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ultralightpoe · 7 months

Text

Anti-hero - Roy Kent

Authors Note : Based off a request I got {Could you do a Jamie or Roy fic with a girl who feels self conscious as their date to a gala or something? Lots of fluff and comfort! If you don’t want to write it, no worries 💜} A quick reminder that you are all beautiful and truly wonderful. You all deserve the world, and I hope you all find your own Roy Kent. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3,997

Warnings: self doubt. curse words

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @50shadesofpemberlypost )

x Enjoy x

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

It had been an issue for years, one that was directly caused by your mother.

It’s not that she was a villain, and it wasn’t like she knew she was doing it anyways, it was always something that just managed to slip out of her mouth in passing moments . A quick ‘that shows your back fat’ there and a ‘are you sure you like that color? It washes you out baby’. Always said with that tone that made you rethink every decision in life.

She did it out of love.

But the comments she made built up, that and the pressure of school and social media building up. It all took a toll on you. You found your life mixed with new issues. Anxiety, self-doubt, depression, and you became a new person.

It was like a shadow version of you, one that tracked how much she ate and thought about how loud she laughed and how much was too much talking. Every single move you made was tracked and overthought.

But then Roy came into the picture.

At first you did what you usually did, you tried to speak low and not draw too much attention. Tracking how much you laughed and how much you ate. It was fine because your friend group never really realized it, they didn’t know a thing was out of place. But Roy, who had been brought by his sister, was quick to call it out.

“Fucking stop that.” He muttered when you tried to fix your skirt, using his hand to slap yours away. “You look fucking perfect. Take a breath, yeah?”

“I just…. I’m debating the color, everyone else wore pastels and I hadn’t realized that it would be that type of party.” You admit, body hot with embarrassment as a group of girls pass you at the party. But that was the least of your worries, you had eaten too much cake and had tripped on the stairs in front of your friends. Could everyone see your makeup on your neck? Were they laughing at you-

“Do you overthink everything?” Roy blurts, catching your elbow to pull you back gently as a waiter with a heavy tray passes by. “Because I’ll tell you right now that you’re the prettiest fucking woman at this party.”

“You can’t say that at someone’s birthday party.” You laugh, stepping closer to him without realizing. “That’s one of the biggest rules. It’s like saying someone is prettier than Aphrodite. Next thing you know that person will be cursed to marry your father because the goddess hates you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s…. Greek mythology. I’m not going to marry my dad. It… okay. I’ve ruined this so I am just going to-” You move away quicker than he can follow and you think that it was over. But you had not known just how determined Roy Kent was.

Soon enough he was taking you out, one date became 4 which led to a relationship. 10 months in and you were the happiest you had ever been. He saw you, in every outfit and every mood and every way, and he loved you just as you were.

But there was something you didn’t expect, the amount of attention that would come with dating a professional football player. It was a whole new demon in itself.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

Lunches with your mother were the worst, and yet you loved her more than anything. Today she chose an extremely fancy restaurant dressed in a Valentino outfit and her makeup to perfection as she cut her salad up with her fork and knife.

“Oh this is dreadful.” She sighs, shaking her head. “There is barely any chicken in here. This is insane. Do you see chicken?”

“There is chicken.” Roy shrugs, narrowing his eyes a bit. Lunches with them were always such a weird dynamic considering they were exact opposites. Your mother looked for drama, she thrived off of arguing. Roy chose brutal honesty, he worked best on shutting arguments down before they could even start. “It’s right there.”

“Oh, baby that is a terrible color on you.” She huffs, sitting the plate back down and turning her glare on you as her hand raises to call the server over. “It washes you out. What have I told you about-”

“She looks fucking stunning today.” Roy scoffs, blinking slowly.

“It’s fine.” You whisper to him, trying to defuse the situation.

“No, it’s not.”

“Now I read somewhere that there is a big fundraiser gala coming up, it was in the paper. I assume you both will be attending.” Your mother begins, smiling when the server starts heading over. “You should let me dress you darling. I know how you get anxious about that all and I want to make sure you look your best.”

“She’ll look bloody fantastic in anything-”

“Oh you finally decided to serve your table.” Your mother interrupts him, talking to the server and completely disregarding your boyfriend.

He takes a moment to lean over to you, catching your eyes. “I’m about to stab my fork into my fucking eye.”

“I know.” You smile, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek which makes him growl a bit at the pda but you see the smile he fights off anyways. “We’ll be gone soon.”

“You look great and the dress you pick will be fantastic. Don’t listen to her.” He gruffs out.

“Have you seen those posts of you two? They were commenting on your age difference and I just want you to know that I do not think you are too immature for him. Truthfully honey I am proud, I never thought you’d make it with someone so accomplished. I mean it’s not like you had many prospects.” She laughs as the server sends Roy a wide eyed look while taking her plate away leaving the table once more.

“That’s it.” Roy snaps, slamming his silverware down on the table and pointing his finger at her. “You watch how you speak to her. She’s perfect. And she will be a bombshell at the gala.”

Your mothers face flushes, blinking at him slowly as Roy goes back to his meal like nothing happened while you fight off a smile, your foot rubbing his calf under the table in a silent thank you before you try to pull it back only for his legs to slam shut keeping your foot held there.

He sends you a sharp look, but the corner of his mouth curves up and you know that was his way of showing his love so you take it, smiling right back at him.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

The dress you chose for the gala was perfect, you were excited to wear it and truthfully you were excited about the whole thing. This would be the first event you had ever attended with the Richmond team in the public eye, and you wanted to make a good impression.

But your mothers words from the years rang through your head constantly as you waited for their practice to end, leaning against the wall in the hallway as you thought about everything.

“Oh! Hello.” A angelic voice rings out, pulling your attention to Rebecca Welton coming down the hallway, making you stand up quickly.

“Ms. Welton! Hi, hello, hey…. I’m saying hi in too many ways.” You blush, moving to shake her hand. “It’s great to see you again.”

“I was just about to say the same thing. Are you waiting for the boys?”

“I am, yeah. My car is in the shop so I need a ride.”

“Oh lovely, will I be seeing you at the gala? I have been planning it for weeks, my ex husband used to plan it. The wanker.”

“I’ll be there. I just hope I dress well enough.” You laugh slightly, but her eyebrow raises and you panic slightly. Did everyone on this team just see right through all your shit?

“You’ll look perfect. I wish I still had a figure like yours.”

“ANGEL!” Someone calls out before you are lifted into the arms of Danny Rojas, kissing the side of your face as he swings you around.

“Alright. Set her down, will ya?” Roy snaps, coming around the corner and rubbing his knee as Danny sets you down quickly, kissing your cheek one more time before heading away. You lean forward and rub Roy’s knee right where you know he feels the most pain.

“Is it hurting a lot?” You mumble, as he pulls your hand away. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, I just don’t want to moan in the middle of this hallway. Let’s go home?” Before you can even answer he is grabbing your bag and moving to take you to the car.

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Roy was in a shit mood the day of the gala, slamming cupboard after cupboard. You knew he was irritated about having to dress up and see the reporters that used to write about him all the time, and you knew in moments like this it was best to let him work through it. But sometimes you just couldn’t stay away.

Shuffling closer, in his shirt, you wrap your arms around his center and shove your face into his back. He huffs out as he keeps swiping the sponge against the counter, but he doesn’t push you away so you take a chance and kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s going to be okay. What they say about you doesn’t matter.”

He sighs out, letting go of the sponge before turning around in your arms and wrapping his own around you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You were young and they were assholes for that…. So fuck them.”

“Fuck them.” He repeats.

“You’re going to walk by them in your fine ass suit with your fine ass body-”

“Please don’t objectify me.” He mumbles, but a smile is already on his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply before pulling back. “And I will have the brightest fucking gem with me tonight.”

“Oh, c’mon.” You blush, trying to pull back but his arms are tight around you.

“I think we need to fuck.” He huffs kisses at your face again.

“Don’t be so crass!” You laugh, trying to escape him and shuffling you both to the bedroom right as your phone rings. “It’s my mother.”

“No. Don’t answer.”

“I have to, or she’s gonna be mad.” You answer back, watching his face turn dead serious as he looks at you. His hands come up to rub at your jaw.

“You listen to me you little rat.” He mumbles, you fighting back a laugh at the nickname. “Don’t listen to a word she says, because you are beautiful.”

“I won’t. I promise.” You promise, kissing his lips deeply and losing yourself to the kiss for a moment before he pulls back and shuffles to continue cleaning the counter. You swipe your thumb across the screen and mumble out a “Hello mother.”

“Oh you’re there! I thought you were about to ignore my call.” She snaps through the phone.

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

You broke your promise, and you let your mother get the best of you.

Her words from earlier bounce around your mind as you get ready. You debate whether or not your hair looked healthy as you spray hairspray across it. Did it look greasy? Untamed? Could they see your split ends?

Was your nail polish the wrong color? Was there a patch of hair on your legs that you missed? Did the dress color wash you out? Did you look too heavy? Was it too late to cancel?

“You look…. “ Roy blinks, coming up behind you to help zip the dress. “Fuck.”

“Is that good?” You ask, biting at your lip as he leans to kiss the nape of your neck.

“Good? You look bloody amazing.” He snaps, kissing your neck one more time before standing straight. “Now let’s go make money.”

“What are we fundraising for? I never looked into it?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

“Right.” You laugh, turning with your hand in his as he kisses your knuckles softly. “Then let’s go make money for whatever needs money.”

“Make a fortune.”

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Your lip was worn down from the amount you had been biting it.

Walking up to the gala you saw a red carpet with dozens of flashing cameras and begin to panic as you get closer, your hand tightening in Roys as he stands straighter. You would not be able to handle the cameras and see your picture all over the internet. What would people say? They would trash you, oh how bad would it be?

But Roy, ever the perfect man, simply held your hand tight and walked across the red carpet with a confidence that made your skin hot. He muttered to each that called his name, his voice deep and uncaring. “No. No. Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck no.”

A smile blooming across your face as you let him lead you into the building where everyone is walking about with drinks in their hand.

“I’m going to go get us drinks. Your usual?” He asks, waiting for your nod before heading in the direction of the bar leaving you standing there to take a look around.

You took your chance to look around at everyone around you, smiling at anyone you make eye contact with. The anxieties began rising, as every gorgeous female passed you in their perfect dresses. Was your dress cheap looking? Did you look pathetic?

You were caught up in your thoughts as Jamie approached with his date, a model that introduces herself with a hug that makes you sniff caramel, leaving you with a crater in your chest as you look at her perfection. Jamie talks about the gala, looking around at everyone as a flash makes you blink, all three of you turning to the person that just took your picture.

“The actual fuck?” Jamie scoffs, staring at him. “We were having a conversation, ye?”

“Sorry.” The man nods, moving to walk off and bumping into Nate with another apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Hi Nate.” You smile, trying to seem calm when he walks up. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Mr. Lasso actually bought me this suit.”

“Who?” You blink, trying to see who he had been talking about. It wasn’t meant to be a snappy or snide comment, you had yet to be introduced to the new coach and the name didn’t ring a bell at first. But the second you saw the man with the mustache owning the crowd not far off you knew who Nate was talking about.

But when you turn back to Nate you see a glare set on his features, his cheeks a little red as he blatantly looks away from you. “You look great, Jamie. You as well Keeley.”

Then he walks off, bumping into you harshly as he passes which makes the blonde look at you with wide eyes as Jamie excuses himself for another drink.

“Oh, that was extremely rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked about the coach- that was-”

“What are you talking about?” She blinks, looking extremely confused. “You didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Here you are.” Roy grunts, handing you the chilled glass. “Keeley.”

“Hello Roy.” She smiles before Jamie whistles to pull her over.

“Did he just call her like she was a dog?” You ask Roy as she walks over, and he shrugs.

“He’s a wanker. Always has been and always will be.” Roy grunts out, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t ever pass the ball. And he is a massive tool. You should hear some of the things he says to-” He begins to explain as you try to smooth out your dress before his hand shoots out to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your answer was too quick, his eyes narrow and he catches it.

“What happened?”

“I just…. I think I upset Nate because I asked to Lasso was and I didn’t mean to and everyone here looks amazing. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Did that little fuck say something?”

“No. It’s fine Roy. Everything is fine.” You smile, leaning forward to kiss his lips which he allows before moving back and holding his hand knowing he doesn’t like pda. “Let’s go find our seats?”

I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell"

“Hello Roy, you handsome devil you.” A southern voice rings out, walking up to where you and Roy were seated together. “And what pairs so well with a handsome devil? An angel.”

“The devil is technically… well historically the devil is an angel.” You blush, immediately feeling stupid as the fun fact slips from your lips. “Well, I mean- I’m sorry that was stupid.”

“Stupid? Absolutely not. I feel ashamed that I didn’t know it.” He laughs, leaning to shake your hand. “My name is Ted, all my friends call me Ted which means you must.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Roy was telling me about all the new techniques at your practices.” You smile, making your boyfriend shake his head.

“I said nothing good.” Roy huffs.

“He said everything good.” You smile which makes Ted smile back.

“You both look fantastic. Have a drink on me, since it’s an open bar.” Ted jokes, moving to walk away as Roy places his hand on your lower back.

“Why the fuck would you tell him that I said good things?” He huffs and your stomach drops.

“I’m sorry. It was just teasing and you do always say great things about him so-”

“Take it easy. You are fine.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t noticed but your fists had clenched and your nails were digging into your skin, his own fingers were quick to make you release the hold and rub his thumb over the crescent marks left on your skin before bringing your hand up to kiss your palm.

“I thought you hated pda.” You whisper, leaning so your foreheads were pressed together as he pretended to roll his eyes.

“Fuck it. I have a gorgeous date and I deserve to kiss her in public.”

“Are you sure? It’s a big move for you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Prettier than the goddess aphrodite.” He smiles and your eyes widen.

“How. Dare. You! What have you done? I’m going to have to marry my dad now. Roy, how could you have done this to me?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I also cannot believe you remember that from almost a year ago.”

“Of course I remember.” He blinks. “That was the first conversation I had with the love of my life. Who would forget that?”

“Oh knock it off.” You mumble, shaking your head.

“Knock it off? Knock what off?” He snaps. “Do you realize how fucking lucky I was that day? The day you looked at me? My life was made. The second best day of my life.”

“Second?”

“Second. My niece’s birth is the first.”

“I’m fucking honored.” You laugh, smiling from ear to ear.

“Did you just cuss?”

“I did. I’m sorry. My mother would kill me.” You blush.

“Can I be honest with you for a second?”

“When are you not?”

“Fuck your mother.” He blurts, which makes your eyes widen. “I hate her. I think she is miserable and you are far fucking prettier than aphrodite and you don’t have to worry about the goddess making you marry your dad because I will be marrying you. No goddess or god could keep me from you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re stuck with me. And I need you to stop being to fucking mean to yourself. You hear me?” He asks seriously. “Because that’s the love of my life you are talking about.”

“I can try.”

“Good. Now lets get another round and wait this fucking gala out. Then lets go get actual food because I know you skipped lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile before a flash blinds you once more, making you both whirl to the man with the camera.

“You fucker-” Roy begins to stand as he dashes off.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees

You both end up at a late night potato stand, sitting on one of their benches as you both laugh at the memory of the auction that had taken place.

“A fucking grandma bid on me. You know how embarrassing that was?”

“Hey! I bid on you too!” You laugh, body shaking from laughing so hard. “And Keeley!”

“Keeley was pissing that little wanker off.” He huffs, rubbing your thigh gently as you keep his blazer wrapped around you. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“Thank you for bringing me. I am sorry I upset Nate-”

“Stop saying sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbles, leaning to dig his spoon into your baked potato and take a big mouthful of it. “Fuck. That is good.”

“You say that about anything I get! You always do this!” You laugh, pretending to pull the potato away.

“You always choose better!”

It's me, hi (hi), I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea (tea) time (time), everybody agrees (everybody agrees)

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

“Fuck!” You wake up to the sound of Roy yelling from the kitchen, rushing to wrap yourself in the sheet left on the bed from last night as your feet pad across the floor to find where he is at.

You find him sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, glaring at his laptop, until he sees you coming out of the bedroom in just a sheet.

“Fuck.” Unlike his last curse this one is said with a lusty tone, setting the coffee down as you come closer to the couch and move to sit by him.

“What’s got you so mad, handsome?”

“They posted a picture of me and they said I’m retired. What fucks.”

“Is it a bad idea? To be retired?” You ask, moving to straddle him before he can pull an attitude. “You would have more time with me. More time to hang out and cuddle and sleep and…. You can finish the rest.”

“.....Fuck.”

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chaithetics · 4 months

Note

frothing at the mouth for any norm fics

Gaps of Sunlight

Pairing: Norm Maclean (Fallout) x f reader Word count: 4.5K Gif by @klausbens Warning: Barely proofread, pining, longing, maybe a little fluff and angst? a jab at Chet's weird crush, this is set before the events of Fallout S1 so some 'foreshadowing' I guess but doesn't have any spoilers! Mitski inspired! A/N: Ask and you shall receive 🙏(translation: thank you for enabling me!!!) This is my first time writing Norm and it's the most fun I've had with writing a fic in a long time! I feel like I'm a more descriptive writer and I haven't had an idea flow like this in quite a while. I feel like this is similar to 'Porce and the Shark' in terms of writing? Idk how well this flows as a story lol?!?! I've barely written any angst and I haven't really done any yearning, so I hope this is good! So please validate, I just felt like I was never going to finish or/fix it enough so I thought I'd post it as is. Thought about the queen of angst, @inknopewetrust's work a lot when I started writing this. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated 🫶

You lay in bed as you couldn’t help but think about it all. Once again. You could go outside to the corn fields but all that could offer you was a projection from a time and place well before you were even conceived as an idea. You’d never really know what the sunlight felt like, how it would heat your chin and what it would be like to bathe in that light. You had tried to live vicariously through that with what approved, classic literature had survived the war and through the vaults. Shakespeare didn’t offer you much beyond metaphors that were just out of your grasp with relatability to your environment, you hadn’t particularly enjoyed Chaucer, an opinion you’d kept from your father. While the Brontë sisters were able to perfectly let you know what rain in a different continent would’ve felt like against your face and how it would’ve smelt and made your shoes feel to run across an English countryside, they never enlightened you about what being bathed in sunlight would feel like. There were only so many times you could read and annotate Homer’s works awaiting a revelation.

Despite how everyone else moved around Vault 33, it was impossible for you to not help but wonder more of life. What it all was, and what it all meant.

You pull yourself out of a possible mental spiral and quickly get ready for the day as it eases on just as every other day does in the Vault. There’s breakfast with a pleasant conversation with your family, and you teach English classes to the youth of Vault 33, you participate in other extracurriculars just like most of the other Vault dwellers but teaching takes up the bulk of each of your days. You don’t mind that at all though, you enjoy it, even on days where everything feels like a complete rut. The mornings when the blue of the vault suits feels like too much, the pleasantries feel more like programming than authentic connections.

It had started like every other day and classes had happened accordingly, there was now the communal reprieve of lunch. As you slowly chew you look up and see him across the dining hall, despite being from the poster-perfect vault family, he’s Vault 33’s very own black sheep, Norman MacLean. He’s sitting there silently while his dad and Lucy are happily chatting away. Each taking turns trying to lure him into conversation, which he rejects each time with a quick, blink and you’ll miss it shake of his head. The same expression he always wears these days and has for years is etched onto his face, a chronic look of apathy.

You can’t help but stare at him for a moment, watching the way he looks on almost blankly. Even from across the room, you can see every thought in those brown doe eyes as if he’s saying them aloud. How is it that he’s still so misunderstood?

You’d grown up with Norm, he’d always been nice to you, even when you were at school. But that wasn’t exceptional, that was the whole thing with vault-dwellers, being nice people, even from a very young age. It’s not exactly a melting pot of cultures in the Vault like you know the surface once was but the culture is to be nice, chirpy, and practical.

Norm was nice, he had a quiet charm, he’d be a good politician, just in a different way and style as his father, he was practical but he didn’t have a cheery disposition. He lacked enthusiasm and at times it seemed to almost fascinate him how much that little rebellion could bother people. He didn’t put himself out there and you remember how he was smart, he knew answers to the questions that were asked but he’d never put his hand up for them.

It made you wonder at times if he was scared of his own voice. You feel your eyes squinting as you look at him wondering that question, as if studying his jawline for another minute or watching him lift his fork up to his mouth will tell you.

With a deep breath, you tilt your head discreetly to look around to see if anyone noticed your infatuated staring but nobody seems to. You still put a polite, chirpy smile on your face in case anyone did. That should be enough for anyone to notice anything your eyes might’ve been betraying.

Your mind still stays on him, because as always, you might see him better than anyone else but he is still a puzzle with pieces you have yet to find the corners to.

You’re sitting near the cornfield, trying to live vicariously in a world that’s not yours, one that will always be out of touch, just trapped into ink on a page and repeated for the ears of children, to fulfil a mission. But it’s his voice that pulls you out of the inner world of classical Greek horrors.

“Sunny day today.” He says as he looks down at you as you sit on the chair and look at his standing form. He says it as if it isn’t sunny every day with that projection meant to convince you of what the surface once knew and not instead fall flat and be more reminiscent of golden Hollywood-esque crops on sets of the films that have survived. Norm’s voice is quiet, he’s just as soft-spoken as you remember him being so long ago. His tone is bored, but it doesn’t deter you, how could it when he’s standing in front of you looking into your eyes?

He looks into your eyes, taking in the colour, worried that someday he could forget the flicks closest to your eyes. They might rearrange if he doesn’t look at them for another ten seconds to appreciate them. He could forget them. But he never would.

“Just like your disposition.” You quietly tease, offering him a shy smile.

Just as if it’s somehow not always sunny, a rare occasion worth being spoken about, so is his unchanging character. But beyond adding in a couple of cups of more confidence perhaps, you don’t think there’s much else that could be worth editing.

“And for that exact reason, I’m surprised I’m getting a job transfer with the reasoning being my enthusiasm levels.” He says with a breathless chuckle.

You tilt your head as you look up at him, he’s still standing, the toe of his shoe almost toying with something invisible on the artificial emerald green grass. You’d put your thumb in your book when he’d arrived but now you put your bookmark in and gently close it. Placing it gently on your lap.

It hadn’t been that long since you’d both finished your education, having had jobs and duties in the vault was important for its efficiency and functionality. But still, this wouldn’t be Norm’s second job. You were still the teacher you’d been assigned at the start of your adult life, most people in the vault only ever had one job, sometimes they would change and so have had two in their whole life and of course, there would be a change of two or sometimes three for overseers, but three while still being so young was very rare. You had questions and internal crises about this world all the time, there was always a moment somewhere in your world that you felt slightly out of place. But still, contentment had found a way to settle in your bones much easier than it did for him.

“What were the enthusiasm levels?” You ask quietly, slowly blinking. You already know the answer.

Norm looks down at the ground, at the grass he could tug out and it would just never grow back. No matter how desperately everyone would want to pretend it would. His foot is so close to yours, mere inches away, the toe of his shoe could just brush against yours and no one would know.

“Nought.” He says with disinterest, he slightly shrugs his shoulders as his eyes stay planted on the ground.

“Something will stick eventually.” You say.

You say stick, you don’t say that there will definitely be something he loves or that it’ll all be okay, it’s not what he wants to hear and you don’t know if there’s a role in this world that you both live in that would fulfil him as much as his father is fulfilled by being Overseer. He appreciates that. But he needs to change the subject.

“Is a literature teacher always reading?” He questions as if it’s a riddle that might amuse him.

“More likely to happen than finding them counting.” You say as you tilt your head. You don’t remember the last time he approached you for conversation, or the last time that he did and there were this many words. It would’ve been back when you were younger, still classmates. You can’t track an exact memory down which surprises you.

“So, what’s that one?” He asks looking at the book in your lap for a moment before his eyes slowly gaze back to your face, making eye contact for the first time in over a minute. You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at this. You feel seen as his eyes rake up and take in every facial feature and unique mark on you.

Everyone makes a false and fatal assumption about Norm. They assume that because he’s not extroverted and over-the-top warm like Lucy or Hank, that he’s not charming. That’s complete crap. You know it’s false. He’s not the same as his family or a lot of the people in your home vault but without a doubt, Norman MacLean oozes charisma. He knows just when to turn it on and how to utilise it in the best way with each person. And right now, it’s working on you.

“The Three Theban plays, by Sophocles.” You whisper as your eyes bore into him, you don’t dare to blink. Too scared that he might just disappear if you do, and that when your eyes open again, this will all be confirmed as another of one of your many daydreams about him. “They’re tragedies, I’m reading Antigone, at the moment.” You feel yourself latching each word onto the next word as if you’re climbing a ladder and need to build more rungs at the same time, there’s some intrinsic need in you to draw this out for just a few more moments. His presence gives you some kind of glow. You finally blink, your eyes not able to hold it anymore, he’s somehow still standing in front of you once your lids open. You immediately wonder if you’ve said too much and try to fight the urge to sigh but the urge to not let on how embarrassed you feel is more of a priority, you need to keep that internal.

“And what has that taught you?” He asks with a small smile.

Someone else might’ve found the tone cold. If someone else had asked that exact question, it might’ve felt condescending. But you know exactly what it is.

Norm knows better, not better than you, he’s not that kind of arrogant. It’s because he’s always known that he knows better than most in these reinforced concrete and metal walls you all live in. But you live in a meritocracy. Everyone is in constant pursuit to be kind and to better and upskill as a contributing member of Vault society. Of course if someone’s openly reading it’s an academic pursuit, to be more well-read, that they can learn an important tale and moral lesson, or to use it as a quote to whip out at a convenient time in a council meeting or for intellectual criticism of another philosopher or writer’s thesis. And you both know it’s why each book that was chosen for survival by Vault-Tec was carefully curated, all in the name of intellectual pursuits and other reasons beyond either of your imagination.

“Just further proof why we have rules against familial relations.” You reply after a slow blink, you remember what his sense of humour used to be like in class, how teachers would occasionally stifle an eye roll and sigh or would take a moment to then replaster their smile back on. You look at him, and your eyes can’t help but take in the shape of his nose as if you hadn’t already committed it to memory a thousand times before now.

“Hah.” He says quietly, as if it’s amusing, which he finds to be a little as he lets out a small chuckle and his mouth quirks up and that makes you happy. It’s an expression that doesn’t grace his handsome face often. “Might need to pass that on to Chet, if that’s the case, I doubt he’s read it.”

You let out a chuckle at that, and Norm’s brow furrows for a mere second as he takes you in. His mouth is still in a small smile but not many people find his humour to actually be humorous, his father and Lucy love him but he earns more small sighs and tired smiles from them than anything close to a laugh.

“I’ll let you know when I’m done with this copy.” You reply with another slow blink.

You watch his mouth, mentally tracing his lips with your eyes as he sucks his lips for a moment and nods, his eyes dropping to the ground again. It’s only then that you realise how close the toes of your feet are to each other. He couldn’t be looking down because of that, or thinking about that though. You are cursed to yearn in silence. “Appreciate it.” He says with a small smirk as he looks up at your eyes, he raises his eyebrows slightly to replace any verbal goodbyes and he walks off.

Norm leaves you as he found you minutes before, all alone in false sunlight with a book in your hands. You still haven’t found the missing puzzle pieces.

It had been four days now. Four days since you’d had that conversation with Norm, there had been plenty of stolen glances, and a few returned smiles when your eyes met across corridors or the dining hall, but Norman MacLean was still, one of the only things occupying your mind.

You wouldn’t complain, why would you? How could you when the fact that those glances, and snippets of conversations were now a supercut in your head that provided comfort whenever you started to get into another emotional crisis about vault life and what the history was that had brought everyone to this point. But still, you couldn’t help but sometimes worry over this yearning. How unrequited it could be. How unrequited it felt.

You felt a hunger in the pit of your stomach each time that you saw his shadow, each time you two made eye contact you couldn’t help but feel as if it was a caress on your skin, even though the only time he’d touched you was to help you up when you’d fallen over outside when you were seven. He’d insisted on being the one to put the excessive amount of band-aids on your grazed hands. Hank had stood back and watched, finding it endearing, how concentrated Norm’s face was at such a young age. Maybe they should’ve thought about trialling him in medicine, but no, he probably still lacked the desired enthusiasm during the first-aid training vault-dwellers did.

You were seated with your family for a council update, everyone gathered to sit on the folded chairs, you and your family were always extremely punctual, you sat with them on one side while the other was still a row of a few empty seats.

As people slowly trickle in you see Norm come in, he looks mentally fatigued as he looks around, you turn your head to face your family so you don’t catch his eye in hopes of him not noticing your stare. How pathetic would he think you are if he saw you looking at him like a wide-eyed puppy, begging for love? You can imagine, but you don’t want to know. After a moment you hear somebody sit down next to you, the chatter of people finding seats fills your ears but you don’t hear any from whoever sits down. You feel their arm brush against yours, you know it’s nothing but you instinctively turn to see who it is and to give them a polite and welcoming smile.

It’s Norm. Of course, it’s Norm. But why is it? He’s just facing ahead so he hasn’t acknowledged you yet, although you’re sure he can see your smile and look in his peripheral vision. “Hey.” You say quietly in a warm voice as you look at his handsome side profile, he shouldn’t look that good. His face shouldn’t be so perfectly sculpted. “Hi.” He says quietly as he tilts his head giving you a small look that seems dramatically playful which makes you smile, and let out a silent chuckle. Norm’s face turns back ahead to face the front where his father now stands and the council sit. Your eyes follow his gaze and you turn back in your seat to look straight ahead as Hank MacLean starts his updates in his usual down-to-earth, selfless leader tone.

You can’t help but wonder if this is a sign, him choosing this seat, you even wonder if his arm brushing against you was intentional as he sat down and then again you wonder if you were being crazy for wondering that. As Hank’s words go on to fill the air, they don’t really fill your head, that’s too busy being at full capacity with thoughts of Norman. You rub your chin after a moment, hoping the feeling of your fingertips and nails against your chin might create a sensory distraction. You get a completely different kind of sensory distraction when his arm gently brushes against yours as he leans back in his seat, he adjusts himself so that your shoulders are touching and you can feel his arm against yours. You can’t help but silently gasp, hoping he doesn’t hear it and your breath traps itself as you hold your breath. Feeling far too scared to move. It has to be intentional, you look at him through the corner of your eye as you try not to move. He’s still looking ahead, his expression unfazed as he looks at the people in front of him but he’s still sitting in that position. He hasn’t moved his arm.

It’s intentional.

You try to breathe again as your cheeks heat up, and you bite the corner of your lip. The feeling of his arm against yours sends shivers up your spine and you can feel the warmth of that small point of contact radiating throughout the rest of your body.

The connection you feel with Norm is deep and for the first time in quite a while, this simple gesture of touching arms makes you wonder if these years of yearning maybe aren’t unrequited. You feel your shoulders start to slowly rise and fall again at this thought, this movement hasn’t disturbed Norm away. A smile grows on your face like the corn that’s picked around the year, as you smile and look ahead. The meeting continues like this, it isn’t till the end that you lose that gentle, physical touch, sweet connection that you long for as Norm gets up and leaves to carry on with his day, you smile as he stands up, he gives you as small smile and walks away. You’re now touch-starved all over again, and you think it feels more hollow after feeling a touch from him.

Maybe one day it won’t be just your arms touching but instead your hands, your hands will brush against each other and then your fingers will interlock together. You’re better at camouflaging but you’re certain that your souls are made of and connected by the same things.

It’s been what feels like an eternity since you felt Norm’s simple touch, it’s occupied every thought and been the reason behind nearly every smile since it happened. The question is though, has it been haunting Norm at all? You know he isn’t seeing anyone, secrets like that don’t exist here and it would certainly be talk with how introverted Norm is.

Hours is the amount of time you’ve spent trying to think of a reason to approach him but nothing feels right and you decide against it anytime you get close to it. You try to find any excuse to visit him and the one you can think of is beyond pathetic, and you know that.

You find another copy of a collection of plays and decide to give it to Norm, for him to decide whether he wants to read it or to fulfil a bit. It’s not a good reason, but it’s the best you’d been able to come up with. And at least with the book in your hands there would be some comfort in the pages, the smell of them and the remaining dust that haunted the corners that had been facing the wall. It can ground you and be something to hold onto anxiously while you make a fool of yourself. Norm conveniently answers after you’ve knocked at the MacLean family unit. He looks at your face and raises his eyebrows slightly, his face switches from an apathetic expression to one a bit warmer. “Hey.” You say, smiling at him but you think it must come off as panicked and scared as you look at him with wide eyes and feel an anxious parasite growing and feeding off of you in your brain.

“Hi.” He says as he steps back letting you come into the unit. You walk in, and it’s nice and tidy but it’s the same as essentially your family unit and every other unit in Vault 33. You blink as you look around for a couple of seconds and your eyes land back on him, he’s been watching you the whole time.

“After Lucy?” He asks and you feel your cheeks heat up, you liked Lucy, she was an extremely lovely person and you did consider her a close friend. “No.” You shake your head, the admission makes you feel like coming here was an even worse idea than what you thought it was just a few minutes ago. “I brought a copy of tragedies, in case you needed any dark reading, or wanted to… pass them on…” You continue and bite your lip for a second.

Norm lets out a little chuckle that shakes his shoulders for a second but it’s borderline silent, almost not real. He looks into your eyes and takes a step closer, you’re not sure if he’s going to do the hospitality script you learn from a young age of offering a glass of water or cup of old Joe.

Instead, he quickly steps closer and Norm places his hands on the back of your neck, you sharply exhale and you know that the hair on the back of your neck is standing up. The feeling of goosebumps on every inch of your skin overwhelms your senses as his lips finally crash down.

His lips are slightly chapped and you can feel that against yours, the fine lines and cracks as they press against your mouth. There’s nothing you can do but melt into his touch as you’re overcome with warmth. But there isn’t anything else you’d want to do anyway.

There’s nothing else you can imagine feeling that feels this good. You kiss him back instinctively and put your hand into his hair as he deepens the kiss, his hair is soft and you run your fingers through it as you feel his tongue, and it’s a clash of your mouths against the other.

You immediately wonder if the physical warmth of where your bodies come into contact, his breath against your face, his warm lips, and the warmth that envelops you internally is what sunlight feels like. This feeling basks you in what you imagine would be similar to being basked in the light of sunrays would.

You don’t know how long this lasts, it feels like a sweet lifetime but still deliciously short as you kiss and feel his hair while his hand is gentle on the back of your neck. Like all things, it eventually ends. You look at each other with widened eyes and pant as your lips are no longer in contact. Your cheeks heat up and you almost want to giggle. You see his face is flushed and his eyes shine, you think it’s adoration but you could be projecting.

“My dad will be back soon.” He whispers knowingly as his eyes look glassy. “Oh.” You look around as if that’ll help you feel more composed. You weren’t expecting this to end so abruptly, this felt like something straight out of a dream and now it was a cold end, something want to shapeshift into a nightmare. You know you should leave, you’re feeling far too flustered to try and have a conversation with Hank and you know this isn’t a conversation Norman wants to try navigating around with his father. “We um… Well, we need to talk…” You breathe out.

He smiles and whispers your name, the tone is reverent as he says each syllable. “Not now.” His eyes look a little less glassy but it’s still a visible sheen and you can see it, the sun has withdrawn a little.

“Not now?” You repeat, it comes out as a shaky question though as you feel every muscle in your body tense.

This is rejection, this is what puts all those protagonists you’ve read of into a depression that only the seaside can cure if anything can cure it. Being in this vault, you don’t think you can ask for cornfield projections to change to windy cliffs with waves crashing and the artificial grass to be replaced with manmade sand. You’d always wondered about the sunlight but now you’d have to wonder what sand from a beach felt like as well.

“No.” He whispers. “That isn’t fair. Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” He blinks and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you.

“When?” “Maybe when you finish the book, not a copy, your book.”

“Not a copy?” Your face scrunches up, as your brain runs screaming.

“No.” He answers. “Yours probably has thoughtful annotations or something right?” He asks.

“Or something.” You whisper back.

“I’ll read that.” He says.

You nod, as you pick up the spare copy and walk out from the MacLean unit, you don’t feel like you’re controlling your body right now, it must be some form of muscle memory. Maybe you need to read and reread every book in the vault to further investigate if what you just felt was sunlight. Or, you wonder, are you still under gaps of sunlight, missing Norm more than anything?

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nsyncat · 6 months

Text

OK, so this is my first post EVER since I joined Tumblr like ten years ago. Always been a lurker, enjoying all of the wonderful things here, the gifs, fics, ships, art, all the knowledge and all the amazing heritage posts, but never posting and hardly reblogging, I don't know why, was always afraid I would make a mistake or reblogg incorrectly...

Anyway, the reason this is my first time posting is because THAT amazing moment that happened a week ago, and I've been losing my mind ever since, and unfortunately I have nobody to share this excitement with that will understand... So I had to get it out somehow, and here seems like the perfect place to do so.

I don't know if anybody will read this or pay it any attention, but never mind, I just have TO. GET. IT ALL. OUT!

So I've been a loyal fan of 9-1-1 this past six years, got hooked to these kind of first responders dramas, also Station 19 and then of course Lone Star. I fell in love with the writing, the drama and action, the characters of course, the emotional and moving stories, both of the regular cast and the people in the emergencies (am not afraid to admit that I cried more than a few times, especially when I was pregnant... woooh, that was a tough season for me).

Anyway, like everyone else, got invested in Buck's storyline and of course hopped on the Buddie train in season 2. And obviously there was something between them, and the fandom always clowned themselves that "in the next season SOMETHING is going to happen!" and I always wanted to believe it, and also fooled myself a few times but always was the cold harsh realist and realised it was not going to happen... But enjoyed the ride nonetheless, read amazing fics, saw wonderful fanart, read interesting breakdowns and analysis.

And then 704 happened and I'm not joking or exaggerating, my life changed!

Confirming that Buck is Bi was amazing! I'm ashamed to admit that I really thought it won't happen, EVER! So I still can't believe it actually happened (thank you soooo much ABC!) and like a lot of you, I've been on cloud nine this past week and can't wait for tomorrows episode (also not from the US), literally counting down the hours.

And look, I love Buddie, I really do, but I fell in love with TEVAN (my favourite one yet) 😍 and been OBSESSED with them this past week. Just from those few moments between them and what we barely know that is going to happen the next episode, I truly fell in love with them and really hope they make it as far as they can. I think its an amazing thing for Buck and also CANT. STOP. WATCHING THE KISS! The actors did an incredible job, especially Oliver, also with his spoken support of the storyline and his love for Buck. Such a KING! So this whole thing is huge.

And I have a one-year-old, my life is hectic with taking care of a little human being, a hubby who is also very busy, work, family and a million other things and this past year with a heavy heart I kinda neglected reading fics, and it was my main hobby, my escape, my one and constant thing in my LIFE since I was 12. I do read here and there, but not like I used to, reading hours and hours and into the night, multi chapters and long oneshots, in multiple fandoms, and now whenever I do get to read something once In a blue moon I'm not fully invested or enjoying it because either I'm tired or have something else more important to do. And unfortunately, eventually I noticed that I lost this fire, the passion in me and it left me sad and heartbroken...

And then something incredible happened. Ever since that earth-shattering kiss, the fire and passion came back! Holy shit! I've been reading and ENJOYING fics nonstop this whole week, I can't concentrate on work thinking about everything and reading in-between tasks, I use every single free minute I have to search new fics and scroll through the tags, I go to sleep late because I need to read just one more fic(!!!) even tough I have to wake up very early in the morning and I DON'T EVEN CARE. I'm thinking about it sooo much and imagining new scenarios in my head, and feeling giddy and happy, in a good mood a lot of the time, more optimistic, knowing I have a new and exciting place I can "escape" to, like I had in the past.

Its not that i'm not happy, I have an amazing son and a wonderful husband and I cherish every moment with them, but these are hard and difficult times and life can be hard and stressful and I'm a different kind of happy... So these past few days have been nourishment for my soul and my mood, it sounds so silly but its true! I'm feeling a bit like my old self and it's amazing.

And if someone did read this or did pay attention and got to this point, sorry for the long rant and thank you so much for the patience and understanding 🙏 I love you and wish you a wonderful weekend and happy Buck's-first-date-with-a-man day! 🥰

So I want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, ABC, Oliver, Lou and you crazy lot for resurrecting my old fangirl self 😌 I'm so grateful for all your posts, your takes, your similar enjoyment and of course your amazing fics you're writing and sharing 🩵

#911 abc #buck x tommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 season 7 #personal #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr #911 #tevan

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friendsoup · 10 months

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Hi Hiiiii! I was wondering whether you could do a shy fem!reader watching a horror movie with Tennant (from r1999 and any other character you want!) where the reader get's spooked from a jumpscare and cuddles into the character out of fear. Thanks!!

Horror Movie Night

Recipe: Romantic fic, Fem!reader, Reader x Tennant, Reader is insecure in the relationship :[, Tennant loves to tease, Cuddling, Reader is called M'lady and Mi Amor, Small hints of jealousy and insecurity WC: 1k Chef's Note: This is my first time writing Tennant, so please forgive me if it seems ooc!!! ;o;! I've been wanting to write her for a while now though, so thank you for gifting me the opportunity to! Writing this was pretty fun.

Lord knows how you got into this situation.

You’ve never liked horror movies, and watching a horror movie with a group was even worse. You’d been teased before for being squeamish and easily scared. That, on top of being forced to watch such grotesque things made your stomach churn. Overall, it was a terrible situation to be in. One you promised yourself you’d never do again.

It was An-an who brought up the idea of a movie night. You weren’t opposed, until she listed out what she wanted to watch with everyone. Some of the arcanists in the suitcase had never even heard of a movie before, was it a good idea to start them with Ringu and Out of The Dark?

You didn’t want to do it. Nothing on this Earth could convince you to go.

Until Tennant opened her beautiful, dumb, mouth. “It sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” A smirk grew on her face, noticing how you shied away at her words. “A glimpse into the future. You don’t get that often.” You imagined for a moment, Tennant watching a movie with some of the other girls. Her wrapping her arm around one’s shoulder, lazily cuddling into someone else. Someone else hiding in her chest, shielding their eyes from the horrors on the screen. The thought made your face burn with embarrassment and envy. You and Tennant weren’t an item, only a casual fling, but the thought of her being with someone else made your heart sink into your stomach.

And that’s why you’re here, sitting next to Tennant, eyes glued to the screen in front of you. A few other arcanists sit around the two of you, too focused on the movie to notice your fear. You catch a glimpse at their expressions, the mix of fear and excitement, and some in pure amazement at what’s going on in front of them. For a moment, you consider leaving. Sneaking out the door, and allowing Tennant to continue her movie night in peace. However, you feel an elbow press into your arm, and when you turn to look, Tennant is smiling down at you. “M’lady, if you get too scared, you can hold my hand.” Your face heats up instantly, as you grow unbearably flustered. You turn away from her, muttering something about not being frightened. Tennant simply gives a low chuckle, her attention fluttering from you back to the screen.

You think for a moment about grabbing her hand. The two of you have never spoken about PDA. You’d always assumed she wanted to keep things quiet though, to keep other avenues open. But everyone was focused on the movie. No one would notice the two of you holding hands, right? It was safe. Your hand hesitantly moves towards hers, but you stop inches away. You can’t bring yourself to initiate touch. Something is keeping you back. Are you worried she’ll get angry with you? That she’ll move away? So many things keep going wrong in your head, you don’t want to risk it.

You decide to quiet your mind by focusing on the movie.

After a moment, you find yourself growing quite lost in it. The way it’s filmed is excellent, and the acting is really well done. If you weren’t so terrified, you’d be a big fan of how put together it all is. You feel your heart rate begin to rise as the tension grows. The lead begins walking through the forest alone. He calls out to someone, but there’s no response. Your eyes are as big as saucers as you watch him run, calling for someone you know is already dead.

And then he hears a call back. Somehow, your hands find themselves on Tennant’s arm. She looks down at you, prepared to make another sly remark, but sees how focused you are on the movie, and decides against it. You give it a light squeeze, leaning into her.

You know it’s not his friend. There’s no way it’s his friend. But he follows it anyway, crying out how grateful he is to hear her voice.

You feel like you’re about to explode, your grip tightening around Tennant’s arm. She clears her throat, hoping you’d notice, yet you remain unaware of your situation. Tennant grows a bit flustered, annoyed that she can’t tease you like this. She can’t wait to see your face when you realize the two of you are touching.

The lead gets closer, and closer, and you feel your heart rising to your throat. You feel sick to your stomach, but the lead continues on, oblivious to your panic. And then he’s attacked. You jump, before burying your face into Tennant’s shoulder. You can’t stand to see the rest of it, what happens to him next. You breathe in her scent, finding it to be comforting. She smells of nutmeg and sage, with a hint of something else you can’t put your finger on. It smells like the nights you’ve spent alone together, talking about everything under the sun. It smells like comfort. Like the home you’ve built here. Your body grows less tense, your grip lightening on her arm.

Slowly, you come to your senses. You remove your face from her shoulder, meekly glancing up at her. She’s looking down at you, a light blush on her cheeks. She smiles down at you, a genuine look of admiration seated in her eyes. “If you needed a knight in shining armor, mi amor, you only need to ask.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, as you glance back at everyone else. They’re all focused on the movie, paying no mind to the two of you. “Tennant…” You whisper. “I’m feeling a bit scared. I don’t want to be alone tonight. Could you please keep me company?” You plead. Tennant’s face reddens further. She turns away, placing a hand to her cheek. “M’lady, how bold…” She gives another chuckle. “I would not be opposed, however… A night with you is always a blessing.” You nod, before turning your attention back to the screen.

“But let’s finish the movie first.” You tell her.

#x reader #reverse 1999 #re1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 tennant #tennant #tennant x reader #Tennant x you #Let's Make Friend Soup!#order up!

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moodymisty · 4 months

Note

Hello! I can not tell you how fERRAL I went when I discovered your blog a couple days ago, I've binged the fuck out of your Darksiders content and I just can't belive I havent found you sooner (where have you been fr ;7;) !! Your writing style and vocabulary are impeccable, and I can't wait to read moreeee ahhdjshdjsjdj I am eagerly awaiting the next chapter of 'Tree in Bloom' but if I may request also a continuation or conclusion of your 'Death returning to the one he abandoned post well of souls' fic cuz I'm a succer for your angst and fluff and everything else you do really jdjshdj<3 sfw or nsfw idc as long as I get to read more of your writing!<333

Lots of love and support from a long time Darksiders community member and fan <3

Part 1

Author's note: Sure fam, I think I can squeeze out a bit more for that one.

Relationships: Death/Gn!Reader

Warnings: none really

Death hadn't returned to you since the confrontation.

It's a rare feeling for him, but he honestly doesn't know what to do next. If you were missing, injured, he could formulate a plan, kill something, even bite his tongue and ask for assistance. But you're right here, and so unfathomably angry at him that the anger has morphed into something else entirely.

Apathy, perhaps. Death wouldn't be unfamiliar with that sort of transformation. He'd felt that change towards the fate of the Nephilim a long time ago.

But Death knows that he doesn't want to just leave you behind the way he does with everyone else. The way he had tried to with his death in the Well of Souls, and had failed to successfully do. He enjoyed having you beside him, enough so that it almost made him upset at how attached he was getting. It made him even angrier that it was becoming more than just acquaintanceship, or friendship. He shouldn't be having the sorts of thoughts he was about you, he didn't deserve them.

You didn't either; Not after what he did. He knows he had to, it's what he thought was best, it was the only way to save War and your race, but that doesn't mean he hasn't realized how it had hurt you.

But now he stands in front of you completely silent, and all the words he was thinking about saying suddenly sound so stupid.

"I told you Death, you can just leave. I don't know why you keep coming back."

His jaw shifts behind his mask. That sounds eerily similar to something that he would say, and he isn't a fan of being on the other side of it. Perhaps for a moment he understands a bit of how you feel when you try to speak with him.

You look up at him with raised eyebrows, wondering why he hasn't either talked, or just moved on. Your anger fades ever so slightly when you seem to realize that he's... nervous. Or at least something in a similar category.

"What is it, Death?" He swallows the knot in his throat. What he's going to say isn't something he's said in so long that he doesn't remember how the words taste, nor does he know if it's even the right thing to say.

"I wanted to apologize to you."

Your face changes from anger to surprise. He thinks he sees your lips mouth what, but your voice was silent. You cross your arms across your chest as if trying to give yourself a hug.

"Why?" At first he thinks you're asking why he's apologizing, but when he sees the watery shine in your eyes he realizes that you're asking why he did what he did. You just wanted an answer, this entire time, and he knows now that he at least owes you that.

"I thought it would be better to just leave than to drag it out."

You wanted to be angry at him still he can tell, demand that he explain himself more, but you know in the end that's all you'll get out of him in words. You could at least understand him; That it was easier to rip the bandaid off than to say goodbye and risk feeling hesitation over what he had to do.

You sigh, still crossing your arms over eachother.

"You don't have to apologize. Just, don't leave me like that again." Death watches you look away from him again, and your next words hit him harder than he's been hit by any weapon in awhile. "I don't know if I could take something like that a second time."

Death doesn't comment directly on it, on how you so easily show you're attached to him. Death had tried desperately to stop you from doing so, for your sake and his. You shouldn't attach yourself to someone like him, and someone like him doesn't deserve such upfront, vocal infatuation.

"Dust stayed with you this entire time?"

Death looks down on you with his familiar expression, though even you can tell behind the mask it's a bit softer. The bird warbles softly at his name being called, ruffling his feathers a bit but still staying mostly still. You nod at his question.

"Yes, ever since you left." Death looks at his left shoulder at the crow, watching the bird eye him.

"Good bird." You smile at his praise. Dust deserved it, after everything.

"I imagine I have plenty to catch up on," Death says. He knows you have a penchant for curiosity- as does your entire race it seems - along with the changes he himself brought not long ago. He's sure you've gotten into trouble under the Makers care, as well as anything that has changed since he brought Humanity back from the dead.

"You do." You take a breath and raise your tone to something more questioning, and more importantly expectant. "But I can bring you up to speed, if you can stay awhile?"

Death out of habit wanted to say no, but perhaps he can defeat a centuries old habit just for you.

He nods, and follows behind you as you go to sit down together with him, and tell him everything.

#death x reader #darksiders death x reader #darksiders x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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constantcrisis19 · 1 year

Note

Hey! I've been following your stuff for awhile and I am obsessed! Keep up the good work and I look forward to the next time you post!

Also, I was wondering if you could write a fic where Will is sick and the reader playing nurse and just giving this man some much needed TLC.

Tender Love And Care

Will Graham x GN S/O

AN: Not sure if this is exactly what you had in mind when you requested this, but I hope that you enjoy it! Thanks so much for your prompt, I had fun writing this!

Word Count: 1,965

The last week had been a test of your patience, between Chilton claiming to have the infamous Chesapeake Ripper in his care, the death of one of his nurses, Chilton’s theory being disproved, the court case, Dr. Gideon’s escape from an armored transfer vehicle and now all the media attention, it was like a fucking circus.

At this point, you were running on nothing but copious amounts of caffeine and pure will power.

You tiredly shuffled into the already packed briefing room, feeling not unlike a zombie as you maneuvered through the crowd, muttering half-hearted apologies as you mindlessly bumped into some of the other equally exhausted agents on your way to the front of the group.

You had just gotten settled, having saved your most recent cup of coffee from being knocked out of your hand by a wayward elbow more times than you could count, when Jack Crawford finally entered the room, the crowd easily parting for him like he was a shark moving through a school of fish.

“Alright, listen up people.” He began when he came to a halt in front of a series of white boards, every single one of them covered entirely in case notes about, not only the Chesapeake Ripper’s greatest hits, but also Gideon’s own confirmed kills.

You knew every scrap of information, every little detail, every picture and notation on those fucking boards because you’d spent every waking hour over the past week adding to the steadily growing collection and meticulously studying every inch of data, like if you stared at it hard enough, then all the answers would suddenly come to you.

But alas, your job was rarely so easy.

“Our fugitive is Abel Gideon. Transplant surgeon. Convicted in the first degree in the murders of his wife and her family.” Jack stated to the room at large, his voice rough and tone serious, demanding nothing less than everyone’s full attention.

Though, even despite Jack’s commanding presence, you found your gaze wandering.

You lifted your cup of coffee up to your lips, taking a substantial gulp of the cooling beverage as your eyes scanned over the room, almost choking on your mouthful as you did a sudden double take when you spotted the man rumored to be Jack’s breadwinner.

“He’d been institutionalized at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, where he killed a nurse and claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack continued his speech in the background as your gaze raked over the dark-haired man’s figure, your head tilted in blatant curiosity as you watched him.

He was hunched over against the wall, as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible, the man horribly pale and dripping sweat, his curly hair plastered to his head and neck. He was also shaking as if he were freezing cold, which was a cause for concern since the usually comfortable room was actually a bit stuffy because of all the people packed inside, each tremor that wracked his frame looking almost painful.

Your brows furrowed with thinly veiled concern as you tried to meet his gaze, his bright blue eyes glassy as they nonsensically darted about the room, almost as if he were tracking something that no one else could see.

You glanced around to see if anyone else had picked up on the man’s odd behavior, but either no one noticed or they just didn't care because they were all dutifully facing the front of the room, fully focused on what Jack was saying.

“Dr Gideon escaped this morning after killing three people. He is armed and dangerous. He is believed to be at large.” Jack’s voice became muted as you gave up on keeping up with the briefing altogether in favor of scrutinizing Jack's prized consultant.

You knew that his name was Will Graham, that he was a special agent and he had a truly insane clearance rate, but anything else about the man was shrouded in mystery. Though, the lack of general knowledge about the man didn’t exactly stop the rumor mill from theorizing about his personal life, if anything it only encouraged the more chatty agents.

You took a peek at Jack to make sure that he was none the wiser to your distracted state before beginning to slowly move through the group of agents, working your way over to the fringes of the crowd and towards the wall that the man was inelegantly slouched against.

You earned a few nasty looks when you had to impatiently nudge at anyone who wasn’t shifting out of your way fast enough, and it wasn’t long before you had reached your destination.

You stopped about a foot away from Will, not wanting to make him feel cornered, but he didn’t seem to register your arrival, his eyes still wildly shooting around the room. You frowned, reaching out with the intention of maybe grabbing his shoulder or nudging him, but you hesitated halfway through the motion.

Your gaze briefly scanned over the other occupants in the room to make sure that everyone was still paying attention to Jack and was none the wiser to what you were up to, before you tried to get Will’s attention, whispering just loud enough for Will alone to hear. “Excuse me? Mr. Graham?”

The man still showed no signs of having heard you, his gaze still worryingly distant, and you watched the man tremble and mutter unintelligibly under his breath for a short moment before taking a deep breath and resolutely moving your hovering hand, closing the distance between the two of you and lightly resting your palm on his shoulder.

“Uh, Will? You’re Will, right?” You asked quietly as you squeezed the twitching muscles beneath your hand, trying to rub out some of the obvious tension there. Will violently flinched at the gentle pressure, causing your hand to slide a little further up than you had intended, your fingers brushing across the delicate skin of his neck.

Your eyes widened when you felt the sheer amount of heat exuding off the man, but you didn’t have a lot of time to linger on the fact that he was worryingly feverish because then Will was blinking rapidly, his hazy gaze clearing as his pale blue eyes darted over to you, settling somewhere near your forehead before darting away just as quickly.

“I- yeah. Yes. Did you need something?” He muttered as he removed his glasses and rubbed his hands over his damp face, sounding a bit dazed and confused, and you felt your gaze soften at the tangible exhaustion in his voice.

“Well, no, not really. I was just wondering if you were feeling okay? You don’t look too good.” You stated with a weak shrug, scrutinizing every little expression that passed over his face as you spoke. Now that you knew what to look for, it was glaringly apparent that he was horribly sick, if his flushed cheeks, copious amount of sweat, disorientation and fatigue were any indication.

"I'm fine." Will said unconvincingly, your lips pressing into a thin line as you watched him fumble with his jacket, trembling hands delving into one of the pockets and clumsily rummaging around for a few seconds before emerging with a bottle of what looked like over the counter pain medication.

The pills inside rattled as his shaking hands attempted to get the cap off, Will giving a low, frustrated curse that sounded a touch too desperate when he couldn't manage to successfully open the child lock.

After watching him needlessly struggle for a few seconds, you stepped closer, moving further into his personal space before reaching out to cover his unsteady hands with your own. Will froze, his eyes snapping up from your joined hands to your face, finally looking directly at you for the first time since you’d approached him.

You carefully coaxed his hands away from the stubborn bottle and twisted the cap open for him, tapping three of the chalky, white pills out into your palm before tipping them into the man’s unsteady hand. Will just stared down at the pills resting in the middle of his palm for a long moment, several different emotions flashing across his face so fast that you couldn’t keep up.

“Here. You look like you need it more than me.” You said, regaining his attention before you held your half full cup of coffee out to the man, assuming that the lack of something to wash the medication down with was what was causing the delay.

Will shoved the bottle back into his pocket before warily reaching out to take the offering, like if he moved too quickly, that the coffee cup would bite him or something. You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your lips at the man’s odd behavior, Will pausing with the cup resting against his mouth when he noticed your amusement.

“What?” He asked a little defensively, but you didn’t take his tone to heart, merely shaking your head as he popped the pills into his mouth. The action was followed by a mouthful of the now cold coffee, the man grimacing as he swallowed before handing the cup back.

“Nothing.” You replied as you rested your back against the wall next to Will, your lips pursing when a thought that you couldn’t ignore came to mind. “You’re very sick. Any chance that you could take a day off to rest up?” You asked, thoroughly unsurprised when Will whipped his head around to shoot you an incredulous look in response.

“I wish.” Will grumbled bitterly as his features hardened into something alarmingly close to resentment, the venom dripping from his words catching you off guard.

“Yeah, I figured, but it was worth a shot.” You shrugged in easy agreement in an attempt to dissipate some of the tension that had descended over the two of you and you hid a smile behind your coffee cup when Will let out a breath as he realized that you were under no delusions about how fucking annoyingly stubborn Jack could get.

Nothing short of Will being on his deathbed would make Jack bench his best agent during such a high-profile case, no matter how ill Will was.

“Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around then?” You mused, the man looking startled by the question for a moment before his eyes narrowed, his calculating gaze scrutinizing you for what felt like forever, before he found whatever he had been looking for and the tight line of his shoulders eased.

“Yeah.” He replied as his shoulders slumped, like he was buckling under the weight of the world. You tilted your head at him, eyes flicking over his side profile before you offered him your coffee again. This time, the man didn’t hesitate to take it, sipping at the contents as you both watched Jack wrap up the briefing.

“Well, I look forward to working with you.” You stated with a genuine smile, pushing off the wall and letting him keep the rest of your coffee since you could just go get more whereas Will would most likely be at Jack's beck and call for the foreseeable future.

He looked a little lost for a moment, as if surprised by your kindness, before he pulled himself together enough to respond. “Likewise.”

You gave him an encouraging nod and a wide grin before turning on your heel, filling out of the room with the rest of the group once you were all dismissed in order to get back to your desk and go about your usual duties, completely unaware of the way that Will’s keen gaze followed you as you went, his hand clutched around the cup of coffee you gave him.

#nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #will graham #will graham x reader #fbi agent reader #takes place during season 1 #will has encephalitis #will needs a hug #and to sleep for an eternity #and a new psychiatrist #maybe one that isn't a cannibal #answered asks #request

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enihk-writes · 1 year

Text

[日久见人心]

characters: present!chung myung + afab!she/her!reader

baek cheon x afab!she/her!reader (implied and one-sided from the reader's end because they are not the main plot point for this fic lol)

summary: old habits die hard, even when you are born in a new body. to his credit, he does try not to seem like he is the reincarnation of the plum blossom sword saint, but his subconscious actions said otherwise. he didn't think you of all people would notice.

word count: 3.85k

author's note: the phrase 日久见人心 (rì jiǔ jiàn rén xīn) is part of the full saying 路遥知马力，日久见人心 (lù yáo zhī mǎ lì, rì jiǔ jiàn rén xīn) and i vaguely remember it was something my mother tongue teacher back in secondary said we could use in our composition essays or whatever,,,, and recently i saw it on those cringey rise-and-grind motivational crypto bro ig pages my ex-classmates are reposting on their stories which kinda gave me an idea lmao.... anyways the meaning of the quote is that we need to take time to understand a person's character (also the fic is the result of my caffeine overconsumption lol and not related to my previous cmxreader because i needed a break from all that angst romance i've been writing wwwwwwww)

═══════════════

chung myung has been starting to think that you were cut out from the same cloth as yu iseol.

quiet, aloof and always watching.

if someone said that you both were twins, he wouldn't be surprised. but then again, there were differences. the most obvious one was that iseol had more talent with the blade than you did, and the other was that iseol had no talent in actually taking care of herself. you were barely managing, but compared to your senior sister? it was far more decent. the two of you had tang soso to thank for not dying as fast as you could have.

chung myung. bowl.

he looks up to see your hand outstretched, waiting to pick up the empty bowl he'd cleaned off long ago. chung myung grunts and hands it over, propping his arm up and resting his head on it as he watched you go around the dining hall to collect the dinnerware.

you lived in mount hua, sure, but you weren't the fighting sort. maybe because anything you did could get you sick — if the weather dropped or rose a little too quickly, your body would tremble and shiver. did you move a little too much today? did you happen to sleep later than you were supposed to that night? by the next morning you were down with a terrible fever that kept you in your room for the rest of the day. but now that tang soso was here, she would drag you down to the medicine hall, grumbling under her breath, all while you looked at her teary-eyed and apologetic.

maybe it was out of shame or embarrassment that made you try to be yourself useful in other ways, though you would often fail and cause more trouble. everyone would just sigh and pick up after your mess, ushering you out to do something else.

during those days, he'd find you hunched behind the baths, sobbing in frustration. chung myung didn't know what to do or say, he'd always talked more with his fist before his heart, so he'd end up hiding in the trees to watch over you instead. and once you've cried it all out, you would stand, wash your face and go to bed. trying something else tomorrow.

chung myung gives credit where credit was due. for a sickly kid, you sure had a thicker skin than the others.

eventually, you stuck with being the cleaner. your weird, meticulous habits somehow working well in this job. the cups and plates were wiped till it shone, silverware were polished until you could see your own face and that hard-to-scrub dirt on the grout would be pristine and white when left in your hands. chung myung wonders secretly if maybe you'd picked this talent up from that neat freak baek cheon.

what are you thinking about?

he almost hits you out of instinct. you really were cut from the same cloth as yu iseol.

he lets out a shaky breath as he turns to face you, who had been sitting behind him. you look at him owlishly and he would have thought you weren't breathing if not for the movement of your nostrils. crossing his leg over the other, he juts his chin at you in acknowledgement.

what is it?

you're quieter, and thinking a lot more than normal today.

ah... this kid... how does everything that comes out of that mouth sound like an insult? chung myung tries to reign in his short temper, he didn't want to hit a frail person for no reason, and he knows that you just happen to always talk like that.

hm. i was thinking about you.

woah. pervert.

ah... maybe he should hit your head just once. just once and he'll never hit you again.

i'm kidding.

really? were you now?

i'm really kidding, don't go and look like you're going hit me like you do with our senior brothers.

okay, you were off the hook. for now.

hmph. you shouldn't tease your elders.

what elder.

chung myung forgets that you were the same age as him. well, in this body, not spiritually. but if he were to talk about life experience and reincarnation, he was the older one but fuck! you didn't know that! he didn't tell anyone he was the plum blossom sword saint ugh!

chung myung, are you going to have an aneurysm?

shut up!

═══════════════

winter in mount hua was really cold. and chung myung, surprisingly, didn't do so well with the cold. though, he would rather die than let anyone ever find out about that.

he wakes up early to train as usual, but the cold this morning was so biting, he was tempted to just stay in bed, it wasn't easy being an old man. ah, but the other disciples would be celebrating if he didn't appear for morning practice and that was no good. after all, the future of the sect still depended on him, didn't it?

he got dressed and stepped out of his room —

chung myung.

fuck! couldn't you talk to people like a normal person? why do you love to sneak up on people like this? cheong mun sa-hyung please, please, please give him patience and strength.

you look cold.

he was! great observation! chung myung wants to yell that to you with gritted teeth. he was still, unfortunately, very unnerved by how he couldn't feel your presence.

follow me. i have something for you.

you didn't wait for him to reply, instead grabbing his hand as you dragged him to the kitchen. he didn't try to resist, letting you pull him wherever, like a parent going to see what their child just found.

the two of you walk across the training grounds that had been buried under a blanket of pristine snow, the dim light of your paper lantern showing you the way. treading past and leaving two sets of footprints behind.

you push him into the kitchen, hanging the lantern up on a hook in the wall. chung myung notices the fire in the stone stove, you had already started it before going out to find him, probably because you were boiling something in that pot standing over the fire. chung myung sits on the ground, huddling before the blaze, it felt warm and comforting in the kitchen. the sound of water boiling in the pot and the crackling of the charred wood its heat blowing across his frigid face was, unsurprisingly, giving him a boost of energy.

you carefully move the pot to the side, removing the lid to check the contents in it. looking pleased with the result, you take out a bowl still steaming into your hands and placed it on the ground between you and chung myung as quickly as you could.

he looks over curiously. it looked like some kind of pudding, he doesn't think he's seen it before —

it's milk pudding, with lotus seeds and almonds

oh? he pondered, eyeing the bowl as you handed him a spoon.

aren't these ingredients used to make mooncakes?

chung myung asks, folding his arms. he notices that you were avoiding his gaze. don't tell him you...?

did you steal these from the warehouse?

hey! steal is a strong word!

oh i'm sorry, your highness, did you perhaps take the ingredients from the fucking warehouse?

he scoffed mockingly, exaggerating his manner of speech in mild irritation. he laughed at your grimace and pouty expression. ah, he feels like he's making fun of a toddler, he should be ashamed for bullying a kid at his age.

hm, he hasn't done something this juvenile in a long time. it was oddly nostalgic, in a way. he mused, digging into the soft and smooth surface of the pudding with the spoon, trying to scoop up the lotus seeds and almonds in it too.

mmh. 's not bad.

wow, i didn't know you knew how to compliment people

should i take that back then?

i'm sorry.

═══════════════

you had been working hard in cleaning the floors for spring cleaning. but the boys were so heavy-footed and honestly far too uninterested in their surroundings that the well-polished wooden floorboards you were really proud of was always dusty.

should you just barricade the entrance of the dorms until nightfall? just so they wouldn't walk all over your hard work?

you sit on the steps, your hair tied into a scarf, head resting on the propped broom you held between your legs. thinking long and hard over your predicament while looking over at the training grounds where chung myung was drilling down on everyone else.

the sun hung high in the cloudless afternoon sky, its rays casting down on the compound harshly. you were beginning to feel dizzy and closed your eyes, hoping to relieve the pain growing in your head.

you didn't hear anything outside the constant ringing in your ears, so one can only imagine your surprise when the reddish tint you saw while your eyes were closed grew dark.

who?

you cracked open your eyes to try and make out the person standing before you, wincing when the bright light nearly blinded you.

a familiar chuckle graced your ears as the ringing grew quiet. ah, it was senior baek cheon.

he taps the bamboo flask against your forehead, the water in it swishing against the walls. you take it, grateful, chugging down the contents, choking on it a little when a few drops went down the wrong pipe.

hey, hey... slow down... no one's going to take it away from you...

you cough, turning away in embarrassment. baek cheon sits down next to you on the steps, watching your antics in quiet amusement. you didn't want to look at him, not when he was practically topless, with his hair tied up high and swept over his shoulder.

chung myung looks at the scene from afar, not really clocking anything in his mind until he sees the way you were trying to scoot a little further away like a snail touching salt and your hands covering up your cheeks.

oh.

oh?

so you and baek cheon huh?

chung myung feels the cogs in his brain turn. at times like these he wishes he had someone to talk about this with, maybe tang bo. he would have loved to hear about petty gossip like this, and they could have teased the kids like the old men they were.

so you think something is going on between her and baek cheon sasuk too, huh?

jo-gul's voice comes up from behind, and chung myung didn't need to look over to see the guy's eyes trained on his targets.

if you have so much free time to discuss other people's love lives, i think we can continue with our training right, sahyungs?

chung myung called out loudly for everyone to hear.

jo-gul you fucking bastard!

you and your big mouth...

ugh... i can't get up...

the poor guy could only hang his head in quiet embarrassment. baek cheon laughed at the antics of the others, getting up to walk back to the training grounds. but not before he reached out to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

if you're going to rest, do it in the shade. i don't think you want to fall ill again tomorrow, do you?

he asks, and you shake your head in response.

mmh. i'll see you around?

see you...

you wave meekly as he left, your insides going through an entire acrobatics routine. wondering what that short exchange was all about. it couldn't be that he liked you back? or did he catch onto your growing crush? you wanted to throw yourself off the cliff.

═══════════════

i didn't take you for a guy that had habits like this.

chung myung gulped down the last of the warm water in his cup, setting it down on the counter, and looked at you quizzically. your elbows were propped up over the edge of the counter and you were perched on the stool in a rather un-ladylike manner.

it's good for your health you know.

psh... isn't that an old wives tale?

he scoffs and shakes his head.

haah...

he sighs.

the young people these days.

you look at him, head tilted in confusion. humming for a bit, you let your thoughts simmer before you decided to pose the question.

hey, why'd you speak like that?

chung myung pauses.

like what?

you know... like an old man?

he sucks in a quick breath. there was no way you of all people would have figured it out, right?

he felt like he was spiralling into a bit of a panic.

hey.

you snap your fingers in his face, moving to stand beside him while he was deep in thought.

earth to chung myung?

he looks at you.

he takes a good look at you.

you were not the brightest bulb in the bush, or however that saying goes, at least when compared to him. there was no way you connected the dots and figured out he was the plum blossom sword saint. yeah, this was for sure a case of the right formula and the wrong answer.

he had to divert your thoughts before you start to think deeper.

i think i hear baek cheon sasuk coming over.

huh?

it was your turn to panic a little, and he darts out of the kitchen to escape what would have been your incoming torrent of scrutiny. you realise just then that you had been completely bamboozled by the bastard chung myung.

running to the door, you yell out a string of curses at the run-away instigator. ah, your blood pressure...

═══════════════

you think chung myung might have been raised by old people. because there was no other plausible reason that he acts the way he does.

sometimes he walks with his hands behind his back, and while most people your age would stand straight and position their arms in a stiff way, chung myung puts his hands on his lower back — like he was supporting it. you know who else does this? the sect leader and the other elders. and it doesn't help his case that he was always slouching a little.

another thing you notice was how his taste in food was a few notches blander than the rest of you. he wasn't fond of anything too salty or sour or anything undercooked. he'd always pick out the softest parts of any cooked meat, saying it was the juiciest, which was somewhat believable. but then wasn't it also nearest to where the animals organs used to be before it was gutted? wouldn't it taste bitter?

speaking of bitter, chung myung liked to eat food that made you squeamish. he'd nag at the nutritional value of them and when nobody wanted to try it out, he'd mumble something about kids these days not knowing what's good for them and scarf it down by himself.

that was another thing about him, why was he always calling you a kid when you were the same age as him? it wasn't that big of a deal for you. but calling the other seniors kids? you wondered if it was his way of showing his martial superiority in a twisted way, or if it was another underlying reason.

surely, it must be because he was raised by the elderly.

god, you were so smart, weren't you? connecting the dots like that?

═══════════════

chung myung was sure you were dropped on the head as an infant.

you had cornered him in the toilets. broke down and the door and everything, just to ask him who he was raised by. it was ridiculous, the scene that was folding out right then and he chooses to ignore that your weak body had somehow broken down a fucking wooden door. he has to ignore that, for his own sanity.

you were on the walls, hands clawing and feet digging on the rough surface. chung myung shirks away, exasperated. somewhere in the afterlife, he thinks he could hear the loud cackle of his friends at his predicament.

chung myung.

he tries to evade eye contact.

chung myung.

oh man, look at that spider on the ceiling spinning a web.

hey where are you looking? i'm over here.

he finally looks at you turning his head slowly.

uh... i think... you might be a bit too close...

a bit too close was a forgiving statement. your head had craned forward far enough that your face was almost less than a centimetre away from his.

you lean back at his reply. still not keeping your eyes off him. after all, he still hadn't answered your question.

you know that i'm an orphan... right?

yeah. so am i.

i wasn't raised by anybody...

oh.

you step back, pondering for a moment. chung myung feels the breath he was holding leave his lungs. you caused him so much anxiety. remember when he thought you were cut from the same cloth as yu iseol? he stands corrected, but you were insane in the opposite direction.

okay. so who raised you?

chung myung feels his eye twitch. why were you asking the same thing? he already told you!

i'm telling you—!

nuh-uh. that's not what i want to know. i want to know if you grew up with old people.

then you should have asked that from the beginning!

i panicked, okay?

he sighs, deeply, and covers his face in his hands. he feels his miraculous second life leaving his body at this exchange.

to answer your question. no, i didn't.

huh. i see.

you answer simply.

chung myung peeks at you through his fingers, surprised at your unusual silence. you, on the other hand, had grown more confused by his answer. if he hadn't been raised by the elderly, then how would anybody act the way he did? not to mention, he had knowledge of niche historical facts that nobody other than a person living in that time would have known of.

can i go now?

huh? oh yeah... sure...? oh! wait—!

you had answered too absentmindedly! you weren't done questioning him! shit! the slippery bastard had gotten away!

you jog out the door, only to bump into someone when turning a corner. a pair of arms catch you from falling. looking up you were met with baek cheon's worried gaze, which morphed into confusion when he realized at the same time as you did that you had ran out of the boys' toilets.

uh... wait... i can explain...

you wondered if a lighting bolt could strike down in broad daylight.

═══════════════

you were sulking in the kitchen.

the guy you had a somewhat infatuation with caught you in an embarrassing moment. you had convinced yourself all chances you had with him were ruined. this was all chung myung's fault. every time you had the slightest inconvenience you would secretly curse him out a little in your heart. you used to feel bad when you still had a working conscience, but not anymore though.

speak of the devil, and he comes walking in.

chung myung came in to ransack the cellar behind the kitchen for wine. he had been craving it for the past few days after his own stash ran out. he had waited for everyone else to be asleep before sneaking in as quietly as he could.

so one can only imagine the shock he felt, even though he swears he had already seen it all, when he finds your shadowy figure sitting crossed-legged on the counter and your two eyes staring right back at him in the darkness.

keugh—!

chung myung bites back a scream. fuck! can he please have one, one. peaceful day where you didn't fuck around with his psyche?

you didn't know he was coming in so soon. but you didn't care much since you had something to give him anyway.

shoving the lacquer box engraved with floral designs into his chest, you motion for him to take a look inside. chung mying complied, hesitantly lifting off the lid to find rows of thin mooncakes, without the egg yolks probably, and another layer under that was filled with a flaky-looking biscuit.

it's called tau sar piah.

he hums, taking the round ball out to inspect it. shrugging, he popped it into his mouth and chews down on the pastry. the flavour, it was familiar. he thinks, was it—?

dried mung bean paste?

you nodded, grinning.

what's this for though?

don't tell me you forgot.

forget? what did he forget?

it's your birthday you goon. well, in a few hours but still.

oh. he had forgotten, momentarily. you really were a good kid, remembering this old man's birthday and making something for him. shit, chung myung thinks he might tear up. was this what it was like to have grandchildren? he thinks he understands why cheong mun sa-hyung might have suggested he take on disciples of his own, or well, trusted him enough to babysit the children of the sect back then. ugh, he was a grandfather after all, and you were somehow his most troublesome child.

he sniffles. closing the lid on the box and grabbing the wine. well, it would be lonely to eat all of this on his own, and waking up the others would be too much of a hassle. suppose you would make do as his drinking buddy tonight. hooking an arm under your knees, he slings you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. the other grabbing the food and drink.

he jumps on the roofs until he brings you to a spot where the moon felt the closest. he drops you on your feet as you balance yourself on the uneven shingles. chung myung plopped down, leg crossed over the other, as he began to down the wine straight from the bottle.

he hands you the lid of the box, picking out the mooncake and biting into it.

wow. tastes kinda ass.

ugh, ungrateful much?

i never said i wouldn't eat it.

can't you just say your appreciation like a normal person?

a pause.

...thank you.

chung myung replied in a softer voice.

hmph. see? that wasn't so hard?

you huffed, teasing him.

chung myung only scoffed and rolled his eyes.

the night drudged on, and you spent the time talking about everything and nothing. things that happened that week, gossip you've heard, events that had happened in the past, antics of the other sect members...

chung myung feels his eyelids grow heavy. was it alright to rest his grieving heart for a while on his birthday? cheong mun sa-hyung and the others' surely wouldn't mind.

and as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, your voice quips up.

hey, do you think i should confess to sasuk?

psh—!

chung myung spits out the wine in his mouth, choking on the liquid that went up and out his nose. it felt as though he was vomiting out blood from that question alone.

you were really his most troublesome kid.

#enihkwrites #return of the mount hua sect #return of the blossoming blade #return of mount hua #cheong myeong #chung myung #rotmhs #rotbb #can yall tell who my favourite hwasan boy is lol #i have another chung myung x reader fic that im currently marinating (angst possibly no comfort)#all i can say is that its a “what if?” scenario where he survives his injuries but chooses not to go back to mount hua #btw my cycle started... i guess that explains all the angst ive been cooking the past few days huh #reader's health issues might have been my self-insert unconsciously djhfsfkjsjklhsadkkkkk #i read scholarly articles for the history of almond imports #this is how i choose to cope with project moon news #im so drained i can't have shit man

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fractualized · 3 months

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hi I sent that last ask and I appreciate you so much. I love how chill you are. I love that you speak up and aren't afraid of others people's opinions of you -- because you talking about that helps me realize exactly what you were talking about about.

my critical online space that shaped my brain was Tumblr growing up, much in the same way reddit or 4chan or anything else was for others, and as positive as it was and as much as I stay here, there were some HEAVY years of thought policing and performing perfectly at all times and I really think it fucked with my head!

not to trauma dump, but the way it related to starting off by policing each other in fandom just happened to spill into every other aspect of my life too. every thing is black and white. every interaction is perfect or you are flawed and not worth anything at all. people literally judging you off stupid fandom shit behind a fake name dressed up in sparkles and curiosity was enough to call you a monster who deserved to be alone. the fuck??

from fandom cops telling me that portrayals of fictional characters in my head were an actual meter that we can base if we're deserving of human connection made me think about what ELSE could be important. aren't there things a little more pressing than fictional characters?? the words I use. the way I behave. move my face. micro express, leave pauses in sentences, judged by everything! I've been taught that the LITTLEST OF INDICATIONS OF HUMANITY were going to be the death of me. I couldn't exist. all because of fictional themes that creators are allowed to make, but fans are not allowed to enjoy unless it's the "right way". even though the people CREATING it are also exploring it. rules for thee but not for me.

it's gross. I felt like a monster and when the only other people who are kind to you are monsters, it really makes you wonder why fandom cops find themselves so much morally superior to others 👹

People have told me I'm chill before and I'm always like, "excellent, they can't tell I'm yelling on the inside." 😂

Sometimes I wonder if I would be different if the show Heroes hadn't ended as such a clusterfuck. And by that I mean that my experience with that show ended on such a sour note, I wound up drifting away from fandom for 5-ish years. And it wasn't because of the Heroes fandom itself! It was because by the end I was hate-watching the show, and that kind of headspace is just no good. I wasted too much energy being mad at something that wasn't going to improve, and my other fandom interests weren't strong enough for fic, etc. I still lurked here and there, but otherwise I focused on life stuff.

At the point I left, tumblr was popular but I was still a livejournal (and journalfen) holdout. As a result, I was simply absent during the most intense tumblr years. I have a general idea of what it was like from everyone's descriptions, but from my point of view, five years passed, Telltale Batman: the Enemy Within came a-calling, I started writing fic again, and uhhhhh things sure were different.

Not entirely for the worse. For one thing, as someone who unavoidably grew older, yeah, I do keep in mind that there are children running around these parts. The increased focus on tagging your work is also good, so people can avoid what they don't want to see. And it's just always been a good general rule to be mindful when getting into sensitive topics, and I was seeing more of that.

Buuuuuuuut yeah, with that it seemed like "don't like; don't read" was out, and witch hunting was in. Some slight mistake might indicate you were actually one of the Bad Ones all the long! And everyone must know! I mean, there's always been fandom police, but fandom's mainstreamification definitely made it worse for a host of reasons. And I actually was unnerved by it for a while, even though the Enemy Within finale had me indulging in fluff. I was probably safe-- but then again who knows what blunder or improper deference to a sensitive subject could bring a swarm of strangers!

But eventually I was fluffed out, and chatting batjokes with people was giving me new ideas that would have me explore and indulge in (gasp) darker ideas. And by that point I was just like, I'm a freaking adult. I tag my shit. I'm here to have a good time with people I like, not worry about a bunch of randos who probably get as much anxiety making a cold call as I do. And yeah, why are fans supposed to be judged on a different metric than the creators?? I'm going to do what I want!

And with that rallying cry… I mean, nothing ever happened. 😂 Not the first time I've built up worries in my head for nothing.

I can see it taking me longer to get to that point if I'd fully marinated in the thought policing, though. I think people get that instinct because of the age-old lack of control elsewhere in life (especially nowadays, with all the… everything). Surely if someone can get everyone in their orbit to behave in just this way, then at least things there will be okay. Nothing bad will happen! (It's not as if rigid mindsets hurt people and their relationships, or performatively good people still do atrocious things. No, surely not.)

I don't have a good closing, so here's an Reno 911 icon from the old days:

#ask

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libraryofneith · 9 months

Text

Out of Mind - Chapter 9 (Joel Miller x Female Reader)

@hiroikegawa @evyiione @orcasoul @taz-97

*mrs weasley voice* Where HAVE you been?!!!! I know I know I'm sorry for my prolonged absence. I'm in my last year of uni, applying for post grads when all I really wanna do is write about our fav baby girl Joel Miller. If ever this happens again, which it probably will, worst luck I promise I've not abandoned you! I'm loving writing this fic and have big plans for new ones. Huge thank you to everyone who has liked and messaged me, assuring me that I have not been forgotten.

If anyone else wants to be the first to know when this fic is updated let me know and I'll add you to the taglist.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Summary: As you and Joel make the trade, your trust in him is stretched to its limits.

Warnings: [whole fic is 18+ minors DNI], it puts its age in the bio or it gets the block button, cursing, graphic descriptions of violence, attempted sexual assault, i'm going to put *** at the beginning and ending of any descriptions of sexual violence so you can avoid if necessary, Joel is still a dick, not me getting mad at him for things I made him do.

"you know I'd never let them hurt you."

"Do I?"

You

An icy wind startled you awake. The tip of your nose and cheeks had frozen where they'd been poking out of your sleeping bag in the night. You blew into your hands and tried to rub some warmth back into them, careful not to move the rest of your body or you'd wake Joel who was pressed up behind you.

You'd split the first few nights out of Boston, one of you resting while the other kept watch, but soon exposure to the elements had rendered caution impossible and you'd been forced to sleep at the same time, swaddled under both of your sleeping bags, desperate bodies clinging onto each other for warmth. Most nights you could feel Joel fighting to stay awake, body tensing up every time you started to relax until you hissed at him to quit it. Whether it was for fear of being attacked or refusal to accept any comfort from you was hard to tell.

Your body stilled as Joel shifted against you and you felt a familiar poke in your lower back. It had become something of a wake-up call recently, gently poking you awake on the rare occasions that Joel slept longer than you. It was a sensation with which you were familiar and you kept reminding yourself that it happened to a lot of people in your current situation and it didn't mean anything. Still, as a long, low moan rumbled in your ear you couldn't help but wonder which mystery woman was plaguing Joel's dreams currently. Tess? A ghostly apparition from his past? Or maybe, just maybe, you'd managed to worm your way into his sub-conscious. But you quickly scoffed at the thought. If Joel had any dreams involving you they probably involved wringing your neck.

Joel

She was in his dreams. Again. He always clutched her to him as if he already knew how she would slip away when he woke up. That was the worst part - spending his dreams coiled around her, nose in her hair, arms wrapped around her body, thrusting his hips, searching desperately for release - then waking up still embracing her but having to tear himself away, thanking whatever heartless God existed that she was such a heavy sleeper.

He pried himself away from her warmth, trying not to notice the way she immediately started shivering without him, prodding her until she woke.

"Time to get up."

"Mfff" was all the response he got.

"C'mon move your lazy ass."

"Go away."

"God, you would sleep all day if I let you. Gotta be the worst smuggler I ever seen." That got her up.

"How much further?"

"Not long, we should be able to reach em before sundown. Now remember when we're in negotiations…"

"You do the talking, I decorate the background."

"I know, Tess told me." Joel grimaced.

"What you do is try to be invisible. These folk don't play nice."

He would've much rather done this on his own but Tess insisted he needed back-up. He'd told her before that Ciara was her responsibility, not his, that she would be the only person to blame if she got hurt, but they both knew that was bullshit.

"You ready?" If she was rattled, she didn't show it, just nodded.

Unfortunately for them, Joel's estimations were exact: it was barely afternoon by the time they got to Marcus's camp. Guards frisked them at the perimeter, he noticed that one of them lingered a little longer than was necessary over her and he had to resist the urge to punch him.

"Let's go."

You

As you made your way through the camp, you had a distinct feeling of de ja vu. You hadn't encountered a group like this since before you came to Boston, after which you swore you'd never put your fate in someone else's hands again, fat lot of good that did. Now you felt like a fish swimming into a net.

This Marcus reminded you too much of Robert, except while Robert needed to hire bruisers to do his punching, this guy looked more than capable of striking his own blows. He gave a curt nod to Joel then his eyes turned to you and there was a cruel glint.

"See you've traded Tess in for a younger model." Joel cast you a furtive glance, but said nothing.

"You got what's ours?"

"We have what we promised" Joel responded, producing the collection of guns and ammo you and Tess had filched from the FEDRA base. At the time you'd been pleased to put your skills in climbing and creeping to use but now you didn't like the idea of giving this guy weapons. When you'd asked Tess what he was going to do with it, she rolled her eyes and said "Some light gardening. What do you think?"

"It's still mine till I decide otherwise." But he opened the trunk at his feet revealing a treasure trove of tea, coffee and batteries. You struggled to keep the greed off your face and you could see that Joel was doing the same.

You'd told yourself that everyone needed tools to survive and it was up to him what he used them for, not you. But now, as you looked at Marcus, you could see the faces of everyone you'd ever lost flashing before your eyes.

"It's all there" Joel said as Marcus rifled through the assortment of weaponry.

"Sure seems that way, but now I'm wondering if this is an entirely fair trade."

"It's not. We're giving you FEDRA level weapons in return for batteries n bullshit. You know as well as I do Marcus, that you're robbin' us blind."

"Might seem that way to you, all tucked away in that cosy QZ, but what's the feeling of a gun at your side compared to the feeling of a woman underneath?" Suddenly, you could feel the eyes of every man in the camp on you.

"What're you suggesting?"

"Give me n' my boys a turn with your slice and we'll walk away happy customers."

"C'mon Miller, don't be greedy. We ain't seen a woman in months."

There was a horrible silence. You couldn't hear anything but the ringing in your ears. Finally, Joel replied: "I don't share."

"Probably cos you scared em all away."

"Listen, I promise we'll give her back the same way we found her, more or less. I'll even throw in a few packs of cigarettes we got off a trespasser a while back. Been saving them for a special occasion."

The men were closing in on all sides now, like walls sealing themselves.

"How many packs?" Your stomach dropped.

"Three."

"Show me." Marcus produced the cigarettes with a flourish.

"J-Joel" you managed to stammer out.

"Shut up" Joel glared at you. "Unless you want a repeat of what happened in Austin."

Austin. That was his signal. Loosely translated, it meant trust me, even though things seem shit at the moment, I've got a plan. You have to trust me. And you did. At least, you thought you did.

Joel turned back to Marcus as you cowered behind him.

"At least lemme look at the merchandise."

Marcus beckoned him forward as you could feel his men shepherding you to their side of the camp. You felt a brush on the small of your back and you flinched, looking behind you, but all you could see was a sea of smirking faces.

You watched carefully as Joel went through the trunk. In a flash, you could see a glint of metal. Bullets. Joel must've stashed some in his coat pocket or sleeve. You glanced around, waiting for shouts of alarm or gunfire, but none came. Then Joel was looking at you, just for a second then back at Marcus, and you could see what he saw: under his jacket, a knife strapped to his belt, and a pretty hefty one. Could tear you a new one, or him.

Joel shut the trunk and stood.

"It's all here. I'll be back for her at midnight?"

"Done."

"You two boys escort our friend out of camp, I get first go."

"Right well, enjoy."

You cast one last glance over your shoulder as two huge men prodded Joel with their guns, leading him away from you, as Marcus placed a beefy hand on your shoulder and led you away from him.

*** You swallowed your tears, refusing to give this man the credit of seeing you cry, repeating to yourself, please help me to be brave, please help me to be brave.

"Alright sweetcheeks that's far enough." Bile rose in your throat as his hand forced your head down, pushing you onto your knees. You didn't want to look at him but he grabbed your chin, tilting your head up.

"This'll go a lot easier for you if you don't fight back. I'd hate to return you broken to my associate. That's just bad business."

His shout was cut off by you sticking your fist in his mouth. Teeth pierced your skin but you didn't flinch. You just grinned and said

You said nothing, just nodded and started to unbuckle his belt. You ignored his hand stroking your hair in a disgusting display of tenderness and focused on your task until it came loose. You met his eyes one last time, smiled, then stuck his knife into his groin.

Marcus groaned pitifully and collapsed. Before you could finish the job, you heard the rattling of gunfire and you took off back towards the camp where you could see Joel, having grabbed one of the men's guns, shooting his way through Marcus's men. Unfortunately one man he hadn't accounted for was sneaking up on his left side. Not his left side.

"this'll go a lot easier for you if you don't fight back", sticking the knife into his side.***

The man barrelled into him and had his hands around his throat.

"Let go asshole!" You screamed, plunging the knife into his throat before he had a chance to obey your order.

Joel stared up at you with bulging eyes as you pulled him up, then you both dove behind a crate as shots rang out all around.

"You go left, I go right."

"Real smart thinking giving these douchebags guns" you quipped, but Joel ignored you, responding:

*** You nodded, then edged to your left as Joel drew their gunfire away. It was criminally easy to put your knife through the first two guys but as you grabbed the third one and slit the blade across his throat, you felt a fist closing in your hair and yanking you back. You tried to scream for Joel but another hand clamped over your mouth. You thrashed wildly but to no avail, whoever it was had you in a complete grip. Then you were going flying, hitting the ground with a grunt and feeling your arms and legs pinned as you stared, in horror, at the face of Marcus, covered in blood but still very much alive.

"Guess you shoulda finished me when you had the chance instead of running to help your boyfriend."

"Get off me!" You yelled, turning your face away, the only part of your body you could still move.

Then a single shot tore through the air and Marcus let out a gut wrenching roar above you. Two hands appeared on his arms, ripping him off of you. You remained on the ground, gazing up at the tree tops until a familiar face came into view, tufts of grey and black beard matted with blood.

"I'm gonna enjoy this so much more." You looked around wildly. The sound of gunfire had stopped but you couldn't see Joel, just trees above you.***

"Joel." He helped you up, keeping a firm but not ungentle grip as you swayed in the breeze. The sound of a groan brought you back to reality. Marcus was squirming on the ground like a fish on dry land. A gun was pressed into your hand.

"He's all yours." Marcus whined as you approached.

"No wait, please I didn't mean it, take what you want, let me go, I'm sorry, I won't ever do it again, please…"

You steadied your hand and aimed for his forehead.

"This'll go a lot easier for you if you don't fight back" and you pulled the trigger.

"Are you hurt?" You gazed at Joel who was looking at you with concern. You threw your head back and laughed.

"Am I HURT?!" With a scream that you didn't even realise you were capable of making, you launched yourself at Joel, punching and kicking blindly, shouting "are you hurt? Are you hurt? ARE YOU HURT?"

Joel caught your fists.

"I'm sorry, it was the only thing I could think of." You kept kicking him. "I had to get their guard down and get them separated from their leader." You kicked him doubly hard in the shin. "Ow, stop, you know I'd never let them hurt you."

"Do I?" You screamed, "DO I KNOW THAT?"

Joel held your gaze as your voice echoed throughout the forest. You were suddenly, painfully aware of the death that surrounded you.

"We need to get out of here." You tore yourself away from him and started searching blindly for your pack."

Joel jumped, then followed you as you ran out of the camp.

"Ciara…"

"NOW!"

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc

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