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thimbleswrites · 4 years

Text

with the lights out, it’s less dangerous | the last time

Pairing: Frankie Dalton x Original Female Character

Genre: Angst / Drama

Word count: 4k

Warnings: love/hate relationship, implied smut, suicidal thoughts

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884773/chapters/8685547

Author’s note: I wrote this a long time ago but I’m posting all my fics on my writing blog. I explain more about the Blood Donors concept in the a/n on A03 if anyone’s interested, click the link above.

Summary:

Anita, a human that Edward has been harboring in his house for years, struggles with the isolation of living as a fugitive in a world full of vampires. With the threat of being reduced to nothing but a Blood Donor looming just outside the walls of Edward's house, she must decide whether it is time to end it all or find a way to deal with the desolation.

But is the dangerous game she finds herself playing with Frankie Dalton, Edward's human-hunting brother, the best solution to her loneliness?

Set pre-Daybreakers.

Next: honesty hour

"Goddamn it, Frankie, I have until sundown to get some sleep before a shit load of work tomorrow – I'm not having this conversation again; it's done!"

A beat of silence follows the words as the dismissal rings heavy in the air and a resounding snarl tears through the tension. Anita grimaces at the sound of footsteps up the stairs and tries to press herself back against the hinged door, into nonexistence – a thin hand clawing at the threshold as she waits with bated breath.

No matter how many arguments she heedfully witnesses, how many times Edward tells her that she is safe after Frankie blows in and out of their lives over and over again, how many times she manages to make it just one more day without being caught and forced as a Blood Donor: the dread that makes her stomach clench in an almost paralyzing sort of fear is a constant reminder that she is never safe.

The comfort of safety is not a luxury she can afford – not anymore.

The years spent hiding with a decreasing amount of fellow human who had refused vampirism had not been wasted with pointless dreams of a secure future. Those days were harsh, dirty, and cruel – but in each other there was at least a small repose of normalcy. Humans living (well surviving, because what they had been doing was not actually living) with other humans.

A human living with one (sometimes two, she remembers with a tingle up her spine) vampires, though.

She wants to laugh at the thought of such an illusion as safety for someone in her position, but seeing as it's the one thing standing between her and becoming a daily juice box, she refrains. That is if she could remember how to laugh; the muscles surrounding her mouth are usually only ever exercised into a frown and she imagines that the act of straining them upwards might be foreign and difficult.

Her attempt at becoming a chameleon is at once deemed futile under the fierce gaze of Frankie Dalton as he passes in the hall. He's only just gotten back from his most recent tour of duty and as per usual he is staying at Edward's during his break, unable to afford an apartment he would scarcely ever use.

The first few days of his return are always the worst; Edward almost never remembers the day of Frankie's arrival and the latter's mood turns sour the moment he comes home to see his welcome party consists of one: a somewhat interested (and punctual; she doesn't have much to look forward to these days and even his return on the calendar is something) Anita holding a propped open book in one hand and the world's tiniest banner reading Welcome home, asshole! in her other as she lounges comfortably on a sofa in the office room, ready to leap to her crawl space at a moment's notice.

Just as she thinks that maybe, just maybe this time he will continue to his seldom-occupied bedroom and ignore her, he stops walking and looks her down as if she is a lower species; a turkey attending the Thanksgiving dinner. There is distaste clear in his eyes, rage too, and something even darker that she recognizes somewhere in the back of her mind but does not want to dwell upon.

Anita glowers bitterly up at him, willing him to feel her disgust at him, too, for him to know that this isn't exactly the ideal living situation for her either. A small part of her feels ashamed for those sort of thoughts – the last thing she wants Edward to think she is is ungrateful. She owes him her life, however useless it may be now.

Once, a couple years back, when on a supply raid with her group she had been wounded by a lone poor, starving vampire who had found them and attacked. Her party had left her there, assuming her to be dead, so it was not abandonment – not really, she would have done the same.

Self-hatred burns her insides with the knowledge that this new world – one with the rule of vampires and the hunt of humans like livestock – has charred her soul black to the core, a sense of meaningless survival (what is the point to her life?) taking control on instinct so that she has to fight every day to remember what humanity truly means.

But with an abundance of luck and patience on Edward's part, he had found her bleeding out (thankfully not infected; she'd rather die) and managed to get them both back to his place to nurse her back to health. Her constant attempts at his life or escaping had slowed things down considerably, but she eventually healed and came to the hard realization that her pack was gone. She knew by then they would be cities away and that she was alone. It was with little hesitance that Anita had accepted Edward's offer of shelter and food. Protection, too, but that was taken lightly.

She's never been one to depend on others; she likes to pull her own weight, and her current title of hidden house guest makes her restless. When she had first began living with Edward, she had offered him her blood – not straight from her veins, obviously, but with the proper equipment she would have given him enough, regularly but not nearly as much as she'd have to if she became a Blood Donor, to cushion the blow of his blood-bill. But he had refused; said he didn't drink human, and it would have been a lie to say she was too disappointed. The same offer was never given to Frankie – probably because she knows now, and knew then, that he would not have refused.

"Well, if it isn't the root of the problem." Frankie grinds out, his jaw clenched as he takes a step towards her. "Tell me – do you think Ed sees your face on the humans at his company or just dollar signs?"

She blinks indifferently, keeping her silence. They've danced to this song before, and honestly, she's grown too phlegmatic to be baited so easily.

"Probably not the money." He adds, his voice hard. "He pities you humans too much for his own good. And you in particular, doesn't he?" He chuckles darkly and points at her with his index finger. "No, you're his favorite little stray kitten – here to stay."

At his sneering words she looks back at the small opening across the small office that leads to the crawl space she spends her time in when the sun falls and darkness resumes – a pathetic excuse for living quarters but she is none the wiser, having been in worse conditions while on the streets. At least she has the sleeping bag to herself now.

She is allowed out during the day or when Edward is home and does not have company, but rarely downstairs and always, always she must be quiet (so quiet it is like she is not even there) in case the neighbors can hear. He cooks her food mostly (something she wishes she could do for herself; Edward is an appallingly bad chef) and she is permitted to have a shower every few days even though she has to use his toiletries. She does not mind much, though – things like that have not been a problem for her in a good long while.

It is not that Edward wants to keep her on a short leash so much as he is very meticulous in ensuring that she remains hidden, for his sake and hers. Every single thing is planned and routine; if he is to buy too much extra food or household necessities or if his guest notice that he seems to be housing three occupants, it might raise unwanted suspicion that would be better to avoid entirely. Paranoid, maybe, but it works. And although she will never dare to complain, living in such circumstances is taking the wear and tear out of her.

While food comes easier now than what she has been used to (having been malnourished since she was barely a teen) she is still unhealthy; her skin too pale from the lack of sunlight and the natural growth of her body stinted by the crawl space, making her appear pinched, and so much smaller than she should, too emaciated and frail to the point where she wants to avoid mirrors at all cost on some days. The perpetual dark rims under her grey eyes from many sleepless nights give her the appearance of a ghost, and her hair is almost always in a wild tangle of mousy blonde strands, but sometimes on her more vain days, she manages to run her fingers through it enough to tame the mess. Throughout every thing that has been lost to the war of vampires against humans, vanity seems to trail behind her in a race to catch up; not quite there but never too far behind either.

She looks hollow, dead in the eyes, and it's only fitting, really – she feels the same way.

Anita wishes that she could take pride in her quiet strength – she yearns to think of herself as one of the heroines from the books she reads to assuage her boredom (Edward has books everywhere, scattered in piles in all the nooks and crannies of the house and then some), biding her time before she can join the Revolution with her fellow humans, but honestly, the fear and cowardice that is still present, hidden beneath the bitter sorrow and ferocious contempt, only makes her feel weak. Weak from the tears that wet her pillow at night when she is by herself in the crawl space, holding her arms around her middle as if it will help the sickness, left with nothing but thoughts of death and blood and the unfairness of life.

She misses her family more than she ever thought she would, and it's unbearable because it leaves a gaping, festering hole in her chest that makes her want to lie still until she just stops breathing. At those times, more than usual, it stumps her how anybody could want to live forever. It's a consuming, mindless sort of grief that leaves her breathless and exhausted, hating herself for dwelling on the past when her current standing in the food chain demands all the focus she has.

Anita hates weakness.

And Frankie makes her feel weak.

Especially when he is this close to her, his head tilted down so he can meet her wide eyes, and his body so near her that she can feel the coolness of him. She hates the terror it instills in her at the thought that he can infect her with a smile on his face and her flesh in his teeth if he so desires. And he does desire it – he's told her so, after the two brother's verbal throw down matches over Edward's aiding and abetting a human criminal in his own house, a house that Frankie inhabits ("By knowing and not saying anything it makes me an accomplice, Ed!"). Edward thinks his threats of turning them in are empty ("He won't say anything . . . he owes me." Ed told her once when she had voiced her concerns) and he hasn't yet, however, Anita wouldn't put it past him. She can't turn a corner in a house that Frankie's in without having a threat to turn her thrown in her face.

Even more than that, though, she absolutely despises the other feelings he sparks in her too. The ones that make her flush with heat in her veins and an ache between her thighs from the longing to be close to someone again. Anita despises him for being a selfish monster and she despises him even more when he's not. She despises the salacious want he infixes in her when he glances up with sharp, trained eyes from whatever he is doing to watch her walk back to the office after a shower when she is in only a towel. But more than anything, anything else she despises herself for having allowed him to toy with those feelings periodically over the last four months.

As Frankie stares at her, something akin to understanding glints in his eyes and he takes a quick step in her direction, making her fall back two. After a moment she has enough sense to worry he might have recognized the look in her eyes as more than offense at his words. There is a familiar sort of triumph in his voice as he sneers, "Something bothering you, pet?"

The sound of the taunting sobriquet he had long ago christened her coming from his lips is far too palatable for her to handle so she imagines what the screams of the humans he has hunted and forced into the Blood Revenue Agents hands would sound like instead, so loud and terrible that it can banish those bad, bad feelings that surround her off to another place where things that are wrong go to.

For the moment, it works.

"Yes – you are standing too close," Anita finally murmurs, and something frightening in her roars at the covetous flash in his eyes as they narrow at her, but she silences it by biting her tongue, unable to resist the opportunity to wipe the smirk off of his face. "And I can still smell the blood of my people marring your precious honor, sir."

The corners of his mouth twist down at her mockery and he raises his chin, trying to intimidate her with his authority, but the vampire soldier card no longer makes her shrink in fear as it once did. She has had quite a bit of time in the weeks of Frankie's absence to prepare herself for his overwhelming presence that has always had a different effect on her than Edward's. She will no longer permit herself to be a distraction for him to amuse himself with whenever he likes purely because he can. She is more than his filthy little secret, and certainly better than him.

Her lips thin and she brings herself to full height, which is only a wee few inches shorter than him, but still her neck cranes up slightly to meet his gaze. She has pushed off from the door and he moves backwards to avoid physical contact. The fact that he is the one who falls back weighs heavy on him and his frown deepens in anger.

His relentless harassment over the years has been all too entertaining for him because of the easy prey she has always presented him with. His ability to read her like an open book is almost congenital – Frankie knows Anita to her very core; her thoughts, her fears, her dreams, he knows exactly what to do to provoke her. He can send her into a furious rage with a few casual words or tear her apart by a single deliberate look. But now the game has changed. She has surprised him with this sign of defiance; this charge of offensive play, and he does not know how to react to it.

A small thrill shoots through her from his falter, and the courage it gives her comes out in the smooth words she spits into his face, "Something bothering you, Frankie?"

She can almost taste victory in her mouth when his ochroid eyes flash and he quickly leans into her, a smirk curling onto his face, making her stumble back away from him and warily glance at the protruding fangs that press into his pale lower lip. He smiles widely to show her his teeth more clearly; a wolf's grin, and watches her clenched jaw tremble beneath the unspoken threat, eyes dancing and alight with the prospect of a challenge.

"Careful now, pet, wouldn't want to cross lines you can't come back from, would you?" He cautions.

The air feels weighted with the tension, as if electricity is crackling against her skin, sending sparks through her nervous system but she holds her ground and straightens. The warning is obvious in his voice; he wants her to know that he is in control. She hates that.

He is so close she can feel his breath fanning her face, and although it makes hers come in faster than she would care to admit, Anita resists the urge to swivel her head to the side. "Fuck your lines."

The curse word feels strange on her tongue, although she is pleasantly surprised at the evenness of her tone, and she enjoys his confounded look at her having taken a page from his book – he frequently uses the crude terms, and at least one adolescent innocent tendency has always made her wince when he casually refers to them – but it had sounded sharp and primitive and she is impressed by herself. She instantly realizes that she likes how fierce it makes her feel.

"Ooh, such language, Nita. Wouldn't expect it from you." He grins at her, his tongue grazing briefly over one fang, so quickly that she barely notices it with a sweeping sensation sent straight to her toes, and continues, "And while I appreciate that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, maybe you should mind your manners for now. After all, pets who misbehave must be . . . castigated."

Her knees quake, nearly giving out at his tone: almost a teasing threat, and that realization makes her stomach flutter in equal parts fright and excitement. She inhales deeply, pulling down the frayed sleeves of her sweater past her fingers.

Frankie's smile fades as his mouth contorts into a thoughtful expression and his eyes size her up. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she is not sure if it is because of the dread in her stomach or the heat that flames in her cheeks and along her ears when he steps forward with his arms extended out on either side of her head, efficiently trapping her between the door and his body. He pushes a strand of hair from her darting eyes with a gentle motion; a mocked sign of affection, and lets the tip of his finger rest on her temple.

He is pushing her, stretching their interaction like a rubber band, testing to see how far he can go before she breaks. He doesn't have to push far this time – a simple movement; he bites gently and deliberately into his lower lip and his eyes drop to her mouth – and then she is shoving his arms away scathingly, hitting him with her fist as she turns to her crawl space.

Frankie catches her readily around her waist and flings her back against a wall, grabbing her wrists in his hands when she tries to struggle and pinning them above her head. His face is close enough to hers that she can clearly see the smile lines in his right cheek when the corner of his lip quirks up in that crooked grin that makes her loathe these moments with him as much as she secretly looks forward to them, although, she will never admit the hold he has on her; a strong fist around her rotting heart, forcing it to pulsate when the beats begin to degenerate.

Sometimes she wishes he would just let her die.

He thrusts a knee between her legs, pressing his body onto hers, and she can't breathe – she can't even muster the energy to ignore the way her body responds to the familiar feeling of him against her; the way her hips cant upwards into him, all but unwillingly.

And sometimes she wants nothing more than this.

"Fuck you." Anita seethes, because he looks so smug, like such a smug bastard that her blood practically boils and she feels alive.

"Hm, fuck me?" Frankie muses. "You're being rather straightforward today."

"Well, you know what they say." She returns with a sharp grin on her face that she saves just for him. "Bold is beautif – oh!"

He had ducked down into her neck, his mouth opened wide, and for only a moment she considers that he is finally making good on his threat to tear into her jugular vein, but it's not his teeth. It's his tongue, and she thinks that might be worse. He's kissing the base of her throat, ravaging the skin there (because Anita will shit a brick if she ever sees Frankie being tentative in his actions), and it almost hurts; she knows there will be a bruise there in a few hours.

There always is.

"Wait." She protests wearily, her heart beating a tattoo of his name onto her rib cage. "You said it was the last time. We agreed – we agreed the last time was it."

"I changed my mind." He says easily, his mouth trailing up to her jaw. "God, you're so fucking warm."

And the low, guttural sound of his voice makes her knees actually give out this time. He only tightens his fingers around her wrists, though, and his thigh between her legs keeps her upright, but oh – his thigh between her legs. She trembles.

Her eyes fall closed with a pleased, drawn out sigh and he lets out a breathy laugh.

"You want this just as much as I do, don't you, pet?" He taunts, scraping his fangs lightly over her skin.

Anita growls but before she can retort he presses his lips to hers and kisses her in a way that only he's ever done; hard, deep, angry. He releases her right hand and she presses her palm to the nape of his neck, holding him in place as she responds to his jabbing remark by nipping at his bottom lip. She makes a noise at the back of her throat when his tongue invades her mouth.

He's cold – all vampires are. But Anita doesn't see it like they do in the old YA novels about the then-mythical vampire, it is not just some side effect of being a dashing creature of the night like the young heroines think it is; it's one of the things she hates the most when she's with Frankie like this, because it reminds her that he is dead. He has no pulse, no heartbeat. Frankie is cold like a corpse, a walking disease.

This thought gives her resolve a burst of renewed strength and she tugs her other hand free from his grasp, holding tightly to his shirt as she pants, "We can't keep doing this." But even as the words leave her, she allows her hand to drift down towards his stomach, feeling the taut muscles of his abdomen beneath her exploring fingers.

Jesus, help me, Anita thinks desperately, he's my Kryptonite.

He's undeterred – his mouth hovering over hers, golden eyes watching her intently as his hands go to her hips and he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her pants. "Why not?" He asks, softly, the words drifting over her lips.

She pauses, distracted by the way his fingers stroke circles onto her skin.

He smiles at her hesitancy, touching his lips lightly to hers.

The tenderness throws her into momentary surprise, but he suddenly grips the back of her thighs and lifts her up, propping her against the wall as her legs lock instinctively around his waist, and there's nothing tender about what's digging into the inside of her thigh. She gasps when his hands slide up her sweater, one at the small of her back and the other on her breast.

She kisses him fervidly, nearly slicing open her tongue on his fang, and cradles his jaw in her hands – he grins into her mouth, apparently satisfied by her response, and her body screams this is the last time, just once more.

"I'm not into necrophilia – you son of a bitch," Anita murmurs, short of breath, but even she hears the fond way the words are spoken.

"Shut up," Frankie groans as his mouth goes to her collarbone, his hand tugging one of her legs higher over his hip while his groin steadily rocks into the apex of her thighs as if to prove his next words, "D'you think I want to want this? I've taken playing with my food to an all new level."

And she doesn't even try to stop the morbid laugh that leaves her as he carries her to his bedroom.

It's the last time, after all.

#daybreakers #frankie dalton #edward dalton #daybreakers fanfiction #frankie x original charcter #michael dorman #thimbles fics

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unextordinary-blog · 6 years

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My year in one post: 2017

okay so its starting to get closer to the end of the year lets have a recap of 2017.

january: I don't have a job anymore, I am not going to school at the moment, I am moving for the hundredth time, and I have to give up my dog and cat, then someone loses my cat. ( so its safe to say january was definitely not my month) but bright side this is the month where i start to talk to my "future" husband. well sort of (this will be explained in a later month).

february: so it's a new month. I am jobless with no prospect of going back to school until the next semester. on top of that our landlords are total pieces of literal dog shit (like im not kidding they have about 5000 dogs in their house and it smells like dog shit) anyways life is starting to look up JUST THE TINIEST BIT because ya girl got a date. i am dating. newly dating. and on top of that i still don't know that my future husband is single yet. (he doesn't like the idea of me dating)

march: we have officially moved into my moms boyfriends house and i already hate it. Its awful i have no closet, no space, no job, no pets, and no will to live (except for my future husband). Its safe to say my life lowkey sucks because not only do i have a curfew now? I have to pretend to not hate my life and i actually have to get out of the bedroom im staying in (yea thats right im not allowed to call his guest bedroom "my room") my moms boyfriend is a total dickwad. he gets what he deserves in later months tho. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ( WAIT A MINUTE I just got some info that karma was doing her job all along and i completely forgot part of living with my momster and her dickwad was that I had to do all the chores around the house and dickwad left $200 in his pocket when i was doing laundry and i found it. in my defense i tried to tell them about the money but then they got on my ass for talking to them while they were talking or something so i shut up and spent some of the money on a tattoo. it was the best revenge ever. I had been planning on getting one for months and dickwad and momster HATE tattoos and he technically paid for mine and it was great)

April: HOMAGAWD my life is looking up. I got a job, my "future" husband is visiting and the guy I'm kinda sorta "dating" is a good kisser but i swear to y'all if i hadn't already been on like 4 dates with this guy i would have thought he was catfishing me (he ends up ghosting me anyways so whatevesss). My momster and her dickwad of a boyfriend don't like my new job because it doesn't pay a whole lot? ( oh i forgot to mention they want me to pay rent for the "bedrooom" I'm sleeping in; y'all this room is literally a bed, a dresser drawer, and MY TV) ALSO did i mention this guy is total pack rat (THE BEDROOM IM IN HAS ALLLL OF HIS JUNK IN IT) and there's no central heating and I'm sick. I have bronchitis and we barely found out. meanwhile my supposed "mother" thought I was just being annoying with my coughing and her stupid boyfriend literally had the AUDACITY to tell me if I don't get rid of my cough by the end of the week then he was going to "do something about it". (LIKE IM SORRY I HAVE BRONCHITIS IF I COULD WAVE MY MAGIC WAND THAT I JUST RANDOMLY PULLED OUT OF MY ARSE AND MAKE MYSELF BETTER I WOULD SORRY MY ILLNESS IS INCONVENIENCING YOU). this man is weird he has like every book written by trump and is a civil war reenactor and has can goods from before I was even born because he doesn't believe in expiration dates. so I didn't want to find out what he meant by that so I booked the quickest doctors appointment I could get. I had been sick for 3 months by this point. also I paid over half the rent at my old place but I was always making like $1000 a month sooooo I could afford it. anyways my "future" husband and I have an amazing 3 days when he visits it was like no time had passed and it wasn't until he was gone that I realized that I couldn't live without him anymore.

May: ITS OFFICIAL BITCHES my "future" husband is now my boyfriend, it literally took him an hour for me to say he was my boyfriend. twas a struggle. but pretty much since the day he left we hadn't gone a single day without talking via text or calling each other. we thought about waiting until he came back to texas to date, but that would be two years and we weren't having that because we would have ended up waiting for each other instead of dating long distance which is kinda a waste of time. anyways I am no longer sick. at least I don't think and karma is just DOING ITS WORK on my mom and her dickwad boyfriend. My mom was being treated like she deserved by her new job and dickwad had lost his chief position because hes an alcoholic asshole with little man syndrome now he is paying over $10,000 for a DWI lawyer. meanwhile i was thriving I was getting more work I was looking into ways to pay off my school my life still sucked and the only reason im alive is because of my "future" husband.

June: did i ever mention that june is my favorite month of this year. love is in the air bitches. june is the month for marriages and engagements. SPEAKING OF ENGAGEMENTS yea that's right he proposed AND ON TOP OF THAT he surprised me with a visit and i nearly had a heart attack and it was a great few days. then my momster ruined it by being her and by hating me as per usual we weren't asking for permission at this point to get married we were just going to get married whether she agreed or not. and i was moving out and my "future" husband and i had a 101 plans (also i dont like the word fiance its dirty and gross) our 101 plans obviously fell through you can plan all day long and life is just like "LOL gurl you thought" but it all turned out fine in and in our favor in the end. we are very thankful for the people who stuck by our side when things were getting tough and sooo grateful for all their help we wouldn't have been able to do it without them.

JULY: ITS OUR WEDDDDINNNGGG MONNNTTTTHHHHHHH!!!!!! I had never thought "hey you're going to be my husband one day" when I saw my husband for the first time in the 2nd grade. he apparently did, he thought i was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and was happy i had moved to his town. that innocent love obviously turned into something more as we got older and he always knew that something special would happen with us there had to be a reason God had kept us close all those years. we were married july 10th in a court house with our high school friends my momster and her dickwad boyfriend and my new family that consisted of my husbands parents and siblings while my maid of honor watch via facetime (she had work and the ceremony lasted like 20 mins) leading up to our wedding he "proposed" properly on the couch while we were watching a movie and his best friend was so upset that he was not included in the proposal. we promised to include him on our 5 year anniversary at our vow renewal. we were married on the 10th we had our honeymoon that night in galveston. on the 11th we went to our best mans house, watched hoarders all morning, played ping pong, went to go see a movie with our old clique from high school, slept on a too small air mattress with a too small blanket in freezing cold room and woke up early. he dropped me off at my momsters and we said our teary eyed goodbyes and said we'd see each other again in december and I watched him drive away to the air port. I turned 20 the next week and I had 1 good day then on the 18th my mom decided to yell at me and fight me about money (remember how i said i was trying to pay off my college stuff well my mom knew that. it was no secret. well i found a way and i had gotten the money the week i got married and i paid it off and put the rest in savings and refused to touch it) well my mom yelled at me until she was blue in the face because since dickwad fucked up his finances with his DWI they were now strapped for cash and wanted me to pay for everything and I refused. just because we said I'd move in december doesn't mean plans are set in stone and if I would have paid them in advance I would have never seen that money again. the risks were to high for me to pay that much in one sitting. so we argued on the 18th she didn't talk to me for two days then on the 21st she gave me an ultimatum and told me to pay or get out. meanwhile my husband and I were thinking ahead and I was already packing and by the 22nd all i had in the bedroom i slept in was a duffel bag of clothes and hamper full of my bedding I told her i was moving out on the 23rd on a sunday and by the time they got home from church me and everything i had would be gone from that house. remember my husbands best man and best friend and the small air mattress and cold bedroom?

August: they both had a house together and that was the house i stayed in until the second week or two of august i spent almost a week with my dad and his family so i could say my goodbyes. i came back to the guys house for 2 days finished packing said my goodbyes to all my friends and then my dad was there with a jeep for all my stuff and we would start our long trip to VA. the first day we drove from TX to atlanta then the next day atlanta to VA.

I was finally home. there he was my knight in blue digital camo. we'd only been married a month and already our plans were askew. my dad stayed for 2 extra days and helped us get settled into our new apartment then left.

september: we are 2 months into our marriage and our first month living together. these next two months will be the hardest months in our marriage. we're getting used to each other getting to know our homelife quirks it is a difficult transition for both of us I am used to an abusive passive aggressive household where i lock myself in my room and he is used to empty barracks and going out everyday just so he doesn't have to be in the barracks all day. it was hard but we wouldn't want to bicker over mundane things with anyone else.

October: its spoopy time and my husbands birthday is this month we have a tv and new bed for our master bedroom we have a cat but Im pretty sure we got him in september. we're not really fighting as much at least not about stupid things we know what pushes our buttons and we're communicating better. I have to turn down my first job because its too far of a drive. ( we immediately regret it) the hubs 21st birthday rolls around we have the worst mexican food ever and he has the strongest margarita in the world it was really a great night. Halloween we sit on the couch watching movies and just stay in all day.

November: my husbands family have informed us that his little brother will be graduating from boot camp this month and will be going to school on a base in VA and that they were coming for thanksgiving. so we get the house in order for our new guests. we buy everything from a thanksgiving ham to new towels when they arrive his parents are sick with the flu and my husband still has work the next day on thanksgiving. his mom and i spend the entire next day cooking and getting everything ready. when my husband gets home we have dinner and watch a movie or two. the next day is my husbands day off and we all had planned on eating out so we had lunch then went to the beach for his mom and then my husbands base to give a tour for his mom (insert eyeroll here the woman takes pictures of quite literally everything its almost annoying)and then finally we go back home so we can get his little brothers stuff and we can drop him off at his new base. (which is a whole lot more difficult then it should have been.) they end up giving him a weekend pass but by then we're all dead tired and want to go home but no, we go bowling on base until its time to take his little brother back to the barracks. then the next day is even more annoying my husband picks up his little brother and some breakfast and we trudge to a museum of an old ship for about 2 or 3 hours. keep in mind my husbands parents are still sick with the flu and everyone is tired except his little brother and my husband has work at 3am the next day. on top of that his parents need to get on a plane this same day and my husband and i need to drop off his little brother back on base. needless to say it was another long day and we finally had our house back my poor husband had work at 3am and around 9am i hear him come home apparently since he didn't leave early on thanksgiving he got to leave work early that day which meant we got the entire sunday to ourselves. it was a long weekend.

December: its only the 13th and we have been married for 5 months now and it will almost be a year since we started dating. (how time flies) his best man is supposed to visit in january and we are both so excited.

so much little stuff has happened this year that would make this post even longer. we got a motorcycle, my husband is trying to pick out a car for me i thought about doing online college, we both haven't really thought about what we want for christmas and our cat has fleas so its been a very eventful year.

#2017 #my year #ask me anything #janurary #february #march #april #may #june #july #august #september #october #november #december #newlyweds #first year #newly married couple

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