Since she had her own private quarters, as opposed to sharing a space in the barracks, he wondered if she was a high ranking officer. Maybe he needed to steal intel on her future attacks. He went straight to the drawers of her desk, but only found stray notebooks filled with handwritten music sheets and other homely nonsense. Without thinking he slammed the drawer shut, but immediately regretted his roughness. His shoulders seized, and he threw his head back in her direction.
The silence thankfully confirmed that the woman still hadn’t stirred. “The bitch must be the heaviest sleeper, or she’s dead,” he vented out loud. His shoulders slacked, and he went about his search.
He looked through her closet filled with the colors of autumn, and found a small dusty ornamental chest on the top shelf. He took it and shifted through its contents. He found a small velvety ring box, and within it was a diamond ring, accented with purple and green gemstones. He thought it unimportant and threw it back in the chest.
He then grabbed a handful of photos at the bottom of the mysterious box and furrowed his brow as he scanned them.
The first seemed to be a faded family photo. The tallest figure in the image was a well dressed red headed man with a gentle smile and tired eyes. His left arm draped over the shoulder of a woman with long dark purple hair and a cheeky grin. And in the center of the image, enwrapped in both their arms, was a young girl that looked no older than ten. The color of her messy red hair matched the man’s, while the mirth in her face matched the older dame. He let that image fall out of his hand with little regard.
The second photo was torn in half. The remaining half of the polaroid showed a younger version of the woman sleeping in the other room. Though youthful, she looked distressingly skinny with her hollowed out cheeks. She was donning ripped denim and leathers. Her backdrop was a subway staircase covered with graffiti, and the photo captured her in a moment of concentration. Her lithe fingers were strumming on a black guitar with red roses and thorns.
Another person must have been on the other half, because on its torn edge was an arm that reached out and held on to her waist. Yet she seemed only interested in her craft rather than whoever was touching her. To his confusion, he realized he had a minuscule smile traced on his lips. He shook his head and let the photo fall away as well.
The third one grabbed his attention the most. It was the same woman once again. Except she was wearing a shirt too big to be hers, and caught in the deep embrace of a man that had somehow stolen his face.
He stared at his own features in that polaroid for a good while. He was struck with so much confusion while he looked at the doppelganger’s much more youthful complexion. The boy also had much longer brighter hair, which almost reached the shoulders. As well as a much leaner build compared to his current muscular stature. But it was unmistakably his face. And while he stared at the face in the photo, the boy only cared about keeping his eyes locked on the woman in his arms. And unlike the last photo, she gave him all her unadulterated attention back. They even had the world’s most vomitendosing smiles aimed at each other like missles.
He grimaced at the strange site. Was this what I needed to retrieve? He thought to himself. No… no. This isn’t it . But it was much too strange to let it fall away like the others. Instead, he slid it under his beret, then placed the chest carefully back in its original position. He then quietly stalked out of the room.
He had to pass by her again, so he got down on his hands and knees and army crawled across the living room until he found himself underneath her dining table. It reminded him of the time he had to camouflage in river brambles while trying to escape a squadron of Blue Tiger foot soldiers. He submerged in muck and rotting river plants for hours hoping that they’d give up, or accidentally drop a grenade on themselves… which they eventually did. Odds could always be against him, but one could always count on the enemies’ stupidity as long as you were smarter.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a book bag hung on a wall rack only an arms reach. A shot a quick glance at the red head before carefully snatching it to his chest. Rummaging through its compartments he found a wallet, phone, notebook—
“Bingo.”
He pulled out the cursed object and held it firmly in his two hands. The damn book with the embarrassingly gaudy cover…
Suddenly pieces of his delusion faded from his mind, allowing his other half a crack to slip out of. And in his mind’s eye, the treeline of the jungles reseeded just a bit.
Oh, thank goodness! We have it! Now let’s get out of here.
Shit. Who woke you up?
It’s a good thing I did! You stormed in here like a gorilla! Now, quit the theatrics! Let’s go!
The hardened soldier rolled his eyes. And you say I’m careless.
What are you yapping on about?
The soldier made another face before continuing. If we take the book, cunt’s gonna notice.
But… Oh…
—Dumbass! You see? You’re the careless one.
He flipped to open the book, and in one swift motion tore the ‘dedicated to page’ out, and stuffed it under his beret. There. Assuming she hasn’t cracked it open—which I’m sure she hasn’t—she’ll never be the wiser.
…huh… actually that is pretty smart.
I know, Flip-shit–
–Hey!
Anyway, let's roll outta here.
The soldier craned his neck and found the premises adequately safe to maneuver through, in other words, the woman was still dead as a door knob. He slithered out from under the wooden table, and continued to army crawl back towards the shadowy hallway. Once he gathered his clothes, he decided against taking the risk of equipping his gear. Instead, he settled on tucking them in his arms and making a quiet break for the door.
As he tiptoed near the window, he took one last glance at the woman’s sleeping figure. Her breathing was even, and her eyelashes were long. The pitter-patter of droplets tapping the glass was the only company in her gentle silence. For a brief moment he wondered what color he’d see if she looked at him. Would her eyes be green like his? Or a sky blue? There was a Schrödinger’s cat full of options he could guess from. It then dawned on him that whatever could be known about her was futile.
… Nothing exists. even if something exists, nothing can be known about it…
His eyes returned to the darkness beyond.
Suddenly, the window slammed open with wrathful force, and a swirl of crashing violence stole away the warmth.
The color of her eyes were brown.
Chapter Text
The blinds wide open so he can
See you in the dark when you're sleepin'
Naked body fresh out the shower
And you touch yourself after hours
Ain't no man allowed in your bedroom
You're sleeping alone in bed
He's at your window
She by Tyler the Creator
The tall grass tickled her feet as she waded through the endless field of red poppies. The gentle breeze swayed the flowers, making her giggle each time a stray petal would kiss her bare skin. The train of her white dress flowed behind her as she walks towards the horizon crowned by a sun half swallowed by the earth, and unmoving in its suspension. The sky was the perfect shade of lilac, and it was a mystery to her whether it was dawn or dusk, but it did not matter.
Two bear cubs stumbled around a little storybook cottage that appeared in the midst of the red meadow surrounding her. It had a large green door made of aged wood, which opened itself as if powered by a fairytale. Warm light enveloped her and she could feel sensation more than she could see.
Strong arms carried her off, and soft lips pressed onto her face over and over and over again… she envisioned more of the color green… like the shade a forest takes on after it rains… green… so much green… a sharp toothy smile… the hands that held her began curiously exploring her body… she loved this shade of green…
CRASH!
Flaky woke up with a loud shriek and her soul halfway across the continent. Her body reacted quicker than her mind, flinging her off the couch and scrambling on the floor like an animal. The rapid movements causing the blanket to ensnare her like a net over a flopping fish. Only the sensation of her head slamming against the coffee table was able to stop the assault.
She let out a pained groan, and peeled the blanket off her face. Watery eyes searched for her source of fright, but being yanked out of deep sleep prevented her from immediately taking in her environment. Her lungs struggled to breath. The poor girl held her chest as she tried her best to stop hyperventilating. Cold sweat made her bare skin shiver.
“W-what the hell?” she threw the words out exasperated, and finally took in the mess before her. The storm had kicked open her window and vomited a barrage of water, mud, and leaves inside. The rain was still pouring in as the window pane continuously slapped at her wall. She sprang up and slammed it shut, and groaned again miserably when she realized her bare feet just walked through gross muck.
“How the fuc—?” She always locked her windows, but then again her apartment was slowly falling apart. “Stupid latches!” she yelled through gritted teeth. “I told him the windows needed new ones! Why don’t people listen to me?” Flaky half grumbled half screamed as she began stomping away to the kitchen, careful not to slip on the wet floor… she did actually end up slipping and falling on her face, but who’s looking?
More silent screams fell out of her mouth while she got up. She was mad at life for yanking away her bliss as she yanked at the roll of paper towels on her laminate countertop. Wiping the muck off while muttering under her breath, “I can’t catch a break! Stupid storm, stupid weather! Wasn’t even supposed to rain this long in the first place! Should I be building an ark?!”
She aggressively put on a cropped T-shirt that was draped over a kitchen chair, and tied up her hair with a bandana. She didn’t bother slipping anything else on, she was home alone anyway. The poor girl then dragged out the good ol’ fashioned mop and bucket combo from the corner.
She took the cleaning supplies to the main area of destruction, and this time truly assessed the damage.
Tonight, mother nature gifted her with big brown stains on her new rug, and most likely water damage to the floor boards. Add that to the hundredth reason as to why she’s not getting the deposit back. The creaking of the boards were now coupled with squelching noises since some of the mud seeped into the cracks. Wet leaves were scattered everywhere.
It was holistically carnage to her peace. Flaky could already feel the headache rising in her brain like a tidal wave as she stood there completely dumbfounded on where to even begin. A silent flash of lightning caught her attention and she slowly turned her head back to the hell portal made of glass. She noticed that the storm had the audacity to suddenly start calming down.
It was slowing to a pitter-patter now. The rage of the tempest had devolved into little watery snakes casually racing each other down the window pane. Flaky allowed a small smile to seep through her frustration as the rain gradually pacified. She remembered that her mother would often joke about how storms just needed to tire themselves out like toddlers… or men.
A chuckle escaped from her lips. She missed her mother’s humor. Always shining the brightest at the most inappropriate times. When she was just a little girl, thunderstorms were always the most traumatic. She’d go running to her mother for safety, and the woman would never fail to shelter her blubbering daughter from the horrors of lighting and thunder. She protected and teased her for being such a cry baby. “ What? God’s just watering his flowers. Why get in the way of that?” The woman would laugh as tears and snot streamed down her little munchkin’s face. “ Trust me darling, he doesn’t need your tears. His watering can is full.”
Flaky squeezed her eyes tightly to prevent any tears, as she already felt her eyes begin to mist over. Instead, focusing on the flowers that will surely bloom tomorrow. Huh… flowers , she wondered, Where did I see flowers?
Her mind’s eye got a glimpse of the dream she had before disaster struck. She continued trying to rake her brain for remnants of the dream while she walked towards her little music corner. She might as well play some tracks to save her from complete despair.
She fished out her favorite record from a giant shelf of vinyls, and threw it on the turntable. As soon as the familiar rhythm of drums hit the air her mood lifted just enough for her to grab the mop.
Oooooh baby, not tonight
I don't wanna fuss and fight
I just wanna make it right—
“—Ooooh, there's work to do
I wanna get real close to you
I wanna get you in the mooooood”
She sang along under her breath while mopping and scrubbing, which eventually turned into a full karaoke session as she swung around furniture trying to get to tough corners.
“All the things you want to doooo
Just relax and I'll take care of yoooou
And anytime you want me
I'm sayin' that I love you every day
And I know that you love me
Baby, admit it”
Flaky was a bit drunk on the music now, with the lyrics of the song softening her edges and bringing out something a bit different than her usual energy. Her mind then roamed back to sniffing out that mysterious dream she had. There were flowers, and hands? …and touching?
“Give me all your love and don't stop
My love's waiting when you reach the top
All night loooonng
Come into my bedroom honey
What I got will make you spend money
All night loooonng”
She blushed as sensations came strolling back into her mind. It had been a long time since she’s had a wet dream. Was it even a wet dream? She couldn’t remember if those wandering hands ever got to the sweet spots. Flaky smiled coyly, but continued swaying her hips to the beat. It had been a long day and night, and it was very rare that she ever felt even slightly sensual. So she submitted to her own playfulness.
“Yoooou know that I know that you love meeee
So if you just give me a chance
I could still show you romance
I know that you still savor for my flavor, baaabe
So stop playin' hard to get
And let's make love like we first meeeeeeeet”
Flaky continued to sing as she mopped, and scrubbed, and wiped, and scraped until the mess gradually disappeared and was past Flaky’s problem. Her fake persian rug was now rolled up and sitting pitifully in the corner by the front door, and would surely stay there until she finally had enough energy to deep clean it, or throw it out. The last thing was the salad of grime under the coffee table. She got on all fours and started grabbing at the leaves. Shimming under, her rear swaying in the air, she picked them all up then tossed them in the bucket.
Suddenly, the noise of a door shutting interrupted the melody, as well as her peace of mind. Paranoia gripped her yet again as she swiveled her head towards every visible nook and cranny in the room, looking for the ghost that ruined the mood. She turned the volume down as her hand clutched her racing heart.
Everything seemed normal, the rain outside was still dulling out, and nothing seemed amiss. She wiped the sweat off her brow and calmed her breathing. All these years later and she’s still the same scaredy cat that panics at every noise. A shiver went up her back. Her mother wasn’t here anymore so she needed to get over it. A nervous laugh escaped her before setting down the mop and deciding the room was clean enough for now. The draft must have shut her bedroom door. No one was here.
She was about to settle herself back down on the couch but noticed that the satchel had fallen off the hook, and only a single item had tumbled out.
The book.
The sight of it made a certain earthy color slip into her memory like a notary reminder. Specifically army green. A hot blush scorched her face. Did the naughty novel curse her with a naughty dream? And was that flash of green she kept seeing supposed to be…
She reached down and picked up the dreaded romance novel. She should throw it away, but decided that she too pitied the visual of a book in a garbage can. Some of the blood on the cover had dried and the rest had naturally wiped itself away, letting her view the front illustration and title more clearly.
“War Journal. By P.R. Theodore.”
In the soft lighting of her lampshade, the roguish military man looked far less demented. His face was heroic and solem, accented with a cigar between sharp pearly teeth, and his square stubbly jawline. His uniform was ripped to shreds, showing off the sheer wonderment of the male physique. The hero sort of reminded her of someone… wow, wait a sec .
She tried her best to shoo her unexpected attraction away, afterall, her only reference point for a soldier was Flippy, and she didn’t have any business touching him with a ten foot pole. Let alone using him as a conduit for her sexual fantasies. And yet, something in Flaky’s nether region stirred, and she realized it had been a very long time since she'd seen a man naked. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to read just a paragraph or two. It’s what the book was made for.
When was the last time she had sex? For a moment she envied her friend Giggles for her more open and ready lifestyle with the opposite gender. Never did that woman seem wanting.
Just like Giggles, the beautiful redhead held in the soldier's strong arms was a treasure. She was the pinnacle idea of a damsel in distress. All curves and shiny perfect skin, dressed in a short white shift that showed off her body perfectly. The lady was a head turner made to be envied.
Oof. She was doing it again. Comparing herself to her friend. Flaky had stopped secretly hating Giggles many years ago, back in their teen years. But she couldn’t help herself from contemplating why fate never gifted her with the same creamy long legs and gentler outline. Instead Flaky’s curves were outlined with leaner muscle, baked and tanned from years in the sun, and watered down with sweat from the baseball and track fields. Where there should have been soft rolling hills, there were sharp jagged edges. They were completely different breeds of women, and it often amazed Flaky how they got so close.
Flaky decided to redirect her silent envy at the woman being embraced. I’ve never been hugged by a guy with abs… wonder what that feels like…
She kept curiously gazing at the novel in her hands, turning it to look at the description on the back.
A soldier who's lost more than everything, and a mysterious wartime nurse with a stormy past have found their strings somehow intertwined. Two individuals strangled by different fates somehow meet during a time when the meaning of brotherhood between nations was lost. Amongst the rampages of war and ever present demise, hope bloomed, and the sun shined on more than just the dead.
“…a bit overdramatic, but alright.” Flaky started flipping through random pages until she found something relevant to her needs, deciding to truly begin the story later. Smutty language started gracing the pages around a quarter into the book.
… Braveheart laid her on the wool blanket. The rush of the waterfall now mirroring the hot blood flowing through his veins. His forearms were stone pillars entrapping her pretty face that stared up at him with apprehension and arousal. What Rose saw looming above her was a look of pure hunger…
“Ooh boy.” Flaky settled back down into the couch and started playing with the elastic of her thin panties, letting her fingertips slip below the line of innocence.
… His large hand slowly but firmly pulled on the lapel of her bloodied white uniform. Excruciating to her nerves, each sudden pop of a button acted like the ticking of a time bomb with detonation being agonizingly imminent. The cast of her purity was pulled away. Her naked breasts were suddenly free to be chilled by the cool jungle air and gazed upon like forbidden fruit. Their eyes met for a moment before he sunk down and took a bite…
Her hand came up to palm her breast hiding under her tee, and gasped as she pulled on her own nipple. She could feel all her blood rising to her cheeks, and her tender womanhood tingled in excitement. Flaky bit her lip in embarrassment, and tried with all her might not to picture Flippy the war vet. AHH! Why even bring him up! He’s not the only soldier ever! Flaky quickly shooed the thought away so as not to kill the mood.
… His hands were rough, and craved to be one with her flesh, but Braveheart relented his desire for domination just for this moment to knead her breast gently. In thanks he received soft gasps and precious whimpers, and was given an abundance more when he began accenting his skill with sharp nips of his teeth. Applying pressure every now and again to remind her that much much more will be promised to her, and she won’t be ready for any of it…
Flaky began to move her fingers down her torso again. Something was begging for her attention. She pulled down her panties and shimmied out of them, finally freeing her from what felt like a chastity belt. With her other hand swiftly pulling the shirt off her torso, dropping it on the floor. She spread her legs open, one ankle resting on the top padding of the couch, and the other foot resting on the floor.
…he trailed licks and kisses down her torso until he was right above her sweet spot. She felt his lips make soft contact with her plush thighs, and sucked in a breath as he pulled her knees further apart. Oh, she could just feel his sites fixed to her wet cunt. Her excitement was overwhelming, so much so that she couldn’t help but shut her eyes and look away. His gaze was burning her alive.
“Rose. Where have you been?” His voice wavered with a shaky breath.
“What?” She peaked one eye at him, then immediately gave him her full gaze, completely caught off guard by the look of intense awe now fully directed at her face. His eyes were wide and unblinking, with hot breath coming from his lips. Braveheart had moved his focus to catch her eyes, so as to call attention to her very spirit, and not just her body. And when their stares locked it was as if the hour itself had halted for it pitied the movement of time, that two souls would ever be forced to walk away from a moment like this.
Time felt slower, alas fate was always in a forward march. Motions of a decade forever siphoned and sifted into golden moments of inevitable nostalgia. This night would definitely be taking up space in her mind for the rest of her life. For his eyes were the windows to a burning house, and the soul inside wanted nothing more than to be consumed.
“Where have you been my entire life?”…
“Oh fuck.” Flaky felt the wetness of her cunt on her fingertips. She chewed on her lower lip, and felt like the embodiment of the color red while making small gentle circles around her slit that now ached to be filled. Giving a testing nudge to her clit, she mewed at the sharp pleasure from its unexpected sensitivity.
…
How did he find himself in this situation? He was never good at filing reports, nor did he ever, but if he did, how the fuck would he break this down?
It happened in an instant. Freedom and a mission accomplished was right at his fingertips when the damned window busted open like a bat out of hell, spewing sludge on everything. It was horrendous, but at least it took care of the foot prints.
Unfortunately however, he immediately heard the bitch start screaming. And quickly saw nothing but a mass of red hair rapidly losing a fight to a blanket. He had no choice but to throw his gear out the window, then duck and roll to a shadowy crevice behind a shelf and some boxes.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! The enemy is up and alert!
Oh no. This is bad!
Shut up and get back in the trenches! I need to focus!
He heard a thump, and the thrashing ceased, followed by loud groaning and labored breath. The soldier shifted his head to see through a crack in his hiding space. She had finally come to and immediately rushed into action to shut the accursed window.
Like him, she seemed incredibly angry at the turn of events. He watched her huff and puff her way towards the little chow hall, but her rage must have been blinding because she failed to watch her step. He almost blew his cover trying to hold in his laughter when she fell over like a sack of potatoes after slipping on a wet leaf. Teeth marks on his wrist was a small price to pay to avoid death by wheezing.
But the silent laughter turned into just silence when the champ got back up and started wiping down her almost naked body. He couldn’t help but leer at how she rubbed down her breasts and legs. He wouldn’t have minded helping her out, afterall he was a messy eater but he always cleaned his plate. He cursed her for eventually putting on a shirt instead of continuing the show.
When she started poking around her pantry, he took the chance and tried slipping away towards the safe shadows of the hallway. But she was faster than he expected, because she was already whipping around to do her duty like a good cadet, mop and bucket in hand. He had to jump back in the opposite direction, ducking behind the couch.
Damnit! She sleeps like the dead, and moves like a ghost.
You should see her on a track field.
Head. Down. In. The. Trench!
He was crouched, with his back against the armrest of the couch, hidden from her view, listening to her movements. The room was silent for a moment… then footsteps… then drums?
A dynamic symphony of strings and piano keys followed suit, and the melody filled the lonely room with a new thrust of energy. He’s never heard any kind of alarm siren like this before. He peered over the edge in befuddled curiosity.
She started mopping the floor in tandem to the music’s rhythm. While her focus was on the floor, he finally got a good look at her optics. The woman had deep chocolatey doe eyes that were a bit sunken in, but that didn’t detract from their vivaciousness. The way her eyes fluttered when she blinked was somehow mesmerizing…
Her face had softened into a look of lax concentration while she hummed to the tune and cleaned around the furniture. He watched her lips mouth the lyrics, but gradually her own voice was harmonizing with the singer.
…the broad was pretty good. She wasn’t tone deaf that’s for sure. It felt strange to admit, but her voice was like spiced honey to his ears…
“—Ooh, there's work to do
I wanna get real close to you
I wanna get you in the mooooood—”
Nope! He didn’t have more time to contemplate her vocal range, because her and the mop were heading right for him!
He made a mad dash behind the couch, wedging himself between the back of it and the wood paneling of the wall. It was a tough squeeze, but at least it wasn’t jagged volcanic rock like in that one cave during that one mission. The mess he was in was just like it, but instead of trying to escape giant spiders, he was avoiding a mop wielded by a dame with no sense of gravity.
He squeezed out of the other side of the gap just in the knick of time before she started wedging the mop in there. There wasn't even any muck back there!
“—All the things you want to doooo
Just relax and I'll take care of yoooou—“
The soldier had never been more stressed out in his life. Well that wasn’t at all true. The things he’s seen would make a lesser man lose his mind, but for some reason tonight was up there on the list.
He crawled his way to the other end of the room and hid part of his large body in a small open cabinet secluded by coats and an end table. He was literally cornered, and he wished so badly for one of his smoke bombs.
He frantically started grabbing for any kind of hard object on the end table and eventually got his hands on a little red porcelain hedgehog. It was a pathetic little thing with painted on tears. He stared at it with a deadpanned face for a moment, then thought about throwing it at the girl’s head. Though since it only had a fifty-fifty chance of knocking her out he decided against it.
Her back was facing him but it wouldn’t be for long. He scuttled his way under the dining table again, but accidentally knocked the satchel off the hook making that damned book slide out. He grimaced in annoyance, but at least the music hid the ‘thud’ enough to go unnoticed.
It was too far away to reach without getting spotted. He’d just have to leave it and hope she’d be dumb enough to think it was the wind.
“—Come into my bedroom honey
What I got will make you spend money—”
Bitch, I’m trying! As an expert in guerrilla warfare, he knew the only chance to escape a woman with a stick was to bolt into the shadows. Which could be out the window—but was currently inaccessible—Or back into her sleeping quarters—which she would most likely return to, leaving him even more trapped than before—or in the closet to wait out the storm!
“—I know that you still savor for my flavor, baaabe
So stop playin' hard to get—”
Woman, get the hell away from me! He had faced enemies that liked to taunt their foes before, but this woman seemed especially twisted. She messed with her prey by prancing around naked, all the while playing a sick game of hide and seek. She must have been part of the high ranking Tiger Guard because they were always the most sadistic. That must have been how she got such comfortable quarters, a reward for all the bloodshed in her wake. Strangely, it was difficult for his blood to boil at the thought of her torturing his comrades while watching her ass wave in the air as she picked up some leaves under the coffee table.
That was his chance. While her attention was down on the floor, he rushed up and barrel rolled his way across the room. The noise of his action was muffled since he was basically naked, thus much nimbler. Without a second to spare he reached his target, swiftly opened the closet door, threw himself inside, but stupidly shut it behind him a tad too loud.
He didn’t even realize he was sweating bullets until he was nestled in the dark closet surrounded by blankets and coats, watching her through the door slits, scan her surroundings like a suspecting predator. His heart was racing as she got up to do a round check.
He eventually watched her find and pick up the book.
And that was the beginning of his demise. His ruination, being the most—admittedly—beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon, spread eagle, fondling and fingering herself a few feet from his face.
As soon as he realized what she was up to, his mouth went dry, and he was suddenly the thirstiest man on Earth. Only a flimsy sliver of wood protected her from him, and he wanted so badly to bust through it. He would have too if there wasn’t something deep in his mind violently holding him back. But even that strange force was struggling with its resolve while listening to moans that sounded like siren songs. He was an army man, not a sailor, but he could still definitely swim.
…
Flaky made a heavenly sigh while continuously tapping and rubbing on her clit with gentle motions. She hadn’t touched herself in awhile, so a little was already a lot for her body. Yet awareness of her cunt’s sensitivity only excited her, and just spurred her on to test its limits. It always felt better after a long time of not doing it. She trained her eyes back to the page, finding where she left off.
…Rose felt his hot breath on her needy cunt, and soon she felt his lips too. She moaned at the sensation of experimental kisses peppering her virgin pussy. Then his tongue snaked out and made a long, slow, sloppy lick from the bottom of her slit to the top. She could not contain a low husky moan from escaping her puffy lips after such a lewd act, but it quickly morphed into girlish shrieks as he began sucking on her clit making it swollen and red.
“Brave! Brave! It-it’s too much!”
She could feel the trace of his smile on her dripping pussy, “I just got started honey…”
Flaky scoffed and smiled, “Damn. If only my first time was this good.” She refused to dwell on the experience, and instead focused on sliding two fingers into her own dripping pussy, slowly thrusting them in and out.
The poor soldier bit down on his hand, while the other had already whipped out his weeping cock. He wanted to eat her alive. Her long slender fingers were slickened with womanly juices, and her pussy was a watered rose. He wanted to taste the flower’s sweet nectar, even if it was poisoned. Bury his face in it. He muffled his huffing as he jerked on his own cock. He couldn’t help himself. What man could?
He watched her face beautifully contort in ecstasy from what he was sure was pure bliss. The warm lighting reflecting on the sheen of sweat on her chest, neck, and face made her look like she was literally glowing. This must be witchcraft he thought while he massaged the head of his cock and shaft. He began to feel his own perspiration. This closet was getting too hot, and too stuffy.
Flaky picked up the pace as her body demanded more pleasure. She spread her legs wider to accommodate more rapid movement, and he was overjoyed to receive an even better view. Her fingers switching their efforts from fucking her hole to stroking her clit. She moaned helplessly at her self abuse, but it wasn’t enough. Her thoughts were becoming primal, she needed something bigger and stronger inside her. She needed a real man.
…Brave was pulling every moan and whimper out of her as he swirled his skillful tongue around her clit. Her back was arching and her legs were trembling around his head. her thighs were squeezing him, but he wouldn’t mind at all dying between her legs.
While stationed at her beautiful southern port happily fulfilling his duty, he eyed her soft mounds rising and falling with her short breaths before him. The movement making tits bounce a bit. His cocked hardened evermore at the site…
“Fuck. Fuck! I need to get fucked right now!” Flaky half shriek half moaned, wishing some man would just come out of hiding and start destroying her pussy.
Yes. Yes! Let it be me! Let it be me! I wanna fuck you so badly! The horny little soldier was screaming in his head, and he was viciously pulling on his hair to get a grip of himself. He was getting rough with his cock, wishing so badly that it was pounding away at her juicy little cunt.
…Brave pulled away from her right when she was meeting her peak, which was unsurprisingly met with adorable protests. Briar reached out to pull on his hair and lead him back down to her, but instead he took her hands in his own, and sat up on his knees.
His cock was fully erect, and fully in her view. Her eyes widened in slight fear it. He was going to put that inside her? He chuckled as if he read her mind, and she shot him a look. This was only met with more laughter.
“Don’t worry my dear.” He gingerly placed her hand around his thick cock and guided it to give him a gently squeeze. “Feel how much I want you.” His cock twitched and pulsated at her touch, and he slowly started moving her hand up and down his long hard shaft. “Feel how much I love you.” She gasped as precum dripped onto her precious hands. “I need to be inside you. Will you let me be inside you?” His deep voice vibrated straight to her core.
Rose gave him a dreamy smile, “Yes! Please, yes! More than anything, yes!” He returned his own beaming smile, and started lifting her legs over his muscular deltoids, and folding her body up until her knees met her shoulders. Her eyes widened. “W-what are you doing?” She asked nervously.
He lined the tip of his cock at the entrance of her warm pussy. It ached to be buried deep inside her. He then looked at her with pure primal madness in his eyes. “I love you darling, but I’m about to fuck you like I hate you.”
Flaky read the finishing line out loud in a gasping husky whisper. The words hit her like a truck, making her shriek as her climax approached rapidly. She felt nothing but hot sparks being twisted in her core tighter and tighter. She frantically pulled herself up and jumped on one of her throw pillows, wishing so badly that it would manifest into a real man pulling her down on his cock.
She threw the book behind her, and like a madwoman, started riding her pillow with reckless abandon, desperate for more extreme stimulation. Her back was arched, and her breasts bounced from her filthy gyrations. One hand began fondling her breast, the other combing the mess of hair away from her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her lips were trembling as it switched from smiling to her beautiful “o” face. “Fuck me! Please! Fuck me like you hate me!” She was speaking crazy things with a hoarse desperate voice. The sounds of her moaning echoed through the room, and she was almost in tears.
I’ll fuck you so hard I’ll kill you! The poor soldier was so absolutely lost in lust for her that the lines between every kind of passion was blurred. He was biting his hand so hard at this point he was bleeding. He was fucking himself like his life depended on it. He could feel his climax building rapidly. They were both climbing higher and higher towards the peak.
F - Flaky!
“Flippy!”
Me too!
“I’m-I’m coming!”
I need you more…
“I need it!”
Everyday…
“Fuck me!”
Flaky’s whole world crashed on top of her as a powerful wave of pleasure demolished her senses. The loudest and lewdest barrage of moans and shrieks tumbled out of her as she came into her soaked pillow. She fell back on the cushions in a heap of sweat and exhaustion as the waves of electricity gradually disappated.
Her breathing was ragged as her body cooled down. Her tranquility however, was extremely short lived as her eyes widened like dinner plates when the sobering realization of whose name just jumped out of her mouth was fully processed. Her body was still twitching from the orgasm, yet a different kind of shock was now frying her nerves. “Wait. What? Flippy?” She coughed the revelation out as if the pill was hard to swallow.
When Flippy heard his name, that was it. It was over for him. He might as well have gotten flash banged into cumming, because he saw nothing but stars as his pleasure reached its highest peak. His eyes were drawn shut as he came into his hand, cum seeping through his fingers. He wished it was inside her pussy instead, filling her to the brim. Getting her pregnant. He bit down hard on his hand to stifle a deep ragged moan, and did his best to shoot down his overwhelming desire to kick open the closet doors and ravish her.
She said my name… she said my name! T-there’s hope! His labored breathing wasn’t enough to diminish his more than satisfied smile. It grew a bit wider and a tad more deranged as he reveled at the implications of his discovery. If he wasn’t trapped in a closet, he’d be bouncing off the walls.
I said his name… I said his name… Why in the world did I say his name? She coughed as she sat up, and stared at the book tossed haphazardly on the ground. “I need to burn you. I don’t know what that was, or what you did to me, but I need to set you on fire.” She was reaching up to grab it when the doorbell rang.
“H-huh?” Flaky’s thoughts were still a messy haze as she zipped her head around trying to find the wall clock. 4:48am . Who would be knocking at this hour?
The doorbell rang a second time. “G-give me a second!” She yelled loud enough to be heard. She awkwardly sat up, and quickly shuffled to a laundry basket. She hopped around, pulling on a pair of pajama pants, threw on the first shirt she could grab, and went over to look through the peep hole.
“Mime?” Flaky threw open the door. Her mute next door neighbor was standing at her doorstep in a striped purple robe, rubbing his eye. His face was without his usual clown makeup that he wore for his day job. Yet somehow, his skin always stayed pristine. Though this morning must have been an exception because his eyes were shadowed by heavy bags. Hence the rubbing.
“H-hey Mime… May I help you?” He stopped rubbing his eye, and just looked at her coldly. She stared back at him nervously.
He eventually started waving his hands around in big motions, looking around and acting panicked. Then followed it up with hip thrusting, and cupping his hand to his ear with a disgusted expression.
It only took a second for Flaky to comprehend what he was trying to say. Her cheeks burned red like a fire truck and she exploded, “Mime! I-I-I-I can explain! I-I’m so sorry! I didn't know you could—I’m so sorry—it’s not what you think!”
Mine let her panicked tirades go on for a few more minutes before he let a tiny smile crack through his stone visage. The micro expression did not escape Flaky. “D-Don’t laugh at me! I told you it’s not what you think! I-I wasn’t doing anything nefarious!”
Mime couldn’t contain himself any longer. He threw his head back and mouthed the movements of loud obnoxious laughter. He was medically incapable of making sound so he always had to exaggerate his expressions. This time he got his amusement across even better by pointing a school boy finger at her face. To which she aggressively swatted away.
“Knock it off! I said it’s not what you think!” He was bent over on his knees silent laughing, but he lifted his hand in a stopping motion, trying to get her to cease yapping. With a mischievous smile still lacing his lips, he picked himself back up and rolled his eyes, signaling it was fine.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” he tried shooing her embarrassment away with another wave of his graceful hand. He then yawned and lazily scratched his messy dark purple hair.
Flaky was not relieved. “I-I’ll make you some coffee.” She stiffly turned around, and robotically walked to her kitchen. Mime watched her from the doorway with his ever present knowing grin.
While she was brewing something up, he gave into his curiosity and peeked his head in, trying to maybe get a glimpse of the lucky guy. He might not have a voice but he had good ears, and he lived for the neighborhood gossip.
But the moment his eyes focused on her living room he froze. A strange figure covered in a big white sheet shuffled its way out of her closet and was sneaking towards the window. Whoever it was stuck low to the ground, like a crouching thief.
Mime’s mouth was agape as his widened eyes followed the figure’s movements. The color drained from his already pale face when its cloaked head seemed to turn and meet his gaze. Neither of them moved. Meanwhile Flaky had her back turned to the entire scene, probably too focused on mentally making herself disappear.
The sheeted figure popped out a ghostly arm, and made a slitting throat motion at him. Which of course made Mime respond with silent frantic hand motions trying to get Flaky’s attention, and mouthing the words ‘Ghost! Ghost!’
Welp. Camouflage and threats didn’t work.
No shit.
Flippy lifted the sheet, taking the risk to reveal himself. He vaguely knew Mime, and was fairly sure he was a decent guy. When Mime realized who he was Flippy mustered up the best pleading expression he could conjure with his face, and mouthed a silent ‘please’ while holding his hands together in desperate prayer.
Mime’s shock morphed into an even more knowing grin, seeming to understand exactly the situation. Flaky had a sneaky link she wanted to hide. Atta girl, he thought. He was glad she was finally coming out of her shell. He decided he’d keep her little secret… for now.
Mime smiled at him and dramatically waved his hand towards the window, as if offering Flippy his freedom. Flippy mouthed a teary thank you before tearing the window open and flinging himself out of the building. He wasted no time gathering up his strewn about belongings and bolting out of the premises.
Mime tip-toed a little closer to the window and watched him struggle into his car, and floor it down the street and over the hills. The sun was rising, revealing that the finally done and tuckered out storm had brought out flowers in its wake, which now glittered with misty dew. The sky was clear, and the perfect shade of lilac.
Flaky approached with two mugs of hot coffee. “Oh shit! The window! Not again!”
Notes:
I hope this chapter is even comprehensible, since I was attempting something experimental. But all the same, thanks for reading! More to come!
Song that Flaky sings is 'Mary Jane (All Night Long)' by Mary J. Blige
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