#Better 👍 still need to write this down though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

holidaywishes · 6 months ago

Text

a hard loss

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: uhm i don’t know if your requests are open i’m sorry if they’re not but i would love a fic where auston has like a really shitty loss and he’s pissed and you just get absolutely railed 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Warning: smut, really basic dirty talk, pretty self-explanatory I think 😊

Author's Note: This one was from an anon WAYYYYY back, so hopefully they find it and are still interested lol. I'm sorry it's taken so long but life gets in the way of things sometimes. Anyway! Here is this little fic. Enjoy! Also, part four of Hate Sex is finally up so find that and enjoy it, if you want 😜 <- you can tell how long it's been since I wrote this because Hate Sex part four has been up for a while now 😂

Fun Fact: I started writing this in the back of an Uber almost a year ago now and only had time to follow through with it now 😅, so I apologize for the long wait but hey! we got something lol.

masterlist

the other masterlist

They made it to the playoffs again. But you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop because, well, it’s Toronto. It didn’t take long and Auston came over to your house in a fuming rage

“Okay, let’s take a breath before we break something” you said calmly when he flung open your door to let himself in

“Take a breath? Did you see what the fuck happened?” He shouted

“Honestly?” you winced, “no.”

“Seriously?!”

“I was working! I couldn’t watch the game,” you admitted, “I’m sorry. I heard it was rough though”

“Gee, thanks for the update”

“Auston, sit down,” you shook your head, gesturing to the sectional beside him. You understood why he was so worked up, they would always get so close before ultimately coming up short; you felt bad for him but you didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. “What do you need?” was all you could think to ask

“What?” he questioned, leaning his elbows on his knees and dropping his head to hands briefly

“I don’t know what to say to make you feel better so,” you continued, “is there something I can do?” He smirked as he corrected his posture, bringing you between his legs silently

“Oh there’s definitely something you can do” his smirk grew to a grin while his hands gripped your ass and his face buried in your chest. Of course, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes when his head was down.

Sex. It’s always that simple.

You placed your forefinger under his chin to lift it, catching his lustful stare once his eyes found yours. The moment was charged but you decided to take it slow, taking your time removing his shirt and kissing his neck as you undid the button of his pants, unzipping the zipper almost tauntingly. Auston had other plans. He tore off your shirt and nearly ripped off your fleece shorts before pushing you onto the couch; your eyes grew wide as his narrowed. He kissed you harshly as his hand pushed down your underwear and your body jerked toward him. He let his hand slowly move up your thigh while your breathing increased, your chest moving up and down at the sensation he was giving you. When you finally caught his eye again, you could tell from his smirk that this wasn't going to be a "romantic" night, it's not what he needed - this was all about letting off steam - so you grabbed his shoulders to pull yourself up onto his lap and took at least one small moment of sweetness before you were bent over the back of the couch. Your back arched as he pulled your hair and thrust into you quickly, his moans louder with each intense push while you gripped the couch to steady yourself.

“Fu-uck” you screamed out, voice catching as his thrusts grew harder and his hands moved from your hair to grab your hips. You felt his nails digging into your skin as you pushed back into him,

“You like that?” Auston said breathlessly as your moans turned to whines as you took all of him in, “take it, my little slut.” You weren’t one for dirty talk and neither was Auston, so his words took you a bit by surprise, leading you to attempt to turn your head to face him before he slapped your ass harshly; you let out a yelp coated in pleasure and his pace increased again once more. The sound of spanking echoed through your living room and Auston would continue his dirty talk, “fuck yeah, take my big cock you dirty slut”

“Fuck me,” was all your mind could come up with to say in return but it led Auston to grab your hair again and pulled your back to his chest, his hand then moved to your neck as the two of you moved in tandem, breathing harshly, before you looked into his eyes, hand lightly against his that was resting on your neck, “harder, daddy,” you finally said as you allowed his hand to tighten around your throat. You kept your eyes trained on him as best you could while he choked and fucked you from behind.

“That’s it, baby, keep looking at me,” he said with a smirk, his voice rough like a growl, “I want you to look at me as I make you cum.” His grip never got too tight around your neck which allowed your head to lob back onto his shoulder and your hands to reach back to his waist, keeping your bodies close so that the sensations of him inside of you could be intense for the both of you. Your eyes drifted away from his for a second and he tightened his grip around your neck and increased his thrusts just enough to grab your attention one last time, “I said keep looking at me.” Your pleasure grew more with each tug at your throat and each movement of your hips into his.

“Fuck,” you breathed, eyes still locked on his, “cum with me. Fuck, baby I’m coming.” Your eyebrows moved together as you struggled to keep your eyes on Auston as he requested and your moans took over as his grip around your throat tightened for a moment while he came inside you. He kissed your neck gently before kissing down your back and turning you around to face him, picking up his shirt along the way to wrap it around you as if to return to the gentle man you knew him to be

“Was that okay?” He blushed, holding your hands in his and you smiled shyly

“What do you mean?” you giggled, “of course it was okay, was it not okay for you?”

“I mean the words,” he clarified, “you know I don’t think of you that way right? Like a.. slut” his hesitation led you to place your hand on his cheek and kiss his lips softly

“I know, baby,” you smiled, “it was in the moment”

“I love you” he added, bringing you to sit on the couch as he kissed your shoulders and your cheeks

“I love you, too” you smiled, bringing his face to yours to kiss him slowly before thinking to yourself ‘maybe this was how losses should always be handled…’

#nhl #hockey #tml #toronto maple leafs #auston matthews #auston matthews fic #smut #auston matthews smut #request #requested #masterlist #the other masterlist

76 notes · View notes

fictionalsillies · 12 days ago

Text

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

So … this week is turning out to be more stressful than I was expecting … thankfully though my four silly beloveds are there for me ;C; ❣️

Since I really wanted to find a distraction to calm myself down I ended up writing about how I think my f/os would take care of me whenever I start overthinking and get taken over by anxiety : just kinda needed to hear these things today is all :’]👍❤️

If you like , feel free to reblog this post and tell me all about how your f/o helps you feel better when you’re sad : I’d honestly love to hear it ! :DD

Sorry in advance - this is extremely self indulgent !!

☠️ Jaw Bone

I think it’s safe to say that my favorite skeleton isn’t exactly someone who gets as anxious as I do about literally every little thing ( quite the opposite ^^” ) , but even though we might be different on this aspect I like to imagine that JB would still do his best to help out :

I feel like he’d try to cheer me up with his puns , making me laugh with his comments about him “kicking my anxiety’s ass” while holding me in his arms , his warmth making my troubles seem very far away for at least some time … yeah , imagining Jaw Bone being soft and gentle in these situations honestly makes my heart melt :’//] 💚💚

“We’re in this together , starfire … don’t you forget it : I ain’t gonna let you face all this on your own .”

🐊 Bea

Oh Bea … she’s truly a sweetheart ❣️

Considering the way she was there for Mae after all she has been through during the last chapter of NITW , I’m 100% sure that she would handle my anxiety episodes with the upmost patience and care :

I can imagine her helping me lay down on my bed , quietly listening to my worries while holding my hands to keep me grounded … Bea is just really tender deep down , and I know she would do an amazing job with helping me calm down and rationalize the situation :) 💕

“It’s okay to be worried , you don’t have to feel ashamed … know that I’ll be there for you no matter what .”

✨ The Godseeker

I imagine that the Godseeker would be a little unsure of how to help in this scenario : having lived in her own dreams for such a long time I don’t think she has had many opportunities to talk to other people , so her inner response to seeing me being so anxious would probably be something like “Oh no … oh gods … what shall I do now … ?”

However , that doesn’t mean that she isn’t going to try !

I can picture the Godseeker sitting next to me , slowly leaning her head on my shoulder and using her soothing humming to help me relax … knowing how much I like her voice she would definitely use it in these cases ^^ ❣️

“This shall pass … let us try to rest now , my dearest .”

🧁 Baroness Von Bon Bon

Similarly to the Godseeker , Bon Bon would also be someone who doesn’t have much experience with helping others with such things , considering that she’s been trapped in Sugarland all on her own for god knows how long …

I feel like she would help me sit somewhere comfortable , handing me a warm cup of my favorite tea and gently caressing my hair while I speak : I just picture the Baroness as someone who would do anything to put my mind at ease and see me return happy after taking my time to recover :D 💕

“There’s that lovely smile ~ Don’t worry my sweet , we’ll figure everything out , but until then let’s just relax until you feel better : you deserve it !”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

#❤️✨fictionalsillies gushes ✨❤️#ee - love these guys so much ;C; ❣️❣️#writing this down was honestly really helpful for my mental state :#thinking about fluff scenarios with my f/os always makes me feel a bit better ^^ 💕#f/o #f/o community #self shipping #selfshipping community #selfship community #self ship community #self shipping community

21 notes · View notes

salty-croissants · 1 year ago

Text

Bullfrog and Rayman/Ramon x reader on their period

Thank you @bullfrog-supremacy for the request !

I’m currently trying my best to finish up as many of these as I can , mostly because I’m disorganized as hell and let them pile up ;C;

As soon as I’m left with a more reasonable number , I’ll open up my requests again for some time , promised ! 👍

Anyway , this is actually a pretty appropriate moment for me to write this one since … well , I’m currently living the topic of the prompt (,:

It’s actually very comforting to imagine how the cuties would take care of the reader at a time like this ://)

Hope it turned out okay !

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

established relationships ;

no warnings needed

Bullfrog 💚

Like always , Bullfrog immediately notices that something is a little off about you , and he is quick to guess what is happening …

< Is it that time of the month , mon amour ? >

< … yeah … don’t worry though , it just hurts a little , I can still help you with - >

< Non non , that’s not necessary : what you need right now is to get some rest , you look very tired . >

< Really ? Is that … okay ? >

< Of course it is my dear ! You don’t worry about a thing , I will take care of you . >

< Heh … thank you my love ~ >

He really means it :

even if he has to leave for a urgent mission , Bullfrog will exit your home only after he made sure that you’re comfortable and you have everything you need to help you relieve the pain , from blankets to warm drinks and medicine …

He just wouldn’t be able to bare the thought of knowing his y/n isn’t feeling well and he isn’t doing anything about it .

< Here , I made some tea , be careful though : it’s very hot . >

< Thank you so much , Bullfrog … sorry for being a bit moody this morning by the way … it usually happens when I’m like this . >

< Ne t'inquiète pas y/n , what matters now is that you take all the time you need to feel better : I will spend a lot more time with you once I get back , promis juré . >

Bullfrog is going to be very careful when cuddling with you to avoid holding you too tightly and hurting you :

if you don’t feel comfortable with being touched he will perfectly understand , and is going to be happy to just lie by your side while you rest .

Even if you’re not feeling at your best , he really is just content with being with you ❤️

Rayman 🧡

Rayman feels bad about seeing his beloved in pain and not being able to take it away from you … it’s the worst feeling for him .

However , you can be sure that he will do everything he can to help you get better , and that starts with making you lie down somewhere comfortable , either the couch or the bed .

< There you go , darling … take it easy , let me take care of everything , okay ? >

< Okay … thanks Ray , I really needed this … ~ >

< No need to thank me , it’s the least I could do for my beautiful y/n ~ >

If you feel the need to talk about something , maybe even vent for a bit , Rayman is going to stay there and listen to you for as long as you need ( though unfortunately he needs to leave to attend his shows , so he can’t do this as much as he’d like ) .

If you ever feel ashamed about it , he is quick to put your mind at ease .

< Wait , how long have I been … ?

Crap , I’m sorry , I shouldn’t have kept you here listening to my melodramatic speech about how this whole thing sucks … >

< No no , please y/n don’t ever apologize for something like that !

How long have you listened to my rants about what those douchebags say about me at work ? >

< Well , yeah but … that’s different … >

< Nah , you deserve to be able to speak your mind too , especially when you’re with me .

What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t even bother to hear you out ? >

If you even just hint that you need something , anything , Rayman will rush off and then materialize by your side seconds later with just what you asked … it never fails to make you smile , despite the annoying and sharp feeling brought by your period .

< Hehe , wow , I literally just mentioned a glass of water and you already got it …

You’re always so sweet , Ray … I love you so much … ~ >

< I love you too , honey ! ~

Trust me , if I didn’t need to head out for today’s shows I’d just stay here with you all day … >

< Really … ? Even though I’m constantly bothering you and complaining about things … ? >

< y/n , you could never bother me . It’s an understandable reaction , you’re not feeling well and it hurts , so please don’t feel bad about needing to talk about what’s wrong , okay ?

I want to be with you all the time , especially when you’re not at your best : you’ve always been there for me after all , so it’s time I repay the favor . >

< Ray … ! >

You can’t help but lean forward to kiss him after he says those adorable things …

Rayman truly is a sweetheart :,//)

Ramon 🖤

Since Ramon is always determined to take care of you at the best of his abilities , when he realizes you’re on your period he will pretty much force you to get some rest , even if you don’t feel like it .

< Ram , please … I can help you with it if you let me get u - >

< No . >

< But - >

< No , you need to sleep , I know you had trouble with it last night .

Now please … lie your head back down , honey . >

Similarly to the past , Ramon is also insanely quick when it comes to providing you with what you need , no matter what that might be :

you’re cold ? He shows up with as many blankets as he can carry .

You’re thirsty or would like something to eat ? He is going to bring you your favorite drinks and snacks .

Anything to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible .

< Thank you , Ram ~

I would’ve gotten it myself , but it started to hurt again … >

< Don’t worry about it , just tell me if there’s something else I can do for you , okay ? >

Ramon loves to lay by your side while you rest , his hands gently holding you while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear …

It’s his goal to make you feel appreciated , especially now that you’re not feeling too well .

< You really do mean everything to me , y’know … ?

I promise you darling , I’ll do all I can to help you feel better . >

< Heh … this is already helping me a lot , sweetie ~

I just … I love you so much … thank you for being there for me . >

#captain laserhawk #x reader #rayman x reader #bullfrog x reader #captain lazerhawk rayman #bullfrog captain laserhawk #rayman #captain laserhawk bullfrog #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #ramon clh #ramon captain laserhawk

124 notes · View notes

xxsquiddkiddxx · 3 months ago

Text

Adam Stanheight x Roomate Reader

A/N: IT DELETED ALL MY WRITING I'M SO PISSED OMG! It's fine... I'm fine... I'm totally fine :DDD

Pronouns for reader: They/Them

Relationship type: Platonic and/or romantic feelings (up to interpretation of reader)

General Idea: Adam and his roommate were in a pretty chill spot, but when his roommate comes home and Adam isn't there, they'll stop at nothing to get him home.

Content Warnings: It's an angsty one, chat... but there's some fluff at the end 🥹👍, swearing, probably cringe, no use of Y/N, reader's a bartista because I said so. MAJOR PLOT HOLE, but womp womp at least Adam's alive... also because I said so.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

(Nobody's POV)

Headphones on their head blaring music way too loud, our main character fumbles around for their apartment keys in their pocket. They finally open the door, greeted by pure darkness. Which was odd, but didn't worry them too much.

"Adam, I'm home." They say, tossing the keys in a little bowl next to the door. They hang their coat up and laugh softly. "You will NOT believe the day I've had."

Nothing but silence followed. Only the sound of someone walking by the door and the sound of the environment surrounding the apartment. "Adam?" They call out, a little louder this time. "Maybe he's just in the red room listening to music?" They think aloud, walking towards the red room... which was dark. They turn the light on momentarily to see if Adam was in there, possibly asleep.

Empty.

"Huh..." They say, turning the light off. They wander the apartment, checking every room, finally checking Adam's room. When it's empty, they decide to call Adam. Voicemail.

"Adam?" They say. "Hey, um... where are you exactly? Call me back?". They set their phone down. Maybe he's just at Scott's place? Yeah... that's it. They sit down on the couch, their chest filling with anxiety. They do their very best to shove it down and just try to go to sleep.

They debate on calling Scott a few times, to just see if Adam's with him. They have to remind themself that Adam is indeed an adult, it's not like he has curfew or any shit like that. He could stay out all night if he wanted to.

But that still doesn't stop them from feeling like something wasn't right. Adam normally always told them if he was gonna be late coming home or when he and Scott were going out for a guys night or whatever they did. Something felt VERY off.

They shake the worry out of their head. They're probably worrying about nothing. Again, Adam was a grown man. He didn't need to check in with them like he was a kid.

The next morning they wake up and instantly look around for Adam. When he's still nowhere to be seen, they bite the bullet and call Scott Tibbs. They weren't exactly Scott's biggest fan, but they were starting to really worry.

It took a few tries, but the phone rings for a moment, and soon, the groggy voice of Scott is heard. "This better be good, man." He grumbles with a strong case of morning grog. "If you're gonna spam call my phone the world better be on fucking fire."

"Scott, hey man sorry to wake you." They say, pacing the room. "But is Adam there with you?"

"Uh no... why?" Scott says.

"Cuz he wasn't home when I got here, and he's still not here." They say, wiggling into their work uniform. They made a mental note that they needed to get into jeans with two hands next time. "And I'm starting to get worried."

"Relax, he probably got laid at some chick's house." Scott says.

"He would've told me though." They say, grabbing their keys. "He would've called me, or at least swung by the coffee shop."

"You might just be worrying too much." Scott says. "Just relax, yeah? You're starting to sound worse than his mom."

They blush a little bit in embarrassment, and sigh. "I hope you're right." They say.

They try and call Adam again. Voicemail. Again. "Hey Adam, seriously, where are you? I'm starting to get worried." They say. "Please call me, or swing by the shop, or both at this point. You're starting to freak me out." They say, chuckling softly before they hang up and go to work.

When they come home, it's around noon. They walk into the two's shared apartment and... still no Adam. They call Adam again. Voicemail. "Adam? Seriously, this isn't funny. I don't know what game you're playing right now, but if you're not home by tonight, I'm filing a missing persons case." They hang up the phone and flop down onto the couch, filled with pure worry.

"Holy shit, is this what my parents felt like when I snuck out?" They say to themself, sighing. "Remind me to never have kids then."

Once the sun set over the horizon, they still sat in the same spot on the couch. Sometimes drifting in and out of light sleep, sometimes watching a show, sometimes just counting the infinite dots on the ceiling. Either way, they sat there hoping that Adam'd waltz through the door with his stupid little grin and camera, yapping excitedly about the photos he took that day.

But no sign of Adam. Not even a trace of him. They sigh, picking up their phone.

"Hello? I'd like to report a missing person."

It'd been almost 4 days since they'd filed the missing persons case for Adam. Every day, they found themself at the police station, asking for any sign of their roommate. And every day they'd get the same awnser, that the police couldn't give them that information... and even if the police could... they don't have anything to report.

Then they'd go home. It was so weird not having Adam home. The apartment almost lost the lingering smell of cigarettes. That worried them almost as much as Adam being missing. environment.

They hated the smell of cigarettes. They'd always tell Adam to stop smoking those dreadful things. But now they'd give their right leg to see Adam standing by the window, smoke rolling off his lips and out the window. The lack of cigarette smell? That meant that the last little bits of Adam were slowly fading from the apartment.

And that scared them more than anything. What if Adam wasn't coming home? No. They couldn't think like that. Adam WAS coming home. Any minute now, he'd burst through the door. Any minute now, he'd flop down on the couch next to them and they'd both watch some shitty horror movie together.

"Adam?" They say through their phone, leaving yet another message on Adam's voicemail. Their voice is small, cracking, on the verge of tears even. "Adam, come home... please?" Tears prickle their eyes, blurring their vision. "I miss you... so much."

"The apartment feels weird without you in it." They talk to the voicemail as if it's Adam in the apartment next to them. "I don't have anyone to scold about smoking." They chuckle sadly. "Work was alright... I couldn't focus on it though... I... I guess I haven't been able to focus on anything more than you lately."

"I hope you're okay. Wherever you are." They say. "I do care about you, contrary to Tibb's belief. I just -" They sigh. "Just come home in one piece, okay? I miss you. A lot. More than I'd like to admit." A tear rolls down their face as they hang up. The few tears turn into a large stream, staining their cheeks. They wept for their roommate, they wept for their very best friend, and they wept for the man they loved.

That's when they heard it. A knock on the door. They freeze. Where they just hearing things? Then there it was again: another knock.

"Adam?" They say through tears, bolting up and scrambling to the door, not caring about their tear stained face. They put their hand on the cool handle and yank the door open, almost hitting themself by accident. They look up at who was there.

The sight of their roommate, though bloody and disheveled, brought them to both tears of fear and of joy. Adam stood at the doorway, shaking slightly, shirt no longer the white it originally was; but covered in filth and blood, and things his roommate was afraid to know about.

"I-I'm back." Adam says, smiling softly. His roommate, despite wanting to smack him as hard as they could... then wrap him in a bear hug. They force themself to simply grab his hand and sit him down on the couch. They run into his room and grab another shirt for him.

"Thanks..." He mumbles, switching his shirts out. They sit next to him, keeping their hand on his. But, much to the bartista's surprise, Adam tackles them into a bear hug, nuzzling his head into the crook of their neck. His tears slowly started to soak their shirt as the two both cried in eachothers arms. Not nessicarily out of woe or sadness, but out of thankfulness. Adam had always been thankful for his roommate, but now he'd never been more thankful to see their face.

The two stayed silent, just holding each other. The only words they spoke were through their actions. They could talk in the morning, or for the rest of their lives if they wanted. For now? All they wanted was the embrace of the other. And that's what they'd do. Adam didn't know what would happen in the next hour, or even the next 48 hours. But he knew one thing: he'd be alright. With the person he loved by his side. Which sounded cringe as he thought it, but he didn't give two shits. He was left in a bathroom for days.... let the boy be mushy, yeah?

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

A/N: Aaaaaah! I love Adam sm. I just want to put him in my pocket. This is the first Saw fanfic I've successfully written to the end (Saw is just a hard universe for me to write in apparently?) But I enjoy it sm.

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

#saw #saw franchise #sawtism #horror #hyperfixation #fanfic #fanfiction #adam saw #adam stanheight x reader #adam stanheight #adam faulkner x reader #adam faulkner stanheight #sawposting #saw brainrot #x reader fanfiction

45 notes · View notes

heian-era-housewife · 4 months ago

Text

Hello all!

Recovery, diagnosis, and continued health journey below the break.

TLDR: Stage 4 endometriosis, still waiting on results for the heart condition, tired, sore, overall am going to be okay 👍 I do, however, hate being the owner of a uterus.

Most importantly, thanks everyone for the love, support, and well wishes! Glad to be back! It will be slow. Don't expect too much, but I do still plan to play catch up on Kinktober, even if it goes into November a little bit.

Trigger warnings: blood, mental health, mention of sex, gender identity, generally just Yuri whining 😅

I'm not sure where to begin. When I imagined writing this comeback post, pre-surgery I thought it would be all smiles and sunshine. I knew there would be pain, but I thought the worst of it would be behind me. Currently, I feel like I'm sitting toward the bottom of what may be a very long uphill struggle.

While my surgery went smoothly, the care I received around the surgery was eye opening. We waited for hours on end both before and after the surgery to get answers, to get help, to use the bathroom or be offered water.

Sometime before I woke up I had apparently been given some disposable underwear and a pad because I was bleeding pretty heavily. When I was finally able to use the restroom, I discovered that the pad had been placed cotton-side down with the adhesive side facing my body. The sticky part was still covered with the backing (thankfully), but this had caused blood to run everywhere including down my legs where I could not reach, as I was unable to bend. The only person available to help me at the time was a man whose bedside manner was less than desirable, so I just lived with the blood stains.

This was just one of many instances where it felt like I was almost being punished for having the reproductive organs that I do. And frankly, that has been my experience my entire life as someone who menstruates, who has had difficulty with menstruation, and who has had near constant pain and problems in that area.

Ultimately, I was diagnosed with stage 4 endometriosis. I know very little about this condition and by the time I had woken up from surgery, the surgical staff had gone home. There was no one willing to answer questions and I have since been told I will need to wait two weeks until my follow up appointment to speak with the doctor and get details. Until then, I am left with my own research. From what it seems, there is no cure and very minimal that can be done for treatment of symptoms. My discharge notes make mention of heavy scarring on my ovaries from recurring cysts, which are sure to continue. The endometrial tissue can also appear on or effect other parts of the body as they had in this past instance where tissue was present around my intestines. It can grow on lungs and even the brain, though these cases are extremely rare.

It's hard not to feel discouraged right now. I thought this surgery would be a huge step forward toward feeling better, but it feels more like a tiny drop in a bucket of larger issues and possibly more surgeries and complications to come. Not only this, but I am enraged both by the absolutely abysmal healthcare system here in the U.S. but by the treatment of and complete lack of empathy for those who have vaginas, uteruses, who experience menstruation or pregnancy and any number of complications from these things. I've said it before and I'll say it again, "women's" healthcare is a JOKE, but this goes beyond women. If I, a cisgender female, am experiencing such a lack of care and empathy, I can only imagine how any person with these organs who doesn't fit the stereotypical image or definition gets treated. I hate it.

Anyhoo...

Recovery is expected to take about two weeks. No sex for six weeks (for real this time)

Still waiting on results from my heart monitor.

Wanting to tackle mental health after squaring away what I can of physical health.

Depression and anxiety is now worse than ever. Doing my best not to slither into my little hermit hole and hide from it all.

Writing helps. Drawing helps. The love and care from amazing people on this silly little site helps.

And of course, there is Hubs, who deserves a standing ovation for the incredible job he has done caring for me, advocating for me, and reminding me every day that truly good people do still exist 🩷

If you've read this far, please go get yourself a cookie or something 🍪 and thank you, truly, for being part of this little journey with me 💕

#yuri rambles #recovery update #a little discouraged #better days ahead 💕

22 notes · View notes

random-thot-generator · 2 years ago

Text

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 7

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

SEVEN: Can't Let Go

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: A week has passed since the argument in the alley, and Reader's hurt has been replaced with a seething anger that leads her to make a spur-of-the-moment decision out of spite. However, her poor choices lead to a potentially dangerous situation.

(PLEASE MIND THE TAGS. This chapter could be triggering for some readers.)

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bad Coping Mechanisms, Allusions to sex, Threat of dub/non-con sexual situation, Brief Violence - Reader's a scrapper, Threat of violence though not acted upon... yet, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Ngl, this was a bitch to write. I had no less than three other alternative versions of this chapter, before choosing this one, but thankfully had some help along the way. Massive props to @glitterypirateduck for the much-needed advice and input. I ended up leaving the badger out, babe, but I hope you like the chapter, regardless. 😉👍)

[Image via TENOR]

Word Count: 5020

Chapter 7

...I ain't tryna find fate, it's too late to save face I can't get away, maybe there's no mistakes

You break me, then I break my rules Last time was the last time too It's fucked up, I know, but I'm still

Outside of the party, smokin' in the car with you Seven Nation Army, fightin' at the bar with you Tell you that I'm sorry, tell me what I gotta do 'Cause I can't let go...

—Post Malone, 'Chemical'

The walk to work is nice.

Blue skies and tattered clouds arch overhead, the remnants of puddles from an early morning shower reflecting the first sun you've seen in days. The world smells fresh and green and new, the signs of spring brightening your mood. It makes you feel light, the first time in a week you've felt like lifting your head to look around.

The first time since your fight with Riley.

You push the thought away. You're not going there today. Not again. You worked through the worst of the hurt and disappointment, and now you've settled into a comfortable, quiet fury that you keep wrapped around you like a warm blanket when the chill of loneliness creeps into your bed at night. You don't miss him, you don't want him, and you sure as hell don't need him. He's just one more bitter lesson you've had to learn the hard way. You won't make the same mistake, again.

Well... not again, anyway.

A car beeps its horn behind you, and you glance back to see Jerry Finch, the lorry driver who delivers the kegs to the pub, waving at you from a black sports car. You give a half-hearted smile and wave back, your steps slowing when he steers his car to the curb.

His window rolls down, rap music thumping before he turns it down. Leaning on his arm in the open window, Jerry tips his chin down to look over his aviator sunglasses at you, a smooth half-smile on his lips. "How ya doin', Dee? Headin' to work?"

You nod, stepping closer to his car, trying to ignore the way he looks you up and down before meeting your gaze. He gives you an appreciative smile and ticks his eyebrows up, ever the flirt. You sniff in amusement and squint against the sun to see him better. "Morning, Jer." You nod at his car. "No lorry today. This your day off?"

He gives you a charming, almost boyish smile and nods. "Yeah. Had some business here in the village, though." He glances down towards the pub, then slants his gaze back to you, thumbing at his bottom lip. "I can give ya a lift, if ya like. Goin' that way, anyhow."

You hesitate but then nod in acceptance. It's just an acquaintance from work offering you a ride, nothing wrong with that. He smiles and motions for you to get in, once more letting his eyes wander over your figure while you settle yourself into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt.

"Thank you," you murmur, glancing up at him, then away. Jerry's never been one to hide his interest, taking every opportunity to flirt with you when given half a chance. Of course, it makes you feel good to have a handsome man flirt with you, but it also makes you a little leery, too. You try to be nice, but you don't want to encourage him, something that Fiona fusses about every chance she gets.

"Bloody hell, Dee, give the bloke a chance. He's got a good job, he's good lookin', fit as fuck, an' he's gaggin' t'get with ya. What can it hurt?"

Rationally, you know Fi is right, but you can't help yourself. There's just something about him. You can't put your finger on it but being near him just feels... off. You clear your throat and look out the window, your eyes catching on a dark gray Gladiator parked in front of the Tea Room.

Riley.

You can see him standing inside through the tall Georgian windows, chatting with Margie, the owner. She's handing him a bag and a to-go cup that you know will be filled with English breakfast tea brewed strong, with a splash of milk and two sugars, the way he likes. Your heart squeezes in your chest as you watch him exit the building and get in his truck.

Riley's been avoiding the pub when you're on shift. Fiona says he's been showing up in the evening, sitting in his usual spot while nursing his Dewar's. She also doesn't fail to mention Tessa Harker has been chatting him up quite a bit lately, too. It hurts to hear it, but you only give a tight smile and mutter, "Good for him," much to your friend's irritation.

Fiona and Ollie have both noticed the way you and Riley have been avoiding each other, but apparently Riley has kept mum about the argument, as have you. You had wondered if he would spread word about your other job at the Grind out of spite, but no one has mentioned it so far, and for that you're relieved, but you're still wary of what he might do with the information.

"So, what time ya gettin' off work?"

The question draws your attention back to the big man sitting beside you. Did he notice you staring, you wonder. "Um, I get off work at five."

"Then what?" he persists, and you know where this is going.

You shrug, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. "Then back home, I suppose."

"Come out with me, instead," he suggests, shooting another one of his charming smiles your way. "There's a nice Italian bistro in Blackheath. I deliver to 'em. Nice place, good food."

"Oh, um, well..."

He chuckles and reaches over to pat your knee. "No rush, sweetheart. Got all day t'think it over, yeah?"

Again, the feeling that something is off with him comes to the fore of your brain, but you smile, regardless. "Yeah, sure. I'll... think about it," you reply, knowing your mind is already made up. You just have to think of a nice way to let him down. Again.

Jerry gives your knee another pat, which turns into a sly caress that has you flinching away. He huffs a laugh at your reaction, giving you a playful 'just-kidding' grin, before he lifts his hand and places it back on the wheel. He has big, beefy hands, thick fingers with blunt tips, a working man's hands. You usually find that attractive, have often admired Riley's large hands and long, supple fingers, but for some reason, the sight of Jerry's ham fists curled around the steering wheel makes you feel uncomfortable.

The car comes to a stop in front of the pub, and you're quick to unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. "Thanks for the ride, Jer," you say, one foot already resting on the pavement.

"Think nothin' of it, love. Glad t'give you a ride anytime," he murmurs, suggestion heavy in his tone. He flashes another smile at you, winking again. He does that a lot, and you find it annoying. "I'll stop by later, see if ya want to go out for dinner, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah, sure. Okay."

You get out of his car and sketch a little wave as he pulls away, then turn to head inside the pub, only to come up short. Riley's standing right in front of the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes fixed on Jerry's car, which is now rounding the green.

"Friend o' yers?"

It's the first words he's said to you since last Sunday in the alley, and the way he says it instantly gets your hackles up. You square off with him, casting a disparaging look over him. The proper thing would have been to offer you an apology, but you know better than to expect anything like that from him. Instead, he leads with a question that sounds both accusatory and insulting, all at the same time.

Typical.

"Shouldn't you already know? That's what you're good at, isn't it? Keeping tabs on me?" you snap, glaring at him.

You make a point to bump his shoulder as you pass by him and enter the pub. He's on your heels in an instant, following you through the door, obviously irritated by your response. You ignore him as you round the bar, pulling the strap of your bag over your head before placing it on top of the bar to take out your phone and a paperback.

"Wot? Ya got nothin' else t'say, doll? Tha's not like ya."

Your eyes snap up to glare at him. "Thought we said all that needed to be said last Sunday," you hissed at him, trying to keep your voice down, knowing Ollie would be back in his office.

Simon plants both hands on the bar and leans in, his dark eyes scathing as they pin you to the spot. "I wasn't finished talkin'. It was you that fuckin' ran off," he growls in return, but manages to keep his voice to a low rumble.

Your brows shoot up in mock surprise. "Oh! How terribly rude of me. I suppose I should have stood there until you were finished insulting me." Your eyes narrowed as you sneered at him. "Fuck you for that, by the way."

He's wearing his black surgical mask today, so his angry scowl is more evident than usual. He shoves off the bar in a fit of temper, hand coming up to jab a finger at you. "Like I told ya last Sunday, me an' you need t'talk, an' this time yer goin' t'bloody listen to wha—"

Your snort cuts him off. "We have nothing left to discuss. You made your opinion of me quite clear. But hey! At least I know where I stand with you now. Don't worry, though. I'll keep my distance. Wouldn't want to embarrass you by being seen associating with a slag, right?"

"Dammit t'hell, Dee! I never fuckin' called ya that. I never thought that. Would ya just bloody lis—"

"Riley, lad!"

You both turn to see Ollie heading your way, a pleased smile on his face. Shooting Riley one last venomous glare, you turn your back on him and make for the swinging door leading into the kitchen, his frustrated growl giving you a sense of grim satisfaction as you slip through the door. Fuck him. You hope he stays pissed off for the rest of the day.

You can hear the two men talking as you go back to hang up your jacket, eyes wandering over the unused kitchen as you pass through. What you wouldn't give for a kitchen this size, and here this one sits, unused and abandoned. You had mentioned a time or two that adding a small menu would bring in more business, but since the last cook quit, Ollie hasn't been too keen to fire up the kitchen again. It's a pity, really.

"Dee, love."

You glance over your shoulder to see Ollie standing at the service window. "What'cha need, Ol?"

Mind makin' me an' Riley a cuppa an' bringin' 'em to the office?"

You frown, wondering what happened to the tea you had seen Riley with before. You shrug it off and nod. "Sure thing, Ol. Be right out with 'em."

"Thanks, love," he says, rapping his knuckles before disappearing from sight.

You rinse out the electric kettle and fill it with water, then plug it in and switch it on before grabbing three mugs and the tea tin. You consider making Riley's tea wrong, just for spite, but that would be petty, even for you, or as Riley would call it, bratty. You sniff. He's a fuckin' brat. A bratty arsehole.

You scoop instant coffee into your own mug then add the tea bags to the other two cups, before going to the fridge to take out the milk. It's become routine for you to make both men's tea, your hands going through the motions while your thoughts wander back to Jerry and his dinner invitation.

Your first instinct is to turn him down, as you have all his other invitations, but the memory of how pissed Riley looked as he watched the other man drive away gives you pause. He always did eye Jerry with open suspicion, his instant dislike of the other man never something he tried to hide. He's never said why he doesn't like Jerry, but it didn't change the fact that it would probably piss Riley off to learn you were going out to dinner with him.

Maybe you are petty after all, because now your mind has changed. You are going on a dinner date this evening after work.

Setting your mug of coffee in the window to retrieve later, you take the other two mugs with you out of the kitchen. Rounding the bar, you head towards the narrow hallway that leads to the bathrooms and Ollie's office, walking slower to not spill any of their tea. You can hear their voices through the door as you stop to announce your presence. It's Riley who opens the door for you, not bothering to move out of your way as you slide past him with an irritated expression.

"Move, ya big lump," you grumble lowly, which gets a soft sniff of amusement from him. Arsehole.

"Ah, thanks, love," Ollie says, reaching out to take his mug. You set Riley's on the edge of his desk near the old club chair where he always sits. "Mind closin' the door on yer way out?" Ollie asks.

You give a nod, turning around to see that Riley is still standing in your way. You go to step around him, and he steps in your way again. You blow out an aggravated breath and raise your eyes to his, the urge to shove him again making your hands twitch. When he quirks a brow up at you, you grit your teeth and glare at him. Then an idea sparks in your brain. You look back over your shoulder at your boss.

"Say, Ol. Ya mind if I cut out a little early this evening? I've got a dinner date with Jerry the lorry driver."

Ollie nearly chokes on his tea before he manages to get his cup set down on his desk. His sharp eyes dart between you and Riley, an odd expression on his face as he tries to make sense of what's going on. He finally clears his throat and gives a curt nod. "Yeah. Sure, love. No problem."

You give him a sweet smile that turns spiteful when you turn your head back to the man in front of you. "Thanks, Ol," you reply, meeting Riley's furious glare. "Excuse me. Need to get back to work."

You can see his hands balling into fists, and it sends a thrill of sadistic glee through you. You'd rather die than look away from him right now, a smirk appearing when he has to hold his tongue and step aside for you. By the time you reach the hallway and close the door behind you, you're damn near giddy. The smirk on your face grows to a full-on wicked grin by the time you reach the bar again.

Satisfied with the good, hard poke you've just given the proverbial bear, you begin your prep work, humming a catchy pop song under your breath.

You manage to avoid any more close interactions with Riley, though he hangs around the bar your entire shift, giving you a baleful glare every time you draw near. You make it a point to ignore him, chatting with the other customers, talking and laughing like you weren't bothered at all by his brooding presence. You see him visibly stiffen when Jerry comes swaggering in, his signature charming smile already in place.

Before he can speak, you step to the bar and offer him a sweet smile. "Hi, Jer. Ollie said I can leave early, so we can go whenever you like."

Jerry can't hide the surprise on his face, but he swiftly recovers as he leans an elbow on the bar to bring his eyes level with yours. "Good. Been thinkin' 'bout it all day," he murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You stiffen, discomfited by the look in his eye, but try to hide it by ducking to grab your bag from beneath the bar. When you raise up again, a pleasant smile is plastered on your face. "I just need to grab my jacket and tell Ollie I'm leaving, then we can go."

"'Course, sweetheart," Jer replies, watching you as you round the bar and head for the hallway. He catches Riley staring at him and lifts his brows, giving him a smug little smirk, which you honestly think is stupid of him. Despite Jerry's size, you have no doubt Riley would mop the fucking floor with him. You roll your eyes. Men and their stupid bloody posturing.

The sooner you get this over with, the better. This game is quickly losing its appeal.

Jerry offers to take you home to change if you want, but you decline, honestly not comfortable with the idea of bringing him up to your flat. He seems a little perturbed when you turn down his offer but then shrugs and drives to Blackheath, instead.

As he said, the little bistro is nice, the food delicious. The conversation is lackluster, though, but you weren't really expecting much. Beyond talking about himself, Jerry doesn't seem to hold much interest in other topics. Big surprise.

Once you're back in the car, he drapes his arm over your seat and leans in, a sexy smirk on his face. "So, where to next, sweetheart? Your place or mine?"

Your brows shoot up in mild surprise. "I thought this was just dinner," you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. "Moving a little fast, don't you think?"

He tips his chin down, giving you a knowing look. "C'mon, Dee. We're both adults here. I've seen how you an' that other barmaid check me out. Not that I'm complainin'." He gives you one of his smarmy winks, and you fight the urge to wrinkle your nose in disdain.

You sniff and give your head a small shake. The audacity of this bloke. Did he honestly think you were just going to drop your knickers because he bought you dinner? "Yeah, I think I'd rather go home by myself. I have work in the morning."

Jerry draws back, blinking. "Are you serious?" When you roll your eyes, he scoffs and tilts his nose up, as if he can't believe you are turning him down. "Whatever. Your loss, sweetheart," he mutters with a slight sneer and starts the car.

The drive back to Banfield is tense and awkward, but you honestly prefer the silence. When Jer finally speaks up, you startle out of your thoughts. "Mind if I take a shortcut?" he asks, his tone off-hand.

You shrug. "Fine with me." If it gets you home quicker, you're all for it.

Yet when he veers off the main road onto a country lane, you frown. You aren't familiar with this particular backroad, but from the direction you're going it doesn't look like you're heading towards home.

"Are you sure this goes to Banfield?"

Jer slants a condescending look at you, a shitty little smirk pulling up a corner of his mouth. "I drive for a livin', sweetheart. Ya really think I'm goin' t'get lost on the way to bloody Banfield?"

Your eyes roll up, but you hold your tongue, yet after another five minutes with nothing even closely resembling civilization in sight, you can't keep quiet. "We should be in Banfield by now. It's just a ten-minute drive from Blackheath. Are you sure you took the right road?" You glance around at the dark, unfamiliar landscape. "I don't even know where the hell we are right now."

"I took the scenic route," Jer drawls, waving a hand. He then drops it on your knee and gives it a squeeze. "Chill out, sweetheart. We'll get there. Eventually."

Apprehension creeps up your spine like the drag of an icy finger. You don't like this. This man, who you really know nothing about, you now realize, is driving you out to the middle of nowhere. "Maybe you should turn around."

Jerry glances over at you again, and this time the look in his eye makes the small hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Maybe you should try to relax." His hand slides up your leg to grip your thigh. "I'd be happy t'pull over an' help ya with that, sweetheart."

And there it is. The reason for getting you out here alone. You aren't even really surprised, always knowing in the back of your mind that there was something off with him, though you chose to ignore it this time, just to spite Riley.

Hindsight really is a bitch sometimes.

"Jer, I told you I wanted to go home," you murmur, trying to keep your voice low and even.

He huffs, a smug expression on his face. "C'mon, Dee. Stop playin' hard t'get. It's jus' me an' you now. Your boyfriend doesn't have t'know. I can keep my mouth shut. It'll be our little secret, yeah?"

"My boyfriend?" you blurt out, confused.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, right. Sorry. Your friend," he sneers and then scoffs. "Don't act like ya don't know who I'm talkin' 'bout. That scarred up freak with the mask who's always up yer arse."

"What the fuck did you just say?" you choke out, fury strangling your voice. You're ready to claw out his eyes for what he said about Riley.

Jerry waves a dismissive hand at you. "Enough with the games, Dee. I know ya only went out with me t'make him jealous, an' I'm fine with that, really, but don't ya think I deserve some sort of... ya know, compensation for playin' along?"

Rage consumes you, hot and prickling beneath your skin. "Take me home. Now!"

The cold, flat look in his eye chills you to the bone. "Not 'til I get what ya owe me, sweetheart. Don't look so offended. I doubt this is the first time you've paid up for somethin' by lyin' on your back."

The hard slap you deliver to his smug face has him swerving across the narrow road before he slams on the brakes, sluing the car around in the loose gravel. You only manage to free your seatbelt before he grabs you.

"Are ya fuckin' crazy, ya bitch?" he yells in your face, shaking you hard as he shoves you back against your door. "Ya could'a killed us!"

You jab your thumb in his eye for his trouble. He bellows in pain, releasing you to clutch at his face, freeing you to reach behind your back to paw at the latch. The door flies open under your weight and dumps you out backwards onto the gravel. When his hand seizes your ankle in a crushing grip, you frantically kick out with your other foot. Though you're unable to see from your position on the ground, you revel in a brief moment of satisfaction when you feel it make solid contact with his head, and he yells in pain again. Yanking your legs free of the car, you scramble to your feet, snatching your bag from the ground as you sprint for the woods.

Too terrified to look back, you run headlong into the tree line. You stumble through the undergrowth, feeling the spindly branches and thorns tear at your clothes and snag in your hair as it rakes bloody scratches into your exposed skin. You trip over tree roots and stub your toes on stones hidden beneath the moldering ground cover of dead leaves. All the while, Jerry is bellowing like an enraged bull as he thrashes through the foliage somewhere behind you, shouting threats and curses at you the whole time.

When you inevitably fall flat on your face, you skid across the forest floor to hitch up at the base of a huge oak. You have just enough time to crawl behind its massive trunk before Jerry comes crashing through. When you hear him approach, you clap your hand over your nose and mouth to muffle the sound of your gasping breaths, terrified he will hear you. Your eyes go wide when you see him pass by your hiding spot close enough that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted. Scared beyond reason, you press your back against the rough bark of the oak and pray he doesn't see you when he pans the flashlight on his cell phone around.

A strangled noise issues from his throat before he growls out a frustrated, "Fuuuck!" You can see him pacing back and forth as he rakes his hands through his hair. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was panicking. "Crazy fuckin' bitch," you hear him seethe under his heaving breath, growling again. "Fine, ya stupid cunt!" he shouts at the dark woods, throwing his arms up in the air. "Find yer own way home, then!" He then turns around and stomps back the way he came, still uttering curses.

You don't dare move, not even when the sound of his heavy footfalls fades away. You don't dare move, not even when the only thing you can hear is the wind rattling the tree branches overhead. You don't dare move, not until you at last hear the distant sound of a car motor rev to life, the sound gradually diminishing until you can't hear it any longer. It is only then that you are brave enough to slowly stand up on your shaking legs, only to lean once more on the trunk for support as a sob finally tears free from your chest.

You remain that way for several minutes, trying desperately to regain your composure, even as your brain keeps circling around the notion that Jerry's departure is some sort of ruse to lure you back out into the open. It's the idea of spending a cold night alone in the woods that finally has you lifting your head to take in your surroundings and evaluate your situation.

At first glance, it seems pretty dire. You have no idea where you are, you're too scared to venture back onto road for fear of Jerry lying in wait somewhere, and it's pitch dark out tonight, not even the wan light of the moon visible in the overcast sky to help guide you through the woods.

Your only real option is to call for help.

Reaching into your bag, you take out your phone, cursing under your breath when you drop it due to your trembling hands. The glow of the screen is a small comfort as you unlock your phone and open your contacts list. You stare at the emergency number, finger hovering.

If you call the police, there will have to be a report filed, and then there will be an inquiry to investigate your claims. You already know it will be your word against Jerry's. His solicitors will no doubt drag your name through the mud to discredit you, and he will probably still get off with nothing more than a light slap on the wrist, if he even gets that, because he actually didn't do anything to you, at least not physically. Hell, you had done more damage to him than he had to you. He could claim you attacked him, and he wouldn't even be lying.

You look back down at your phone, one name standing out like a beacon in the dark. When you see that name, you think of home, of safety, the two things you want most right now. You select it and hit the call button, holding the phone up to your ear and praying there will be an answer. Your breath catches in your throat when you hear the line connect.

"Whad'ya want, Dee?" a gravelly, annoyed voice growls into your ear, and a sob escapes your throat, you are so relieved to hear him.

"Ruh... Riley? P-Please, Ri... please. I n-need you..."

No one in the White Dog knew what to think when the usually quiet giant that sat at the end of the bar suddenly erupted out of his seat, the bar chair toppling over. "Doll! What's wrong? Where are ya?" he barks into his phone.

He apparently doesn't like what he hears.

"He fuckin' did what?! " he growls, a look of pure murderous rage igniting in his dark eyes. As he listens to you, however, his rage is tempered by his troubled concern. "Are ya hurt, love? I swear t'God if he―" His hand clenches into a trembling fist, even though his voice is now a low rumble. "Please don't cry, love. I know, I know, but I'll find ya. Ya know I will. I'm on my way right now. Just... keep yer phone on for me, yeah?"

He's already making for the entrance as he says this, the murderous look returning as he mutters, "I'll kill that bastard," before he barges through the door. He hits it with such force, it slams into the outside wall hard enough to shatter the frosted safety glass. He doesn't even acknowledge it as he runs to his truck and tears off down the street with a bark of tires the next instant, leaving a silent pub full of stunned onlookers in his wake.

Prev. >> Next

Taglist: @stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha

#simon ghost riley x fem reader #simon riley x fem reader #cod ghost x fem reader #ghost x fem reader #simon ghost riley x frenemy fem reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader #Frenemies/Tenderness AU #Love Thy Frenemy

175 notes · View notes

stepswowdsen · 8 months ago

Text

【Magi】 JuAli Scenario Idea: Flower Crowns 🖤❤️💛

Intro

Judar spots Alibaba and Kougyoku making flower crowns, so Alibaba makes a flower crown for Judar. After being given a gift of bouquets (sunflowers) by Alibaba, Judar asks Kougyoku later what flowers to get as a return gift 🌻💐

I quickly wrote it this morning. I forgot to post this writing idea I had whoops 😭

Judar and Alibaba's friendships with Kougyoku is everything to me

I've always wanted to write about the 3 of them together~ JuAli with their bestie Kougyoku hehe

Judar, Kougyoku, and Alibaba sketch by Ohtaka

Flower Symbolisms

If you haven't seen it, feel free to check out my Flower Symbolisms post:

PW: meowmeowcollection

I'll put it here nonetheless, but it contains the context for my scenario idea

JuAli Scenario Idea

This is gonna be new from me, usually I post just the dialogue script itself and my rambles under, but since I wrote this quickly, this is gonna be a combination of my rambles + dialogue ideas

It's a huge WIP so I still have to add to it

As said before, JudaAli (ジュダアリ) is the Magi JP fandom's main ship name for them. It also has a cute sounding ring to it~ I've seen JuAli (ジュアリ) used a bit in the JP fandom.

I like typing the shorter one, it makes my life easier HAHA

Due to the common "First few characters of each characters' name is used and combined as a ship portmanteau" ship naming convention in EA fandom

Though sometimes, other characters may be chosen for better aesthetics.

Kougyoku my wife <333

I also want to write more of her in general too when I get the time

The idea came to mind yesterday. I'd love to draw this sometime in the future (not now cuz I'm slow)

Since I wrote it quickly, it's not as refined as my other ideas. So it's a mix of my rambles and bits of dialogue I came up with

Hopefully I'll get to refine & add to it soon 👍

Huge rough draft WIPs

Just wanted to get the ideas down so I don't forget

I thought about it recently when I was coming up with flower picks for my faves based on Hanakotoba meanings

In terms of meaning, I chose red hydrangeas and sunflowers for JuAli 💐🌻

They also fit colours wise and thematically too!

Also for the Flower Symbolisms post. I'm still planning to add more flower picks for JuAli eventually 🙏

I had a list of potential ideas in my rough drafts, I just need to check them over and see which ones are good

Since I spend time looking at Hanakotoba meanings and seeing if my interpretations align, specifically how I interpret the Hanakotoba meanings in JP). I also check JP florists' blogs to see other popular/common interpretations that may not be included on the Hanakotoba official site

And I'll be looking into more flowers too 😌

#magi #juali #judar #alibaba #alibaba saluja #judali #judaali #judar x alibaba #judal #judal x alibaba #aliju #magi: the labyrinth of magic #judar magi #judal magi #sen's ideas #sen's rambles #ren kougyoku #kougyoku ren #kougyoku

23 notes · View notes

anyasathenaeum · 2 years ago

Note

For the prompt event: Reader nearly dying trying to protect Meryl. Specifically, Stampede Meryl, and it takes place timeskip July 😎👍

A/N: THANKS FOR THE ANGST REQUEST!!!! Ugh, my fave kind of writing. You're the first to request for Meryl! So here, have this!

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, reader almost getting unalived

"(Y/N), you IDIOT! Why did you have to do that, I was totally fine! You're hurt, what is WRONG with you?!"

You could hear Meryl yelling at you, anger and frustration clear in her voice as she did, but you were too busy patching up your wound.

"Meryl, I'm sorry, but-"

"No!" Meryl cut you off, not giving you a chance to explain, "No! You almost died, you idiot! Why did you feel the need to interfere, I had that!"

You sighed, wincing in pain as you bound your wound in the back of her car with the crappy first-aid kit that bounced around in the trunk. Meryl would not stop pacing, and you could see her face turning more and more red as she became more and more upset.

You had stepped in when Meryl had gotten involved in a fight in a saloon. She had tried to get information out of a potential informant on Vash's location, but the informant had been drunk out of his mind and decided to pick a fight with another patron at the saloon. In the midst of the chaos, you'd noticed the drunk patron wielding a smashed bottle that he was slashing through the air wildly, heading straight for the informant.

However, Meryl was in the way, still trying to get information from the informant. Without thinking, you pushed her out of the way as the broken bottle's edge slashed your side open. You had cried out in pain, but you let the adrenalin in your system guide you out of the saloon with Meryl in arms, even though she was kicking and screaming for you to put her down.

And now, here you were, being yelled at while trying to fix your wounds. You were lucky you hadn't bled to death yet. Your skin was paler than you'd ever been before, and you were shaky as you struggled to attach the bandage around your wounds.

"Move your hands! I'll do that! I swear, you already almost d-died!"

You heard Meryl's voice break as she said the word "died", and as you looked at her, you realized that Meryl was already almost in tears. Behind her glasses, you could see the tears welling in her eyes and you realized she was shaking.

"Meryl... I'm here. I'm okay," You whispered gently, reaching out and taking her into your arms.

You could feel her trembling, and next thing you knew, Meryl had wrapped her arms around you and was sobbing into you. You quickly hugged her as tightly as you could without hurting yourself worse than you already were, gently stroking her hair and comforting her as best you could.

"You don't understand!" Meryl cried out, hugging you so tightly you winced from pain, "Last time somebody protected me, they died, (Y/N)! I-I can't lose you, too!"

"I'm not going anywhere," You replied softly, understanding where her anger had come from now - fear. Fear of losing you. "You're stuck with me, Stryfe."

"You better be, or I'll wring your neck myself, (Y/N)."

You couldn't help but grin as you hugged her tighter.

"I'd expect no less."

#anya's athenaeum #trigun stampede #trigun stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun #trigun meryl #meryl x reader #meryl stryfe

77 notes · View notes

kayleezra · 2 years ago

Text

Someone New (Part 2 to Someone Else) // (Marcus Pike x GN!Reader)

(not like the fun Hozier song unfortunately)

Word Count: 5,248

Warnings: nada unless you count angst and self-esteem issues 👍

Summary: so… I can’t thank those enough that hyped up the last part and thus encouraged me to write a second one! I truly had no intentions to continue it but then it was so well received I had to! If you’re wondering how I wrote self-esteem issues so well, it’s because I’m self-projecting 😌

AND I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, LIFE IS A B!TCH (there will be a part 3)

I can be better. I can be whatever they need me to be. People will only stay if I create my worth by being useful. I can be useful. I am useful. I’ll become whatever people need. People deserve what they need, I’ll give that to them no matter the cost. I’ll be what you need me to be.

You want to sleep away from Marcus, you want to be alone, to be allowed the space to process what you’ve just been told. You find some solace on the couch but it isn’t far enough to allow yourself to cry. Marcus will hear, you don’t want him to hear.

Marcus lies alone, hating himself, not for telling you but for even getting distracted in the first place. Now the bed that’s usually warm and full of love is cold and he can feel your warmth pulling at him from the living room where you lie. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, he gives up.

You can’t sleep, your mind is swirling with things you could have done differently. Should’ve dressed nicer for him, he always said he loved when you dressed down because it was your ‘truest self’ but looking back on it… he was probably bringing attention to it in hopes you’d notice and change it. Been more spontaneous and fun, why stay in and cook for each other when the whole world is just outside your door? You rip apart everything, everything he’s said or done. How long ago did this all start? How far back do you have to be unsure of his words and actions?

The hurricane of thoughts, slamming against the inside of your cranium, comes to an unsettling halt when Marcus enters the doorway. He looks like a mutt hoping to be adopted: scared, guilty and hopeful. And yet… when you see him… your chest tightens and your mind is screaming at you and at him to the point where your thoughts are incomprehensible.

“I know I don’t deserve… I-. will you please come to bed? I- I can’t sleep when uh- when the bed is just so empty and cold,” he looks at the ground and rubs his neck uncomfortably, “we don't have to cuddle or anything I just-” he scoffs at himself. He can't believe he got up and would ask you this. “You know what, forget I said anything,” he says before turning around.

You wanted to find solace alone but… you also don’t want to push him further away than he already is. So you get up from the couch and walk to the bedroom, once filled with dreams that you now know will never come true and thus the guilt that comes with it. Marcus is surprised by your appearance and clearly happy but he holds himself back he knows things aren’t the same and he doesn’t have the right to want you close. So he lets you lay in bed next to him with a distance that says ‘divorce parents’. You’re scared this is worse than the physical distance that distanced the two of you into separate rooms. So you move towards him… with a hesitation that says ‘happily married with 2 kids’. You’re scared of losing him and at this point will do anything to keep him so you sleep next to him as though nothing happened. You even bring your arms around him and hold him as if you love him the same, as if he still loves you the same.

You just have to pretend to be happy and then one day… you’ll believe it. If you just keep pretending that things are fine for you… then they will be. While also improving yourself to ensure Marcus stays interested, of course… but right now you play the part of pretending so that everything’s fine.

Just pretend that Marcus's touch doesn’t feel like betrayal. Just imagine that it’s yesterday and everything you thought you knew is still true. You’re happy and Marcus is happy and the two of you are happy together.

Emotional exhaustion is the only reason that you end up asleep. You didn’t feel tired, but then again a lot has happened in the last few hours that you didn’t see coming. You know you’re mentally and emotionally exhausted because you’re in bed with him. Because you didn’t stand for the one ounce of self-respect you have. You’ve imagined being cheated on and betrayed, how you’d calmly walk out and let their regret and sorrow eat them alive because you deserve better. But here you are, in the bed and arms of a man who just told you he’s interested in someone else.

Marcus doesn’t sleep. You didn’t calmly walk out but the regret and sorrow eats him alive all the same. He deserves it, he knows he does and he hates it, he wishes he wasn’t so stupid as to get distracted and hurt you because now he’s left with nothing but the mess he created. He’s confused, how could he love you and yet so easily get pulled into Teresa’s trap? He never questioned his love for you, you took up all the space in his mind so how was Teresa able to squeeze in? When he thinks back to when he and Teresa first met there’s nothing, just another co-worker. When did it become more? He remembers thinking about you when she spoke about being single, about how happy you made him. Then… he remembers seeing and talking with Teresa and only seeing and thinking about her. When did that happen? How did that happen? How could he let this happen? And yet here you lay next to him. He knows you’re only in his arms because you’re scared he'll leave because that’s basically what he said to you. He’s resurrected the evil voices that taunt your every being, the voices he helped you fight into submission, a battle that took you years. He’s broken every moral code, value and promise he’s ever made to himself and to you. By 3:00 am his grief eats him alive to the point where he can’t fight his exhaustion.

An uneasy anxiety wakes you, the time reads 4:42 am. You feel… different… cold and robotic. Numb. You’ve allowed yourself to take blame and create a solution that you can provide, it’s made you indifferent and detached. You're no longer a loving partner but an actor playing one, acting out the role perfectly but you can only act it perfectly if you don’t let your own emotions get in the way. You think about picture-perfect relationships, often subliminally misogynistic, and use them as your guide. You’ll get up and dressed and make breakfast, a big one, a big ‘I’m sorry’ movie breakfast! Marcus will be happy. You carefully remove Marcus’s arm from you. His touch isn’t warm, it burns your skin and feels like a lie. You breathe better without his arm on you, without him touching you but you don’t allow yourself to enjoy that freedom because you have a job to do. You shower, shave, exfoliate, wear perfume, do your hair and put on a nice not-so-casual outfit before creating an expansive spread for breakfast. You’ve gone about the morning like a stereotypical 1950s housewife, all that’s missing is a husband that won’t appreciate your work.

It is just as you’re setting everything in place that Marcus appears. You can tell he’s confused like he’s trying to figure out if this is real or a dream. A dream… see you can be his dream if you just try.

“What’s all this?” he asks, confused. And now you feel silly…

“I- um-…” you’re suddenly nervous and can’t find the right words, the words that don’t scream ‘I’m terrified you’ll leave me so I’ll do and be whatever you want me to’. While fighting to find the words Marcus slowly makes his way to you. You take a deep breath,

“I just… I wanted to remind us how… good, happy we are together,” you muster out.

“Oh baby you don’t have to do that, I’m always happy with you, you never have to remind me,” Marcus says solemnly. ‘Then why are you interested in someone else’ your brain says. You nod as though you believe him.

The two of you sit and enjoy your hard work but it’s filled with a heavy and awkward silence.

“What time did you get up? I mean, you did all this,” Marcus says while gesturing to the food, “and you’re dressed up.”

“It’s nothing, I just couldn’t fall back asleep this morning so…” you shrug, “I got a head start on the day. Plus I figured it’d be nice for you to not have to wake up to what looks like a beached sea creature,” you joke. You smile and laugh at yourself, trying to ensure he doesn’t see how truthful you’re being, how negatively you’re seeing yourself. Marcus puts his cutlery down and looks at you seriously, leaning into the table and giving you his hands to take. You place your hands in his, leaning over the table yourself.

“You never, never, are anything other than beautiful to me, ever.”‘Then why did she catch your eye?’ “I love seeing you relaxed and happy more than anything, I love it because it's like you’re bearing your soul to me.”‘Then why weren’t my soul and I enough?’

His words burn, they hurt, you’d actually prefer poisoned words or a physical blow because what he’s doing now is so much worse. It’s a reminder of what was, what could’ve been, of what he’s capable of faking.

You smile and scoff, unable to take in his words completely without crying. He can’t see you cry. You take your hands from his.

“You’re the only one who thinks that Marcus and it might be because you need to see an optometrist. Plus,” you continue to ensure he can’t break down your defences, “I had time and wanted to remind myself how hot I can be.” Another joke, anything but face reality, change the topic, nod and smile, but don’t look in the mirror too long, don’t look at Marcus too long, don’t interpret his words, let everything roll off your back and avoid the actuality.

Marcus knows what you’re doing, he knows you too well not to and it breaks him to see you put up all your defenses. To have you listen to all the evil little voices in your head, to have you act and the worst part? He knows it’s all because of him. He knows these defences, he encountered them early on in your relationship, and he helped take them down. Now he’s the reason they’re up. You’re creating a version of yourself you believe he’ll like, a version he’ll love, but he truly does love the real you. He loves waking up to your relaxed body, no matter how awkward the position seems or the state of your pyjamas. He loves waking up to see the hairstyle your pillows made you, to see whatever face your face has found itself in even when it leaves you drooling, especially when it leaves you drooling. He loves your morning breath and your slightly cranky and disoriented mood when you first wake. He loves seeing your shoulders be relaxed and your jaw unclenched, even if it gives you less-than-perfect posture and a double chin. He loves all these things that you hate because he knows it means you’re at ease with him. That you trust him. That you don’t have to put a show on for him, a brave face that you wear too often. He’s one of the few that get to see you, not a facade. Got, Your brain quickly corrects, got to see.

“I think we need to talk about what I said last night,” Marcus says.

‘You mean how you found somebody else?’, “I don’t know that-...”

“I know it’s going to… suck to put it lightly but I told you for a reason. Because I do love you, and I’d never hide anything from you, including some silly crush.”

“Silly crush? You told me she took up your mind, that you were mesmerized by her laugh. It wasn’t just finding someone attractive or enjoying their company!” you begin to raise your voice.

“I know, I know. I- I just don’t know what to do. I do love you, I've envisioned our lives together, growing old and being the cutest couple in the care home…”

“Then how could you fall so easily for Teresa? How could you love me if you are able to forget all about me at the sight of another woman?!”

“I don’t know, I- My mind is a mess. I can’t give you an answer. I’m sorry. But… I don’t want you to do this, to be this.” Marcus says while motioning towards you and the absurd breakfast you put together.

“Marcus… I don’t know that I can do that. I look at you and… all I see are my flaws, reasons I’m not good enough. And I know you’ll argue that but it doesn’t matter what you say because I no longer trust a word you say.” Tears well up in your eyes, this isn’t how your morning was supposed to go, you were supposed to fake happiness until everything was fine.

Your words break Marcus’s heart. Flaws? You didn’t have any in his eyes. He’s desperate.

“But tell me you’re willing to try, please?”

I can’t lose him, he’s my everything. He just needs time, he’ll realize he’s being silly and come back to me. He has to. Things will be fine. They have to be.

You take a deep breath and nod, “I’m willing to try,” you say just above a whisper. The words hurt because it means stabbing yourself in the heart every moment that you look at him. Pretending that you’re enough when you’re not. This isn’t the same as pretending things are fine because Marcus has already admitted it isn’t, that he knows about your defences and doesn’t want you to use them. To openly let yourself get hurt.

— a week later —

The day has taken everything out of you, you’re exhausted but you’ve got housework to do. Truth is, this last week you’ve felt like utter garbage and have tried to hide it by putting more effort into your appearance. If you look good on the outside, you'll feel good on the inside right? Well, it hasn’t really worked but it’s given you something to think about besides the crushing cloud of melancholy that fogs your head. However, between the cloud and the energy you’ve exerted trying to ignore it, you’ve come home exhausted. Although it doesn’t feel much like home anymore, you’re constantly on edge now, waiting for Marcus to say or do something. All while finding subtle ways to improve yourself. You’ve slacked a lot on the house duties. Marcus hasn’t said anything and he’s picked up your slack. He reassures you that it’s okay given the circumstances, that he wants you to ‘focus on yourself’.

Marcus has found a way to come home early every day this week, except today. Your brain tells you that he doesn’t have to stay late to work but is instead spending time with Teresa. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re too tired if he wants to leave, and you knoe he will but at this point there's nothing you can do to change that.

While you mentioned taking a break, allowing him to explore, he really hasn’t. He’s felt so guilt-ridden about what he’s done to you, he just wants to make it all better. That in no way redeems him, he knows that. He’s invested more in you, trying to communicate how awful he feels, how he knows he fucked up. Then a case calls extra attention from the team and in walks Teresa… He sees her and feels guilt. He wants to run away from her and into your arms but then she smiles at him… and he forgets you. He forgets how you make him giggle when you wake up annoyed at your alarm every morning. He forgets how you always pour his coffee before your own. He forgets that you’ll plan spontaneous dates after a rough week to help each other forget about it even for a little. He forgets the adorable face you make when concentrating or trying to remember something. He forgets the way you jump and scream when he accidentally startles you that always ends in the two of you laughing in each other's arms. He forgets that he has a piece of the sun waiting at home for him.

You change out of your day's clothes and into some nice loungewear. Nice enough to be comfy but not enough to fall asleep immediately in. You put some music on and begin cleaning, maybe it’s the slightly messy state of your house that is attributing to your dark cloud. If you clean the house, you’ll clean your mind. You know that's not true, that this time it isn’t something you can clean or tend to, to solve. But you do it anyway, hoping it’ll provide some relief. You start in the kitchen, getting lost in the loud music, before you make your way to the bathroom and laundry, losing track of time. Then all that’s left is vacuuming.

It’s late, you haven’t eaten or bothered to prepare anything, it didn’t feel necessary when you heard Marcus wouldn't be home for dinner. You’re tired but the music is keeping you moving and there’s a small feeling of accomplishment from getting so much work done in spite of your down mood.

The moment work is finished, Marcus is filled with guilt again. He’s here with Teresa… you’re at home… It’s like she has a spell over him. He thinks of you and his heart sinks. He thinks about how sad he feels with you and happy he feels with Teresa… he’s made his choice. He goes home feeling sick to his stomach, but he can’t continue like this, in limbo. He thought he’d feel lighter with his mind made up but he feels heavier until he gets home and opens the door. You’re singing, and moving to the music while vacuuming. He smiles, he loves coming home to you, he wants to come home to this forever… Your singing is offkey and he loves it, it’s not a show you’re putting on.

Marcus goes and pauses the music and in a split second, you turn and scream before realizing it’s him. You put a hand to your chest, catching your breath. Marcus laughs,

“I didn't mean to scare you but this was the least startling way I could think of letting you know I was home.”

“How was work?”, you ask with a small smile, mustering all the energy left in your body to resemble slightly happy and not broken down. Work… Marcus thinks, that’s right, work, his decision.

“I’ve made up my mind,” You furrow your brows, too tired to connect the dots. “I know who I love, who I want to be with more,” ‘Oh… right, I let him pick, let him decide.’

“And?” Marcus takes a deep breath,

“I want to be with Teresa.”

Time stops and you’re numb, “oh,” is all that comes out. Your eyes aren’t focused and nothing feels real. “Umm… what does- where…” you begin to stutter out.

“I’ve booked a hotel and will find a new place.”

“You’ve already booked a hotel?” you ask emotionless.

Marcus nods, “Back at the office.”

“You’ve already planned…” He’s planned out how to leave. Staying wasn’t ever an option.

“I’m sorry…” Marcus starts but you can’t bear to hear it.

“No no, you- you told me what you felt and I gave you time to decide. You’ve decided. This is just… the cards we were dealt…” you say numbly. Marcus hates to hurt you because he really does love and care for you, he’s just not sure you’re his endgame.

“I-I‘ll go pack a bag,” he says before leaving the foyer.

He decided. In your clouded head and act you forgot that things could end. That no matter what you did… it wouldn’t have been enough. Somehow this hurts less than when he first told you about Teresa, maybe part of you already knew and grieved. Maybe it was the mix of self-hatred and pessimism that took over your life last week that made the blow more bearable. What hurt was the future. What was your future? Before it was always you and Marcus… now everything was… gone. You’d have to build yourself from scratch. The unknown for the indefinite future was horrifying. Your heart begins racing, everything you knew, the stability in your life, is being stripped from you overnight. Your breaths become shallow as you think about having to move, will you be able to find a new place? Will it be nice? Close to work? What if it’s a dump, infested with rodents and insects? Your hearing is long gone, all you hear is the whirlwind in your mind. Your shallow breaths make you lightheaded and burn your lungs. You lower yourself to the ground with the help of the couch.

Everything’s a blur and then Marcus’s face is there, in front of you. He looks worried, why’s he worried? What’s happened? Is he okay? Finally, he touches you and you hear an echo of your name come from his lips. Me, I am what’s wrong.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you breathe out, taking some grounding breaths, focusing on how hard the ground feels beneath you. When your senses come back to you, you briefly forget what Marcus has just told you. You see him and think you’re glad he was here to help, but then it dawns on you, he’s the reason it started.

You quickly get up like his presence hurts, because it does.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-…”

“It’s fine you’re okay,” Marcus says while moving to give you a reassuring touch. You maneuver away from him,

“I’ll let you get back to packing,” you finish without looking at him and walking out the front door. You need air and space.

You don’t go far, your mind is too busy to let your legs carry you far so you find yourself on a nearby bench, no more than 5 minutes from where Marcus is. You don’t know what to do, nothing feels real. In 30 minutes the night's cool air has appeared and made you shiver so you return to the place that hurts most with a new numbness from the cold.

Inside is Marcus with a few bags packed.

“I was worried, I texted you but,” he motions to your phone left on the counter.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, “lost track of time. Have you got what you need?”

“Uh… yeah…”

You nod, “when did you want to get the rest of your things?” This was really happening.

“Um, I’m not too sure yet but within the week for sure, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, not like I’ll be anywhere else,” you laugh coldly.

“I’m really sorry-…”

“Don’t. Don’t be, I- I want you to be happy so… don’t worry.”

Marcus begins to make his way towards the door with his bags, “I’ll text you about my things.”

“Of course,” you say with a sad smile and with that… he leaves.

The night is a bit of a blur, at first, you were in a mixed state of denial and numbness but at one point you were too tired to hold yourself together and you broke. You ended up laying down on the floor, the bed and the couch having too many memories of him. You don’t sleep and not just because the ground is uncomfortable.

At 6 am panic sets in. You can’t live here, you have to move. You open your phone and begin rapidly planning your future, taking screenshots and sending emails. Just like you have your whole life, you’re left to go it alone, to depend on no one but yourself, working yourself into the ground and then working some more. As heartbreaking and frustrating as it is, you also know one more thing about yourself: no matter what, you always get to the finish line, and you can depend on yourself.

—-4days later—-

You’ve spent all your free time packing and searching for your future. On your days off you’ve gone to different homes and renting spaces and neighbourhoods to see what could be a good fit. You find an apartment near your workplace that’s decent. It’s small but it’s just you so… it’ll work. It’s clean and safe and you can afford it which is all you can really ask for. You’ve been so busy you haven’t had time to grieve, or in other words, you haven’t allowed yourself to grieve by burying yourself in other things.

You’re signing the lease when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

It’s a text from Marcus that reads: ‘I can pick my stuff up tonight or tomorrow if tonight is too late of notice.’

You text him it’s fine and set to meet at 5 pm.

You get back to your place and begin packing, not only your stuff but Marcus’s as well. You try not to get sentimental about packing the things you once shared but tears escape nonetheless. You try to lessen the pain by forcing yourself to get as much packing done as possible, the sooner you can get out of this place, the better.

This place hurts to live in now, it feels like you’re living with a ghost. You yearn for Marcus to return but the old Marcus, the ghost of him. You’re constantly bombarded with flashbacks of happy moments between the two of you. That wasn’t the worst of it though. The worst was seeing what could have been. Walking into the kitchen and seeing the two of you attempting a new recipe together. Going to do laundry and seeing a new detergent that Marcus bought because it smelt nice. Going to bed and seeing an older you and Marcus reading comfortably in that same bed. It was like memories you hadn't yet created… and now never would. That hurt the most. These illusions make you want to run back into Marcus’s arms and make them a reality, but this reminds you of the second worst reminder: you never wanted to leave Marcus’s arms… Marcus wanted to leave yours.

You’re folding extra linens when there's a knock at your door. You know it’s Marcus so you just tell him to let himself in.

How weird that the two of you used to have keys to this place and enter with the relief of having finished the day and being able to see each other. And now, one of you has to knock, one of you is now a stranger and the other can’t bear living in these four walls.

Marcus walks in as you finish folding the item in hand, placing it in a box. He stops in his tracks just as quickly as he entered. He takes in the state of what was once his home. A lot of decorations and non-essential furnishings have been stripped off and gathered near the front door, along with boxes, more than was necessary for his stuff.

“What’s uh- what’s going on?” he asks confused.

“Packing,” you say quick, almost crudely.

“You’re moving?”

“Yeah,” you take a breath and finally stop and look to Marcus, “I just can’t live here being reminded-...” you can’t finish. Marcus looks to the ground nodding,

“Right, right.”

You walk towards a pile of what looks like miscellaneous items, “I just don’t know how to divvy this stuff,” you explain motioning to the pile.

Marcus takes a closer look at the pile and understands the pile, it’s items you got together. Most were pretty material except one, on the side lay a folded blanket, the fleece tie blanket the two of you made together. Each of you picked a fleece pattern and then the two of you sat on the living room floor and laid them out atop each other, made the appropriate cuts and lastly, tied them together. The blanket would find its home as a throw blanket on the couch that the two of you often used when cuddling together during movie night, date night, or just because. That breaks Marcus’s heart, and it’s then that he takes in the four walls that he’ll never see again, the place that made him so happy, that this part of his life is ending. But he did this, he doesn’t have the right to be heartbroken, this was his decision, his choice.

“Um I don’t think I need any of it,” he says quietly.

“Okay, well if you don’t want it I’m donating it, I’ve already taken what I need,”

“The blanket,” Marcus nearly yells, he says it so quickly like he was afraid it was gonna disappear before his eyes.

You notice there’s something in the tone of his voice but are too tired and broken to really care or process it.

“Okay,” you say while handing it to him.

Giving him the blanket fills you with heartbreak and relief. This was one of the items that hurt most to have to pack away and the pain it caused told you you couldn’t keep it. It not only held the memories of making it but the browsing of the fabric store together, Marcus choosing the most god-awful patterns he could find claiming it was his choice, the dozens of nights spent asleep on the couch after unintentionally falling asleep, and thousands of minutes spent under it.

Marcus feels every one of those minutes through the threads. Minutes he didn’t think would end, certainly not so suddenly. As he runs his hands over the material the memories run through his mind, memories he assumed he’d continue making with you throughout your mortal lives.

“Is that all?” Your voice breaks him from his thoughts

‘You’ his brain thinks, “Uh no, that should do it.”

You nod. You have so many questions for him but the pain in your chest and hurt sob stuck in your throat won’t let you ask. Was it something I did? Why wasn’t I enough? I tried so hard. You knew asking wouldn’t help ease the pain no matter the answer he gave you, even if he apologized and ran into your arms the damage was already done.

You quietly help Marcus take his stuff to his car. Emotionally you’re numb but your brain is screaming at you that this is the end.

“Thanks,” Marcus breathes when you place the last of his things down.

“No problem,” you turn to walk away, returning to the four walls that allow you to cry in peace but turn back to him.

“Marcus?”

“Yeah?” he looks at you with hopeful eyes.

“I hope the two of you are happy,” you walk away before he can say anything or see the tears that fall. Marcus is left standing on the sidewalk with his things in his arms realizing he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life, and there's nothing he can do to fix it.

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlemisspascal @writer-darling @avengetheunnatural @currentobsessionrabbithole @harriedandharassed @alberta-sunrise @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @louderfortheback @trey-18 (also tagged those that were so kind about the first part!)

#marcus pike x you #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike

77 notes · View notes

bootleg-sara · 9 months ago

Text

I’ve been meaning to get back to this AU for fuckin ages, but I’ve also had other projects that I’d rather do than work on this. But! I still like it, and I have most of the characters from this au drawn out so I’ll write about them 👍 I’ll start with these three because I’ve shown them before in previous art

Small update on this au because it’s been awhile- This is a Tboi x Lisa the Painful x Darkest Dungeon AU, a dark, gritty, and unforgiving world overrun with cosmic monsters and mind melted men after a man-turned-God named The Propagator opened up the world’s heart to the influences of the Iron Halo. A ragtag group of heroes are given the last flame of hope and have to traverse the world and stop The Propagator before his influence takes the last remaining survivors.

If you want to read more, look at this link here where I talk about Brad and Isaac. But for now I’ll talk a little bit about these two characters

Jacob: He’s the youngest of the group. He’s been an orphan for all of his life and as a small boy, ran away from his orphanage to escape their abuse. Eventually he find a new home with an older couple who had a son named Esau, who Jacob could grow close with. But after Jacob’s fascination of the fire’ warmth got to the better of him, he accidentally burnt down the house along with his new family and brother. Jacob would spend his days wallowing in his misery and fighting off the boards of monsters that now plague the world. He’d eventually be found by Brad and choose to follow him around when he notices Isaac is under his wing too. Jacob and Brad have a father-son bond, but Jacob doesn’t want to admit it as Brad still isn’t exactly the best father one could have. And at this point Jacob is an adult, so he feels “wrong” to feel any need for the family he never had for long. Jacob still loves to play with fire and embers. He’s learned the effectively use them in a fight too, as even the strange creatures from other worlds can’t be saved from the unforgiving flames. Jacob is very aloof and prefers to be alone. He is almost always on watch duty as an excuse to not talk to anyone else. He takes everything very seriously and isn’t big on joking around.

Judas: He was once a follower of The Propagator under his cult rule when the world first started going to shit. Being the massive over achiever he is, Judas was quick to be one of the Iron Halo’s most powerful and respected followers. He would save his head clean for the cult’s symbol to be engraved right onto his mind. His understanding of the occult was far beyond most of his peers, which got him some attention pretty early on. Judas was even ready to “ascend”, a highly special event where the person would become one with the Iron Halo’s power. Turning them into power flesh beasts. Judas was far on tract for this, and fully ready for his ascension. But he was never the most loyal. And before he could go through with his ascension, he finally had enough of the horrors he had seen within the cult and broke out along with a few of The Propagator’s side projects (aka joy mutants). He is still a wanted fugitive to this day. Craving an upside down cross over his old halo to further himself from his past. Judas moved on to the study of demons over cosmic entities, finding them to be much more agreeable. Though he does dabble in his old ways sometimes, as the cosmic forces hold much more power than most demons. Judas has a massive ass ego and brags about his strength all the time. He’s also very ways to scare and is a big baby when insulted. His sassy retorts gets him into the most fights out of the group.

Lazarus: He’s a highly masochistic man. His entire life revolves around receiving as much pain as he could possibly get. Even before the end of the world, he would hang around shady areas just to get angry, drunk people to kick him around. The pain is the only thing that makes Lazarus feel alive. When the world started to end and strange powers flowed into the earth’s heart, Lazarus started seeping it into his own body (unknowingly, might I add). His pain was a source of power now, being able to both take people’s health and hurt himself to hurt others. His pain so great that even Death struggles to take him as their own. He would join the group by chance, when he would help a lost Judas find his way out of a pin’s den before he met his demise. He’s an eccentric and odd individual. His casualness and morbid words bring unease to the group. Really, he makes everyone there very uncomfortable. But they also recognize he is there strongest asset so they all put up with his strangeness. All except for Bethany. Bethany hates his ass but Lazarus doesn’t seem to fully grasp why she would.

That’s it for now. I’ll post my last designs eventually. Idk if I’ll ever write more about this au, but it will show up here and there once in a blue moon

#sherbert draws #pained hope au #art #artists on tumblr #digital illustration #the binding of isaac #tboi #darkest dungeon

14 notes · View notes

squarebracketsmileyface · 11 months ago

Note

Letting u know that Jobless Monday by Mitski is Jay and Alex in Sorry Its Locked to me. I’m insane about this btw. Super Normal👍

Ow. Fuck you /pos

I'm so glad you're super normal about this anon. I'm so glad you were normal enough about this to tell me about it so i can be normal about it with you.

This got so long and i kinda went on a tangent, so, thingy:

you're so right tho. you're so so so right. Jay just wants to be seen with Alex, to be with him like a normal couple, even if the only people seeing it at the two of them. Sure it'd be nice if their friends knew or whatever, but even if it was just them being couply and in love in private would be better than what they currently have (in uni).

Jay doesn't care where they go, if they're just with their friends who they know will accept them, he just doesn't want to have to pretend like he and Alex aren't into each other all the time. He wouldn't care if they went on a walk in the woods and held hands with no one there to see, as long as they got to hold hands. He doesn't just want to be Alex's fuck buddy. He wants to hold his hands. He wants to go to lunch or dinner with him. Fe wants to kiss him on the lips. He wants Alex to kiss him on the cheek or the top of the head. He just wants to be Alex's boyfriend, his partner, not some dirty, disgusting secret Alex hides from everyone out of shame.

God they're so tragic. They're fucking awful. Jay just wants Alex to stop treating him like it'd be disgusting to date him, and Alex is terrified of what could happen to them if they were out at all, even to just their friends. So much could go wrong, they live in Alabama, it's the early 2000's, so fucking much could go wrong, he's not wrong to be cautious.

But that doesn't fully explain away why he refuses to be sweet with Jay even in private.

It's not all Alex's fault though. Like, yes it mostly stems from his fear of being out as queer in any way, but like, Jay's still kinda shit about it, yknow?

I need to write about why Jay wasn't great back in uni properly at some point, but none of my thoughts are properly coherent about it yet. At least not coherent enough to write into a fic yet.

I think I want to make it so that Jay was kinda pretty manipulative, and a lot more pushy with Alex than he lets on about to Tim (or even that he realizes himself) like, you know that bit in chapter 5 of Sorry its locked? where Jay, like, tries to physically force Tim to choke him? And they have to pause and be like, what the fuck? And Tim understands why Jay did it, but he's still really hurt by it because Jesus Christ Jay.

Like, you know that bit? Well I have plans about how Jay used to do that to Alex, not a lot, but like, it happened and more than once, with Jay physically forcing Alex to do stuff. and usually it was fine, like, Jay wanted to be slapped around or have his hair pulled, so he'd move Alex's hands into position to do that. And like, usually that was fine, that was just how they kinda worked and it was fine, those were things Alex was usually happy to do. But then one time Alex was trying to have a slightly less intense scene because he was already tired that day or whatever, and then Jay put Alex's hands around his neck, and Alex was very much not okay with that, but they were in the middle of something already and Alex was in a dominant kinda mindset, so he just punished Jay mid scene for trying to control what was going on, and then they carried on and that was it, they didn't talk about it.

But then after Jay leaves Alex just breaks the fuck down over it, because he realizes just how dangerous that could have been. like, he realizes that he could have really badly hurt Jay, that he could have killed Jay if he hadn't realized where his hands were.

My plan is that this happens near the end of Jay and Alex's fwb relationship, AND that Amy somehow walks in on Alex breaking down and having a full blown panic attack over how he could have really hurt Jay. So Amy has to take care of Alex through that, and she gets him to tell her what happened, so he does and she's the one that is kinda like, "dude, that's so not okay, what the fuck? He shouldn't have done that, and you said he's done stuff like that before? That's so not okay oh my god." and she's the one that convinces Alex to stop his and Jay's fwb relationship. She's so concerned for Alex's mental health (which she should be) and a little while after he breaks his and Jay's thing off, she kinda wants to show Alex what a healthy relationship should be like, and that's how those two start dating?

Also like, when I say Alex breaks down, I really really mean it, like, that guy is hyperventilating borderline wants to kill himself because holy shit he could have killed Jay what a fucking monster he is for not realizing sooner etc. etc. etc. Like, Amy has to zip tie all the draws with knives in shut because otherwise Alex is actually going to do something impulsive and hurt himself. he is very not okay, like that thing with Jay was the final straw and with it's weight he's breaking.

Amy is to Alex what Tim is to Jay in this au. Like, she only gets one side of the story so obviously assumes that Alex is completely innocent in his and Jay's relationship, and Jay is a total monster. Which isn't true, they're both terrible to each other.

Alex needs to listen to Jay more and make it safer for Jay to talk to him about things, because if he did that Jay wouldn't feel the need to manipulate Alex to get what he wants from him. It definitely all kinda stems from Alex being super closed off emotionally to Jay, right? But just because it starts with Alex, doesn't mean that by the end Jay was kinda arguably worse than him. Y'know? Like, they make each other worse.

But like, yeah, Amy does the whole "I can save him" thing for Alex that Tim does for Jay. She thinks she can fix Alex, and at first it seems like she can, y'know, he moves schools and they live together and everything seems pretty good, Alex does get better when it comes to how he expects a partner to treat him. But in the end Amy can't fix the Operator sickness stuff (which i guess she didn't know about at first and all that but still, once that becomes obvious to her---e.g. Alex starts getting a lot more volatile even with her--- she thinks she'll be able to talk him through that as well)

#song ask #i went on a big old tangent about Alex and Amy in this. and a little bit about how Amylex and Jam are gonna mirror each other in this au?#marble hornets #jay merrick #alex kralie #jaylex #tim wright #mh jam #amy marble hornets #mh amylex #marble hornets fanfic #mh sorry its locked

15 notes · View notes

shalikneez · 1 year ago

Text

fourth wing thoughts (no spoilers):

while reading:

- MIRA IS HOT she reminds me of totk zelda

- xaden scares me lowk

- why is xaden so mf big. HUH?! enormous ginamanasaurus motherfucker. in my head he’s 5 foot 10 inches and sleeper bod. next question

- i know rhiannon is sexy. need more of her!

- omg chronic illness mc YES

- violet is so cool lowk like acknowledges her weaknesses ✅ improves herself ✅ isn’t annoying ✅ isn’t a bitch unless ur a bitch to her first ✅ smart as fuck ✅

- bitchass jack barlowe reminds me of nacho cheese doritos.

- dain more like DAMN why don’t u shut the hell up 🤣

- dain is so protective savior complex core like bro has no faith in her aaaahdhdh honestly i would have snapped sooner because like why is he always talking like she’s a child and needs to be saved

- xaden on the other hand is always hyping her up. which is great but occasionally he goes over the top imo . we get it ur down bad my guy

- she’s sooooo silly calling xaden out in public all the time

- so happy dain x violet romance didn’t last. he reminds me of chaol from throne of glass

- ngl thought violet was gonna be the whiny shy useless mc but the whole book up to 60% is all about her getting stronger and cooler and hotter and she’s confident and figures her shit out without complaining

- i loooove her and her sibling’s relationship. it’s so real ngl. book of brennan is so cute. brennan and mira, and mira and violet. i love them.

- violets armor from mira is so cool ik she looks hot in it. fan art better slay

- NAOLIN MENTIONED ‼️‼️

- if she says “rippling muscle” or “he’s so beautiful” one more fucking time—expand ur vocabulary girl 😩

- dain bruh stfuuuuu bro is so annoying he probs looks like this 🤓

- so many cliches but all the cool world building and shit balances it out so well like i don’t even mind that much

- yeah she’s gonna get a special dragon obvi

- i was right 🤭

- dragon descriptions make me 😁😁😁 it’s so httyd and so much detail and care put into it i love it

- dragon world building is so 💗💗

- tairn the dragon u are so cool to me

- i want a dragon

- i miss mira

- xaden is so cool. reminds me of a wolf

- TAIRN IS SO UNSERIOUS 🤣🤣 sarcastic ass dragon

- MATES LMAOOOO so sarah j maas coded

- LIAM IS SOOOO CUTE so puppy dog :) sawyer too

- oh the telepathic connections. it’s so sjm up in here

- telepathy aspect is cool tho i like how this author writes it <3

- why r the dragons getting hot and heavy 🥵 🤨

- omg kisss!

- MIRA OMYGOD I LOVE U I MISSED U SO MUCH MY WARRIOR QUEEN

- ngl around 70% it’s not as entertaining as all the deathly challenges and trials from the beginning

- omg violets power 😮 im a slut for opposite aesthetics

- oh. not a fan of the monster dick sex. uncomfy lowk. good for them though 👍

- ok politics. i don’t care that much.

- OKAY CLICHE DIALOGUE I SEE YOU it’s so weird i’m not even that bothered by it when normally i would be

- this is becoming more romance than death-defying war college stuff :/

- lovers quarrel. lovers share trauma. then lovers make up. idgaf!

- me when the romance book is romancing 😐

- basic adult romance dialogue! welcome back. how are you today

- more monster dick sex. how lovely.

- xaden’s muscles keep rippling. bro stay still!

- man what kinda sex is rebecca yarros having 🧐👁️

- omg plot

- omg TENSION! BETRAYAL! TWISTS!

- oh the climactic end-of-book battle. ngl none of these details are processing in my head. what fight?

- i know someone had to die but why that particular person. man :(

- i’m sure this battle and strategy and action scenes are so slay. i’m dissociating tho lol

- aw xaden likes her so much. simp

- CLIFFHANGER 😮

overall: i liked the first half better than the second half. first 50% was soooo addicting. i loved the world building and dragons and war college and challenges so much but i’m just not a huge romance person. like the romantic buildup is amazing but afterwards i’m just meh. of course there was the expected tropey/ cliche/ booktok moments BUT most of it was overshadowed by how great the other aspects of the writing was. i dissociated at the end and didn’t really feel attached to violet or xaden or even the dragons (this is a me problem) but i think the ending is great set up for book 2 (will probs give it a read). like u can tell where the book is going but then the author does something unique to make it a little different than other books in this genre, so idk how many surprises book 2 will have. the fact that i read this is in less than 24 hours says a lot though. i hope mira comes back :D

#fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #violet and xaden #rebecca yarros #the empyrean #xadenviolet #tairneanach

27 notes · View notes

quietwingsinthesky · 11 months ago

Note

38 for the Master and/or 39 for Even? Up to u what qualifies as disturbing :3

what the fuck lee. (<- appreciative)

so here is. 4000 words. of that. unedited, right now, because it is nearly midnight and i've been writing for. well, let's see, you sent this six hours ago so. let's say four-ish hours? and with any luck. this thing that i have created is 👍. that's all i want. i need it to be 👍. anyway. pokes him.

Even has decided they don't like deserts.

It isn't a hard decision. No matter how well they believe they've covered every inch of skin while they trudge through the sand after the Master, Gallifrey's twin suns still find the gaps and cook them to a deep, stinging red. The goggles meant to protect their eyes are too tight, digging into their sunburnt cheeks, but they're still a better option than having to wipe the grit out to see every five minutes. They're soaked in sweat under their clothes, sore from head to toe, and the only thing they can be glad of, if anything, is that the Master is just as miserable as they are.

They don't know why he wanted to come here. He'd dragged them all the way out to that abandoned shack, as though he was expecting something. Whatever it was didn't come to him. They'd at least had some shade under the rotting wooden roof, watching him with their head against the wall and their watch between their fingers. It had been very warm, but that wasn't surprising, given the climate. (Though they'd kept it beneath their robes, lest they risk accidentally burning their fingertips on hot metal when they went to play with it.) Now, he's dragging them back out to their TARDIS—too paranoid about a completely empty stretch of sand to park closer to their destination. Even can make out her shape. The goggles are tinted darker than Even would have liked, but the rise of bone from the sand is impossible to miss, some long-decayed Gallifreyan megafauna for them to crawl inside of.

He's too quiet. It puts them on edge. Out here, it might be understandable, but he'd snapped at and shut down any attempt at finding out what they were doing out here before they'd set out, been almost completely silent at that old building, and they doubted he'd be any more talkative once he was back inside their TARDIS.

And there's tension in his neck. A twitch that won't go away in his arm. However quick his feet fall, they hit the sand too hard, a constant, rhythmic thud that's only aggravating him more.

They look out across the desert and see nothing. They don't know what he's seen out here.

They can guess hazard a guess as to what he hears, though.

They tuck their head down and focus on setting their feet down in the footsteps he leaves behind. It passes the time better than watching the slow approach of the carcass that camouflages their vehicle.

That's why they notice the patch of sand that doesn't match the others. It's dark. The grains don't flow with the wind the way everything around it does. Too much of it is moving.

"Stop." He doesn't, and they can barely hear themselves through the fabric keeping the lower half of their face out of the sun. They yank it down. "Stop!"

That time, at least, they know he just isn't listening.

His foot goes down into the sand, sinks as he tries to recoil from the instability, and then the sand starts moving up his leg.

It's not a Dalek, which is good, and it's not something worse than a Dalek, which is better. Their minuscule bodies glitter in the harsh sunlight brightly enough that Even can see each one easily through their goggles. There are dozens of them digging themselves out of the sand, scurrying up towards the Master's leg. A few of them cling onto the outside of his clothing, and he's able to shake those off. Others go beneath. Even loses track of them.

The Master lifts his arm. Even's not sure what he's about to do, but they take the opportunity he's given them to duck and slip underneath it, grabbing his hand so that he'll hold onto them. They have two feet to brace compared to his one. His fingers dig into their shoulder harshly, and they grip his hand tighter in return as they pull, once, twice—he hisses between his teeth like they're threatening to yank his arm out of its socket—and with one final lurch, he comes free. The sudden momentum sends them both spinning, and though Even lets him go to try and catch their own balance, he doesn't, pulling them down the dune with him.

Each tumble leaves their sides aching. They spit sand dry from their uncovered mouth, enough that they regret bothering to warn the Master at all. It gets under their lips, against their gums, and there's nothing they can do about that but shove it to the side to deal with later. They get traction, turning as they roll to grasp out at the shifting dune and drag themself to a halt. They don't roll as far as he does. Even gets their knees under them. The sand is so hot that they can feel it beneath their palms, through their gloves. They suck in a breath, only to choke on it, hot grains flying freely down their airway. By the time they've managed to gag up a pitiful amount of saliva from the back of their throat, they look up to see the tiny, shining things moving together like a snake through the sand towards them.

Even carries the weapons, as they carry the water. To reach for their gun is almost comforting in how familiar it is, from the weight to the notches their fingers find to grip it to the way it wakes up in their hands as they aim.

The sound it makes when they fire is just as familiar, though it lingers in their ears with different ghosts. Exterminate, their mind echoes when nothing else supplies the sound. (Certainly not the long-destroyed owner they'd peeled the foundation of their weapon off of.) Their lips part slightly, the first syllable curling their tongue- And then the shot lands with a burning crackle at the head of the illusory snake. It breaks apart, scattering bodies across the sand, some burrowing immediately to get away from the fire that catches briefly against the sand. The blast area is charred black. They can't tell if that's the sand or the tiny…

"What were those?" they ask the Master, tipping their head back towards him. The calm feeling that follows a successful shot shrinks away. At first, they think he's seizing, but his movements are too coordinated. He's trying to strip his clothes away from his leg, and the skin he reveals is crawling with the things.

Or bleeding. Why is he bleeding?

Even shakes their head before they skid down the rest of the dune towards him. When they touch him, he snaps his head in their direction, teeth bared and eyes wild with as much fear and anger that can fit in them. Even freezes like prey should.

The Master squeezes his eyes shut. He gropes for their hand, haphazardly slapping their weapon from it. It lands in the sand, forgotten as he drags them in closer. "Kill them," he coughs. There's sand sticking to every bit of his face that's exposed. "The ones that haven't burrowed-"

They hate that word, suddenly. "Hold still!" they snap back, pulling their hand out of his grip. He tenses up. Their heart pounds hard in their skull, right at their temple. The things are wriggling across his skin, and they see one- The tint of the goggles makes it hard to tell when they're in the shadow cast by Even's own body, but it stops moving, squirms, and then the Master's skin breaks around it as they realize too late where it's going. Even's stomach clenches. The Master makes a painful whine in the back of his throat, leg convulsing.

They don't know what else to do. They slap one of the things. There's a crunch underneath their palm. They draw it back, and that one isn't moving.

They hit another one, and the Master bites down on a scream. It's his skin they're striking to get at the creatures.

Are they alive? Their bodies don't come apart when they cease to move, no matter how hard Even hits them. A leg breaks off of one of them, but they don't burst like a body that small should. They don't leak any fluid onto their gloves or the Master's skin.

Even kills them, one by one, not nearly fast enough to stop more from digging into him. He can feel where the things are crawling and can direct Even's hands, but the Master can't catch any of them fast enough without seeing them, without being distracted by the rest making their way deeper into his flesh.

The sand is littered with tiny broken bodies. Even doesn't have time to examine them. "Get up," they tell him. His head rolls back against the sand, expression contorted with pain. Even doesn't wait for him to listen. They pick up their gun and stow it. They get on one knee, their heel sinking slightly into the sand as they get ready. They haul him up into a sitting position. He protests that with a hiss between his teeth, which they ignore. "Get! Up! I need to fix you!" They're grateful that of the two of them, they weigh more. It's still a struggle to pull him up to his feet. They don't think they could carry him outright, but if he can do even a little of the work, they can stumble the rest of the way to their TARDIS.

The Master tries to take too much of his own weight. He screams.

Even winces. They adjust their grip on him until he's slumped against them, his head knocking theirs as his heavy inhales ring in their ear.

"I said to stop," they whisper, very quietly. They're pretty sure he doesn't hear them. That he can't hear anything but his own breathing.

They lumber the final stretch to the TARDIS like a three-legged beast. The Master staggers more than he steps, and Even shoulders the unsteady burden of him as best they can.

They between two ribs, and their foot hits the floor of their TARDIS rather than more sand. They drag the Master forward a few more feet before they finally let him slip away from them. He doesn't scream this time, but they still hear the sound that could have been one as its strangled to death in his throat.

They can't move. They have to, but they can't look away from his collapsed body, shaking with pain. Not until the Master's voice scrapes out of his raw throat and breaks whatever was holding them in place. "Tweezers." Even nods. "Keep one alive. I want to see it. Kill the rest, and don't let them touch you."

Even wants badly to discard the outer layers they're wearing, but they don't. They'll take whatever protection they can get.

The Doctor's TARDIS had a very well-stocked medical chamber. Theirs is not, but it keeps them alive. (And they have the feeling it still would have been thousands of years more advanced than anything Earth had access to, at the least. Some medical technology doesn't change, however. Like tweezers.) Even will probably help him into it later, once the active threat is gone and he still needs patching up.

They bring a box with them. It did have something else in it, but they turned it upside down and dumped its contents on the floor. It's a box for specimens now.

The Master is not dead when they get back. They let out a breath. He's propped himself against a wall, working to expose each of the bleeding intrusions. Even counts thirteen of them.

They sit in front of him. He's knocking his head back against the wall. They try not to count out the beats, head down to work.

There are three in his torso, and they hope those are the most shallow. They had to crawl further than the others to get there. Even swallows back nausea imagining the tiny bodies clawing and digging deeper into him. They rest a hand against his sternum to keep him still, the beat of his skull against the wall the only thing they can hear as they concentrate. The tweezers widen the hole the thing had made slightly. The Master's mouth twists. Even wants to drag their hand through their hair, but both are too busy to allow it. The tweezers slide deeper, grasping at nothing at first. Deeper, deeper, and Even thinks they have something. It's bumping the end of the tweezers, something they hope means that whatever is at the end is moving on its own. They squeeze the tweezers a few times until they catch hold. Even drags it back out gingerly.

They pause to look at the thing. It's sort of like a bug, with a fat, bullet body cased in black and flailing legs, covered in slick blood. It looks vaguely familiar to them, but they can't place it. Then again, most bugs look the same to them. They put the first one they retrieve in the box and shut it in.

Again, they delve inside him. The Master begins to whine again, but this time, the noise doesn't stop, just rises and falls as they dig around for the bug.

"Distract yourself," Even urges. "Talk at me." The Master pushes a breath out between his teeth.

He shoots a hand out. The movement jars Even's arm and jabs the tweezers into something inside him that makes him squirm. They manage to get a hold on the next bug. It struggles against them as they pull it free from his belly and slap it against the ground, crushing it under their foot for good measure. The metallic crunch they heard before is even louder that time.

The Master curls his fingers twice, jerking his hand towards the box. Even pauses to give it to him. He can see the bug safely through the translucent sides.

His brow furrows, this time in more concentration than pain as they go digging for the third bug.

"I don't know what that is," he finally says. "It's not organic?"

"Not organic. Doesn't bleed," they answer.

"It's almost shaped like a sand beetle." He tilts the box. "Too short, I think. The coloring is wrong. It might be enough to fool someone else. Not anyone who spends their free time in the drylands, but who would ever go there voluntarily?"

We did, Even doesn't say. They're too focused now, and they don't want to break his train of thought and risk him dropping away from speech into more awful noises. He's stopped beating his head so hard against the wall.

"I don't think they were meant to be there, or we would have seen more of them." He shuts his eyes briefly. "Or not now. Not yet. Not anymore." He squeezes them shut tighter, his whole face wrinkling around the force of it. "You have no idea what it feels like when time is breaking and reforming around us!" he snaps at them, volume rising out of nowhere. Even shrinks back, eyes narrowed at him, but they don't stop digging for the bug. "It's all deteriorating, with us inside! I don't-" He cuts himself off, sucking in breaths hard and fast as Even grabs for the bug, hits something, and then only pulls free one broken leg of it.

"No. Talk." He's shaking again. "Talk!" They force the tweezers back into the same hole. They get the body of the bug this time. they pull it out.

"I don't know what it is," he says, quiet again. "I left. I left before it got worse. So I don't know what it is, or who made it." Even straightens his leg out to dig in his thigh for more bugs. "Or maybe it isn't from the war. Maybe someone's science fair project got out."

"Science fair projects don't kill people," Even says. "They're… bananas. I think." They try to cast their mind back to when they heard about that, and they think that's what the Doctor said they were. "You plug batteries into them." The Master's leg twitches as they pull another bloody hunk of bug out of him.

"Not at the Academy." Their eyes flick up to his face, but his are closed, his hand resting over them. The box with their living specimen rests on his stomach, the thing inside angrily twisting and clicking away to no avail. "Well, xenobiology, maybe, but you would never win anything if you were playing with something from Earth."

"Don't all the children win at a science fair?"

"Not," the Master repeats, "at the Academy." (Even mouths the phrase themself, very quietly, because it feels wrong for it to only be repeated once.) He pauses. "I'm sure wherever taught you gave you plenty of little fake metals so that you felt like you were worth something."

Even crushes another bug. Only a few more. The Master looks slightly dazed when he opens his eyes, staring up at nothing.

They stare down at the bloody tweezers for a moment, considering their words.

"I didn't go to school," they offer.

"I'm not surprised. The Doctor enjoys when you're all so easily impressed."

Even was going to tell him more.

They glare at him instead before shoving the tweezers in again. The Master jerks hard enough that his head cracks back against the wall.

Soon, they're surrounded by tiny broken bugs. Even has to help him back into the guts of their TARDIS, to the medical chamber where he'll be able to heal the rest of the damage or tell them how to. Only once as they make their way down does Even turn their head and shove their nose against his neck. They breathe in deep. He just smells like blood and sand and sweat. His cells are staying exactly the way they are. Nothing burns. They did a good job. They relax.

They aren't sure what he does with the specimen they pulled out of him.

~~~~~

He only thinks of sending them something after he gets 'fired.'

The problem being, of course, that at that exact point in time, he's not sure where Even would be. He considers investigating St. Paul's Cathedral, but however small the chance is, the idea of running into herself-

He thinks about it one last time: walking up to them, perhaps as they're peering through the water like they could see the cybermen inside, watching the refracted light play off the 'uniform' she'd picked out for them to wear, and he would say…

He would say...

In the end, there's an easier time, an easier place. One of the benefits of time travel: he never pays for postage, and his presents always arrive when he means them to.

-----

"You're thinking about it," Even says, kneeling down in front of the coffee table to do the puzzle they laid out on it. Rose had told them to do it on the kitchen table instead, but they hadn't wanted to use up the space. Their legs feel numb now. They keep delaying the painful restart of pins and needles. "Torchwood?" they look up at Rose. She's sprawled over the couch, chewing on her nails, brow furrowed. Even wonders if that's because of the conversation or because she's starting to taste the nail polish she's chipped off. Even hates how nail polish tastes more than they hate how it smells.

"It's not the same, I know that," Rose says. Even tilts their head. "This universe, I'd have Jack watching my back, and I think I'd take that over anything." She pauses for a moment. "It's weird, though. It's almost like he doesn't want me there."

"…He asked," Even says, slowly, unsure what she means. If Jack didn't want her, he wouldn't offer at all, right?

They turn the puzzle piece in their hands over and over. They don't like the texture of it. They drop it, and their hands inevitably fall back to the watch, still strange in its warmth, its various edges not fully memorized by their fingers. They play with it absently.

"I think he felt bad for me." There's a tone of voice Rose uses when things hurt, and Even isn't supposed to poke at them. Or, not Even specifically, but they think other people recognize the tone better and they were the one who had ended up poking too much before they started listening for it.

They still want to ask, but they keep their mouth shut instead.

"There's UNIT," they say. "…Martha works with UNIT." Rose smiles at Martha's name.

"Or I could go back to school," she says. "Get myself a degree in…" She trails off, then shakes her head. "Anything I want."

Even frowns. They squeeze the watch. They thought this was a choice they were both making. They hadn't considered Rose might want to go somewhere they couldn't follow.

"I don't want to lie to him," Rose says.

"But we are."

"Then I'm not adding more on top of it." Rose sits up. "Maybe. I don't know." She squishes the side of her face against her hand and then lets it slide down, turning her head to look at Even over the tips of her fingers. Her eyes flick down at the puzzle, back to the piece Even is stuck on, and after a few moments, she says, "Pretty sure it goes on the top right." Even looks right. "Other right." Oh. There it goes. "Yeah."

"You love him. It's okay." They aren't sure if that's the right thing to say. Rose's small smile wavers for a moment, her eyes cast down.

"I do." Even opens their mouth to find something better to say, something right that'll help Rose. The Doctor would know. He'd have the right words. Even never does. Instead, they can both hear a door open and close, the flash of the sound of the rain outside, shuffling footsteps, and Rose says, "Can't miss a chance to be part of a conversation about him, can he?"

"You're talking about me?" The Doctor-

John, Even corrects, loudly, inside their own head. John. John.

Too loud. It slips out. "John." He grins at them. They say his name twice more. Rose starts to give them an odd look before it smooths out like she's remembered something, and he doesn't react at all. He's too busy running a hand through his hair like he can get the water out of it that way.

"Told you to bring an umbrella," Rose says. She looks at John the way she looks at no one else, Even thinks, save the Doctor, who isn't here to be looked at.

"I know, and you're always right." Rose sticks her tongue between her teeth when she smiles at that. John holds something up. "You've got mail, Even," John says. The package is small and slightly soggy. "Who do you know from… Australia? There's no name on it." He sounds perplexed, but Even's heart skips a beat.

"No one," they answer truthfully, because that means there's only one person it can be. Rose knows the moment they say it.

"Open it," she says, quick, as excited as Even feels. Even tries to get up, but their legs don't work. They flop to the side, kicking them out and scrunching their face up as their legs wake up. Luckily, John takes pity on them, bringing the package over to the coffee table and placing it in the middle of their unfinished puzzle. It doesn't touch any of the pieces.

Even tears it open with the two of them watching.

There are two things inside.

There's a very small card. Even turns it over, squinting. They always have trouble with handwriting. "'Thinking of you,'" they read, slowly.

"Is it signed?" Rose asks.

Even's frown deepens. "Maybe?" They hand the card over to Rose. She peers at it for a minute. John does, too, leaning against her and laying his chin over her shoulder.

"That could be a D," Rose says, hopefully, at the same time that John says,

"That's definitely an O."

Even is already pulling the other object out. It's a small… rock. It's beautiful, orange and shiny. They turn it, and with a slightly better view, they can see something inside it. They tilt it another way for a better look. "It's a bug."

"A bug?"

"A bug." They trade again, and when Even looks at the card a second time… Rose is right. It could be a D.

Why not Doctor, though? Why not… more? Something aches in Even's chest, and they curl up slightly. They wish he'd said anything else. Why is he thinking of them? What's the rock? Or the bug? Where'd he get them? Is he coming to visit? Will he ever come to visit?

He promised he'd visit.

"You alright?" Rose says. Even looks up, ready to tell her they're okay. She's not looking at them, though. She's looking at John. He's gone still and pale staring at the bug trapped inside its rock. Rose holds it back out to Even, and they take it, unsure of what to do with something that scares the- That scares John. Who may not remember why he's scared of it, but if he is… Even looks down at the bug again. It's trapped. It looks harmless. Whatever it is would have suffocated a long time ago. It can't hurt them.

They don't even know why they're thinking about that. The Doctor would never send them something dangerous.

John swallows. He inhales shakily.

"Fine," he manages. "I don't know why I- Sorry." He shakes himself. "Sorry. It's nice. Very… very pretty."

He doesn't like it, so Even doesn't like it.

They can't get rid of it, though. The Doctor did send it. The card, eventually, gets lost, much easier than the amber does. They just tuck it away somewhere they don't have to look at it. It's still there the day they leave home and don't come back.

They don't have much time to ask the Doctor why he sent it the next time they see him.

And by the time after that, they barely remember it at all.

Which is probably for the best. It isn't like he could have answered with anything but, "I never sent you a package."

#this is. the most substantial thing i've ever written for Even. holy shit.#this baby's got everything we got actual stomping around on gallifrey in the time hell bubble. we got even cohabitating with rose and tento #we got timey-wimey fun and codependent bullshit. everything anyone could want.#<3 thank you dearly for the opportunity to ramble on like this #but also oh dear lord. wh y.#dw oc #ask #fanfiction #doctor who

8 notes · View notes