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ohsohoney · 9 months ago

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When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Ten

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Later than usual, sorry! But I've been busy with a whole load of shit ngl, it's just been stress:) Let me know if anyone else wants to be added to the taglist though, I realise my updating is a bit sporadic? Maybe? Just a little? Lmao, anyway here's 10, hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

Jacket potatoes were a fucking delicacy.

Any Brit back home would tell you that. You could top ‘em with all sorts; Chilli, Tuna, Cheese, Chicken, Stuffing, Coleslaw, Bacon, Gravy, Bolognese— some people even liked them plain. But my favourite, as well as the only real and true way to serve a jacket potato, was with an ungodly amount of butter and baked beans.

Being in the States, it was a rather hard dish to come by. But, seeing as Marshall always appeared to go above and beyond, beans (No, none of that shoddy American shit) could be found in the little basket he’d gone and gifted me the day before. A little wicker bowl full of goodies to soothe that little ache of homesickness.

I smacked the can down onto the countertop and levelled Rosie with a long stare.

“You’re serious?” She asked me around a wary glance, extending her arm out cautiously to get a better look at the bright blue tin as though she thought the contents might just reach out to try and grab her back.

“Deadly.” I remarked, attempting to keep my smile hidden when I met her question with a raised brow, “You’ll love it.”

Rosie didn’t look too convinced about that fact and yet, she rolled up her sleeves and took a seat at the counter to watch me work, helping out with the few things that she could.

She had waltzed in through the front door a while earlier, just a second after I’d made it up the stairs, and the grin she’d worn when she had spotted me had had my heart warming and the pair of us wandering into the kitchen, arm in arm and already talking at a mile an hour.

I was sauteing some mushrooms in a pan after having peeled and diced them up, whilst she kept a keen eye on the warming potatoes. “So Dad’s finally found some inspiration then?” Rosie asked me after a while, peering into the oven.

I smiled when I peered over at her, seeing how the orange glow of it washed over the side of her face to softly illuminate her features. “Seems so, we got a lot done but he was on a roll by the end of it.” I told her in reply, shaking the pan again and blinking at the sizzle that sparked up, “What do you mean anyway? Finally.” I dragged out that last word in a small singsong which made her chuckle as she stood to her full height once more and turned.

“He’s been trying to write for a couple weeks now, I think. Or months.” She shrugged, stepping back to watch the mushrooms fry with a slight wrinkle of her nose, “Not sure, but he keeps complaining about it whenever he’s on the phone.”

With a small hum, my eyes flickered back over to her, then to the pan again, “He didn’t mention it.”

Rosie blew out a faint chuckle and leant back against the counter, knuckles wrapping around its edge, “Why would he? He hates jinxing himself.”

It was cute that she noticed things like that about him, something I’d begun to note in the short time I’d been staying with the two, but I didn’t know... A large part of me wished that Marshall would have said something about it before, or at least alluded to it. It made me feel a bit bad for bowing out so early now.

Still, my mind was quickly recaptured by the task at hand and then the story that Z deemed to tell me about, apparently a teacher thought that one of her friends was a shoo in for these auditions that they had coming up soon. The familiarity of the scene made me think back to Lottie, to everything that was happening back home, and I wished, silently and not for the first time, that it could be possible for a person to exist in two places at once.

The spuds took their time baking but soon enough they were ready and piping hot, fluffy on the inside and with a crisp exterior. Rosie gathered up the butter and cheese at my signal, face lighting up at the prospect of being able to drown her own in the latter, whilst I pinched the tops of the spuds with a clean tea towel and plated them up, spattering them with a small amount of herbs.

I was going to keep Marshall’s wrapped up in tinfoil, if only to save it from going all horrible before he had the chance to try such a delicacy, but thankfully he’d worked his way back up the stairs just in time. I wondered how he’d managed it.

“Hey, you’ve got table duty.” Rosie exclaimed as soon as she saw him bustling over the threshold, handing the cutlery she was already holding to him without a second thought, which caused Em to blink down at his hands whilst he struggled not to drop the sudden weight he'd just been shafted with.

“‘Scuse me?” Marshall prompted, brow furrowed as his gaze wandered about the rest of the kitchen. I wondered what he thought of the bubbling pot of red sauce sitting on the hob, as well as the absurd amount of butter both Rosie and I had already lumped onto our steaming plates.

“You can set the table, Dad.” Z explained as she jumped back to help me with the mushrooms, her voice edging the line of a whining lilt, “We cooked! So it’s only fair.”

Marshall stared at her for a second longer before he ultimately snorted, “Right.” He murmured, recapturing his hold on the silver he held and eyes finding mine, before he spun round on his heel and left the room once again with a small smirk. When he returned, his plate was almost ready and just about to be loaded up with– “The hell’s that?”

I withheld my snarky reply in favour of smirking when Rosie answered for me, her eyes widening in the face of her father’s obvious leery expression. “Beans, Dad. El told me it’s one of her favourite meals, she wanted to share it with us.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the undertone there, the kind that told him to keep quiet on how he felt about the bubbling bowl I was currently holding because Z obviously didn’t want me feeling disheartened in any way. It was adorable, as was the stern face she’d paired with it, the same face that her dad found hard to waver against. His shoulders slumped ever so.

“Right.” He repeated for the second time tonight, dragging the first syllable out a tad, “Looks good?” He tried.

I had to laugh then, “That a question or statement, Mathers?”

His eyes flickered over to meet mine, but I motioned for Rosie to get a start on heaping the cheese we’d grated onto her plate, the girl’s responding grin was giant.

“I–” Em appeared stumped for a split second before he eventually just pressed his lips together and decided to jump in on helping us. Although he did complain when he spotted the frying pan sat off to the side, “Mushrooms too?” But with Rosie’s short warning of Dad, Marshall only appeared to raise his hands in mock surrender and then moved over to grab the plates so that he could carry them off into the next room.

I shared a conspiratorial smile with the younger girl before we followed after him, the three of us settling into the same seats as we had occupied the day before. Marshall still looked wary, even with his beans being hidden beneath a thick layer of cheese that I figured he had reasoned to himself would mask whatever taste was under it, but Z, to my utter surprise, looked ready to dig in.

“Changed your tune there, lovely.” I mentioned with a sly smirk, my gaze lingering on her long enough to catch the sheepish reaction she bore before she just shrugged and dipped her head around a grin, fork already in hand.

“Smells good.” Was the excuse she used and so I softened my face into a smile too.

“Well you helped so of course it does,” I quipped easily, picking up my fork as well before nudging Em’s forearm, “Come on, you big baby. Just try it. If you hate it, I’ll order you whatever you want. On me.”

That had him rolling his eyes, but he picked up his knife and fork with a determined expression.

I bit back a round of chuckles I could feel bubbling in my throat and used my chin to getsure for the pair of them to get stuck in. Rosie was quick to tear into hers and I was silently thankful for the way the potato easily broke apart under her knife, its texture fluffy and golden.

“Oh wow, this is so good.” She blew out the second that she could, already moving onto her next bite whilst Marshall was still working his way up to trying his own. “When you first showed me those beans? I was so sure I was gonna puke.”

I snorted quietly at that image, perfectly content with the plate of home I’d gone and conjured up for us, whilst Em’s face wrinkled. “Well if you had hated it, you’d have only had your Dad to blame, he’s the one who bought them.”

“I jus’ looked up British shit, they were top five on every list.” Marshall defended before he finally took a bite, slow in the way he raised his fork to his mouth, his eyebrows raising a little as he let the taste settle in, “Shit.”

My eyes narrowed a tad around the smile that I was chewing on to keep hidden but I watched him cut further into the potato, beans and melted cheese puddling around the sides. “That a good shit or bad shit?”

“Three dollars.” Z acknowledged, voice muffled by the food she still had in her mouth.

I laughed at that and shook my head in fond amusement before I turned to Em for an answer. He took another bite, a big one, something I took to be a good sign, and just nodded. My brow quirked in hope. “So good?”

He hummed, one shoulder shrugging, “Ain’t gone die if I finish it.”

Snorting, I could only shake my head at him, hiding my smile behind my fist. “Idiot. You like it.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, though the gesture was obviously fond as he raised his fork to point at me, “Just grateful you didn’t burn down my damn house.”

Rosie’s giggles filled the room and with them we all settled in to enjoy. Marshall asked after his daughter’s day and the girl was all too happy to ramble and rant to him, face lighting up at the prospect of it. She mentioned her English lesson, the book they had started on and how her teacher had explained this one paragraph to her class, then she went into detail about the play that was set to happen just before the Christmas break. I chimed in here and there, putting in my two cents where it was worth, but in truth, I was perfectly content to simply listen and watch on.

The clean up that followed was mainly made up of me and Z messing around and singing to the music Em had stuck on, never the type to linger in silence. The pair of us did manage to rope the man into joining us once he had loaded up the dishwasher though, something he thoroughly complained about but followed through on all the same. He was just a sucker for his kid's smile, I reckoned, went above and beyond for the girl and it was all too easy to see.

It was a lot later that we all fell into a comfortable silence around the tele, Rosie sat crossed legged on the sofa with her homework whilst I offered help whenever asked. Marshall had joined the two of us a little later, after his phone had rang and he’d stepped out to take the call, he’d padded into the room with only the explanation of ‘Royce’ before he’d fallen into the seat beside me. I’d hummed but was too distracted by Rosie’s newest question to prod him further on it.

By the time she had finished up, handwriting practically perfect, her books had fallen into a heap on the coffee table and she’d slowly but surely scootched her way further up the sofa. I kept my eyes on the tele when I’d outstretched an arm in quiet invitation but hadn’t missed the grin she’d given in turn before she’d settled into my side, head coming to rest on my thigh. I caught Marshall’s watchful stare from out of the corner of my eye but didn’t glance back over, smiling at the scene that played out on the screen whilst my hand smoothed over the girl’s hair.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between us before Marshall’s quiet cough broke the peace we’d since created, but the sky was more of a hazy cast of dark blue now rather than the ruddy auburn that had lined it much earlier. I stifled a small yawn.

Rosie sniffed softly in my lap, twisting a tad to cast her Dad a quizzical glance. Throughout the duration of the film that Z had picked out for us to watch, the man had gotten close enough that he now only had to drop his shoulders to poke at her cheek.

“Bath and bed, kid.”

The scrunch that overwhelmed Rosie’s face at the order had me grinning and so I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before moving my hand to pat her shoulder. “Up and at ‘em, soldier. Heard what the old man said.”

“Do I have to?” Z huffed, just as a hand came up to rub at her eye. Marshall’s mouth ticked ever so slightly into an amused smirk, his fingers replacing mine in an effort to smooth the front of her hair.

“School tomorrow.” He reminded her all too gently, dropping his hand lower to shuck the underside of her chin which only made the girl smile sleepily. “You know the deal.”

She sighed heavily in retort, but did eventually make the move to push herself up and out of my lap, legs stretching across the couch cushions before her feet found the floor. It was just as she went to stand that she turned to face me though, her expression a little meek but rapidly losing the residual somnolence it had just held. “Will you do my hair again for me tomorrow?”

I was caught by surprise at the question she’d asked. I wouldn’t lie, but I didn’t let the reaction show as I smiled warmly back at her, reaching out to tap a finger on the top side of her hand, “‘Course. Anything you want, lovely.”

Rosie’s little grin had her eyes squinting and forced the corners of her mouth to pinch upwards in a move that only deepened her dimples. She leaned over to give me a hug of thanks, whispering the word into my ear before she pulled away and rounded the sofa, kissing her Dad’s cheek on her way out.

“No messin’ about, Z. An early night, ‘kay?” Em reminded her, leaning against the back of the couch so that he could tilt his head far enough to see her, “I’ll be up soon.” He added, his words met by another charming grin whilst she shook her head in fond exasperation and slipped out of the room, leaving just the pair of us and the tv.

It was a long while before Marshall disturbed the quiet once more, the film we’d been watching had finished some time ago and so now all that was playing on the screen was a couple repeats of South Park and the odd advertisement. “She’s different with you.” I heard him voice.

With a furrowed brow, I let my head turn to find him. He was perched in the same position he had been, but now with an arm stretched along the back of the sofa and a knee bent to fill the small gap that still separated us. “What d’you mean?”

When he replied, it was low and soft, a murmur if not for the sincerity behind it. “She don’t act like that ‘round nobody.” He told me, fingers jumping in a steady rhythm on the back of the cushion, his eyes peering between mine. “Me, sure. She’s a fuckin’ koala when she wants to be, but with other people… it’s something she second guesses.”

His words confused me. Or rather, threw me. “I don’t get it.”

He dropped his gaze, blowing out a small but mirthful huff through his nose, his thumb dragged along the edge of the sofa. “You known her what, three days? And she don’t think about gettin’ close to you. Sure she’ll be coy with it, sly even, but that’s ‘cause she don’t wanna overstep with you. Like that right there–” Em said, getsuring his chin out towards my lap, I followed the gesture, then blinked back up at him, remembering the way she’d approached me, “She don't do that with people.”

My face must have given away to the fact that I was still trying to process the weight of what he meant, because his smile was soft, warm even.

It made me think of Lottie, who was always so open with her affection, who gave it out without thought or focus, her smile always great, always there. Then of myself. I tended to avoid affection where it mattered, a reason as to why I’d never let many people too close to my heart, why I hadn’t had something fulfilling to divulge when Marshall and I had spoken about past exes, I supposed. It baffled me to see some of the same tendencies I’d shown growing up in Rosie, in a girl too sweet, too loving, too happy to be so aware of how to guard herself.

I looked to him again and let him have his fill, allowed him to see how his words, the sentiment behind them, had pierced through the armour I’d long since moulded around myself.

One side of his mouth lifted and he used the hand resting on the back of the sofa to circle my wrist, leaning in a little closer, filling that previous gap. “Ro’s had her mom, her sister. They’ve been there. They love her, and she loves them. I know that. But with Kim, it ain’t always parentin’, it’s fun and games. It’s showin’ off, not showin’ up. It’s messin’ around until she finally grows–”

He paused there, eyes flickering left and then right as his tongue swiped over his lower lip, almost as though he was resentful of the term he wished to use.

He settled for, “Bored. Or maybe jus’ tired, you know? She’s there until it's her time to step up and do the job she’s ‘sposed to, til it's missed recitals and forgetting pick-up, that’s when she reacts. Pulls away.”

He sighed, gaze caught on his fingers, on the easy way they engulfed my wrist. His thumb brushed over the freckle that dotted the bone, and continued on through a slow exhale, “Ayla, she’s a lot older. She does her own thing, she’s got school, work, friends. Z obviously filters into all that, but there's always been a small divide. I like to think it’s just ‘cause of their ages– it’s how me and Nate worked growin’ up, you know? But there’s this whole idea that fuckin’ messes with my head, like maybe it's all down to me. Ayla’s my niece, but she’ll always be one of my own. I love that girl as much as I love Rosie. More than life itself. But I know I hurt her, havin’ her here, watchin’ me fail and fuck up whilst she was growin’ up. And jus’, maybe I can’t help but wonder if I ever let her know that enough, that I loved her, if it’s that that’s impacted her relationship with Z.”

I was quick in my attempt to soothe his doubts, the hand he didn’t hold jumping over to lay across the top of his own. “I’d call you an idiot, but I reckon you already know that.” I chuckled halfheartedly, though my smile was genuine when his eyes snapped up to meet my own, “You’re an amazing father, Em. I honestly believe that with my whole heart. And it doesn’t take much to see it either. I mean, I was here not even a day and was so quick to see the love you held for your daughter. I saw it in your reactions too when we called, when you spoke of them, however brief it was. I haven’t met Ayla but I don’t think I’d have to for me to see that your worries are just that, worries. I’m sure that girl loves you in the very same sense that I am sure that she knows you love her. That you see her as much more than just your niece.”

My thumb trailed over the back of his hand, skimming knuckles, taking in their slight discoloration, the faint white lines that could have only been age old scars. I dipped my head a tad so that my gaze could align with his shadowed blues, prompting him into lifting his eyes from off the floor.

“I’m also honoured that you think Rosie’s comfortable enough around me to mention the gravity behind it, that you’d trust me with her company, let alone her affection.” I said sweetly, gifting him another smile, it was close lipped but one that appled my cheeks. His stare caught onto it, fingers tightening around my wrist by a fraction in a squeeze that showed only his appreciation. So I squeezed back, fingers fastening over the top of his fist. “Z’s hard not to love, she’s all of your best parts and more. Sometimes…”

I took a small breath, fretful over saying what I had intended to until Marshall met my flickering gaze once more, silently prompting me on. I swallowed thickly, feeling the force of it travel through my throat, but did follow through, “Sometimes it’s just hard raising kids, I guess not everyone’s made out for the harsher reality of it all. Of having to be a parent and not a friend. I mean, it was forced on me in a way, I’ve been raising my siblings since Danny the day came along, since before I knew what being a mum meant. What one was.” The weight of that admission had me reeling for a split second, at the truth it held. But I pursed my lips before allowing my eyes to find Marshall’s once more, “Kim, I’m sure she tries, I’m sure it’s more than my mum ever did, ever could do, but it’s okay for you to fear that it’s not enough for Z, too.”

Marshall worked his jaw, blinking for a second before he eventually spoke, voice rasping with the emotion he felt. “Kid deserves the world.”

I found myself grinning at that, the teary kind which glossed over your eyes but was strong enough that you couldn’t prevent the fluid motion of it. It was without thought that my arms came up to wind their way around his neck and I relaxed further in the gesture when I eventually felt his face come to rest against my shoulder.

“She does.” I murmured, hand cupping the back of his neck, fingers resting over the fine hair which lined his nape. “She does.” I heard myself repeat again as my eyes slipped closed.

When we parted, I watched as Em knuckled the corner of his eye, grunting faintly to clear his throat and rid the room of any tension that then clouded us. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, but did look away towards the tele when he started to shift once more, giving him a sense of security that he hadn’t been caught out, that I wouldn’t dig too deeply into his reaction.

“Thanks.” He murmured after a stunted moment and it was only then that I glanced back over to him. I smiled in turn.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

When we parted ways for the night, I chose to head on up to bed, mind so full of thoughts that I found it hard to latch onto a singular one, whilst Marshall stopped at the bottom of the staircase to gift me a quiet goodnight, eyes caught on the reflection of moonlight that crept its way across my cheek, the sight mirrored on his own face.

I didn’t know it then but I would eventually, he’d never felt so inspired.

So as I’d slipped beneath my duvet, my mind stuck on the words we’d shared, Marshall was back down in the studio, writing away once more. But this time, it was for a completely different reason.

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dreaminofdixon · 3 months ago

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Six.

The rest of the day dragged on, uneventful as hell, which was a rare gift in this shitshow of a world. I napped hard in my tent, and didn’t crawl out ‘til the group rolled back from town, arms full of scavenged loot. Carol and Lori worked some kind of culinary magic with the haul—canned goods and whatever scraps they could stretch—while Merle and Daryl strutted in with rabbits and squirrels slung over their shoulders. Douche or not, Merle paired up with Daryl like they were a hunting machine, and damn if it didn’t keep us fed. The meat was rich, smoky, a far cry from the cardboard rations we’d been choking down.

I took my bowl from Carol, muttering a quick “thanks,” and retreated to my unofficial perch—a weathered log at the back of camp. Close enough to fake being part of the group, far enough to breathe. No one bugged me much, just the occasional head-check since that store fiasco—how’s your noggin? Another day or two of that, and I’d fade back to my sweet spot: wallflower, unnoticed, unbothered.

“Hey, girl.” Shane’s voice slithered up, and I glanced over, forcing a tight smile—polite, not warm. Manners die hard, even when you’d rather tell someone to fuck off. He plopped down beside me on the log, uninvited, and I swallowed a cringe, keeping my face pleasant.

“How ya feelin’?” he asked, digging into his bowl like we were old pals.

“Not too bad,” I said, measured. “Better than earlier. You?”

“Pretty good, considerin’.” He chewed, eyeing me sidelong. “Wanted to check—feel up for a water run with me tomorrow?”

I shrugged, casual as I could manage. “Yeah, why not? Just filling jugs, right? Might as well pull my weight.”

“Good. Early start, before the heat kicks in.”

“Smart plan.” I took a bite of rabbit—juicy, damn near melting in my mouth, way better than any burger I’d ever choked down. Hunger’s a hell of a spice. Shane kept yapping, and I nodded along, half-listening. “So, how long have you and Rick known each other?” I tossed out, steering it off me. Knowledge is power, and Shane’s a puzzle I don’t trust.

“Middle school, I reckon.” He launched into some nostalgia trip—him and Rick playing superheroes, Rick glued to Superman, Shane all about Batman. “Rick’s the golden boy, huh?” he laughed, and I smirked.

“Fits,” I said, dry. “Superman and Batman—noble and… brooding.”

“Dark and mysterious, you mean,” he teased, winking, and I forced a laugh—short, clipped.

“Sure, that’s it.” Keep it light. Don’t let him see the side-eye.

Dale chucked more wood on the fire, flames licking up just enough to see by without screaming “walker buffet.” Shane rambled a bit longer—cop stories, bravado—and I nodded, picking at my food, ‘til I couldn’t take it.

“Gonna visit the lady’s tree,” I said, grabbing the toilet paper roll and a tiny lantern.

Squatting in the woods—another apocalypse perk I never saw coming. The world stinks worse without plumbing, trust me.

When I trudged back, lantern swinging, I caught Daryl’s eyes on me—sharp, fleeting, gone in a blink as he turned back to Carol, muttering something low. My lip snagged between my teeth, and I slipped back to my log, quiet as a ghost. Shane was off with Glenn now, gesturing big about something, and I let my gaze drift—Rick with Lori and Carl, Ed looming over Carol and Sophia, Glenn and Shane, Andrea and Amy, Jim with Dale and T-Dog, Merle and Daryl. Everyone had their crew.

Me?

Solo, as always. It stung, sharp and quick, and I hated that it did.

I stood, brushing it off, and rested a hand on Lori’s shoulder. “Gonna lay down, read a bit before I crash.”

“Alright, let us know if you need anything,” Rick said, all steady concern.

“Absolutely, sweetie. Night,” Lori added, soft.

“G’night,” Carl chirped, and I smiled down at him.

“Night, Carl.”

Morning hit like a wrecking ball—nine a.m., already sticky-hot. Shane and I hauled water jugs to his Jeep, and he started in again.

“So, what’d you do before all this?” he asked, grunting as he hefted a container.

“Network engineering,” I said, wrestling my jug into the back, sweat beading on my forehead. Adjusted my sunglasses, wishing like hell that I could hide behind them more.

“Network engineering?” He hoisted a bigger one, leaning on the Jeep, eyes lingering too long. “What’s that about?”

“You were a deputy, right?” I countered. He nodded, and I went on. “Radios, car computers, office systems—they tied into the state network. I kept that shit running.”

“Some kinda genius, huh?” he said, smirking, and I laughed—sharp, dismissive.

“Hell no. Just know which end of the cable goes where.” Wiped my brow, re-tied my messy bun messier. “That all the jugs?”

“Yep. Ready to roll?”

“Mm-hmm.” Climbed in, and he drove, dust kicking up behind us.

I braced for it—and there it was. “So, you in a relationship?” he asked, casual but prying.

I snorted. “Nope.” Stared out the window, dodging ghosts of my ex—five years of on-off hell, cheating, forgiving, rinse, repeat. Last breakup stuck, and good riddance—killed any itch for round two.

“Hard to believe,” he pressed, and I shot him a look.

“Believe it.” Flipped it back. “You? Special lady?”

Silence stretched—oops, I forgot. Lori landmine. “Nah,” he said finally. “Had a girl, split a couple months before shit hit.”

“Oh, gotcha.” Blessed quiet fell, awkward as hell, and I savored it ‘til we rolled into camp. We unloaded the jugs, he barked the “boil-water” reminder, and I bailed. “Thanks for the ride. Gonna lay down—headache.”

“Thanks for the help, doll,” he called.

I cringed—doll?—rolling my eyes as I hunted the Tylenol stash in the first-aid tote.

“You an’ Shane, huh?” Daryl’s voice cut through, low and rough, and I damn near dropped the bandaids, spinning to face him. He was perched on a log, whittling sticks into deadly little spikes—traps, probably, or walker skewers.

“Me and Shane?” I echoed, wary.

“Been hangin’ ‘round,” he said, eyes on his knife, not me.

“Not really.” I dug through the tote, avoiding his vibe. “Just hauled water today ‘cause I’ve been useless lately. Felt like I had to pitch in.”

“Mm.” Nonchalant, but his jaw tightened—barely noticeable unless you’re looking. He’d been like that since the store, when I’d fallen, cracked my head, and nearly became dinner to the undead. I’d been swinging, had taken out one walker and was about to take the other, but he’d stormed in wielding his knife, and hauled me up like I weighed nothing. Since then, he’s been… hovering. Not obvious—just there, watching.

“Could say the same ‘bout you and Carol,” I tossed back, smirking a little.

“Nah.” He shook his head, still carving.

“Mm.” Mimicked him, and he glanced up—blue eyes piercing through that dark fringe, catching mine.

Gotcha.

“Carol’s married,” he said, flat.

“That the only thing stopping you?” I arched a brow, teasing, testing.

“Stoppin’ me from what?” he shot back, and my face betrayed me—RBF in full force, screaming you know damn well. His lip twitched, that ghost of a smirk, before he dropped his gaze back to the stick.

“Obvious,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes—headache, allergies, take your pick. Always itchy, always a mess.

“You good?” he asked, and I swear there was a flicker of something—concern, maybe—under that gruff.

“Yeah. Just need these.” Snagged the Tylenol, popped two with a swig of water. “Might hit the creek, get out of the heat, sit for a bit.”

“Shouldn’t go alone,” he said, eyes tracking me, steady.

“I’ll live. No shelves to take me out this time.” I smirked, capping the bottle, feeling that warm prickle under his stare.

He shrugged, casual as hell. “Can’t promise Merle won’t sniff ya out. He’s with Rick now, though—should be safe.”

“Good to know.” Gave him a soft smile—cordial, like with Shane, but less forced—and headed for the trees, his gaze lingering like a brand.

****

Shane always kinda rubbed me the wrong way. What about you?

@imadisneyprincessiswear

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #norman reedus #daryl dixon twd #norman reedus smut #bigbaldhead #wwwbigbaldhead #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fan fiction

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screamlet · 3 months ago

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🌟 Can I please get some commentary on break up/break down? I absolutely adore the whole series. If you’re so inclined, I’d love to hear about why you decided to turn it from the tumblr series to a full fic. Thank you! 🌟

YES!!! thank you for asking!!! god i'm so sorry this might be really long because i have too many thoughts on how breakup/breakdown (the infidelity fic) evolved and ended. christ. this was a beast (neutral).

later: in retrospect, writing about "keeping things short" over here is.... hilarious. whatever, no shame (a little shame). about 800 words below:

so, i felt super enabled with every buck/omc drabble, lol. people's reblogs with "oh god this is terrible how could buck and tommy cheat on that nice boy i'm so sad" were fuel to the fire. and this was one of those stories where i really let outside opinions get in my head. infidelity is one of those things people have REALLY strong opinions about and i couldn't quiet those thoughts while writing. i'm sure on the ending now but it took a LOT of emotional work to get there. (and thank you for talking it through with me @rcmclachlan and @geddyqueer ❤️)

but i decided to spin it off into its own longer story because there was more i wanted to explore and i didn't want the whole 118 daily drabble series to be just this arc.

AND!!!!!!!!! i can't do wip's, so i already felt like it had dragged on too long. the biggest reason it spun off was because i couldn't cover everything in the daily drabble structure and i wanted it done sooner rather than like 70 days later.

AND THEN IT WOULDN'T END!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i got in my own head about the ending. i wanted it to be bucktommy endgame from the beginning because i genuinely couldn't see danny taking buck back after everything he did: not just the actual physical act of cheating with tommy, but emotionally departing their relationship the moment tommy showed up again. make no mistake, buck was gone. and i couldn't imagine buck not at least trying to get tommy back if he had the chance, which he did when danny broke up with him.

originally i was trying to think, well how could i make this a miserable ending because Infidelity is Bad and Shouldn't They Be Punished and This is a Dark Premise How Could It Have a Happy Ending and It Should Hurt More, They Did a Bad Thing. then i realized that was some real cultural religious guilt nonsense and i stopped!!!!!!!!!!!!!! unfortunately my default mode isn't "contrarian edgelord"; i just want to write stuff that scratches the itch in my brain, and 95% of the time that itch is like "please just let them be happy."

what i eventually wanted from the ending was a buck and tommy who had found their way back to each other in an ironically honest way. yes, buck lied and cheated on his partner, but that got both of them to confront the fact that:

they weren't done with each other;

they had grown in their relationships with other people and they needed those other people in order to grow; and

they wanted each other enough to really fuck around with how they perceived themselves.

i don't think this tommy would have ever cheated, or thought of himself as a cheater. but for buck? alright, he's a cheater. and buck has cheated in canon, but in private he probably gave himself the excuse: "i was drunk and trapping taylor in a relationship was way worse than making out with lucy." but this time? yeah!! he cheated on his devoted, committed boyfriend and regretted hurting him, but he would have regretted not going back to tommy even more.

and ONE MORE THING!!!!!!!! cheating on danny wrecked buck's shit and the stable little life everyone in his life approved of. it forced buck to articulate things about himself and his relationship to his family that he didn't have to before with danny. danny was a really good, lovable guy, their relationship was what everyone wanted for buck, and that kind of outside approval was something he was so desperate for after things imploded with tommy. was tommy really so bad for him that they didn't want buck to call him???? and then danny was there, they loved danny, danny was loyal and loved him, fantastic. but tommy coming back made buck realize that danny was wonderful for the buck everyone wanted him to be, but not enough for himself. danny wasn't what buck really wanted, even if it would lose him the respect of his family. so he'd rather lose that, even if temporarily, to gain back this person who completes him.

"I need this one thing from you... this one thing. I need you to support me, especially in this thing with Tommy. Even if we change our minds and stay friends instead. Even if we're only back together five weeks or months, or if we get married and die holding hands fifty years from now."

now that 8b has started, this is a conversation canon buck has to have, too: where he has to articulate what he wants for his own life. he has to stop taking everyone else's advice and decide what he wants for himself and say it with words coming from his mouth. here, the thing that pushed him off the cliff was cheating on his boyfriend; in canon, it'll be something more appropriate for abc primetime. chopper crash or outbreak monkey, i guess we'll find out soon!

#911 fic #fic meta #fanfic #bucktommy fic #writing games #writing game: director's commentary #buck x omc (118dailydrabble)#long post

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itsnotamatterofif · 1 month ago

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Thank you anon!!! Another character wildcard, so have some Tendersteam after a long shift feat. Grouchy Rusty and a supportive Hydra just wanting their boyfriend to get some sleep :3c

Send me some characters and a prompt and I’ll write you a Drabble!

“C’mon hon’, we’re nearly there.”

It’s late, gotta’ be nearly three or four in the morning by the time they’re back, and even Hydra’s dead on his wheels. Night shifts always manage to take it out of them, but they definitely seem to hit Rusty, who struggles with mornings at the best of times, the worst,; they’ve just deposited the other trucks back in the freight shed, and even with only two hundred yards to his own shed, Rusty’s wheels are dragging painfully through the sand.

Hydra’s never really been in a position to show his concern before - he’d mention it to Porter usually, who would shrug and explain that Rusty never let anyone help him, no matter how big the bags under his eyes were or how many times he tripped over his own toe stops getting back. Wrongfully, they’d assumed that now they were official, Rusty would at least lean on them every now and then, but here he is, pushing Hydra away like his life depended on it.

“I’m fine,” Rusty spits, barely open eyes looking anywhere but at Hydra as he bats away the arms offered to him, “we’re nearly back.”

“I know,” Hydra hums in reply, trying to keep as nonchalant as possible, “but you look like you could keel over any second now, and I’d much rather you collapsed into the bed rather than the floor - less far to drag you-“

“Hydra.” Uh oh, full name, he’s in trouble. “I’m fine, leave me alone.”

“C’mon, love,” Hydra offers again, and as he rushes to catch up with Rusty they can’t help but spot the fuel gauge on his tender hovering just above zero, “you’re wobblin’ on your feet, lean on me.”

“I’m fine,” Rusty spits, unfamiliar and determined, “I just need to get home-“

As if on cue, there’s the familiar sound of a toe stop scuffing against the ground, rubber hitting dirt as Rusty’s eyes go wide and arms windmilling as he tries to support himself on equally unsteady wheels. For a second he topples forwards, as if he’s going to go face first into the floor, and Hydra doesn’t think they’ve ever moved so fast in his life as when he reaches out to grab Rusty’s shoulders before he crumbles. Admittedly it takes a lot of effort to not immediately go over with him, but they dig their own toe stops into the dirt, standing firm as Rusty’s chest heaves with panic.

“I’ve got you,” Hydra whispers gently, relaxing back onto his wheels as Rusty stands slowly, “it’s alright, you’re okay, lean on me.”

There’s no reply from Rusty, only the gentle closing of his eyes in frustration and another deep, panicked breath as he slowly eases to Hydra’s touch.

“Get us home,” Rusty whispers, barely audible above the ambience of the night, tone laced with defeat and embarrassment, “sorry, Hy’, I-.”

“No need to apologise,” Hydra replies cheerfully, letting go of Rusty’s shoulders tentatively to scoot in front and let Rusty hold onto their couplers for dear life - it’s not often he has to pull Rusty around, and thankfully it’s only for the short distance back to the shed, but the weight on his back, this incredibly precious cargo, is without a doubt the most important thing they’ve hauled today.

Before Hydra can think too hard about it they’re back at Rusty’s shed, hauling the shutter open to allow Rusty to sleepily stumble in; he’s barely bothering to skate over the bed as Hydra gently closes the shutters behind them, collapsing onto the bed with a huff and a shudder of his shoulders finally lowering.

“Let’s get your tender off,” Hydra hums quietly, quickly unlatching their own tank and leaving it discarded by the door as Rusty groans in frustration, “and then you can sleep, I promise.”

Another groan in response, but this time quieter, an ounce more petulant - if they couldn’t already tell that Rusty was struggling to stay awake it would be obvious by the fact he’s given up on words. Thankfully, Hydra’s well practiced at this point, making short work of the various ratchets and straps keeping the heavy tender to Rusty’s back, and it comes away from Rusty with a sigh of relief before being placed gently by the bed. Skates come next, Hydra ducking down to pick apart Rusty’s complex series of knots and ties like clockwork.

“Can you stay?” He asks quietly, just as Hydra shucks off the last skate with a gentle laugh, “wanna’ hold you.”

“Aye aye,” Hydra replies happily, his own skates joining Rusty’s as they clumsily stagger over to the bed, “your wish is my command, captain-“

“Stop talkin’,” Rusty mutters, and he holds out his arms for Hydra to slot himself into, “I love you, but you’re too loud.”

“Sorry,” Hydra whispers dramatically, and the fatigue that they’ve been ignoring makes itself known as Rusty’s grip tightens around his back, pulling them close and slotting them into the crook of his neck.

A mutter, and Rusty’s face twists uncomfortably. “I’m sorry too.”

Hydra frowns slightly, apology breaking them out of the lullabye of a faintly chugging engine. “For what?”

“Snapping,” Rusty mutters forlornly, and as if to apologise further, squeezes Hydra around the middle weakly, “you were just trying to help.”

“S’alright,” Hydra replies with a grin, and twists to press a gentle kiss into Rusty’s warm jaw, “you can help further by getting some rest, alright? Wake me up if you need anything.”

Rusty’s too busy snoring to hear.

#stex #starlight express london 2024 #Tendersteam #rustrogen #rusty the steam engine #hydra the hydrogen tanker #Pebs writes #anon #I love them they make me ill from how cute they are

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ficmashup · 2 years ago

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Taken

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Nothing like a sprinkle of angst on Christmas Eve. ;) I will be doing a part two for this because I can't resist, but can't promise when I'll post it. Soon, I hope! Have a lovely holiday to everyone celebrating. :)

Warnings: SA mentions if you squint, crass language, death, stabbing, beating, shooting, torture, angst, trauma, overall I just decided to stab the characters in the feels. Just a bit. Happy ending though, imo.

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

It’s not expected, but then again, these things never are.

What kills me the most is that Ghost had to be there, had to see it. I’d rather it had been anyone else just so I could spare him the pain of reopening old wounds. We’d been clearing a warehouse and stumbled upon more than we’d expected. We both realize our mistake at different times and I have a split-second decision to make. I’m ahead of Ghost by a dozen or so feet and hidden behind a pile of crates, so I see the group first.

There’s no time to warn Ghost and if he comes forward, he’ll be shot on sight. So I step forward first. I take out those closest to his entry point and my focus on keeping him safe leaves me vulnerable. Ghost moves in just as I’m grabbed from behind and I ram the butt of my gun backward into my captor’s ribs. There’s a grunt, but he doesn’t let go and I drop my gun to hang from my chest in exchange for the long knife on my thigh. I plunge the blade into his thigh and hear a string of curses spat into my ear as their grip only tightens on me.

I fail to realize that during the struggle, they’ve managed to drag me backward towards a side door. My last view as I twist the knife is Ghost’s wide eyes behind the mask before my head is slammed against the wall and all goes dark.

* * *

I wake up tied to a chair. I keep utterly still and take stock of my body. My head is heavy and I feel the tightness of the skin on the right side of my face from where blood has dried. There’s a sharp sting coming from across my collar bone and my right ankle twinges. A sprained ankle and a scrape, I’d guess. Possibly a concussion. Nothing too bad. My wrists and ankles are tied to the arms and legs of a chair and the rope chafes, but the ties are sloppy. Keeping me here like this was unexpected, then. An opportunity that they couldn’t pass up.

I keep my breathing steady and my head bowed with my eyes shut. All I do for a few moments is listen. There’s shuffling and voices, but they’re muffled and seem to be coming from a nearby room. Multiple people, but more than likely less than a dozen. I take a chance and open my eyes, looking up and finding the space dim and empty. It looks like a shack barely held together by the sand and dirt covering the floor.

“Awake.” A voice with a rough accent comes from behind me and my spine stiffens as he moves in front of me. He’s limping slightly and I get a brief moment of satisfaction at knowing this is the man who grabbed me and I clearly dealt some serious damage. With the dried blood on my face and him being able to walk after clear medical assistance, I’d say I’ve been gone a few hours. The fact makes what’s left in my stomach curdle.

The man says a few words that I don’t understand, then one that I do. “…bitch.”

I chuckle softly. “Unoriginal.” His fist darts out and the hit is harder than I expect. It leaves me dizzy as the weak chair rocks with the impact. Stays on all fours, though. The man grunts and spits at my feet before walking to the door, apparently satisfied with his revenge. He opens the door and shouts something down the hall before looking at me with ill intent in his eyes. I shift a bit in my chair, noting that they’ve removed my uniform and boots. I’m only in tight shorts and my tank top. It’s going to be torture then. Fine. I’ve already been through hell and lived through it, fashioned myself teeth from the mouths of my demons I killed, I can take whatever poor imitation these amateurs try.

Three more men come in and one steps in front of the others. “Why you here?” He asks in broken English.

“To kill people like you.” I answer simply, staring unblinkingly at him.

He gives me a smile. “Coincidence. That is why we here as well. To kill people like you.” It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes. That’s the base of every conflict in the history of the world. He pulls his handgun and aims it at my forehead while I go completely still. “Tell me more.”

* * *

Hours pass. The torture is easy enough to sit through, nothing unexpected, nothing skilled, nothing I haven’t been trained for. The true killer is waiting with my own thoughts. Like thinking that they aren’t coming for me. Stupid. Utterly stupid. Yet the persistent feeling of being unworthy lingers in my chest. And I know that the longer I’m here, the more nagging those thoughts will be.

They can finally be rid of you, no trouble, no hassle, just a lost soldier, happens all the time.

I gasp as a soldier lands a particularly well-aimed punch to my gut and the chair finally falls over. I feel the arm crack at the impact while the group laughs, but the ropes around my right wrist and ankle are now free. My fingers slowly curl around the splintered piece of wood hidden under my body. One of the men waves his hand and another steps forward and yanks the chair back up. I use the momentum of the sudden movement to plunge the long piece of wood into his throat and get my free leg up under me to keep me from toppling over.

The man’s eyes go wide as he chokes on his own blood and everyone else in the room is frozen with shock. I take advantage of that and take the gun in the man’s thigh holster and manage to shoot two men before they draw their guns and one more before they manage to shoot. I use the body of the man I stabbed as cover, but I can barely hold him up. I grunt under the impact of a bullet hitting his dead weight and feel another bullet graze my shoulder before the door straight across from me bursts open. I take advantage of the distraction and shoot one more while the other gets a bullet between the eyes from the intruder’s gun.

I turn on instinct and level my gun at the intruders, stopping my finger just in time when I see the distinct, pale skull mask. “Fuck.” I lower the gun and let the body drop to the floor as Ghost pushes in, but I don’t miss the way he looks me over.

His hand grabs his radio before anything. “Clear, I’ve got the package.” He slings his gun over his back as he reaches me and I don’t realize that I’m trembling until he guides my hand to his shoulder to keep me upright as he unties my other wrist and ankle. My fingers cling to his tac vest like a lifeline.

“Confirmed. If package is secure, move out.” Price’s voice comes over the radio and my heart squeezes at the sound of his voice. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and my hand still holding the gun twitches before I recognize Soap moving into the doorway to watch our backs.

“Clear, LT.” He reports before looking me over with wide eyes. I must really look like shit then.

“Affirmative.” Ghost responds over the radio with a wave back at Soap to tell him the same. “How bad, G?” He asks gruffly once the flimsy chair falls to the floor behind me and he stands up, keeping his forearms within my reach so I can use him to stand. His fingers graze my arms too, not gripping or grabbing, simply guiding.

My head shakes as I stare at him. “Not bad. Nothing broken.”

He nods in return and pulls out my uniform shirt and pants that he must have collected from the other room. My boots too. “Then let’s go. Can you walk?” I take my clothes gratefully and he keeps to my side while I slide the top on with only a slight wince as the fabric slides over the open wounds covering me. The pants are a little more difficult, but I manage before nodding to Ghost that I’m ready. He wraps an arm around my waist and I lower his hand to my hip as my ribs ache with protest. He corrects his grip and we limp out with Soap leading, gun up.

A few more bodies litter the narrow hall and the room beyond, but the true relief is when we walk outside and I can see the stars. I hadn’t realized how stale the air was in that shack and how the metallic smell of blood had stained my nostrils. I gulp down the cool air before I press my lips together as I hold in a laugh. My shoulders start shaking and Ghost’s pace falters before I shake my head. “It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just the shock and exhaustion.” Laughter taints every word and I swear Ghost’s eyebrows furrow with concern before we keep moving.

“You get scarier all the time, G.” Soap comments ahead and I can’t hold back a low laugh even as I shake my head at myself.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.” I breathe as the giggles make every word waver.

Ghost’s grip tightens as we carefully scale down the side of the rocky hill. “Not sure what you’re apologizin’ for. You fuckin’ got taken watching my ass and I’d rather have you laughin’ than anything else.”

My head shakes, the laughter fading as I struggle to keep my feet moving while my body starts to shut down. “I’m sorry for thinking you wouldn’t come for me.” Ghost comes to a full stop now as I look between the men and Soap has shock scrawled over his face.

“Course we did, lass. The hell you talkin’ bout?” Soap’s accent gets a little thicker, betraying how deep my words hit.

Ghost starts to move again and I stumble after him even though he’s practically carrying me on his hip. “Keep movin’.” He grumbles and regret lingers in my chest as we fall silent the rest of the way. At the bottom of the rocky path sits a car and my heart beats a little faster at seeing the two figures waiting there for us. Ghost picks me up and carries me the rest of the way before immediately handing me to Price once we’re close enough. He holds me close and tight for far too brief a moment before sitting me on the hood of the car. The moonlight is just bright enough to make out each other’s features and I can’t get enough of his eyes, even with the worry filling them.

“You broken?” He asks quietly and I can hear how the words drag and crackle on the way out of his chest. His hand perches on the side of my neck, his thumb brushing lightly over my pulse point to feel my heart beating.

I give him a weak smile. “Just a bit chipped. Nothing permanent.” I promise and it’s a gift to see a little tension leave his shoulders. “But I’ve lost a lot of blood. I need to be kept conscious as we head back.”

“Still the medic, hm?” He teases dryly but the attempt at humor soothes me more than anything else. “Gaz, let’s go. Fast and steady.” Price pushes the keys into Gaz’s hands as he passes by with a wink, pushing something small that crinkles in my hand. A real smile tugs on my lips. A candy. We pile in the car and it’s a surprise to find myself pressed tight between Ghost and Price with Gaz driving and Soap in the passenger seat. It’s as if everyone traded seats.

“Did…did either of you grab my med kit?” I ask as my head gets a bit dizzy and I pop the hard candy Gaz gave me into my mouth. Soap turns in his seat with a half-grin, holding up my kit. My hands reach for it, but Ghost intercepts and pulls it into his lap.

“What d’ya need?” He asks as he opens it and looks over the contents.

I shift the candy into my cheek. “Bandages. My ankle’s fucked. Need to wrap it at least.” Ghost glances at Price and they instantly come to a nonverbal agreement as John shifts me closer to him while Simon gingerly lifts my foot into his lap. I frown. “I can do it—”

“Let him. That’s an order.” John’s voice in my ear and the command in it has my body stiffening for a moment, then laxing a moment after. My back is pressed against John’s chest with his arm thrown across my middle, his hand heavy on my hip to use it as a steadying point rather than put any pressure on my ribs. He must’ve noticed how Ghost was holding me earlier. Doesn’t miss a thing, my Captain.

Ghost eases my boot off and my hands clench at the pain, but he’s careful and the steady ache of the rest of my body makes it easy enough to sit through. Once my sock is off too, he takes out a small flashlight and I grimace as the light illuminates just how bad my ankle looks. It’s red and swollen from all the activity I forced it through after the sprain. Ghost starts wrapping and I nod when he looks at me to make sure he’s doing it correctly.

When he’s finished and I’m satisfied, I move to pull my foot away, but he keeps a firm hold on it. He gives me a deadpan look. “Keep it elevated.”

I give him a look back that I’m sure is a bit lackluster given my current condition. “It’s supposed to be elevated above my heart, but that’s not happening in the car.”

“Better this than nothing.” Ghost responds without a second of hesitation and his eyes don’t budge from mine. My mouth opens again, then shuts when Price gives my hip a soft squeeze. My lips purse, but I don’t say another word as I relax into John and try to keep my eyes open. I rest my hand on John’s knee and my thumb slides back and forth as I breathe in his scent.

“Give me a list of injuries.” He says and I nod, fighting through the fog of my mind to think clearly.

“Uh, sprained ankle, head wound, possible concussion, multiple lacerations, bruised ribs on my right side, a bullet graze to my left shoulder, and some bumps and bruises.” I go over the list twice in my head before nodding slightly in confirmation. The car is silent for a few beats and I feel a weight settle over all of us. The weight that comes with caring for someone else and hurting when they’re hurt. I swallow, struggling to accept the feeling rather than struggle against it and feel guilty for inflicting it on others. In truth, it’s a choice they all made. I choice I made too, when I let them in.

“Don’t think I ever asked how you are when you’re the one who needs to be treated.” John barely breaks the silence, but the tension lessens when I hum a tired laugh.

“Oh, I’m sweet as sugar, Captain. Naturally.” That gets chuckles from most of the men in the car.

“Liar.” Soap accuses, grinning back at me and I give him a smile in return. Also, I show him my middle finger. He returns the gesture instantly and happiness flits through me at the simple banter.

“You’re not gonna be difficult for me, are you, sugar?” John whispers just low enough for me to hear and I smile, wincing as it stretches a cut on my cheek.

“I like to think I behave better than most of you do when you need care.” I give Ghost a pointed look since he’s the worst of the bunch and he grunts, shaking his head while Soap and Gaz make noises of dissent.

Price shifts and my grip tightens on his knee until he settles again. “I remember being pretty docile last time.”

“After some convincing.” I return, my eyes shutting for just a moment before I feel light flicking at my nose. My eyes open and see Ghost pulling his hand back, head shaking with eyes on mine. I nod once. Got to stay awake. It goes on like this for the rest of the drive. One or all of them keeping up a conversation with me while Ghost taps my nose, pulls my ear, or annoys me in some other way when I start to drift. When we arrive at base, I can barely give one-word answers because I’m so exhausted.

The men rush me into the medical tent and I hate being set on the bed, hate being the one who needs treatment, hate the starchy feel of the sheets, and hate being poked and prodded. There’s a deep frown on my face as I allow the medics to do their job and they give Price the same list of injuries that I gave him earlier. Only after they hear that, and that I’m going to be fine with rest and treatment, Price dismisses the others and they reluctantly go. Although Gaz slips me another hard candy before he goes and gets a smile out of me.

Price stays. Even after the medics pull me aside and push me into a sterile bath to clean all my cuts after I practically showered in that man’s blood, I return smelling like chemicals and find Price waiting. I give him a look and the corner of his mouth lifts, but I can’t bring myself to verbally scold him. His presence settles me as it always has and that’s something I’m especially grateful for while I’m here.

There are a few places where I need stitches and I sit through it silently, Price and I just looking each other over. Seeing that we’re both alive and safe. The medics wrap my ankle again and lay me down in bed with it elevated while I try to keep my grumbling to a minimum. I’m exhausted, but this place, this position, keeps me on edge. But it’s getting harder to resist.

“Just sleep.” John says with a hint of humor in his voice as he sits in the chair next to me.

I heave a breath, nodding. “I’m not fighting it. Just hard to do in a place like this.” He moves a touch closer and breathing comes a little easier as his fingers slot with mine, the tips of his fingers sliding over the length of mine. He understands more than most why I’m having trouble.

“You’re not going to be alone here. Not for a second.” He promises with nothing but sincerity in those lovely blue eyes. My lips press together.

“I can’t ask you for that.”

“You’re not. I’m giving it to you.” He returns instantly and I can’t help but melt. Can’t argue with that. “Sleep.” His other hand raises to slide over my head, his fingers twisting a few locks of hair between them. My eyes flutter closed at the feeling and I don’t mean to fall asleep, but his gentle touch lulls me into peace in seconds.

* * *

I wake up feeling a slight weight settling on top of me and I’m on alert in a split second, my eyes flashing open and my hands darting out to grab what I can. The person freezes and I end up staring into dark eyes with their wrist in one hand and the collar of their shirt in the other. “Just me, G.” The voice takes a few moments to sink in, but I relax a second later with a grimace as the sudden movement tweaked my ribs.

“Ghost.” I breathe and slowly release him while he lets go of my wrist that he grabbed to keep me from choking him. “Gotta stop meeting like this.” I tease and he hums as he sits in the chair next to me, moving it as close to the bed as he can. I settle back down and note that the slight weight was another one of his jackets laid over my chest. A little smile pulls on my lips at the sight.

“Think I’d have learned by now. Especially since you still have my other jacket.” He flicks his chin towards the one covering me and I smirk while my heartbeat slowly calms. He’s only wearing the cloth that covers his face tonight and there’s no black smudged around his eyes. It’s as close to being Simon as he allows himself to be on base.

“I always meant to return it.” I say honestly, thinking fondly of his jacket hanging in my closet back home. “Think I like it too much now. I’ll get you another one.” That earns me a rare chuckle as he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Sounds good.” He agrees and there’s that little glint in his eye that tells me he has something to say. He’s either waiting until he’s ready to say it, or he’s still mulling over the words in his mouth. “Took me a solid ten minutes to get Price out of here.” I smile, imagining the soft argument followed by Ghost shoving Price out of the infirmary.

“Thanks for relieving him.”

He shakes his head. “Not a problem.”

“And you wanted to talk to me.” I help him along a bit with amusement in my voice as his fingers knit together and his gaze steadies on mine.

“I did.” He confirms and now I wait, letting him decide when he’s ready to talk. My hands slide over the jacket he laid over me, grateful for the lack of chemical smell emanating from it. It just smells like him. Like bitter tea leaves and a small citrus tang that usually taints his clothes. Probably his detergent. “I don’t forgive you.” He starts and my attention immediately shifts to him and his dark eyes trained on mine. “I don’t accept your apology for thinking we wouldn’t come for you because that’s bullshit and I won’t forgive you until you never fucking believe that again.”

My eyes widen when I hear the heat in his tone. It’s not that odd to hear Ghost get riled up, especially around Soap, but I’ve never had him take that tone with me. Not seriously. “I know it was stupid.”

“Damn right.” He grumbles and I give him a pointed look for rubbing it in. “Say it. Tell me you know we’ll always come for you.” His gaze is unyielding and I know he means it.

“I know the team will always come for me.” Even to my ears, the words sound hesitant. Ghost’s eyes narrow.

“You say that every day ’til it feels as natural as your fucking name. And I’ll ask you to say it every once and a while. ‘Til it’s a reflex.” I sigh, but his tone is insistent. After a moment, I relent with a nod and he pins me in place with his eyes before nodding back and relaxing again in his chair. “You don’t get to save my ass, then think we’re not coming after you. Never believe that, G.”

“I get it, Ghost. I’ll do it.” Because it’s important to him and because he’s clearly trying to do something good for me, even if it’s something I hesitate to do. “And when I can stand without falling over, I’ll give you a hug for being such a pain in my ass.” The mask twitches and his eyes crinkle so I know he’s smiling.

“We’ll see if you can catch me to do it.” He returns and I smirk, knowing he’ll let me. “Now, go on and pass out. Price’ll have my hide if I keep you up.”

“Mmhmm.” I smile and let my exhaustion catch up with me, falling asleep a little easier with his scent in my nose rather than the chemicals that cleaned my body.

The next time I wake, Soap has taken Ghost’s place and morning light is seeping into the tent. “Morning, lass.” He greets and I give him a bleary grunt in return. “Cheery in the morning.” He quips and I’m about to tell him what he can do with his cheer before he points to a tray beside me. “That’s for you, if you’re up for it. Will ye let me help you up without bitin’ me?” Soap gets up and I nod, grabbing onto his arms as they slide under mine to pull me up into a sitting position.

A long breath leaves me as pain echoes through my body with every movement, but Johnny is gentle and makes sure to stack pillows behind me before moving back. He pushes a glass of water into my hand along with some pills. “Nurses said to give those to ya.”

I raise a brow and take the pills despite how my face hurts. I bet I really look like shit. “They trusted you with a task? I’m shocked.”

He smirks. “At least your spirits are still high.” Soap reaches over and pulls the tray closer to hover over my lap. “Eat up. Took everything in me not to steal your applesauce.” I hum amusedly, picking up the small container first and happily digging into the sweet treat. Soap flicks my ear. “Cruel lass. Careful, I might rethink my offer.”

I pause and raise a brow. “Offer?”

Mischief glints in his eyes and I take a deep breath to prepare myself. “You’re coming to Scotland with me.” He says with a smug grin. “The group we took out last night were the last few we were after, so we’re on leave starting the day after tomorrow. Since you’ve got no one waitin’ for ya at home, I’m takin’ ya with me to see my family. So I can keep an eye on ya.” He winks at me while I blink a few times to make sure I heard him right.

“That’s…that’s not necessary, Soap. I can take care of myself.” I frown as I think of myself laying on his couch surrounded by his family, just taking up space. “I couldn’t possibly impose on you and your family.” Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve met someone’s family. Parents…I haven’t been around parents in at least a fucking decade.

“Too bad.” Soap answers instantly, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve already told my Ma and she’s excited to meet ya. If you resist, I’ll carry you there slung over my shoulder.” I pout, setting my food down on the tray as I try to think of a way out of this. “Come on, lass, it’ll be fun. You only have to stay off your foot for a little while and I’ll be there to entertain you in the meantime.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I look at him and if anyone can pull off a puppy dog look, it’s Johnny. After a few moments I sigh, pressing my fingers to my temple. “You’re sure your family doesn’t mind—”

“They’re fucking thrilled, G. Come on, just say you’ll come without a fight.” He leans forward and nudges my leg gently.

A smile tugs on my lips and I’ll admit the thought of seeing Johnny at home is a tempting one. “Yeah, okay, I’ll come.” His face brightens immediately and his big grin makes accepting worth it.

“You won’t regret it. One minute in Scotland and you’ll never want to leave.” He assures me and I nod along, listening with a fond smile as he tells me about his sisters, his mother’s cooking, and his father’s terrible jokes. To my own surprise, I find myself actually…looking forward to it.

Taglist (hello, lovelies, hope you enjoy. Lmk if anyone wants to be tagged):

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes @thereeallink @younggirlgenius @1wh4re1nova @ghostslillady

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sunnynwanda · 2 years ago

Text

Done: Part 2

Part 1

Warning: This got more suggestive than expected. Minors DNI.

It was quiet. Alarmingly so. Not a step broke the serenity of the library; not a page was being turned along the long rows of bookshelves, and not a shadow crossed the aisles. Villain let out a content sigh and returned their attention to the book on their lap. They were particularly fond of this secluded spot. They would visit the library every day when they were not yet known as Villain. Now that they had left the criminal life behind, this place seemed the best start for their new life.

To their utter surprise, the citizens were worried for them when they did not show up for the regular battle in the middle of the week. They even started a mob leading to Hero’s headquarters to demand answers. Things were getting out of hand at an alarming speed, so Villain had to make an appearance and announce that the two parties had reached an agreement and would be ceasing their confrontations.

Many still suspect that Hero did something to them. Well, to be fair, Hero did do something to them. More precisely, Hero did them. Except Villain could not get up there and say that. Not when the idea brought vehement colour to their face. It didn’t help that Hero kept teasing them too. When they made the announcement claiming to have reached a consensus, Hero chuckled. They then proceeded to inform everyone there were many disputes to discuss, to which Hero wiggled their eyebrows suggestively. Villain had to cut their speech short for the risk of exposing themselves. Their cheeks were burning brighter than the sun.

“I knew I’d find you here,“ Hero’s voice drags them out of their thoughts. They are standing across the window sill where Villain is seated, meaning they had to cross half of the library to get there. And Villain heard nothing. Shit.

“How?” Villain wasn’t avoiding them. They were not. They might have needed time to think about what happened, because banging the enemy once was bad enough. Spending an entire night with them was worse. Finding it hard to leave in the morning because they crave more... was unthinkable. To say the least.

“I might have noticed you before we started the whole power play, ya know?“ Hero waves their hand vaguely, not pointing at anything. Or rather, at everything. “Back in uni.”

The thought sends a pleasant shiver down Villain’s spine. They shift, sliding their legs off the sill to sit upright. “Not funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.” Hero takes a few steps forward, blocking their way out. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” Villain has to squeeze the words out. Their throat feels tight, which has nothing to do with the memory of Hero’s mouth against it. Nothing at all.

“Yeah, right,” Hero shakes their head in disbelief at such a blatant lie. They lean against one of the bookshelves and cross their arms over their chest. “That’s why I haven’t seen you for a week.”

Villain huffs, unamused. They are not prepared for this conversation because anything Hero says will correspond with their desires, and they do not have enough arguments to counter them. Shit. “We agreed to stop meeting, remember?”

“No, we agreed to stop fighting for the city none of us needs,” Hero corrects with a patient smile. “We didn’t agree to stop seeing each other.”

“Hero, we can’t keep doing...” Villain breaks the charade, finally meeting their gaze. Hero doesn’t move, meeting their eyes with determination, “...what we did.”

“Why?” Hero’s voice is calm as they speak, yet they shrink when their nemesis remains silent. They know they are done for and that this idiot is to blame for that. Hero only needs to convey that much to them. “I thought you wanted it as much as I did.”

Villain cannot handle the dejected expression on their face. “I did.” I do. God, I do. They want to say it, and they almost do but stop a second too soon. “God, I... this is insanity!“

“No, it’s not.” Something about the way they speak encourages Hero. They move forward and slide their hands up Villain’s thighs, spreading their legs to stand between them.

Hero is too close for Villain’s brain to function. Yet they make no attempts to distance themselves. “What are you doing?”

“This place always makes me think of you.“ The statement catches Villain by surprise. They are speechless for a good moment, staring at their ex-nemesis in wide-eyed wonder. “Or the things I wanted to do to you here.”

“W-what?” Villain’s breath hitches in their throat. They swallow. Hero’s eyes are locked on their neck as they pull their shirt to the side.

“You were always so quiet, sitting here with your books and those glasses you wore,” Hero’s lips meet their collarbone, feather-light and short as if testing the waters. They pause, lips parted in deep breaths, waiting for a reaction.

“Shit, Hero,” Villain can’t exactly articulate anything at this point. They grab the sides of Hero’s face and lean down, kissing them intense and deep.

Hero lets out a low growl, pulling them closer by the waist. “Let’s see if you can stay quiet now.”

“Fuck it, Hero, the library...” A part of Villain’s conscious mind attempts to reason. But, as another kiss is placed on their collarbone, they find themselves unable to form coherent sentences. “Oh god... It’s... about... to open.”

“You think I care?” Hero whispers into the skin below their ear, then presses a kiss against their pulse. Shit.

“Bad Hero.” Villain’s words contrast the way their arms wrap around Hero’s shoulders, drawing them closer.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not a dog,” Hero chuckles as their eyes fall shut when Villain’s hands run through their hair. They take a deep breath to steady their mind and add with a crooked smile. “Although I do know how to bite.”

Villain hisses when Hero actually bites their jaw, then proceeds to kiss apologies into their skin. They lean back to look into Villain’s eyes, who finds it increasingly more difficult to focus on anything that doesn’t involve their nemesis on their bed. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Fuck, stop with the teasing, will you?” Their impatience earns a satisfied grin from Hero. Smug bastard.

“Mhm,” they look up with such longing that Villain’s head starts spinning. They know they are about to lose it, but what Hero says next is what sends them. “Tell me what you want then.”

With a shaky exhale, they clutch Hero’s collar and crush their lips in a starved kiss. “You. Fuck. You. I want you.” The heated whisper makes Hero’s knees buckle.

They are wrapped in each others arms and panting heavily when the doors swing open, letting the librarians in. Villain’s entire body goes rigid in panic when Hero peels off of them. They struggle to fix their clothes, then escape through the window when someone rounds the corner.

“Now that’s an adrenaline rush!” Hero exclaims in agitated excitement when they land in the safety of the roof.

“You are sick, you know that?” Villain exhales, still processing the implications and possibilities of getting caught. “Fucking bonkers!”

Hero laughs at that, dropping their head back and enjoying the blush creeping up Villain’s neck and cheeks. “You love it. Admit it already.”

“You wish,” Villain retorts, leaning against the chimney for support. Their legs are weak from stress and arousal, but they won’t admit the second one in a lifetime.

“That I do,” Hero confesses with a sly smile, their lips swollen from making out. “Wanna know what else I’m gonna do?”

“If you say me, I’ll punch you,” Villain almost snarls, trying their best to look displeased. The warning earns a chuckle from Hero.

They shake their head at how worked up Villain still is. “That too, but I meant taking you out to dinner.”

Villain’s eyes narrow in suspicion. They watch Hero approach them step by step. “No adrenaline this time?”

“None if you wish so.” Villain knows for a fact Hero is lying. They can’t be over the fact that Villain called their confrontations boring. Hero’s eyes sparkle dangerously as they take the last step. They are going to give Villain a dinner to remember. “But that can wait.”

They press their body flush against Villain’s, nailing them up against the chimney on top of the public library. “I’m not done with you just yet. I doubt I’ll ever be.”

The claim earns a soft moan from Villain’s lips, but before they can process what that promise entails, Hero kisses them again.

Part 1

Masterlist

Tags: @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune

As promised :) I hope you like it!

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ghostieeeee · 2 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐: 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐓

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Possible spelling errors? :D

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

The day had passed by fairly quickly, you spent your breaks cooped up in the library with your friends and Eunchae, and although classes were basically a death sentence, you managed to survive till this point at least. The last ten minutes of the day. But despite the reasonably short time, every minute seemed to drag on to become an excruciatingly tiring sixty seconds.

The classroom has become your penal institution, keeping you locked up for good as a consequence for your naivety and lack of knowledge. It felt restricting, but this was one of the limited classes you share with a friend- your dearest Kim Chaewon.

“I hate this” There she goes again, complaining about the class- she's only complaining because of her lack of understanding over the topic you're currently covering. “I don’t understand why we can’t just study this ourselves, Sir has almost sent me to sleep with this lesson multiple times!” she whisper-yells, avoiding all eye contact with the teacher himself as she jots down notes into her personal notebook.

“It’s school, Chae, most things about school are bound to get boring sooner or later” You feel yourself smile at her annoyed huff, shaking your head lightly out of habit. “There isn't that long left until you're home free”

“Huh? Where are you going after school?”

“My english partner invited me to a coffee shop so we can start our assignment together”

In the corner of your eye, you notice the sudden stop to her note-taking and the turn of her head to face you,”Wouldn’t you have started that in class with them?”

“We were planning a few things. We still need to research more and actually begin to type it out or whatever” you explain, ignoring the strange look Chaewon was giving you.

“Mmhmm… Who’s your partner this time?”

“Aren’t you nosey today?” You stifle a small laugh,”If you must know, I'm paired with Kang Haerin”

“As in the shy popular girl, Haerin?” Her voice was laced with an undertone of uncertainty and concern,”You know this could bring attention to yourself, right?”

“Yes, I'm very much aware, but at least she wants to do the project. I’d rather face minor attention than have to do a whole assignment again. Chae, I was extremely sleep deprived last time, I became almost erratic” You let out a gusty sigh,”It’ll be something quick. We agreed to get the project done as soon as possible, and that's that”

"I'm just looking out for you, you know how much I love you"

"I know, Chae, but I know what I'm doing"

You listen to her sigh. You're almost certain the only reason she hasn't pummelled you to the ground yet is because you're her friend. You have too much of a backstory together for her to just bury, quite literally and figuratively. Three years has certainly been a show in the making when it comes to you. "If this comes back to bite you in the ass I'm here for you"

"You always have been, and I appreciate it a lot. I appreciate you a lot…" You pause to glance at your friend, sharing a gracious smile with each other,"get back to your work"

"Yes ma'am," Chaewon nods, turning her attention back to her note-taking as her wrist goes into immediate overtime.

The next seven minutes dragged on by, making your every movement feel slugged as a result. Students were evidently done with the Monday hassle as most flickered between the clock on the wall and the clock on their phones. They were desperate to leave and confine within the comfort of their homes- preparing for either an early night's worth of sleep or none at all.

However, after what felt like three hours worth of agonsing torture, the same mellow ring of the school bell radiates the air, completely sending the class to carnage. Students hadn't even waited for the teacher to dismiss them. They hadn't even waited for him to finish his sentence before they were already out the door and very well down the hallway.

“Free phone?” Chaewon speaks up, nudging you slightly as she nods to the seat on your left. It was completely empty, the boy you sat next to had vanished,”I guess someone was in a rush”

“That doesn’t mean we should take it though. Who knows what's stored on that thing?” You speak with a slight disgust, putting your notebook into your bag.

“I suppose,” she grins, “but that won't stop me!”

“Hey, hey! That's not your phone to take!” You complain, trying to block her sight of the black cased device.

“I'm not going to keep it, you make it seem like i'm the villain” Chaewon rolls her eyes, her grin having transformed into a misleading frown.

You shake your head, walking past the forgotten possession,”maybe you are the villain, maybe you're not… who knows?”

“That's cruel”

“Maybe?” You stop outside your classroom, hand tightly gripping the material of your bag’s strap. “Time to socialise” you sigh, having already spotted the girl you're meeting with.

Has she told Minji?

“goodluck Y/n, you might need it”

“Thanks Chae” You're both quick to separate- with Chaewon taking off in a hurry to find Kazuha, and you staying to meet with Haerin.

It wasn't uncommon for Chaewon to scurry off to meet Kazuha, they are neighbours afterall, but you're still stuck in the state of wishing someone you know would join you to help ease your mind a little.

Friend or alone, you're still going either way.

“Are you ready?” Turning your head to the meek voice, you find Haerin already looking at you with her same stoic face. That sweet voice had almost no correlation to the way she presents herself outwardly.

“Yeah, i'm ready”

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

Pushing past the glass door, a fresh ambience of crushed coffee beans rade your nose. The warmth from the heaters attacked the chill you had brung in with you. The late October air stood no chance here. The exterior was cloistered and closed, so many tables and such little space, but you suppose that only added to the acquaint charm of the business.

Slightly trailing behind Haerin, you make your stop at the partly busy counter, where a female from your chem class stands, her hands occupied with retying her coffee stained apron. “Hello, welcome. What can I get for you today?”

It was Jiwoo- one of your sister's other friends- they are perfect friends in all honesty, them and another girl called Sullyoon. The three of them are almost always in other people's business for no clear reason. Like you said to Chaewon earlier, you were certain they were working against you with their weird spying techniques.

“Y/n?” You hum to Haerins call, eyes connecting with the barista's apron in front of you as your throat squeezes itself shut momentarily. “I’ll just get whatever Hearin ordered” You almost squealed out.

“Very well,” Jiwoo nods, placing your order through “That’ll be eleven-thousand won please”

“I’ll pay,” Haerin declares, having already pulled out her card and inputted the pin. You had no chance to even get a word in before she had already paid for the order.

“Thank you, we’ll bring your coffees over to you when they're ready”

“Thank you” You and Haerin surprise each other alongside yourselves with the sudden synchronisation to your words. While it was a generic response, and literally anyone could have done that, it was still surprising. Unbeknownst to you both, however, was that Jiwoo had judged this with narrow slitted eyes, her mind booting and reeling in any possibilities of your strange outing. Never has she ever seen you both talk- let alone in unison. As far as Jiwoo knows, this could even be a drug deal, and obviously, you're the sourcer.

Taking your seats at a round, plastic top, table- located somewhat close to the counter- you pull out your laptops, your hand also moving to unsheath the sheet from earlier. You kept the paper in case you ever needed to use her email again- fortunately, for now, you have not.

“What part do you want to follow up on?” Haerin questions, without looking away from her screen, her mouth left to hang slightly agape.

“That sounds creepy” you mumble, pondering over your options. However, your focus lifts at the sound of a small chuckle.

Was that Haerin?

Looking up only confirmed your suspicion. It really was Haerin. Her little chuckle was a first with you, and her widening smile only made her look all that much more like a cat. The corners of her eyes were pinched as she smoothed out her shirt.

“Not in that way. I don't think you’d be able to follow a printed sentence home”

Feeling yourself smile at her lighthearted attitude, even if it may only be temporary, you respond in the same demeanour “Doesn't it technically follow me home?”

“Because it’s in your bag?”

“Yeah” you observe the girl opposite you as her nose scrunches up.

“Maybe you have a stalker…” she almost whispers.

“Should I report it?”

“Maybe… I wouldn't want some random stalker if I were you”

“Two iced americanos?! A third voice intrudes, a voice you’ve heard so many times coming from your sister's room late at night when she's on facetime with her friends. Jiwoos' other partner in crime- Sullyoon. Of course they would both work together in the same establishment.

“Yes, that's us” Haerin responds as her smile retreats back into the shadows of her more introverted personality. “Thank you”

“Thank you” you repeat Haerins' words after Sullyoon places your own drink in front of you. “So… an iced americano, huh?”

Haerins face flushes a dusty red,”I know it’s not everyone's favourite, sorry if you don't like it”

“That's alright, I’ve never had this order before” you speak, holding the beverage between your fingers and palm as you evaluate it through the glass cup provided. You rarely ever hang around long enough to stay inside of a coffee shop, so having a glass container is certainly new to you.

“Oh… well, I promise it isn't as bad as the students at our school make it out to be”

“It’s okay, I trust you, i’ll try it in a minute." Haerin nods, shifting herself back on the purpose of your meeting- the english project.

“That’s good to know, since we’re doing a project together and what not”

“I suppose I have no other choice but to trust you”

“Possibly…” Haerin trails off, quickly glancing at you before she's completely immersed in her own world.

“I’ll start on the words of Shakespeare” You finally answer her question, earning a hum of approval from the brunette.

“Okay, i'll start on modern literature then”

Was it really a necessary idea to give a bunch of high schoolers a project based on the evolution of english literature and the culture surrounding it? Probably not. But are you going to try your best to get the best result possible? Absolutely… with a little help from your new partner, of course.

You just hope nothing bad comes from this…

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

: Dating in a high school full of love thirsty teenagers was never really something you wanted. But of course, things change- and you learnt that in more ways than one. Kim Minji, one of the more popular students. Hong y/n, probably the most invisible person alive. They couldn't possibly be dating… or maybe they could be? You never know what goes on behind closed doors.

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: [𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍]

@jeindall777 @feisrants @thefckghost @everydayiloveyves @nasyu-kookies @justdelulumeh @feb14-kid

@ehcyps @imjeyjjey @winteresss @haechansbbg @urwyf3

@idkwhatim-doinghere101 @imahallucination11 @sserajeans @lesleepyyy @jennasluma @kaypanaq

@petruchiosstuff @pandafuriosa60 @haexrin07

#newjeans #minji #kim minji #newjeans x reader #minji x reader #kim minji x reader #newjeans minji #minji smau #kim minji smau #haerin #newjeans haerin #kang haerin #chaewon #kim chaewon

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frotees-corner · 5 months ago

Text

Aaand chaper 5 of my What If Blighted Treviso fic is done 😁 Now it needs to sit for a night, so I can proof read it with fresh eyes (and then publish) tomorrow.

Preview snippet (because I had a lot of fun with this one):

“What would you know about torture methods?”, he asked suspiciously.

“I do have military training”, she answered with a shrug.

“I am not torturing myself. I just … I cannot afford to have Spite take control. He’s dangerous, and not just to me. What will you do when he decides to simply go through whoever attempts to stop him?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. And it’s not like he’d be the first demon I’d have to deal with. So far, he has yet to hurt or threaten anyone but you.” She crossed her arms. If Lucanis wanted to argue with the safety of the team, she could work with that.

“You can’t keep this up. The fatigue will eventually mess with your mind and slow your reflexes. You can’t fight like that. What will you do if you lose consciousness when you're out there, fighting Antaam or Venatori or Darkspawn? Do you trust Spite to keep you - or any of us - safe then?” She raised an eyebrow at him, jaw set in a mulish line. Rook could be stubborn, too, and she was unwilling to back down on this one.

The implication that she couldn’t take him along if she couldn’t trust him to watch her back, or even his own, wasn’t lost on him. He prided himself in his ability to work, to hold up his end of the contract no matter what. What did he have left if he couldn’t even do that?

“What do you expect me to do?” He scowled at her, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.

“Let me help you!” She answered, a pleading note in her tone. “Go to sleep, and let me ward your door so Spite can’t run off with you.”

“Emmerich already tried that once, and Spite still got out” Lucanis responded, exasperated.

“That’s why I’m going to stay right here and make sure the wards stay up. I can handle Spite if he tries anything. Or I could ask Neve or Bellara, if you’d rather not entrust this to me”, she added after a short pause.

He held her gaze for a moment, weighing his words. “You need rest almost as much as I do.”

“I can afford to lose a few hours. Unlike you, I actually do sleep at night. Mostly”, she amended with a slight grimace.

Lucanis looked at her for a long moment, before dropping his eyes, defeated. His shoulders drooped with exhaustion. “Fine.”

Rook blinked, a little surprised that he had given in this quickly. He must be even more drained than she had thought. She pulled out a chair, dragged it over to the pantry door and sat down.

“Off you go!” She motioned towards the doorway, a cheeky grin on her face.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #lucanis dellamorte #rookanis #dragon age fanfiction

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pbaz7 · 6 months ago

Note

im so late but lets do this!

but there was always a smile hidden behind her words.

my babies are falling in love

it never took long before she found herself grabbing her shoes and dragging herself over to keep Paige company.

ugh they're so cutesy

now there was a certain lightness in her. She was taking care of herself more

omg azzi made her pussy whipped im dying

UConn was firmly in control of the game against Notre Dame

if you make her injure her knee author istg

her knee buckled in a way that sent a jolt of concern through the entire arena.

fuck you. reading this while listening to in the kitchen by Renee app is sick

"She has to get it out, E. You gotta let her.”

azzi knows her better than anyone. I can't

her hand gently resting on Paige’s knee

THESE GAYYYS

Her eyes welled up with tears, and her body trembled as she whispered, "I think it’s broken, Azzi." Her voice was small, barely audible, but the fear in it was unmistakable.

my poor baby. author you actually suck for writing this

The team, watching silently from a distance,

I know Aaliyah is side eyeing them like HELL

Azzi kept her hold on Paige, gently rubbing her back, whispering soft words of reassurance.

ugh they're so nauseatingly cute

Without warning, Paige’s hand shot out and she tickled Azzi’s side

im sorry what... they're doing this shit and they have the balls to think they're just friends

"Aww, did I make the big baby sad?"

she called her baby so im calling this a dub. a win is a win idec

Paige, however, found herself looking at Azzi once again, unable to stop the way her thoughts seemed to linger on her.

oh? oh!

Paige’s ears flushed pink, and she quickly looked down, feeling the warmth of embarrassment flood through her. "Nothing,"

oh my god. she finally realized. she does have a brain after all. Paige I thought you were a scarecrow!

Paige couldn’t help but steal a few more glances at Azzi here and there, her gaze drifting over her without meaning to. - Paige quickly looked away, her heart beating a little faster each time Azzi caught her staring.

Paige baby you hated her like 2 chapters ago this is an INSANE switch up

All Paige knew was she liked having Azzi around a lot more than she would admit to anyone else.

if you cut out the "having' then she just admitted she liked azzi so... im gonna stay delusional

Paige’s heart fluttered at the thought of spending time with Azzi,

PAIGE PLEASEEE

I’ll literally carry you if I have to

im sorry this is an insane thing to say

Paige found herself sneaking glances at Azzi. The way the dim light from the dashboard highlighted Azzi’s features—her sharp jawline, the curve of her lips, the casual way her hand rested on the steering wheel—it was almost unfair.

ok this is getting kind of obsessive paige

you look parched.”

azzi would SO say parched

Are you trying to flirt with me, Paige?”

someone had to say it

The damp fabric clung to Azzi’s chest, highlighting the curves beneath. She quickly looked away, but it was too late. Azzi had caught her.

Paige girl please give your eyes a break I know they're sick of checking out az

You sure? Because it kinda looked like you were... distracted.”

omg is this actually happening

“Paigey...” she whispered, her voice almost a purr. “Do you have a crush on me?”

is she drunk hello

she found herself nodding before she could think, her brain short-circuiting under Azzi’s gaze.

SORRY WHAT HELLO DID I READ THIS WRONG

“You keep looking at me,” Azzi said suddenly, a sly grin tugging at her lips.

someone had to say it

I actually kinda like it.”

did someone spike her water or something what happened to azzi

Paige blurted, “You looked really good tonight.”

im sorry this is not a slow burn author

“Do you, um… do you want to stay over? It’s late, and I’d rather you not drive home alone.”

sure that's definitely the only reason

“That seems to be a thing for the Bueckers family tonight.”

IM ACTUALLY DEAD

Anyone with eyes could see that Paige was attractive

spitting facts

Before we knock out, let’s switch spots. You should be on the inside, where your knee’s by the wall."

ok so this is actually the sweetest thing ive ever seen

"You’re really pretty, Paige," Azzi murmured, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Paige turned her head fully toward Azzi, her cheeks flushing slightly. A shy smile crept onto her lips as she whispered back, "You’re really pretty too, Azzi."

guys im sorry did y'all not hate each other two chapters ago

her eyes closing as she softly held Paige’s forearm

author im forgetting that you injured Paige simply because of this line

okay so this was the cutest yet so painful thing ive ever read

can't wait to see how this unfolds idek

love you sm author!

-🍉

personally if i found out paige had a crush on me i would definitely turn things up a notch 😭

not a slow burn is crazyyy 😭 you won’t be saying that in a few chapters when they STILL aren’t together. they just being horny right now

you weren’t late and you know i always love your reactions 🍉 🫶🏼

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thesacramentt · 2 months ago

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Making up for lost time [5] + Rosemarys Party Playlist!

After Mark told Henry who she was, he couldn’t really focus on the rest of the conversation. His mind constantly wandered to her. Did she know? If she did, why didn’t she tell him anything? He couldn’t take it anymore, and excused himself from Mark before walking over to her.

Her face was a bit flushed from drinking, as he asked to speak to her privately. She nodded, leading him to her room, fumbling her keys as she attempted to open the door.

They closed the door behind them as she quickly walked over to open the window. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stuck her head out, enjoying the breeze.

He asked her if she knew. It seemed like that question alone sobered her up pretty quickly. She took out a pack of cigarettes, offering him one before responding.

“Yes. I knew.”

They spent their small time away from the party to discuss it. She didn’t think he remembered based on how he reacted when he saw her again, so she said nothing.

He didn’t know if it was because of the light drinking he did earlier, but his words came out much easier than usual. Their conversation, while short, provided some closure for the both of them. 11 years was a long time.

Henry

“ I just want you to know that.. I remember that day. And I’ve always wondered about it too.”

Rosemary

She smiled at him before continuing to speak.

“ Well… what matters is that we’re neighbors now…so let’s make up for lost time.”

Henry looked over at her as she stared out of the window.

Henry

“Yeah…okay.”

They lingered a bit longer before they could hear the song change from the other side of the wall. She instantly put out her cigarette, grabbing his arms as she began to drag him out with her.

Rosemary

Cmon….! I love this song, and I’m gonna make you dance with me.

Henry

[Hesitant] I…don’t really dance…ever…

Rosemary

Aww Cmon!!

The rest of the night (or rather, what they remember) was spent together. Henry was a bit stiff and awkward at first, but Rosemary’s cheerful demeanor (as well as the constant shots and drinks downed by the both of them) quickly loosened him up.

Henry was not a touchy or intrusive person by any means, but Rosemary definitely was.

She held, hugged, and clung beside him in her tipsy drunken state, which led him to soon do the same in his.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun in his life.

Mark and the others soon joined in on egging them on with drinks, and enjoying the party. Beer pong might have also happened at some point.

They don’t remember much of what happened after they blacked out. No one who attended that day really does.

——-

One day I’d like to flesh out their private conversation a bit more, but I wanted to keep it brief for now. While Rosemary is goth, she actually loves a lot of different kinds of music, so I curated a playlist of songs that would play during the party for fun. There’s a mix of songs from the 80s-2005.

Nothing happens between the two this night, but I believe Henry, being very touch starved, would probably have enjoyed it regardless. However, the next day would be filled with regret and embarrassment over how he acted.

This will be the end of the linear storytelling of the au for now. My next posts will probably jump around different parts of the story!

#silent hill 4 #sh4 #henry townshend #silent hill #fanart #the sacrament #rosemary maldonado #silent hill oc #sh4 the room

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noa-de-cajou · 5 months ago

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CW for mention of war crimes and fantasy fascism

I don't wanna be here. It hasn’t even started yet and I already want out. Unfortunately, I’d rather be in this small room that reeks of sweat than at home. It may stink but it also smells like fresh paint. They must have rebuilt the place recently.

I’m still not comfortable. Looks like I'm one of the youngest here, too. This place is filled with people chatting. I don’t want to join them, so I stay in my corner. I want the damn instructors to stop being late so I can just get this over with.

“You're new here, aren’t you?”

Ugh. I thought people would get the message if I just gave them my worst glare, but apparently the old naelikorn man sitting next to me didn’t. Of course it’s always the men.

“Yeah. I mean, I have nothing better to do.”

He smiles. Just gives him more wrinkles. Waste of muscles too.

“Nothing better to do than fight? That sounds quite sad, miss.”

“Mind your damn business,” I bite back.

I’m tired of being polite. If I'm gonna spend the two hours here, I'd rather spend them alone. At least he doesn’t open his mouth again.

“Hello there, everybody!”

I extend my neck a little, to see a dwarven woman energetically strut to a stepstool in the center of the room. Her black hair and beard are both carefully braided, and her grey eyes glint as they oversee the crowd in front of her. A tall, lean elf follows her, pointy ears poking through his dreadlocks, a placid look on his scarred face. Both are wearing sweatpants and tank tops showing off their muscles. Both ripped in different ways. I pinch mechanically the soft skin on my bony forearm.

“Well well, would you look at that, looks like we’re getting some success! I recognize some people from last week’s class..”

Her eyes fall upon me. She smiles wider. I want to disappear into myself.

“And some new friends joined us too! Amazing. Welcome to your first self-defense class.”

Yeah. Right. Hopefully it'll be the last. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Anghao and his insistance. At least it means he’s gonna be off my case for as long as I'm here.

“I’m Chaldéné Faceran, and this is my husband Haldir. We’ll be your instructors for today, and hopefully the following weeks.”

… Husband? A dwarf married to an elf? Can’t say I saw that one before, but well. It’s whatever, I guess.

“Okay ! Now I'd like everybody on the floor mats, please. If your shoes are too dirty, please take them off.”

I take off mine but keep my socks on. Try to pull them as high as I can.

“New friends, please try to pair up with someone that's already been to one of those classes! Raise your hand if that’s the case, so the newbies can find you!”

Well isn’t that just great. I go towards the closest girl with her hand raised, a human with short hair. She smiles politely.

“Hi there, I’m Liz. And you are…?”

“Nobody important,” I reply dryly. “Let’s just get on with it.”

She looks a little thrown off guard, shifts awkwardly.

“Uh… Okay.”

What? I’m here to get some hits in, not to make friends. Pretty sure she's the kind of chick who would have called me names in middle school. They all pretend to be nice at first.

Chaldéné claps her hands once everyone is paired up. Her energy is ticking me off. What even is there to be so cheerful about.

“Alright. Let’s start with some basics and warmups. Newbies, let's say someone grabbed you by the arm to drag you somewhere you don't wanna be dragged.”

As if on cue, everyone in the room grabs their partner’s wrist. Liz does the same to me, with one hand. I try not to flinch, but she grimaces.

“Sorry, did that hurt? It’s just for practice. I won't harm you.”

“I’m not made of sugar, thanks.”

She looks a little annoyed, but keeps her mouth shut. Good. Chaldéné and Haldir walk around to see if everyone’s in position.

“You can try to break free now! Let’s see how you fare.”

I try to pull away. Liz doesn't budge. She doesn't look much, but her grip is strong.

It’s always too strong.

I pull harder. Still not letting go.

There's only one thing left to do if you can't escape.

So I swing my fist at her face.

She blinks, blocks it with her palm at the last second, eyes wide. Tsk.

“Are you crazy?!”

She’s surprised. I have the advantage. So I lunge at her with my free hand on her shoulder and we fall on the mattress, her under me as I go for another hit. Even though I don’t feel her grip on my arm anymore. She parries every single one, but there’s fear in her eyes.

“Hey! Hey, stop! Stop!”

Stop? Stop?

You think saying stop will do? They won't listen to you when it happens. Life isn’t a fucking self-defense class. It doesn't work like that.

So I go for it again. And again. And again. None of my punches can land on her face.

“I said stop, godsdammit!”

You think they’ll stop if you beg?

You think they stopped when I begged them?

“Alright, that's enough,” someone says in the distance.

When is it enough? When will enough ever be enough? They don’t give a shit.

“I said, enough.”

A hand lands on my shoulder, I'm flipped over, my back hits the ground, my breath is knocked out of my lungs. I barely had the time to blink. Chaldéné is crouching next to me, firmly pinning me to the floor mat.

The room is dead silent. I can only see the ceiling but I feel their stares on me.

“Done with your little stunt, missy?”

… Don't fucking speak to me like that.

“Isn’t this a self-defense class?” I groan after finally catching my breath. “I’m just defending myself.”

The dwarf shakes her head.

“Liz, sweetheart, partner up with someone else, will you? Me and Haldir will personally take care of this little one.”

There it is again. Always the problematic one everywhere I fucking go, huh? I’m in for a lecture from Anghao after this.

Liz gets up and glares at me before going to the other side of the room. Chaldéné pulls me up on my feet despite being two heads smaller than me, and drags me to a less crowded corner, her husband silently trailing behind her. Then she lets go of me, crosses her arm, and looks up.

“Okay. Do you realize what you did wrong here?”

I roll my eyes. Great. I'm already getting that lecture I was talking about.

“Just spare your saliva and kick me out of here already.”

“Oh, I'm definitely not kicking you out after this, girl. At least not until you answer my question properly.”

Okay, she's starting to really piss me off with that self-righteous tone.

“I just defended myself. And it worked, no? She let go.”

“Yes, because this is just practice. I know your kind, young lady. You think this is all useless because in real life, no one waits until you get the gesture right. That’s the whole point. Teaching you the right reflexes in a safe place so you can use them later.”

I scoff.

“Yeah, well I broke free, didn’t I? I don't need your teachings.”

“You broke free because you took her by surprise, and she was smaller. But since you’re so intent on real life, know that if this wasn't practice, you'd already be fucked.”

“I don’t-”

“Did you land a single blow?”

…

“No,” I mutter.

“Thought so. As soon as you started trying to punch her, it wasn’t self-defense anymore.”

She shoots me a severe look.

“This ain’t a school playground, darling.”

“I know.”

“No, you don't. How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

She bursts into laughter. An amused smile appears on her husband's face.

“And I'm the empress of Shabbathai-Qianfu. How old are you, really?”

“... Fourteen.”

“That’s better. Okay, then, kid. Let’s start from scratch. If you take the exercise seriously, I'll teach you how to throw a punch. Deal?”

Guess I can't sass my way out of this one. This really isn’t my day.

“Sure. Deal.”

“Great. Now get your scrawny ass over here.”

I reluctantly oblige, and Haldir gets in front of me.

“I’m going to grab your arm now,” he says, softly.

And he does, and I fucking flinch again, but he doesn't say anything. Chaldéné comes to stand next to us.

“Okay. What's your first reflex in this situation?”

I shrug, then try to pull away. Unsuccessful, again, and Haldir’s grip is much stronger than Liz’. Chaldéné laughs. Haha. Very funny.

“It’s normal. You're going to try and put some distance between you and the assailant, but they'll expect you to do that, so they’ll oppose their weight to yours and you’ll be back to the start.”

She gets closer, lays a palm on Haldir’s hand.

“What do you think is the weakness here? In his hand?”

I hesitate, look at his fingers for a while.

“Huh… I’d say the thumb? Maybe?”

“Bingo. Here, he's grabbing the inner side of your wrist, so try to flex your forearm, rotate your wrist in towards his thumb, rotate out, and then get away.”

… Okay. Arm flex, rotate in towards the thumb and then out–

And his grip loosens and I can take a few steps back. Chaldéné grins happily.

“Well? That wasn't so hard, was it?”

“... And then? What do I do after pulling away?”

“You run, obviously.”

I blink. Several times.

“I run? No hitting back? No neutralisation techniques?”

Her smile fades and she sighs deeply, like I've just said the stupidest thing in the history of ever.

“You still don't get it, do you? I don’t teach people how to fight, girl. Anyone can be a fighter. I teach people to save themselves.”

She points to the old naelikorn, who seems to be congratulating a young half-elf boy.

“See Khaern over here? What did you think of him earlier?”

I shrug.

“Creepy and nosy old geezer. Why?”

“Well that creepy nosy old geezer saw his grandkids be dragged away, and had to watch his daughter’s antlers get broken by policemen while another held him down. Then he was left for dead.”

My throat suddenly tightens on itself. Chaldéné’s finger goes to a group of three small, giggly girls with long pointy ears.

“Pescennia, Junia and Almathea. They were barely your age when their wings were ripped off. Each from different fairy families, and each the sole survivors. They even didn't know each other before the war, and now they come here together every week.”

An orc man, probably in his fifties, face sallow, eyes tired.

“Yambul. His siblings and kids all died during the war and he didn’t go because of an injury. His wife sent him to me because he'd started doing hard drugs.”

Then Liz, wiping the sweat off the back of her neck.

“Alizée. She lives with her depressed younger sister who some bastard got pregnant at the liberation. She intends to teach some stuff she learns here to her nephew later, since he ain't going to have an easy life.”

She lowers her hand, turns back to me.

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? There's thousands of people in this country with the same old stories. But you know what all the people in this room really have in common? What they all said to me or Haldir at some point?”

I shake my head. My mouth feels like it’s coated in coal and metal. My cheeks are burning.

“Well, then I'll teach you how to punch correctly so you can understand. But remember, kid, no matter how unique your sob story is, your pain isn’t.”

She doesn’t give me time to reply, instead she drags out a punching bag and some bandages that she wraps around my hands.

“Okay. Now try to punch it.”

I do. It hurts, and I almost get the bag right back in my face. This time, Chaldéné doesn’t laugh.

“You got the strenght, but your stance is wrong. Bend your knees for balance.”

She goes up to my knees and move them while talking. I just follow her lead at this point.

“Raise your fists to protect your face and vitals. A little higher… Exactly like that. Now you step into the punch with the fist opposed to your supporting leg. Like this.”

She goes into the exact stance she just described and punches the air with such strenght that I'm suddenly very happy I’m not her opponent.

“Now you try.”

Okay. Can't be that hard. I lift my arms. Then I put down my left foot and my right fist meets the bag. It feels… better than the first time.

“Not bad! Now do it again but turn your fist so you don't hurt yourself. And go straight for it. No swinging your arm around.”

So I hit again. It’s better.

“Good. Again.”

I hit. It lands. With a very satisfying thump.

“Again.”

I hit. My arm hurts.

“Again.”

I hit. And I hit again. And again, and again, and again, until my whole body’s sweaty and burning and my lungs beg me to stop so I can suck in more air. Chaldéné looks at me with a smile.

“So, how do you feel?”

“Good,” I croak before wiping the sweat off my forehead with my bandaged hand. “And kinda pissed.”

“Why?”

“If only I had known this sooner…”

My voice dies in my throat.

Oh.

Chaldéné gives me a joyless smile.

“You get it now?”

Haldir looks at the other people in the room, his eyes far away.

“If only I had known this sooner...”

Maybe I could have gotten up and protected my daughter.

Maybe we could have stopped them from ripping our dignity off our backs or landed a hit before them.

Maybe I could have done something else than sitting down and wait for more tragic news to come my way.

Maybe I wouldn’t have been paralyzed by fear and my sister wouldn’t be in this state, unable to even look at her son.

If only I had known this sooner.

If only I had known this sooner…

Maybe I wouldn’t have those hideous marks around my ankles.

Maybe I could have done something to bring him along and hide somewhere safe. Instead of waiting for strangers to tell me if my best friend was alive or not.

Maybe I could have done something.

Anything.

If only.

If only…

A hand slowly pats my back.

“It’s so awful to convince yourself that you’re alone in your own pain when you could share that burden with others.”

Chaldéné helps me sit down on the floor mats. Then wraps an arm around my shoulders. And I know she can see my ankles.

“Especially so young. You poor thing.”

That’s all it takes. I can't stop the tears from running down my cheeks. Or the sobs to wreck my throat. Pathetic, pitiful idiot.

“There, there. It’s okay, kid.”

“I-I don't know if… I can still… save myself.”

“You can try. We certainly won’t do it for you, but you don't have to be alone in this, darling.”

Haldir sits down to my other side. Still not looking at me. In a way, it's comforting.

“Will you come back next week?”

I look around at the others. Really look. For the first time. And I see Khaern play pretend fighting with Junia as Pescennia and Almathea cheer them on, Yambul offering his water bottle to Liz, a felicis teen asking advice from a middle aged elf, and so many more.

“... Yeah. Maybe. Don't get your hopes up.”

Chaldéné laughs again. Pats me on the back.

“We won't. Want to go back at it?”

Yeah. Sounds like a plan.

I’d like to practice those punches some more. Y’know, for the next time I see Toshiki.

Can't I make him think I was dilly-dallying this whole time.

#noa writes stuff #lysara #mages' trial #taiven #that's how she got jacked #but poor girl has trauma (obviously)#doesn't mean the world can't be kind too sometimes yknow #but yep the first self defense class of many

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ryanleonitus · 2 years ago

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It feels like I’m shedding a layer every time I think back on past relationships.

First marriage: Fake News. And I think what I learned most about this was how easily someone can do you dirty and make it your fault. She was cheating on me with multiple dudes before we even got married. Once I found out, she flipped the narrative. Cried in my face but the whole time she was planning how all of it would be my fault to her friends and family. She knew I wouldn’t air her out. Not even in therapy together. Til now, I never really spoke on it. Truth be told I was embarrassed to even say it. Her mom died not long after I left. I always felt a bit of tension from her mom. But the most telling thing was she knew her daughter and she knew we should have never been married. Her disdain wasn’t for me, it was for what she knew: Her daughter went looking for love and attention from anyone that was willing to give it because she (mom) withdrew all of that after taking care of a man she didn’t love until he died.

I left everything I owned except a few totes full of clothes. Still paying off debts from a lucrative business that she "runs." Don't care. It's over.

The Relationship After: I brought baggage because at this point I’d never experienced any relationship without deceit. I talked about this right up front because one thing about me, I’m going to be blunt about my shit if I feel like it’s going there. I know this risks me being set up for manipulation but I’d rather be honest than drag out the inevitable. And guess what happened? Me being transparent lead to a “therapist” trying to frame their every misstep into my doing. It worked for a short time because I fought to keep something I now realize I didn’t even want. And you know how they say hindsight be. I raked through every lie and act of deceit and I could kick my damn self for not leaving when I said it the first time.

Don’t get me wrong, everyone has their shit but I’m realizing a pattern with myself that needs to be addressed. I’m over therapized and I think sometimes I let my boundaries up too damn much for the sake of humanity or being “too hard on people.” But boundaries are there for a reason and most of mine are because of how self-aware I am. I can’t front on people for leaving their boundaries intact.

Though trauma bred hyper vigilance, it can also be viewed as a superpower once you can discern what’s chemically fucking you versus seeing through some shit and knowing you’re spot on. I don’t deny myself that privilege anymore.

Current Marriage: Well…in the words of Omar from The Wire - "A man gotsta have a code."

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waitingx2xdie · 9 months ago

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There was no telling her. ── At least there was no chance of Kat Jennings actually listening to you without bitching you out in equal parts. She’d find a new excuse or simply tell you to mind your own damn business and not tell her how she feels. That was the long and short of it. Kat Jennings had a very microscopic understanding of her own emotions and how they influenced her actions—actions that had previously been so carefully manipulated and curated to forge a woman who valued results more than her own personal satisfaction. She’d trained herself to see career growth as satisfaction in and of itself, believing that to be the only way any woman could ever get ahead in such a cutthroat business. A creed she’d apparently long outlived if you believed Death Himself and that stupid list of His. She let out a sigh, her tongue lashing out to wet drying lips at an anxious pace.

“Yeah? And did you see any of them helping me when I was pinned by that goddamn tree?” She raised her brow, shaking her head in question, daring Nora to answer. “No, they got EUGENE out. They got EUGENE in an ambulance. So pardon me if I don’t give a shit about them.”

That… She stunned herself, falling into a quiet silence, hands bunching up, eyes closing. It was time for a deep breath before she spilled every bean in her increasingly shriveled little can.

“Only for what? For me to die instead?” Tears pricked at her eyelashes, and she was quick to blink them away, turning her head to the silence and taking another deep breath. “So I just let you die?” She shrugged, her tongue now licking at her teeth, and she clacked it.

“As if you weren’t the one that saved me in the crash? As if you hadn’t come THIS CLOSE to throwing yourself at Tim in an attempt to save him?” She snorted and shook her head. “As if you wouldn’t have saved Emily like I did?”

That was a sore spot. But it was something Kat would never let go of. She’d been put through HELL for saving Emily’s life, accidentally dragging her into Death’s list, as if she herself hadn’t been the one that dropped the match that acted as a fuse for the explosion that saw Rory dissected into tiny little giblets. As if Nora could’ve had it in her to sit back, watch, and hope Emily saved herself.

“If this… thing… is gonna get us… I’m not just gonna sit back and watch. Wait. Like fish in a barrel. I’m… I’m not gonna be that dumb cow in the field just grazing, waiting for the day the farmer comes to put a bullet in my brain and strip my carcass for Sunday’s roast.” She fell quiet again, swallowing hard and letting out a pensive exhale. “And you shouldn’t either. None of us should. Saving you keeps me on my toes. I’m sure Kim feels the same way about Thomas. And y’know, I’d say I wish I had someone who’d do the same for me. But I already do.”

Her name was Nora. And not only was she a giant hypocrite, but she was also a royal pain in the ass.

Hesitation. Prudent eyes observed Nora, analyzing her every feature and movement, training herself on how to read her body language and self-expression. She stepped forward, reaching for Nora’s hands where they clutched at her throat and gently pressed their foreheads together.

“It’s okay…” she whispered, helping to steady her fidgeting hands and guide them to that Holy Cross. Giving her hands a comforting squeeze before pulling away and planting a kiss where their foreheads had met.

“Yeah? Then why do you do it for me?” A glaring question, perhaps even a projection of her own existential crisis. ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much,’ sprang to mind. Or, rather, ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’ as the actual quote went. Yes, she was that bitch. One didn’t reach the top of her sector in risk analysis by being wishy-washy with paraphrases and quotations.

“I don’t?” She snorted again, smiling. “Weren’t you paying attention? You gotta bite the dust before I do. I keep you alive, I keep me alive.”

And that was as far as Kat had gotten in understanding exactly why. Perhaps she, like Nora, just needed someone, something, to protect. In the wake of a career, she lacked a real cause to keep living for. The problem with facing down Death? That thing they say about your life flashing before your very eyes? Turns out that part, at least, is true. And boy, was Kat’s life empty as it flashed on by. Passed her by…

“Yeah, and then you choke on a peanut, I have no idea, and my laptop blows up in my face. No thanks.” Brow raised, perhaps she’d finally found an angle. A reason. Forewarning of when Death was after her. It wasn’t a watertight explanation, but it would do.

“Seriously, you ever read up on the Flight 180 deaths? Or Evan Lewis’s death? One minute everything’s fine, the next your microwave explodes, your kitchen’s on fire, you’re climbing down the fire escape, slipping on spaghetti, and BAM. Ladder eyes.”

Poor Evan Lewis. Kat found it far too easy to speak of him, considering they’d only really known each other in passing. Shit, he wasn’t even interviewed with the rest of them. It was like talking about a starving African in Ethiopia.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Nora. But I don’t trust you to be okay on your own. Maybe that’s why I look after you.” Still lying, huh? “Besides, it’s nice to have someone to keep me from choking, too.”

Focus finally turned back to her emails. “Besides, I’m almost done. Only a few more to go.”

A few moments passed in silence, and Kat shuffled in the cloying quiet. “Nora?” Head turned back to her, and all that training was starting to pay off. The way she could see the pain etched in Nora’s face, like the telltale signs of a puppy having a nightmare. The way she curled into herself, almost fetally, as if to… was it chasing away the pain? Or clutching it closer to make it hurt that much more?

Didn’t matter. One last sigh. “Fine. My emails can wait.” She closed her laptop screen and moved over to Nora’s bed, crawling in beside her and wrapping her arms around her, holding her close.

“See? It’s okay to breathe. I just did. Come on. Breathe. …Breathe.”

WHO WAS GONNA TELL HER? ── Saving Nora's life would do nothing to protect Kat. Hell, it was far more likely to put HER in harms way, seeing as she was NEXT in line. Who was to say that if the other, say, pushed her out of the line of oncoming traffic, it wouldn't just skip her and kill Kat immediately after? This was the same woman who had been JOKING AROUND only minutes before Nora had been trapped in that elevator about how "Nora had to bite it before her anyhow," while the mourning mother clutched the teddy-bear Tim had received at the dentist's office before he...just thinking about it made her stomach twist violently, bile crawling up her throat. Her chest felt like it might cave in at the thought. Burning at the tonsils. She couldn’t shake the image of her son—her baby—splattered across that cold, unforgiving concrete. The memory flashed too vividly behind her eyes, and she dry-heaved, body convulsing. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips, fighting the urge to vomit. Breathe. Just breathe, or you’ll be sick. “Yeah, well, I don’t see you rushing to help anyone else on this list,” she said, her voice laced with pain. “Besides, who’s to say you won’t save me, only for…” HARD SWALLOW. This whole concept was still a lot for her to wrap her head around. The only solace she found in it, was that if death existed that meant an afterlife existed, which meant when she died she would be back with her son and husband. “…for IT to get you right after?” Why was she pushing Kat away? Honestly, because there was a part of her that was still ready to die. A part of her that was tired of fighting. Maybe she was even hoping that Kat would stop trying to save her... that she'd just LET HER GO.

(Only in that elevator, she'd screamed she didn’t want to die.)

Nora’s fingers traced absently along the bruises on her throat, a reminder of how close Death had come for her. The bluish marks were fading, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before new ones marred pale skin. If she was lucky, bruises would be the worst of it. Her hand trembled as the thought struck her, a chill of anxiety shooting down her spine. She clutched her throat, searching for something... HER NECKLACE. It had belonged to Eric before he passed. & She'd worn it, along with her wedding ring every day for the past four years. Her way of staying close to him. Just as she now carried around that teddy-bear in her purse. Whenever the world grew too heavy, she'd grip the necklace, reminding herself of the weight Christ carried, of the suffering he endured. If God had a plan for her, then surely, when He decided she'd suffered enough, she would be reunited with her family... FINALLY... “Of course, I would’ve done the same for Tim. I’m his mother.” She paused, the past tense stinging. She still couldn’t bring herself to fully accept it.

Was his mother.

“But you... you don’t owe me anything, Kat. I’m a total stranger to you. You don’t have to watch over me.” Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. The two of them had gotten closer. She still wouldn't go so far as to call them FRIENDS. Trauma-bonded was a better term for it. Nora let out a shaky breath, sinking deeper into the cushions. She was exhausted. When was the last time she slept? When had ANY of them last slept? “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable doing those emails at your place,” she added softly, her voice thick with fatigue. “I’ll be okay…” She really WOULDN'T. The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, and the shaky sigh that escaped only confirmed it. Her eyes fluttered shut, lids heavy with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing. The fear, the guilt, the grief—it all swirled together like a storm.

#xnoraxcarpenterx #(( nora // carpenter ))#(( kat // jennings ))#(( nora // kat ))

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exilepurify · 2 years ago

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There aren’t enough sparkly Teru edits in the world and I’m here, one man on a mission, to change that.

Teru ain’t got time!

Song: I Ain’t Got Time! by Tyler the Creator

#learning that teru actually does look like river phoenix is what took my evening from good to great #you guys should’ve seen it. it was a magical moment #rap songs are the best for hype amvs #this one is actually the shortest i’ve ever made i think #but i’d rather keep it short than let it drag on too long and be tedious #this one also isn’t sparkly enough but this song is better served by a little bit of seriousness imo #teruki hanazawa #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 edit #mp100 amv #hanazawa teruki #花沢テルキ #花沢輝気

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years ago

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Title: Power Play.

Based on this ask.

Pairing: Yandere!Zhongli x Reader x Yandere!Childe (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Sex-Doll AU, GN!Reader, Possessive Behavior, Slight Dub/Con Towards The End, Overstimulation, and Spit.

“Is that all androids are built to do, these days?”

You’d never heard Zhongli so angry – which was to say, you’d never heard him angry at all. He’d only ever spoken to you in gentle tones, delicately, like you’d break if he ever raised his voice or failed to coo in a way that didn’t leave you nodding along and melting into him, but Childe must’ve failed to earn the same luxury.

From where he was sitting on your bedroom's loveseat, you could just barely see his expression, all narrowed eyes and downturned lips, all the same little, jealous tics he didn’t bother to hide whenever you talked about anyone you’d slept with before him, anytime you lingered a little too long on any android that wasn’t him. You were surprised that he hadn’t intervened, honestly, that you hadn’t been slung over his shoulder or dragged across his lap as soon as you came home with Childe clinging to your arm. There was probably something in his programming holding him back, a safeguard to make sure androids didn’t tear each other apart as soon as their eyes met. That, or it was a holdover from his days as a Morax model, and he just wanted to see if he could still make an enemy unit squirm.

Childe, however, seemed unaffected by Zhongli’s hardheartedness. “Master seems to like it,” He sang, letting his head lull to the side as his glassy eyes flickered over you, over your body, limp and exposed underneath him. He was still fucking into you, but his pace had slowed into something repetitive and lethargic, more for your sake than his. For as exhausted as you were, he was still grinning, still in full control of how much force he used and how tightly he held your waist as he dragged you a little farther down the mattress, as he leaned down just close enough to speak directly into your ear, the low edge to his voice sending an involuntary shudder down the length of your spine. “This is… what? The third time you’ve cum for me? If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s a little jealous that Master has a new favorite.”

“You don’t—” The air caught in your throat as he rolled his hips, the head of his cock brushing against something painfully vulnerable inside of you. He was less collected than Zhongli, less willing to take long hours to poke and prod and edge your body towards its inevitable breaking point, but Childe still seemed to know just where to press, just how to keep you hot and sensitive and in the palm of his hand. “You don’t have to call me—”

“Oh? Hear that, Xiansheng?” He knew just where to aim, too, which area to target as he let his lips brush against the side of your throat, as his hands drifted from your waist to your chest, taking careful lengths to avoid anything you wanted him to touch with a softened kind of sadism. “Does Master ever make such cute noises for you?”

Your mouth fell open, an unsteady whine escaping in place of anything intelligent you might’ve said, but it was quickly cut short by the sound of sharp footsteps, by Childe’s form being jerked away from yours too suddenly not to catch you off-guard. It took you a moment to process the sight of Zhongli above you, standing next to your bed, one hand tangled in Childe’s hair and the other grasping his jaw, his expression caught between schooled stoicism and blatant hostility. “Open your mouth.”

It was a demand, not a suggestion, issued in the same voice he used when he was telling you to get on your knees, or take off your clothes, or ordering you to give him anything he'd rather take than ask for. Childe’s grin only widened, sharpening into something nearly dangerous. "As if I'm going to listen to such an outdated mo—”

Without waiting for him to finish, Zhongli forced a thumb into Childe’s mouth, prying his teeth apart and again, with no trace of reluctance, spat onto his tongue, a vapid misuse of self-generating artificial saliva. Childe jerked back, more out of shock then revolsion, but Zhongli's grip was iron-clad, only growing tighter as his patience waned. “Can you swallow on your own, or do you need someone to show you how to do that, too?”

Childe hesitated, but not for very long. You could see his throat move, his eyes flicker from you to the bed to Zhongli, his shoulders slumping as he relaxed in Zhongli’s hold. Zhongli, for his part, clicked his tongue, releasing his jaw and carding his fingers through Childe’s hair, allowing Childe to lean into his palm. “That’s it,” He started, allowing himself a small smile. “See? Doesn’t it feel better to do as you’re told?”

Quiet, small. Almost embarrassed, if you were willing to give Childe so much credit. “Yes, Xiansheng.”

“And you’re ready to behave, now?”

“Yes, Xiansheng.”

“Good boy.” With a low sound of approval, Zhongli pulled away, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on Childe’s lower back. “Tease when you start, not after Master’s—” You cringed at the new petname, but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. “—already so pent-up. Decide how much force you’re going to use and use it, don’t be so sporadic. And don’t let yourself get distracted so easily, either. You have the most important person in the world directly in front of you. There shouldn’t be anything else on your mind.”

Childe nodded, still subdued, still eerily vacant, and Zhongli hummed, watching on as Childe began to move, again, to thrust into in calculated, powerful kind of way – in a way that couldn’t be more divorced from his earlier, erratic pace. You let out a breathy groan, cool pangs of overstimulation instantly turning into a hot, persistent burn. “Wait, I— I think I’m already—”

“Just like that,” Zhongli encouraged, just loudly enough to speak over you. He leaned back, resting against the headboard and crossing his arms, a broad smirk now painted across his lips.

“And don’t stop until our precious Master is satisfied.”

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