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Maul Speeds Away
STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:16:36
#Star Wars#Episode I#The Phantom Menace#Tatooine#Xelric Draw#Darth Maul#Bloodfin#repulsorlift field array#exhaust gas vent#DRK-1 âDark Eyeâ probe droid#external weapons mount#thermal imager
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Not dealing with the grief well at all today
#had another dream about him adnwoke ip thinking he was at the foot of my bed. when i fed mish this morning i almost put food in sammys bowl#i havent moved it from where it usually sits.#misha saw me staring at it and squeaked at me. hes laying under the blankets with.me now#just wanna ignore everything and go to.sleep#but i cant.#make matters worse my grandpa has. c//ncer and i was gonna be able to visit him this weekend . but my brakes are shit and i have no gas#and it wouldve been one of the few times i can cause hes gettin a white blood cell shot#for his immuno system. he rarely gets those#idk#lost my cat.probably gonna lose my grandpa. im so exhausted#sorry#vent#feel free to ignoreee. sorrz#seraph.txt
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I've been chipping at a new oni save recently and I have to say I have gotten way less ambitious with my teleporter planet over my past few saves. In a lot of my earlier saves Id dive right in there, but nowadays I find myself ignoring the teleporter for a good while before dipping in to set up some basic utilities there before leaving again and continuing to stall lol
#rat rambles#oni posting#probably because Ive been busy coring out my starting planetoid in my more recent playthroughs#I do want to do some space travel and setting up several colonies but Im not quite sure how Im going to go about it#Ill probably need to use my teleporter planetoid to set up my rocketry program since it has an oil biome but idk#I could in theory go for a steam engine until I get a radbolt engine or a hydrogen engine set up#which honestly Im not sure which I wanna go for since I havent rly played around with either#radbolt would probably be easier to rush but hydrogen would be easier in the long term I think#its all abt the difference between getting a radbolt generation system set up safely vs getting supercoolant#now I usually tend to mostly just stick to petroleum engines but thats because I lack ambition#I could be using that petroleum for power instead#although currently my power situation is actually going pretty ok all things considered#now its a very ducktaped solution given that I am procrastinating on actually properly taming the hydrogen vent Im using for part of it#rn Im using a cool slush vent to produce coolant for the area and using that heat to warm it up enough to be filtered without freezing#but thats a very unstable solution so once I get access to better options Ill likely just fully block it off and call it good#as for my alternative power source Ive recently set up coal generators after getting my obligatory sage hatch farm set up#Im still working on automating it all but itll do it's job just fine for now#I also wanna tap into my cold brine vent soon both for potential extra coolant and for another water source#currently Im fine on water but I wanna get bristle berry farms set up soon so I just wanna be sure Ill have enough#honestly the thing Im saddest abt is that I dont have any natual gas vents#I usually like to get a gas range running quite early so the combination of no natural gas vents and no oil biome is quite saddening#like there are other ways but none that seem particularly worth it to me#anyways Im still sick and exhausted so Im gonna go to bed now#just wanted to make sure everyone knows Im alive
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Can I request Spencer x anxious, overthinker reader ? Maybe, overwhelmed or stressed, like almost burnout, but not quite. Because this semester at uni had just been way too much in every way. Thank you đ đ¸
Thanks for requeting love, hope you're able to get a break soon!
cw: academic stress, reader has symptoms of anxiety
Spencer Reid x fem!reader ⥠1.4k words
When Spencer gets home in the middle of the night, you donât hear him over the sound of sizzling and your own racing thoughts.Â
âHi,â he announces himself as he comes in, meeting your little jolt with a bemused look. âIâm surprised youâre still awake.âÂ
âHey, how was your flight?â You whirl from the stove for the half a second it takes to brush a kiss against his cheek before turning back to keep pushing things around the pan. The momentary distraction is worth it for the emergence of Spencerâs smile, soft and fatigued. âSorry, I was hoping to have this done before you got home.âÂ
âDonât be sorry,â he says automatically. âThe flight was good. Iâm happy to be back.â He sets his bag down and rounds the kitchen island to lean against the counter beside the stove, peering at your face. âI hope youâre not making dinner just for me.âÂ
âIâm going to have some too,â you reassure him. âIâm starving.âÂ
Spencerâs expression shifts. You get the sense youâve confirmed something for him. âItâs pretty late. Why havenât you eaten yet?âÂ
You wish you could say that youâd wanted to wait and eat with your boyfriend, but thereâs never any point in lying to Spencer.Â
âI just havenât gotten around to it until now,â you say. âI have a lot of work to do.âÂ
âI know,â he replies. You know he does. Youâd started venting about your workload before he left for the case, and heâd been kind about letting you continue to do so during your nightly calls when he was away. âStill, itâs a lot to be up untilâŚâ He glances at the microwave clock, unsure of what time it actually is. You canât say you know, either. âNearly three-thirty. How long have you been working for?âÂ
You push the vegetables around in the pan, olive oil spitting and burning the skin of your hand. You feel Spencerâs stare narrow on you. âSince I got home, so seven-ish.âÂ
He frowns. âYouâre not feeling tired, are you?âÂ
Youâre not, though you donât ask how he can tell. You look tired, you know. Every time you look in the mirror lately, you think of the word unkempt. Messy hair, dull skin, purplish crescent moons stamped under both eyes. But you donât feel like you could sleep if you tried. Thereâs an urgency in your blood that gets you up early every morning and propels you to work through the day, like thereâs an engine inside of you thatâs decided it doesnât need gas to run. Youâre always moving, humming, thinking, certain without reason that if you stop itâll all fall apart.Â
You shake your head, and Spencer frowns towards the pan. âWhat do you have left to do with this?âÂ
Youâre surprised to find, upon looking down, that the vegetables look ready. âUm,â you switch the heat off, âIâm just waiting for the timer to finish on the pasta, and then Iâm going to mix them together. It shouldnât be long.âÂ
âOkay.â He takes the spoon from you, moving you out of the way with a careful hand on your shoulder. âI can handle that. You should go sit down.âÂ
âSpence,â you laugh, âI can do it.âÂ
He doesnât argue with you, necessarily, just utters a quiet, âItâs okay,â and nudges you in the direction of the couch.Â
You donât have it in you to protest much, not when heâs just gotten home, so you do, curling up with your feet underneath you and pulling a blanket from over the side of the armrest. You think Spencer is going to want to talk, but he doesnât, just stirring the pasta and pulling dishes out of the cabinet. Maybe heâs exhausted, too. It is late, and heâs been working on his case the same way youâve been chipping away at your schoolwork, for days and days with little reprieve.Â
You thank him when he passes you a bowl, slurping up the noodles the way your mom would chide you if she were here for and comforted by the fact that Spencerâs doing the same. Youâre convinced the pasta somehow tastes better than if youâd finished it yourself, your boyfriendâs poor culinary skills supplemented by the love he puts into taking care of you.Â
âYou know,â he says after a minute, âthereâs evidence to suggest that consistent sleep loss can lead to loss of brain cells.âÂ
You suck a noodle into your mouth. âI sleep,â you tell him. âIâm just having a late night.âÂ
Spencer gives you a sorry sort of smile. Like he almost wants to apologize for how smart he is, how it keeps you from getting away with anything. âIâve only been gone for four days,â he says, âbut you were texting me after I went to sleep and before I got up every morning.â Â
âOnly psychopaths look at timestamps,â you joke, looking down into your pasta bowl.Â
He shrugs, quiet.Â
âWhat else can I do?â you ask, and you really are asking. âI have deadlines, Spence. Due dates. I canât just say fuck it and go to sleep at nine every night like I donât still have work left to do.âÂ
âWhich part is overwhelming you?â he asks curiously.Â
You huff. Not at him. âAll of it? Itâs like every one of my professors thinks theyâre my only class. Thereâs a bunch of essays and projects all due this week, and no break from the regular stuff to give me time to get it done.â You blink into your pasta bowl, ashamed at the emotion bullying its way into your voice. Blame it on fatigue, you guess. âEvery day when I get home from class, I have this impossible list of things to do, and itâs like, if I donât finish, whatâs going to happen? My grades will tank, and I wonât be able to get any of the good internships, and then I wonât get a job, andââ
âItâs okay.â Spencerâs voice is quiet, and you might keep going if not for the hand he sets on your wrist. His thumb strokes once over the delicate skin just below your palm. âItâs okay, just try to breathe for a second. Calm down.âÂ
You do, only because itâs him. When other people tell you to calm down, itâs a demand, a criticism of your display of feeling. When Spencer does it, it's an assurance. That you can relax, because heâs going to make it all right.Â
âI failed three classes when I was in college,â he tells you.Â
You imagine your eyes bulging all the way out of your head on cartoon springs, lolling towards the ground. âWhat?âÂ
He shrugs like itâs not a big deal. âI didnât like them. I never showed up to class, and eventually I just failed. I didnât really care.â His mouth slants sheepishly. âI probably should have, but I still donât, actually. You can get a job either way.âÂ
Your laugh is dry. âSpence, I think itâs a little different for genius prodigies.âÂ
âNot really,â he says, thumb still pressing into your wrist, and you finally realize heâs been taking your pulse. Itâs strangely touching, the way he cares for you so quietly. âEven if you did fail these classes because of the assignments this week, the odds are actually pretty good that you could get a job. And you wonât fail, because youâll still finish and the work will be great. I know you.â His long fingers stretch up your forearm, a caress. âI know you get really nervous about these things, but youâll do better work if you sleep more. Youâll be more efficient.âÂ
âI canât,â you admit quietly.Â
A tiny, sympathetic crease appears between Spencerâs brows. âYou can,â he promises. âIâll make you some nighttime tea and weâll make sure all the curtains are closed. We should turn off your alarms, too.âÂ
You bite your lip. âI have class in the morning.âÂ
âYou can miss one. You have to miss a lot for it to really affect your grade, trust me.â He gives the base of your hand a little squeeze. âIâd know.âÂ
Your laugh is half breath, but Spencer smiles anyway. âOkay.â Youâre giving in way too easily, but a morning spent in bed with your boyfriend sounds heavenly. âThanks.âÂ
âYouâre welcome,â he says sincerely, releasing your hand to pick up his fork. âWeâll go to bed once we finish this, okay? And Iâll pick up breakfast tacos for breakfast tomorrow. Protein is good for brain function.â
#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid hurt/comfort#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one shot#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds x reader
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Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension
Series Masterlist
Author's Note: Chapter title from American Idiot by Green Day.
Word Count: 5.8k
Chapter Summary/Warnings: Soldier Boy is woken up, and you have to deal with the pitfalls of your idea. Contains usual warnings.
Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn.
Read on A03!
Chapter 1 - Chapter 3
Want to be tagged? Just ask!
When he was forced into this type of sleep, Ben didnât dream. This type of sleep was more like death, with no part of him alive in any way that mattered. But in the few seconds before he woke, with chemicals leaving his system and consciousness returning, he felt pain.
Borderline unbearable, exhaustive and consuming pain. The last few times he had been woken up, the pain had made the bomb in his chest start to tick, tick, tick, building up and up, off the beat from his heart until they found a rhythm, and he would explode.
It never relieved all that pain, but fuck him if it wasnât cathartic.
Every time he had woken up in Russia, heâd fought the scientists like a fucking animal. When that assfuck, traitorous Brit and his cum guzzling team had found him, Ben hadnât hesitated to use teeth and fire, hellbent on getting out, on getting home. This time wasnât any different, the beat in his chest was already banging against his ribs, save for the stark exception of his surroundings.
He wasnât in a clean lab or disgusting tube. He was in a suburban living room, complete with potted plants, one of those new and weirdly flat TVs, and some of the most boring paintings of roses he had ever fucking seen. Not a single person was in sight, no tubes were hooked to his body, and no cannon barrels or gas-filled vents sat in his vision. A small part of him hesitated, wondering if he was suddenly dreaming, his body having adapted to fight back and allow him some hazy peace. But the fever in his chest was growing, and there was no goddamn world where he would ever find suburbia and floral-patterned carpets peaceful. No, this was someoneâs attempt to trick him, to make him compliant. Maybe Vought, maybe the Reds, maybe the CIA, didnât matter. They all died the same.
The nuclear explosion from his chest lit the room, tearing out of him with a rush. Ben braced himself for bullets and grenades as his captors realized their little plan had failed, but none came. And as the dust cleared, he realized that not only were there no soldiers dropping from the sky or weapons hurling at his body, but everything was⌠exactly the same. Well, the plants had been burnt to a crisp, but that was the only evidence of his power having ripped through the room. The TV was still smooth and clean, the sofa hadnât moved an inch, and the paintings hung evenly on the walls.
What the fuck.
He paused, the drum in his chest having stilled, and listened. Bird song, running water below the floor, electrical hums through the walls, andâŚ
There it was.
Heartbeats.
Five heartbeats. All sped up, all bouncing around in the chests of their owners. Three moved heavily and quickly, one rapid and staggeredâthat one reeked of terrorâand one beat only a single mark off from steady, almost as if it were devoid of any fear. Interesting.
Ben searched the room for a camera, but settled on looking in the direction of the heartbeats.
âI know youâre there,â he drawled. âI can fuckin hear you. Come out, you pussies.â
There was a pause, all five heartbeats having stuttered at his words, before a door creaked down the dark, sconce lined halls, and footsteps sounded towards him.
The people who stepped from the shadows into the living room should thank the Lord that Ben didnât kill them the moment they were in the light. Grace Mallory, the thin-lipped bitch, watched him wearily, with the backstabbing Billy Butcher to her left. Only a step behind them was the blonde broad that had blasted him in the face at Vought Tower, accompanied by her and Butcherâs gangly cocksucker. The only one he didnât recognize stood at the very front, a woman who was looking at him with sharp eyes, arms crossed in front of her body and legs planted apart. This was the holder of the steady heart, unsurprisingly given her collected stance and cold gaze. It was almost amusing, the way she was looking at him, like she was a lion and he was a gazelle, like if she glared her lovely eyes at Ben enough, he might drop dead. But he turned his eyes from her tiny fury to Butcher and Mallory, giving them a smirk that made his murderous intentions clear.
âWhat the fuck is this?â
It was Butcher who answered, returning the false smile. âThis is an intervention, mate. You have a problem, and weâre here to help.â
âThe only problem I have is you. If you had half a brain, youâd start running.â
âReally? Because to me,â Butcherâs smile didnât falter as he gestured around the room. âIt seems like youâre having some performance issues.â
âDonât make him angry,â the cocksucker mumbled from the back. Butcher only rolled his eyes in response.
âThis, Soldier Boy, is an opportunity. Weâre giving you a second chance to help us with Homelander.â Mallory said, watching Ben carefully.
âA second chance?â It was Benâs turn to roll his eyes. âYou should be grateful that I might not kill you all when I leave.â
âIâd start playing nice, Soldier Boy.â The blonde stepped forward with a scowl. âYou donât have the upper hand here."
"Oh, please, you blast me down once and think youâre some sort of god? You caught me off guard that time, doll. This time, you wonât be so lucky.â
Blondie opened her mouth to retaliate, but Butcher snorted first, a newer, more twisted grin on his face.
âStarlightâs no god, but she is,â Butcher nudged the steady-hearted newcomer forward. âMeet your new babysitter. Go on, Love, say hello.â
The woman stumbled slightly at the push, her already strong frown deepening, and had barely turned her anger to Butcher when Ben started to laugh. All eyes fell to him as he gave a loud snort of amusement, a broad grin on his face.
âJesus,â he wheezed. âDidnât think you were funny, Butcher, but thatâs a fucking riot.â
âWeâre being serious,â Starlight snapped. âYou answer to her now.â
âYeah,â Ben rolled his eyes, giving his alleged keeper a once over. âSure. Sunshine over here is going to stop me from ripping all your heads off your bodies. Fuck, she wonât even stop me leaving this room.â
âWanna bet?â
Ben paused as the woman spoke for the first time. It wasnât just her heartbeat that was level and even. Her voice was smooth, unbreaking and calm with not a trace of anxiety. Her eyes were still watching him coldly, her pretty face set like a mask.
âExcuse me?â
âWould you like to bet that I canât stop you?â She repeated slowly, as if he were a child.  âIâd advise you not to, but I donât think youâd care for my opinion.â
âYou think you can stop me, Sunshine? Are you fucking stupid?â
âNo, but I donât think my intelligence matters here. Youâre not walking out that door.â
Part of Ben wanted to start laughing again. At her blatant lack of self-preservation to go up against him and not flinch. At her smooth claim of intelligence but painfully clear lack of understanding about the situation she was in. At her companions, who had all stepped back, undoubtedly realizing that their gambit had failed and leaving her in his line of fire.
Part of him wanted to be quick and brutal, make her an example before he left. But it wasnât worth it, and her face was too nice to ruin, so he settled to just walk past her. Heâd kill Butcher on his way out and figure out what he wanted to do from there.
He only had to take three long strides to reach the hall, making to just move past the woman, but she side-stepped, blocking his path. Ben looked down at her, finding his amusement at her misguided boldness fading into annoyance.
âMove, Sunshine. Iâll only ask once.â
She met his glare, no break in her resolve. âIâd say the same to you, Grampa.â
âIâm warning you. Iâm not above hitting a lady.â
âI thought you were only going to ask once.â
That was it. Ben moved to grab her, to shove her aside and end her pointless little charade. He didnât have time for her frivolous, self-indulgent bullshit, he had tried to warn her, and at this point her blood was really just on her own hands.
It happened fast. He reached to push her, she didnât flinch, her face looking almost bored as Ben lunged, and his hand had barely landed on her arm before he let go, recoiling from her with a roar.
âWhat the fuck!â He looked at his hand, now raw and red, with blisters fading as soon as they had formed. His gaze shot to the womanâs unbothered face, she herself having neither flinched nor wavered. âDid you just fucking burn me?â
âI warned you,â she said. âI donât play games I canât win.â
Ben looked past her, where the small group remained, having retreated down the hall. Butcherâs face was painted with deep amusement as Starlight and Mallory held twin looks of satisfaction. Only the cocksucker still looked afraid, but his nervous eyes were trained on the woman, as though she might blow to pieces at any second.
âSomebody better start talking,â Ben growled.
âWe tried to tell you, Governor,â Butcher said with an overly dramatic sigh. âSheâs in charge here.â
âYou think this will hold me? I-â
âYou were unprepared, we got lucky, it wonât happen again. We all heard the speech you gave Annie.â The woman cut him off with a snort. âYou need to start getting it into your head. You do not have the upper hand. The sooner you do, the sooner we can actually do something productive instead of peacocking like idiots.â
Ben stared at her, the drum in his chest growing loud once more, his anger serving as fuel. He didnât bother to try and control it, simply letting it set to his heart and build and build. Just before the sound could drown out all his other senses, he heard the woman yell.
âEveryone out!â Her voice was slightly alarmed, but laced with no panic. And as the door slammed down the hall, Ben realized her heartbeat hadnât retreated. She was still right in front of him. He hoped this hurt.
As the smoke cleared, Ben opened his eyes to, tragically and annoyingly, see the woman completely intact, unbothered, and in one piece. Most he could tell, she had only taken a step back.
âAre you done?â She raised her eyebrows.
âBitch,â he said. âIâm gonna fucking kill you.â
âLovely,â she sighed. âYou just tried that. Didnât work. Wonât work. Not on me. Like I said before you started acting like a toddler, the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can help each other.â
âHow could you possibly help me?â
She grinned. âIâm so glad you asked. Hughie! Youâre up!â
The skinny little coward appeared over her shoulder, anxiety painted over his face. âCanât Mallory or Butcher do this?â
âNah, Mallory has a powerful resting-hater-face, and Butcher would get himself killed all over me, which would be gross. I donât need that right now.â
The cocksucker pouted. âAnnie?â
âNo, I donât think heâs her biggest fan, especially after the whole tower thing-â
âStop talking about me like Iâm not right fucking here,â Ben cut in.
âFine, you baby. Hughie,â the woman nudged Cocksucker forward. âGive him the pitch.â
Ben didnât listen to Cocksucker as he rambled, catching only the beginning and electing to ignore him once the words âarticle B-55XP2 allowsâ were said. Instead, he focused on the woman, whose brow was furrowed as she listened to her companion talk. Small tendrils of smoke were rising from her body, and Ben noted the way Cocksucker stood off to the side, attempting to somehow paradoxically hold and elude both Benâs and the womanâs attention. Her lips were in a tight line now, and she was hugging herself slightly, curving into her own body. The smoke from her had begun to choke the room, and though Ben could hear her level heartbeat, he could also hear her gnaw on her lower lip and the tap of her foot on the floor. When her gaze abruptly slid to his, Ben held it unblinkingly, and the crease in her brow only deepened.
Before Ben could figure out what sat behind her sharp eyes, Cocksucker let out a cough and said a name that made the woman turn.
âCan you turn it down, please?â
âOh, shit. Sorry, Hughie,â she mumbled, taking another step back as Cocksucker gave a nod of thanks.
âSo the big thing to knowâŚâ Once again, Ben didnât hear whatever it was being said. No, he was now fully staring at the woman, her name playing in his head. It wasnât a supe name, like how Butcher had referred to Blondie. Almost every supe Ben had known preferred being called by their fancy little brand name, but he hadnât even learned if this bitch had one. Fuck, he hadnât even heard of her. Last time he had been introduced to a large number of new players, most of them weak, whining pussies with pathetic powers, but this woman was far from pathetic. He hadnât heard anything about a fire-supe, let alone a doll faced, angry, bitchy one who had to have the resting heart rate of a whale. He bet he could pick it up to match the Cocksuckers, if he really tried. He bet he could make her scream, maybe from being ripped limb from limb, maybe from cumming her brains out all over him. A smirk started to grow on his face as he imagined it, her ice-queen demeanor crumbling from his irresistible charm-
âAre you fucking listening?â The woman herself broke him from his thoughts, her fingers snapping in his face.
âNo,â Ben sneered. âWhy should I?â
âWell, if youâd pay Hughie half the attention you seem to be paying to my tits, youâd be able to answer your own dumb question.â
âDonât fucking flatter yourself-â
âPlease, Iâve been told you stick your dick in anything with a hole.â She cut him off again, an action that, if she kept it up, would result in her being punched. âTell you what, Iâll get you a real nice watermelon to play with if you just fucking listen.â
âFine.â
She paused, but was thrown for only a second. âOk, great, Hughie-â
âBut you do the talking.â
She almost snorted. âAre you that fucking crow-brained that you canât listen unless itâs something shiny?â She paused. âSorry Hughie. No offense, youâre plenty shiny.â
The Cocksucker, Ben knew his name was Hughie at this point but couldnât find himself fucked to use it, just shrugged. âNo offense taken.â His attention shifted back to Ben. âWill you really listen if she talks?â
âShe talks like a person. You talk like a boring army manual.â
âCouldâve just said book,â Cocksucker said with a frown, but stepped back nonetheless.
âThis is fucking stupid,â the woman said with a glare that was somehow stronger than before.
âYou wanted me to listen to your stupid little sales pitch, Sunshine. This is what will make me listen.â
She rolled her eyes further back than Ben had ever seen before, but started to speak, her voice dripping with contempt.
âHereâs the deal. You help us with our Homelander problem, we give you immunity for all the definite war crimes youâve committed and keep you from being Sleeping Beauty for a third time. Youâll stay here, with me, until we have a clear and safe shot at Homelander. Youâll do your little Oppenheimer magic trick, and weâll take care of the rest. After Homelander's dead, youâll be free to leave America for good, and live out your shitty immortal life on some stupid island where no one knows who you are.â As she came to the end of her speech, Ben grinned at her.
âSee? Wasnât so hard.â
She didnât even blink. âAny questions?â
âQuestions? Nah. But you should know, this is fucking stupid, and Iâm not participating in it. All Iâll get is a vacation, and I could have that right fucking now.â
âReally? Because from where Iâm standing, it looks like you canât leave this room, let alone go on vacation. And Iâd say what youâd âgetâ,â she used air quotes, and Ben wondered if he could throw her out a window. âIs us not knocking you out right now.â
âAlso immunity,â Cocksucker piped up.
She nodded. âAlso immunity. Weâre offering you this once.â She gave him a sickly-sweet smile. âAct now and weâll throw in a second watermelon.â
âIâll fucking break out.â Ben snarled.
âTake your best shot. This safe house is more durable than a cold-war bunker, inside and out.â
âIâll kill your team.â
âTry it. Iâll burn off your money maker.â
âIâll heal.â
âDoesnât mean it wonât hurt.â
âIâll go back to Vought.â
âPlease, you hate them almost as much as me.â
âI doubt that.â
Her voice was coated in visceral, hot rage when she answered. âDonât.â
Ben paused at that, squinting at her. âWhy do you hate them?â
She shrugged. âNot your concern. But for the record, if you did try something that ass-brained, I wouldnât just burn your face.â
Ben almost flinched when he saw her eyes flick down.
âWhat if I fail?â
âYou wonât.â Her tone made it clear that there wasnât room for debate.
âWhat if I want to stay here after, then?â Ben snapped. âI just spent forty years away. Iâm not going again.â
âFucking earn it.â
Ben let out a slow breath. He wasnât an idiot. He knew when he was backed into a corner. But he had been against walls that were far more dangerous, and far more painful. He would play this little game until he figured out how to take her, the only player aside from him that mattered, out. But he wasnât going to make any of this pleasant. If they wanted pleasant, they shouldnât have crossed him in the first place.
âI want my fucking shield and suit back.â
She smiled with teeth for the first time. âIâll see what I can do.â
ââ-
This had been a mistake. Now that everyone had left, you could admitâto yourself and no one elseâthat this was a stupid, arrogant mistake.
The first day had been⌠rough. There were three bedrooms, all with identical queen beds and equally generic decor. Solider Boy had insisted on laying on all of them to âtest their durability." When you had told him they were all the exact same, he had called you an âuncultured hick." You had explained that you were from Boston and currently lived in New York, two urban areas that rendered âhickâ an unsuitable title for you, offering âstreet trashâ as a replacement. He told you heâd call you whatever he wanted, utilizing his nickname of âSunshineâ once again. You reminded him of your threat to burn off his favorite part of himself, he said that you would be only depriving yourself of it, and you left the conversation before you could make good on the promise.
Eventually he came down the stairs and gruffly told you that the bedroom with the attached bathroom was his, before stomping back into the said room to do something undoubtedly disgraceful .
Day two was only worse. You had collapsed in the bedroom with the five horse paintings, as it had been closest to the stairs, and you were exhausted from a day of verbal sparring and worrying if youâd have to go back to MM, tail between your legs, and admit youâd been wrong. Now, having gotten a whopping 4 hours of restless sleep, you just wanted coffee. Mallory told you she would send someone to drop groceries overnight, the safe house door having a bank-like slot for packages, and she had made good on her word. You had been able to tell this because when you walked into the kitchen, it looked like a food bomb had detonated.
âWhat the shit is this?â You said, your voice more tired than angry.
Soldier Boy, sitting at the counter, glared at you. âYouâre up late.â
âItâs 7am. In nobodyâs world is that âlateâ.â
âIâve been up for 2 hours.â
You shrugged. âThat sounds like a you problem.â
âI had to eat a sandwich.â
âYeah, that happens.â You survey the mess for anything that you can use, hoping to see a box of cereal buried somewhere. You find what youâre looking for, along with some coffee that you put into the filter and stare at with blank exhaustion. In your sleepy haze, you block out Soldier Boyâs ramblings of hunger and shitty, crunchy peanut butter, hoping he tires himself out and leaves you alone.Â
You were startled out of your head by the sound of your name.
"Huh?"
âWhatever youâre making, I want some too.â That gets through to you, and your head snaps up.
âHow do you know my name?â
"Cocksucker said it."
"Cocksucker?"
"The little puppy that follows Butcher and Starlight around."
"Hughie?"Â
"Sure." He rolled his eyes. âSo, what are we eating?"
"We?"
"I asked you, very nicely, to cook me some of whatever you're making too. Or are you fucking deaf?"
âIâm not cooking anything.â
His brow knit in confusion. âYouâre not going to eat? I thought all the feminist shit stopped that.â
âIâm going to eat, Jackass. But Iâm not going to cook anything, Iâm just going to throw cereal and milk into a bowl. You can do that yourself.â You decided not to touch the feminist comment, focusing on pouring your coffee instead.
âWell, what are you going to cook for lunch.â
âWell, if Mallory followed my list, Iâll heat up chicken tenders.â
âDinner?â
You tilt your head. âNot sure. Thatâs like, twelve hours away.â
âBut youâll. Youâll cook something.â
âNo.â
âWhy?â
You sighed. âI donât know how to cook.â
âWhat?!â He looked horrified now. It would almost be funny, if it were any other circumstances. âHow?â
âI never learned.â
âBut youâre a woman!â
âYeah, no. Weâre not having this conversation.â You turned on your heels to leave the room, coffee in hand, trying to ignore the hot feeling bubbling under your skin. You paused only to call back over your shoulder. âAnd clean up your fucking mess!â
Thankfully, after that, the morning was uneventful. You avoided Soldier Boy, he avoided you. All the way into lunch, you were almost able to forget your situation.
Almost.
âFuck!â You tripped over a bag of apples on the floor, your eyes having been glued to your phone as you entered the kitchen. You looked around, seeing the mess from this morning sitting just as youâd left it.
âKeep it down!â Soldier Boyâs voice carried down the stairs. You ignored his request, raising your voice to a shriek.
âGet your manwhore ass down here right now, before I make you!â
You stepped further into the room, the bubbling feeling returning, and surveyed the area that somehow looked worse than before. Picking through the melted frozens, scattered produce, and loose cans and boxes, a dirty knife and plate on the counter.
âWhat the fuck is a manwhore,â he grumbled as he walked through the door.
âWhat the hell is this?â You ignored his question, gesturing around you.
He frowned. âThe kitchen.â
âNo, you ass. Why is all the food still out.â
He glared at you. âBecause Iâm already doing enough for your sorry ass, Iâm not cleaning too.â
âYou didnât even put away your dishes!â
Soldier Boy just gave you an annoyed look, turning to walk away. Your vision went red.
âShit!â He howled, running backwards into the room before turning with a glare. âYou bitch!â
It took you a second to understand what he was talking about. You only managed to clue in from the fading scars on his face, and the realization that the feeling in you had boiled over.
If you were a better, less tired and angry person, you might have apologized. Thank god you werenât.
âI am not going to spend the next who-knows-how-many months cleaning up after you. If you want to make this as difficult as possible, turn this house into a shithole, feel fucking free. I wonât stop you.â
âYou donât know how many months weâll be here?â
âThereâs a lot of moving parts to this operation that donât concern you, and-â You held up your hand as he started to interject. âThatâs not the point. Clean up.â
âYou should be thankful Iâm even still here, you bitch. If it matters so much to you, do it yourself.â He growled back.
âAre you really that fucking stupid, or did you not just hear me say that this is not my mess to clean?! Either you do it, or it doesnât get done.â
âYou couldnât make me with a million dollars and a blowjob.â
âGood thing Iâm not offering either.â
A cold silence settled in the room, your arms crossed over your chest, trying to keep yourself from exploding once more. His glare had developed a murderous glint in his eyes, his fists clenched at his side.
âBitch.â
You raised your chin. âCunt.â
âYou know, if I didnât think itâd be a shame to ruin such a nice face, Iâd slam you into the oven and burn yours off.â
âOh, so you are that stupid.â
âWatch yourself.â He said your name in a low voice, taking a rough step forward.
âSorry, for a second there I thought you said you believed you could burn a supe with fire powers. I mustâve misheard you.â
âI could make this very painful for you.â
âAs opposed to your cheery compliance so far?â
âDo you think Iâm just going to roll over?â He hissed, taking another step forward. âBe you and Butcherâs little lap dog?â
Something grew taut in your gut, but you held his gaze. âI think that if you donât back the fuck up, I wonât make you roll over so much as physically harm you until youâre crying on the floor.â
"You're fighting a war you canât win, Sunshine. Iâll kick your ass.â He sneered. âIâll make you sob back home to Daddy Butcher.â
Your blood felt cold, your jaw almost cracking from the pressure in your chest. âSo do it. Or move.â
Soldier Boyâs face was a portrait of rage, and you felt like he was dissecting with his cold green eyes. Looking for any weakness, any exploitable fallacy on your mask, any crack in your head that he could pry open and fill with poison. Make your lungs collapse into your ribs, make you claw and claw in desperation-
âHm,â he grunted. He pulled himself to his full height before turning and leaving, leaving your anger sizzling at nothing. You watched as Soldier Boy, with controlled and rigid movements, stepped away from you, leaving the room without another word. Leaving you in the slop of the kitchen. He was getting further and further away from you, too far you to do anything about it, except maybe-
Before you could stop yourself, your hands were wrapped around the knife on the counter and the knife was flying across the room. It bounced off of Soldier Boy's back with a pitiful sound, but he stopped in his path, turning slowly. He glanced down, eyes finding the abandoned utensil on the floor before he dragged his gaze back to you.
âDid you just throw a fucking knife at me?â
âClean up.â
He stared at you with the same eyes as before, the only betrayer of his emotions the twitch of a muscle in his jaw.
âItâll take more than a bad throw to make me pussy enough to be your maid, Sunshine.â With that, he was gone.
âââ-
Ideally, the woman Ben would be forced into a lockdown with would be fun. She would give him sweet smiles and syrupy words, laugh at his jokes, and sprout similar ones. She wouldnât be a sulking, useless, bitter prude whose greatest talent seemed to be finding issue with every word out of his mouth. Every time they had spoken, he had felt that beat in his ribs grow and grow, and it was nothing short of a fucking miracle it hadnât gone off.
He hadnât cleaned the kitchen, and he wouldnât. It was beneath him, and she was the one who had chosen to be here, not him. In a brief moment of weakness, the stench from the rotten produce almost breaking his resolve, Ben had eyed a vacuum cleaner, only to realize he couldnât use it if he wanted to. There were far too many buttons, weird twisty things lining the handle and bag, and he would take the first flight to Russia before he asked her for help.
They skirted around each other with success for two days after the knife incident, sneaking into the kitchen at odd hours to look for somehow edible food and leaving every possible door in the house locked behind them. A beautiful and well executed arrangement, broken only by her sudden appearance in the living room a few days later, standing behind him as he watched TV.
âWe need to talk.â When Ben didnât answer, she walked around the sofa, and grabbed the remote, turning off the screen. âNow.â
Ben scowled. âI was busy.â
âWatch a re-run of Jeopardy? With categories you donât even understand?â She crossed her arms in front of him.
âI understood enough.â
She snorted. âOne of the categories was âCelebrity-Inspired Productsâ. Name one modern, non-supe celebrity.â
Ben paused. âMarlon Brando.â
âMarlon Brando died in 2004.â
âGene Wilder.â
â2016.â
âThat one funny guy who was on the rise. In that stupid book movie.â Ben frowned. âWilliam Robinson.â
She titled her head. âWilliam Robinson⌠Do you mean fucking Robin Williams.â
âI was close,â Ben said with a shrug.
âYeah, well, not really, cause he died in 2014. Now can we please talk.â
âAre you here to apologize?â
âYes, actually.â
That got Benâs attention. âWell then. Go on."
She had started to chew her lip again, her nose wrinkling like she smelled something bad. Though, to be fair, she probably did. The milk in the kitchen had become a problem. âI am sorry.â She took a needlessly labored breath through her nose. âI shouldnât have thrown the knife at you. It was childish.â
Ben waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he leaned forward. âThatâs it?â
âYep.â
âSo youâre going to clean the kitchen?â
She let out a dry laugh. âNope.â
Ben lounged back. âThen your apology is worthless.â
The now-familiar look of anger had returned to her face. âI am not your maid.â
âAnd Iâm not yours.â
âIÂ didnât make the mess. And Iâm not going to clean it just because you think youâre better than me.â
âI donât think Iâm better than you,â He retorted. âI am better than you.â
âBecause youâre a man?â She jeered. âA big whiny baby with muscles?â
âBecause I built up the company that gave you your little sparkle show. I am Vought. Those ungrateful backstabbing assholes wouldnât be anywhere without me.â
She fell silent at that, the victory pumping its fists inside Benâs head slowing the drum in his chest. If he had observed one thing about her, it was that there was almost never a time she lacked in words. Also, she listened to her stupid music deafeningly loud and had an impressive arm. He had felt that knife hit him, sharp end first, right on his spine, still burning from the heat of her touch. Another deep breath escaped her, a fog that had formed on her face clearing.
âPower and greatness have nothing to do with cleaning. Vought wonât hear about your refusal to run a dish washer and grovel on their knees for your forgiveness.â
âBecause when Iâm through with them, they wonât have knees.â Ben smiled at the fanstasy on a wheel-chair bound Stan Edgar.
âNo, because they couldnât give a shit about it. I donât love being here any more than you, but I have to be. This is a marriage of convenience, so we-â
He snorted. âI'm not marrying you, Sunshine. Youâre pretty, but too much of a bitch for my taste.â
âItâs an expression, you fucking idiot. It means a weary alliance hinging on a favor. We donât need to like each other, but we canât kill each other, or this will be a net loss.â
âSure.â Ben gave her his cockiest grin. âWhatever you need to tell yourself.â
âYou couldnât handle me, Grampa.â Despite her mocking voice, her small step back didnât escape Benâs notice. Though her heart was steady, he dismissed it as anxiety. Obviously, nobody had helped her relieve any of that clear, needless stress plaguing her in a while. He would. Make this whole situation a little more bearable. Maybe, once she had a good fuck, sheâd turn out to be just half as pleasant as his fantasy.
âI fucked Marilyn Monroe. I almost made her leave that pussy, Kennedy. Youâd be lucky if I looked at you.â
âIâd say Iâm lucky right now. Youâre too busy trying to fuck your own reflection to look anywhere else.â
âAnd my reflection thanks me every fucking night.â
âWhatever you need to tell yourself,â she gave him a toothy, arrogant smile. Ben knew she thought sheâd won.
âIf you ever want someone to pull that stick out of your ass, Iâd be happy to help.â
Her smile faltered quickly, but was plastered back onto her face just as fast. âIâm sure itâll fall out on its own.â
âIn case it doesnât, my door is open.â
âThought I was a bitch?â
âYou said we didnât need to like each other to get hitched-â
âNever said hitched.â
âSo if you ever want to ânot like each other,ââ he winked at her. âAs hard as possible, my door is open. Iâm a gentleman, youâd have fun.â He reached to take her, and he had hardly brushed their fingers when she jumped back, recoiling like he was covered in warts.
For the first time, Ben thought that the look on her face might be fear. She rubbed her hand like it had been burned, a part of him thought she might bite through her lips, and her heart had become erratic. But when she spoke, her voice was just as level as always.
âClean your dishes, and keep your door fucking closed. Or next time I throw a knife, Iâll aim for your eye, and I wonât miss.â
She stomped up the stairs, the room lingering with smoke long after she left.
#soldier boy x reader#the boys#soldier boy#Enemies to Friends to Lovers#slow burn#eventual smut#angst#x reader#reader insert#eventual romance#romance#canon typical violence#canon divergent au#the boys amazon#billy butcher#annie january#frenchie#grace mallory#hughie campbell#masterlist#smut#soldier boy x you#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys fanfic#soldier boy smut#soldier boy x female reader#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters#the boys au#godmadeaterribleerror
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Writing Notes: Carbon Monoxide Poisoning
Carbon monoxide (CO) poisoning - occurs when carbon monoxide gas is inhaled.
CO - a colorless, odorless, highly poisonous gas.
Produced by incomplete combustion.
Interferes with the ability of the blood to carry oxygen.
Found in: automobile exhaust fumes, faulty stoves and heating systems, fires, and cigarette smoke.
Other sources: woodburning stoves, kerosene heaters, improperly ventilated water heaters and gas stoves, and blocked or poorly maintained chimney flues.
The result is headache, nausea, convulsions, and finally death by asphyxiation.
Symptoms
The symptoms of CO poisoning in order of increasing severity include:
headache
shortness of breath
dizziness
fatigue
mental confusion and difficulty thinking
loss of fine hand-eye coordination
nausea and vomiting
rapid heart rate
hallucinations
inability to execute voluntary movements accurately
collapse
lowered body temperature (hypothermia)
coma
convulsions
seriously low blood pressure
cardiac and respiratory failure
death
In some cases, the skin, mucous membranes, and nails of a person with CO poisoning are cherry red or bright pink. Because the color change doesnât always occur, it is an unreliable symptom to rely on for diagnosis.
Although most CO poisoning is acute, or sudden, it is possible to suffer from chronic CO poisoning. This condition exists when a person is exposed to low levels of the gas over a period of days to months.
Symptoms are often vague and include (in order of frequency) fatigue, headache, dizziness, sleep disturbances, cardiac symptoms, apathy, nausea, and memory disturbances.
Little is known about chronic CO poisoning, and it is often misdiagnosed.
Treatment
Immediate treatment: Remove the victim from the source of carbon monoxide gas and get him or her into fresh air.
If the victim is not breathing and has no pulse, cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) should be started.
Depending on the severity of the poisoning, 100% oxygen may be given with a tight fitting mask as soon as it is available.
Taken with other symptoms of CO poisoning, COHb levels of over 25% in healthy individuals, over 15% in patients with a history of heart or lung disease, and over 10% in pregnant women usually indicate the need for hospitalization.
In the hospital, fluids and electrolytes are given to correct any imbalances that have arisen from the breakdown of cellular metabolism.
In severe cases of CO poisoning, patients are given hyperbaric oxygen therapy. This treatment involves placing the patient in a chamber breathing 100% oxygen at a pressure of more than one atmosphere (the normal pressure the atmosphere exerts at sea level). The increased pressure forces more oxygen into the blood.
Prevention
Carbon monoxide poisoning is preventable.
Particular care should be paid to situations where fuel is burned in a confined area. Portable and permanently installed carbon monoxide detectors that sound a warning similar to smoke detectors are available for less than $50.
Specific actions that will prevent CO poisoning include:
Stopping smoking. Smokers have less tolerance to environmental CO.
Having heating systems and appliances installed by a qualified contractor to assure that they are properly vented and meet local building codes
Inspecting and properly maintaining heating systems, chimneys, and appliances
Not using a gas oven or stove to heat the home
Not burning charcoal indoors
Making sure there is good ventilation if using a kerosene heater indoors
Not leaving cars or trucks running inside the garage
Keeping car windows rolled up when stuck in heavy traffic, especially if inside a tunnel.
Source â More: Writing Notes & References â Poison â Fictional Poisons
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Take me Back to Eden - The Apparition - Part 5.5 (Jihyo x Nayeon)
(Jihyo x Nayeon) (Fem!Reader x Mina)
Take Me Back to Eden - Choke Hold - Part 1
Take Me Back To Eden - Granite - Part 2
Take Me Back To Eden - Aqua Regia - Part 3
Take Me Back to Eden - Ascensionism - Part 4
Take Me Back to Eden - The Apparition - Part 5
Word Count: 4.3k Angst/Suggestive/Smut Summary: This takes places at the end of Part 4 and goes through the end of Part 5! Following around Jihyo and Nayeon as they discover what Y/N has been doing since they left the shared apartment, and who Y/N has been hanging out with. TW: This shit is toxic as hell. broken glass, plates thrown, pushing, manipulation, gas lighting, stalking, crime, implied sex, talking about sex, sex is also happening, crying, uh...more of the same really.
A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS! I didn't imagine this kind of support when I started out, so to see it happen so quickly has been truly amazing and I'm so so so so grateful for all of you<3 Shout out to @nr1chaedickrider for helping me concoct this crazy dramatic ass side part lmaoooo<3
â
âWhat the fuck are you doing here?âŚwhat is that on your neck?â ringing out throughout the studio apartment, as Jihyo slammed the door behind her.
âI donât really think she will be much use to you tonight but youâre more than welcome to try.â Y/n condescending retorts, as she makes her way to the front door.
âOh, by the way,â Y/n turning to make sure to make eye contact before delivering the striking blow.
âI hope you like the way I taste. Enjoy.â smiling as she walks out of the apartment as Jihyo is absolutely dumbstruck at what just happened.
Silence falls creating an eerie feeling of hideous rage and tension that only Jihyo could feel as she walks into the room to see Nayeon completely naked, only a small portion of the sheet hiding her hips, covered in bruises and bite marks.
âWhat the actual fuck, Nayeon?â Jihyo hissed above her as she glared down at Nayeonâs limp body.
â..donât want to talk..â Nayeon sleepily let out as Jihyo fumed.
âYouâre just going to let me look like a fool about all of this? After all the trouble we went through? After everything I did to make sure Y/n never found out, and youâre just going to betray meâŚ? What about us?â
âThere is no we or us, Hyo. We just fuck when sheâs not around. I never cared about you like that and you know it.â lifelessly left Nayeonâs lips as she drifted into sleep.
Jihyo pulls her phone out returning to the kitchen, and calls Y/N multiple times with no answer, âI bet sheâs going to Momoâs.â Instantly calling her.
âHello?â Momo answered surprised as Jihyo immediately started yelling.
âHave you spoken with Y/n?â the thorns of her tone wrapping around her throat, choking her out.
âI havenâtâŚwhy?â Standoffish considering what Jihyo had done to Y/n with Nayeon previously.
âBecause I just caught her leaving Nayeonâs apartment with a bunch of random shit, hickies all over her and Nayeon canât even speak to me and is covered in WORSE marks, and she said some vile shit to me too!â Jihyo screamed in an unhinged rage, fists bawled, tears spilling, a massive hole opened up in her chest that Nayeon created.
âShut the fuck up, Iâm trying to sleep!â Shouted from the bedroom, annoyed tone present from the exhaustion that sunk Nayeonâs muscles.
âDonât interrupt me!â Harshly yelled back to the bedroom as she kept venting to Momo, probably the worst person to vent to considering she was Y/Nâs best friend.
âShe fucking said and I quote, âI donât really think she will be much use to you tonight but youâre more than welcome to try.â And then she had the audacity to say âI hope you like the way I taste, enjoy.â
Those words would ricochet against the inside of her skull for the rest of her existence, and she would never be able to scrub them off. Silently crying with the phone still held up to her ear. Momo is completely silent on the other end of the phone, not even knowing what to say.
âY/n? Said that? You expect me to believe that happened?â almost accusing Jihyo of making it up completely. How could Momo trust her after what she was an accomplice for?
âMomo-â voice cracking as she speaks âwhy would I lie about something like that?â Jihyo questions her back as she wipes the tears from her eyes.
âHyo, you canât be seriousâŚYou already didâ calmly tossed back at her, nausea flashes over her skiing, realizing that no one is on her side.
She was the bad guy in everyoneâs eyes, and the thought of that made her skin crawl. She wasnât the one who did the act, she didnât cheat on anyone, Nayeon did. Why couldnât anyone empathize with her? Was she crazy for feeling the way that she did about it?
âIf you talk to Y/N, let her know I want to speak with her.â Jihyo hung up immediately after. Becoming completely inconsolable, wrapped in her own misery as the person she risked it all for, had not a care in the world about what happened to her.
She began to sob loudly, cries bouncing off the vaulted ceilings as she went on, wondering why she wasnât good enough for Nayeon, why she couldnât just make her happy, why Nayeon would do something like this to herâŚ
Jihyo stood up firmly, and walked into the bedroom. Nayeon was fast asleep on the bed, sheet covering her thighs up to her waist, legs dangling off the edge, not bothering to fix the position Y/n had her in. Jihyo was disgusted by this.
The light flicked on, Jihyo stood silently just looking at the scene before her. The bed was ruined, sheets needed to be changed, Nayeon sleeping peacefully after what looked to be a fight. Hand prints, bruises, bite marks and some welts littering her body.
âWake up,â pushing Nayeonâs shoulder hard as she sat down on the bed.
âUgh fine, what?â irritated at the interruption of her slumber, not even bothering to open her eyes.
âWhy the fuck did you sleep with her again? You told me that we were going to be together now, imagine my surprise when we had plans and I came in with the key you gave me, to see Y/N, your very recent ex in the kitchen??â Choking back tears as she yelled, trying to show Nayeon how hurt she was.
Laying down with her eyes closed, Nayeon didnât even flinch at the sound but opened her eyes. Looking at Jihyo with fury, brows furrowed in the heat of her emotions.
âI love Y/n. Just because we were fucking doesnât mean youâre even in line, Jihyo. You were the one that fucked this up for me, you shouldâve waited for me to reach out to you instead of texting me that bullshit, and I wonât forgive you for it either.â words branding into Jihyoâs brain as Nayeon got up and stretched.
âBesides, you canât do thisâ gesturing to her body with her hands as Jihyo stares at the roadmap placed on Nayeonâs body by Y/n , âlike she can.â Walking toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Shower rushing on, and door sliding back.
Jihyo walked out of the tense bedroom into the kitchen to search for the wine Nayeon bought the other day, and poured herself a glass and chugged it. Looking over to see the vase full of roses, and the note written for Y/n.
The way the crystal of the vase refracted the light and the reds of the roses was infuriating, Nayeon wouldnât even glance at flowers for Jihyo - let alone get her any. Walking over to the vase, picking it up, smelling the roses, briefly admiring them, and then smashing the vase against the floor in a fit of rage.
Nayeon rushed out of the bedroom, soaking wet, to find the scene in the kitchen, Jihyo drinking out of a wine glass, leaning against the counter, one leg crossed over the other. Glancing down to see the vase shattered, glass and rose petals everywhere.
âItâs kind of poetic, isnât it?â Jihyo said matter of factly, looking up from the rim of her glass.
âSharp edges and rose petals on the floor between us, you step on roses and I step on glass. Every. Single. Time.â Throwing the wine glass at Nayeon, shattering it against the wall.
Nayeon shields herself from the crashing pieces as Jihyo breaks more glassware around the kitchen. Plates, glasses, and mugs are thrown around the kitchen accompanied by harsh tones and arguing.
âWhy are you trying to gaslight me? I have the messages from you saying we were together, Nayeon! I have proof! You canât gaslight me this timeâ A mug slung across the room, shattering like Jihyoâs heart.
âAll for someone who doesnât even want you?! Pathetic, Iâm standing right here ready to give you the world and you canât even appreciate that!â A plate this time, crashing into the wall, Nayeon flinching again at the sounds of the ceramic.
âI could say the same thing about you, Hyo!â bravely spit back as the flying glassware came to a halt. Much like the chips of sharp glass, Jihyo shatters into a million pieces. Nayeon runs over and grabs a stunned Jihyoâs wrists, holding them steady as Jihyo falls apart in her arms.
âWhy are you never real?â choking on her words to immediately be shushed down and held against Nayeonâs chest until she was calm.
âI said we might be able to try. But I need to talk to Y/N before that can happen, okay?â Nayeon rubbed her hand up and down Jihyoâs back quickly in an attempted comfort.
âCome on now, letâs clean this up and Iâll change the sheets and we can have a movie night, sound good?â Nayeon coos and winks before disappearing into the bedroom.
Jihyo sighs, grabs a broom and a dustpan, and starts cleaning up the mess she made. Still angry in her own right at Nayeon, but wasnât in the position to do anything about it and itâs not like Nayeon would care if she walked out right now anyway.
âNothing good comes easy,â huffing to herself in a moment of toxic positivity, âand she wouldnât do what she does for me, if she didnât love me.â Repeating it like a mantra over and over again to herself, alone. Nayeon lightly chuckles in the bedroom, unheard by Jihyo, knowing they will never be.
â
Waking up that afternoon was hard. Jihyo felt exhausted, her eyes were tired as she rolled over to see if Nayeon was still in bed. She wasnât, no surprise.
Rolling out of bed, in the clothes she showed up in, and walking to the living room to see Nayeon on the couch watching tv by herself, scrolling through her phone mindlessly.
âDid you sleep well?â Jihyo asks, startling Nayeon who flung her phone at the surprise. Giggling at the sight, Jihyo went and picked the phone up to see the open text to Y/n and the few messages she sent in the past 24 hours. Sighing and handing it back, just letting the tears fall, stinging of her eyes becoming all too familiar.
âAre you really crying again? Come on, Hyo. Pull yourself together,â Nayeon says coldly as Jihyo sulks by herself, sniffling as she pours herself a cup of cold coffee.
Nayeon never made coffee for Jihyo, that was something she only did for Y/n, not even remembering how Jihyo takes her coffee or any of her favorites for that matter. No matter how much time they spent together, nothing stuck. Nayeon simply did not care.
âDo you still want to check out that new cafe we talked about last week?â Nayeon said not paying any mind to Jihyoâs current state as she asks about a late lunch.
âYeah thatâs fine. Let me change and Iâll drive.â emptiness present as she spoke and went to the bedroom to grab the clothes she brought with her for today, putting them on quickly and exiting the bedroom for her not date with her not girlfriend.
â
Pulling up to the restaurant and seeing Y/N there was considerably unlucky, but with Mina of all people? Talk about a surprise. And for Mina to be holding her hand and looking at her the way she was, it was no wonder Nayeon was so disgruntled, not that she had any right to be.
Watching Nayeon erupt was hard to watch, knowing it was out of fear that she lost what was so precious to her out of her own selfishness. It was hard for Jihyo to keep quiet as Nayeonâs emotions spew out erratically towards Y/N and Mina. Especially knowing there was never any left for her, always wishing to be her focus.
After driving off and not even eating at the place picked out, Nayeon was in a pure rage in the passenger seat. Punching the glove box relentlessly as the interaction plays back in her head.
âDonât worry, Iâll take care of her from now since you canât satiate her, apparently.â And then the wink from Mina. She was living in this memory, Like a broken record, skipping and looping through her brain as she stewed in it.
Jihyo trembled in fear at every punch laid into the car's interior, âNayeon, calm down! Youâre scaring meâŚâ trying to get Nayeon to see she was crossing a line. Nayeon, seeing red, doesnât budge an inch and continues to spew venom everywhere. Not that Jihyo expected her but to stop, but the effort was still worth it in her eyes.
âWho the fuck does Mina think she is talking about Y/N like that? She mustâve not known who sheâs fucking withâŚTurn around.â
âWhat?â Confused behind the wheel, Jihyo made a face at the request to turn the car and head back to the cafe. Didnât they already leave?
âI said fucking turn around, Jihyoâ Nayeons eyes black with hatred as she instructs her minion to do her bidding.
Jihyo whips the car around, still crying about the interaction and Nayeon draping herself all over Y/N right in front of her. Speeding back to the location they were just in.
âMake a left up here.â Nayeon orders, as she leans back into her seat, slouching with her legs apart, staring into her phone as she leans her head into her hand.
âNayeon, where are we going?â a worried response as Jihyo makes the left turn. Nayeon sits up, squinting at the cars in the complex parking lot.
âTurn your lights off and park next to that black 2 door over there.â Pointing at a random car that looks similar to the one they were in that was facing the building.
Jihyo once again, does as sheâs told. âCan you please tell me where we are?â
âY/n never took her location off on my phone. We are spying. So shut up and keep an eye out.â Nayeon evilly instructed as she waited for signs of which apartment belonged to Y/n.
Not 5 minutes later did Y/N walk up to the apartment hand in hand with Mina, laughing and smiling with each other, it made Nayeon sick to her stomach.
âWe can leave now.â Nayeon says quietly. Stewing in her anger. Plotting and scheming about how she was going to exact revenge.
Jihyo didnât hesitate to get out of there. She didnât want to be a part of whatever was happening, she just wanted Nayeon's love and attention so she did what she told her, at the false promise it would materialize if she proved herself useful.
â
Nayeon seethes on the couch as Jihyo sits silently watching her lover shake in anger, trying to figure out how she can ease the tension within her. Jihyo jumps up and runs around the side of the couch, placing her hands firmly on Nayeonâs shoulder, massaging them firmly.
âThat feels so goodâŚbaby.â Nayeon whimpers, eyes closed and leaning into the pressure, giving Jihyo the reassurance she craved so desperately.
Sliding her hands down Nayeonâs back, kneading her thumbs into the knots enthusiastically. Tracing up to the back of her head, Jihyo pulls lightly where her shoulders and neck connect, letting go and pushing down on the tension.
Nayeon groans, âYou know, I do love your magical hands. They please me so well.â throwing her head back as Jihyo continues to work the knots. Nayeon was playing her predatory game, and Jihyo was the prey.
âCan you get my legs too, my love?â Nayeon pouts, batting her big doe eyes in Jihyoâs direction. Using her for her own gain, taking and no giving. Wondering how much love she could extract from Jihyo as she bent to her will.
Walking around the couch and dropping to the floor as she takes Nayeonâs legs into her hands, massaging down her legs âhow does this feel, my love?â
Nayeon suddenly crosses her arms, eyes blurry from tears and she sniffles into her hands.
âBaby, whatâs wrong?â Jihyo asks as she stands, cupping Nayeonâs face and wiping a tear away with her thumb, gently.
âDonât call me that! You arenât her, and you never will be.â Spitting with extra malice as she pushes Jihyo by the shoulders, knocking her to the floor.
Nayeon stands up, not bothering to even try to help Jihyo up as she prowls past her to the door, still in a predatory mindset as she grabs her purse, her keys, and leaves without a single word.
Jihyo sits in absolute silence. Nayeon has never laid a hand on her in that way before. Not knowing what to do, she sits and tries to unravel the complex emotions she was feeling.
Hatred, anger, jealousy, and emptiness filling her lungs as she bawled her eyes out on the floor of Nayeonâs apartment. Realizing she probably would never be enough for her.
âWhere did she even go?â Out loud as she swivels her head towards the door. She didnât need to ask the question, the answer was written on every wall in this apartment.
Y/n and Nayeonâs shared home, pictures still up from their vacations together, selfies from adventures, and of course the matching mugs in their place next to the coffee pot.
âOf course.â Rolling her eyes, not going after her. She just sat on the couch, and waited for Nayeon to return.
â
Weaving in and out of traffic manically as Nayeon races over to Y/nâs apartment, the only care in the world being whether she can get to Y/n before anything happens between her and Mina. The thought of someone else touching Y/n is repulsive, nauseating, and her skin crawls at the thought.
Pulling into the parking lot of the complex, Nayeon shuts the car off and hops out quickly. Racing over to the apartment she watched Y/N and Mina walk into holding hands. The thoughts induce animosity as she makes her way to the door.
Hesitating to knock, sheâs unsure if she really wants to go through with this. She needed more motivation, Nayeon ducks down to avoid being detected and sneaks over to another window with a better view of the living room.
Peaking over the window sill, she sees Mina comforting a crying Y/N on the couch, rubbing her back and mumbling something Nayeon canât really make out. A death stare lasers the back of Minaâs head as it shoots out of her eyes. âI should be comforting her, not you. And poor Mina has no idea how to deal with Y/Nâs panic attacks. I bet she gets overwhelmed and leaves. Y/n needs meâ whispering to herself in a psychotic manner.
Nayeon watches as Y/N stands up and starts to pace, ripping her hoodie off so she was just in a sports bra. Mina is still sitting on the couch, face red with a small smile as she watches Y/N pace when she suddenly stands up and catches Y/N by the wrist, pulling her into her arms while wrapping them around Y/n.
Nayeon scoffs at the sight, watching Y/nâs face press against Minaâs neck as she cries, when suddenly Y/n pulls back from Mina, they look into each otherâs eyes for a minute as Minaâs hands descending from Y/Nâs lower back to her hips, pulling her into a kiss.
Nayeon writhes under the absolute disdain as she watches in horror while the person she wanted more than anyone, willingly kissing someone else. Observing as Mina takes control, and Y/n letting her.
âShe never let me do thatâŚâ Nayeon sees red and she continues to peep through the window as Mina stands, shoving Y/N lightly onto the couch, removing her sweater as well. Nayeon has just about had enough, turning and running back to her car quickly.
Laughing to herself as she sees a palm sized rock on her way to the vehicle, when a light bulb goes off in her head. Opening the car door and not bothering to close it, she gets inside and begins sifting through her purse, finding her red pen and the small notebook she kept with her. Nayeon rips a page from the inside and scratches âSheâs mineâ across the paper.
Removing her shoelace and tying the note to the rock securely, she begins to giggle to herself. Walking up to the window by the living room, rock in hand, to see if the make out session was still happening. Catching the view of Mina between Y/Nâs legs on the couch as they got closer, almost molding into one another. Minaâs hands reached up behind Y/n to undo her bra when Nayeon completely snapped.
Running over to the front of the apartment, Nayeon launched the rock through the window by the door, laughing maniacally as she did so. Turning around 30 seconds later to run to her car and get out of dodge, knowing Mina would probably call the cops.
Tires screech behind her as she peels out of the parking lot, and heads right back to what Nayeon views as their shared home still. Laughing and crying as she speeds violently around everyone in her way, honking and yelling in a violent fueled frenzy as her heart cracks in half from the weight of the consequences of her own actions.
__
Jihyo is sleeping on the couch when Nayeon gets back to her home. Walking in without care about the sound made, throwing her bag to the side, kicking her shoes off in any direction. Outrage in full swing as she wakes Jihyo by nudging her shoulder.
Jolting awake, Jihyo sees Nayeon and immediately scooches back on the couch as if sheâs scared of her, and she has every right to be considering their last altercation.
âWhatâs wrong, love? I only wanted to hold you.â Nayeonâs emptiness masked in the sweet tone as she extends her arms out for her to fall in. Jihyo knows better than to lean into it but she canât resist Nayeon making her feel loved. Her affection being the sweetest form of sugar and her anger being the sharpest knife, and when she twists it? Unbearable pain and torment.
Jihyo was trapped, ensnared in what she thought could be love. Nayeon held her as she turned the blade in her back yet again, removing only the pieces she wanted.
âIâm going to need that mouth of yours. Do you think you can do that for me?â kissing Jihyoâs jaw and moving down to her neck.
Jihyo whimpered and nodded her head, loving the aggression, as Nayeon wrapped her hands around her hair and pulled her onto the ground, a stark difference from the honeyed tone in her voice. Keeping her hand tangled as she instructed Jihyo to unbutton her pants and pull them down to her knees. âIâm going to show you why youâll never leave me, no matter what I do. Youâll always be a phone call away.â
Nayeon leans down and forcefully shoves her tongue in Jihyoâs mouth, no surprises for Jihyo, she knows whatâs coming as Nayeon parts from her, situating herself, pussy dripping in front of Hyo.
Jihyoâs hands lay on Nayeonâs thighs, âI love youâ as she opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out allowing Nayeon access to what she was craving, even if it wasnât the mouth she wanted.
Nayeon grabs Jihyoâs hair as she slowly starts to ride on her tongue, picking up the pace as she finds a steady rhythm. âJust like that, babyâ whining through the pleasure that coursed through her veins.
Sheâs aggressively fucks Jihyoâs mouth, groaning as she grinds down on the tongue of her other lover, only thinking about release of the pent up rage and the rush of the crime she had just committed.
Jihyo is just happy to feel useful as sheâs on her knees, letting Nayeon get her aggression out, latching onto her clit and humming while she sucks. Breath is quickening, getting closer to combustion as the snapping of her hips accelerates.
Feeling her panties getting wetter by the second as Jihyo's mouth gets used. Sheâs sure theyâre completely ruined but she wouldn't dare complain, enjoying Nayeonâs sweet taste more and more every time she gets the chance to indulge in her flavor.
Nayeonâs hips start to sputter unevenly as she moans out body tensing as the dopamine launches into her bloodstream, reveling in the pleasure as she continues to ride out the orgasm.
Jihyo slips 2 fingers into Nayeonâs cunt, stretching her out and holding them at the exact angle she would need to make herself cum again. Hair being gripped tightly as her head is pushed and pulled with the new rapidness created mere seconds ago.
âJus- fuck, baby⌠just one -right there, fuck- more.â Nayeon gasps as the knot in her stomach tightens again. Jihyo immediately starts thrusting her fingers when she feels Nayeon clench around her and with little time to prepare, another orgasm quickly rips through her body causing her to collapse onto the couch, breathing heavily and whimpering in euphoria.
Jihyo takes in Nayeonâs state, glimmering with sweat, roses cheeks, flawless chest shining and a sense of peacefulness binding her in her place. This is why she stays. The visual of Nayeon in this state, the softness and the sweet moments she was capable of were more than enough to keep Jihyo in her place.
âLetâs do that againâ Nayeon huffed out, reaching for Jihyoâs hand to pull her up on the couch, caressing while lightly placing their lips together. She tastes herself on Jihyoâs mouth, wetness layering on top of itself as she deepened the kiss when a loud knock at the door pulled them out of the moment.
âPolice, open up!â
Jihyo and Nayeon look at each other, confused.
âNayeonâŚwhat did you do?⌠What the fuck did you do?!â Jihyo's voice trembles, concern woven between the words.
Nayeon with a maniacal smile âOh, my sweet sweet babyâŚyou mean what did YOU do, donât you?â
#jihyo x nayeon#mina x reader#nayeon x fem!reader#twice imagines#twice angst#twice fic#twice nayeon#im nayeon#kpop x reader#wlw#nayeon#jihyo#mina#mina x fem!reader#Twice x twice#twice im nayeon#jihyo x reader#jihyo angst#nayeon x fem reader#nayeon imagines#im nayeon x reader#nayeon smut#jihyo smut
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What is something that almost nobody knows about submarines?
The smell.
When nuclear submarines are at sea they mostly remain submerged with a sealed atmosphere. Part of the atmosphere control system functions are to remove carbon dioxide (CO2), since a build-up of carbon dioxide can become fatal. To remove the carbon dioxide submarines use a chemical called amine. When amine is cool it absorbs carbon dioxide and when hot will release it. So the amine is cycled through a machine referred to as a CO2 Scrubber, which will alternately heat and cool the carbon dioxide and pushes the gas into the ocean, keeping the atmosphere breathable.
This is a very effective system, with the downside being the amine imparts a rather âuniqueâ smell into the atmosphere. Which ultimately permeates every part of the submarine interior including crew members clothing and even their skin.
In addition to the amine smell, submarine crews are exposed to cooking odors, hydraulic oil vapors, diesel exhaust that isnât quite captured by the diesel exhaust system, inboard venting of the sanitary tanks, and the smell of a large number of closely confined people. The interiors become quite fragrant. Crew members become accustomed to it and after a while never notice it. But other people do.
When I was attached to a submarine I had reason to fly home for vacation wearing my civilian clothes. I was sitting in my plane seat next to an older lady, chatting a bit, and suddenly she asked me âare you on submarines?â Surprised, I asked âyes, how did you know?â She replied âmy husband was on submarines. Iâll never forget the smell.â
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đđ¨đŤđđ˛ đđĄđŤđđ đđđĽđ¨đ°
its absolutely miserable here rn but i enjoy writing these little winter stories so have another,
âwhy? why do we live here?âeddie grumbles, rubbing his red chapped hands together and blowing on them.Â
the indiana wind blew hard against the windows, rattling the screen door and creating a draft that seemed to keep the trailer at a crisp 65°.
wool socks and long johns werenât enough to keep him warm, the thick flannel heâd had since forever was threaded to the very top, his throat tight against the suffocating button.Â
â âtâs where the horses died, i guess.â wayne chuckled, cricketing his feet together as he lounged back in his squeaky worn recliner.Â
the small space heater glowed angry red, drawing more electricity from the trailer.Â
âget that van started up?â wayne asks around the mouth of a pabst.Â
eddie flicks his lighter open and shut in a habitual manner, âdidnât want to, but finally gave in,â plopping down next to the heater to warm the apples of his cheeks, he lets out a small sigh of relief from his chattering teeth.Â
wayne grunts in approval and they sit in comfortable silence. the howling wind keeping melody with the lonesome whistling of the ceiling vents, the garfield wall clock adding a chimed staccato.Â
every business in town was closed. the gas stations, the dinerâ the weather man called for people to stay home: no travel advised. but healthcare didnât operate around the weather.
his watch beeped at 9:45PM and he figured the van would be good and warm by now.Â
âalright, iâm headinâ out,â he called to wayne as he shoved his arms through the cool leather and begrudgingly shoved a stocking cap on his head.Â
wayne gave him a solemn look, âyou be damn careful.â
eddie grinned his cheshire pearls, âalways.âÂ
-
the steel door by the back entrance had a small window facing the parking lot. your co workers all had gone once the other shift had shown up to start their nightly duties of rounding on patients and stocking supplies.Â
trisha asked if you needed a ride but you waved her off, âheâll be cominââÂ
you worried the snow might have been too deep for his van to handle, maybe it didnât start at all? maybe the electricity went out in the trailer park?
 the nails on your hand suffered between your teeth as your brain concocted more and more things to worry about. things that could go wrong.Â
but not long after a single headlight broke through the tree line and there he was, lining up with the sidewalk as close as he could without actually driving onto it.Â
with one deep and ragged warm breath, you braved the weather. the snow scraping against your face in icy claws of unforgiving cold. wind whipping the starchy fabric of your nursing assistant scrubs this way and that.Â
the dome light brightens as he climbs out from the van opening your door before you could reach for it yourself. a winced smile on his lips when he sees your chilled face.Â
âget in baby,âÂ
he shuts your door and your fingers begin to thaw against the vents in eddieâs van, the warm comforting smell of rich tobacco and hints of weed engulf your senses. the smell of him singing a song to your soul.Â
his door opens and shuts tight and heâs chattering his teeth loudly before grabbing your hands and kissing heat into them.Â
âmissed you,â he murmurs, âhow was work?âÂ
âlongâŚbusy,â a barking cough creeps from your lungs and tightens your chest, âglad itâs over,â you say weakly, reaching for his hand and threading it between yours, âi switched shifts with diane so i have to be back at six.â
eddieâs eyebrows furrow into worry but he hides his concern. that place worked you like a mule, they didnât care how bad the weather was or if you were sick⌠and he hated them for it. you looked exhausted, the normal glow to your skin was dusted over with whatever virus you were currently fighting.. but eddie knew there was no use trying to tell you to take it easy for once.Â
âalright sweetheart, i can take you, wanna stay at mine tonight or go back to your place?âÂ
the small home you rented with your childhood best friend jonathan and his girlfriend, leah was on the outskirts of hawkins. and since your landlord was jonathanâs mom the rent was dirt ass cheap. the hopperâs residing in a desolate cabin owned by the chief.Â
winter was rough this year and between eddieâs long hours at the factory that didnât seem to slow down, and your irregular shifts at the nursing home, you didnât get to see much of your boyfriend, âstay with me?âÂ
-
the tv was blue when your key finally busted through the locks and you wedged your way inside. leah and jonathan both asleep, curled into one another on the oversized couch.Â
tracking snow in, you and eddie toe off your shoes gingerly trying to avoid the unwelcome surprise of wet snow on your socks.
âi fucking hate snow,â eddie mutters hanging up both of your coats.Â
âoh cmon, mr grinch, â you tease with a small smile after hacking up another cough, âyou donât like how pretty it makes everything look?âÂ
âhard to look cool in this damn thing,â he says tossing the black stocking cap onto your counter, his hair a mess of kinky curls, frizzing into oblivion.Â
âwell,â you say, running your hands up his chest and around his neck, âi think you look cute.âÂ
eddie rolls his eyes and you scoff before he dives into your lips and kisses you loud and obnoxious. erupting giggles from you as his icy hands work themselves beneath the hem of your shirt.Â
the laughing as your cough acting up again and eddie places a palm to your forehead worry etched into his eyes, you look back at him, âwould the heat miser like a hot toddy?âÂ
eddie rubs his thumb into a circle pattern on your back. fuck he adores you.
âiâll make âem, you go take a hot shower, alright? you feel sick.âÂ
you roll your eyes, âiâm not sick,â you garble through a coughing fit, ââm just sleepy.âÂ
âsure, sure, whatever you think.âÂ
â
when youâre dressed into pajamas and a long robe, eddie is stripped down to his long johns and the band shirt you liked to hold hostage at your house. your room is set up like a picnic, pb&âs and a twinkie to wash down the hot liquor.Â
âpretty much a gourmet chef,â eddie says, licking peanut butter from his thumb, âi even ate your crusts for you.â
âmy knight in shining armor,â you muse and eddie takes an exaggerated bow.
he sits crossed legged on your bed, âletâs eat i know your hungry,âÂ
eddieâs idea of a hot toddy is warm tea with double the amount of whiskey. yours he made sweet with some honey but his is kept straight and burning with whiskey.Â
a light buzz clouds your head by the time you finish your drink and the exhaustion settles into your bones, the cough loosened a bit with your hot shower but now your sinuses were filled and you were only breathing from your mouth.Â
âlay down baby, iâll be right back.âÂ
eddie flicks off the light and sets the plate into the sink, jonathan is standing in the kitchen warming a a pot of milk on the stove.Â
âthat you coughing munson or her?âÂ
eddie finds the crinkly pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jacket and pulls one out for himself and jonathan.Â
âme? nah, sheâs sicker than a dog.âÂ
jonathan stirs the milk and takes the cigarette from eddieâs offering hand, âleah and i had something like that last week, probably just something going aroundâÂ
the two smoke openly in the kitchen, both deciding itâs too cold to go outside. jonathan stirs the hot milk into the waiting mugs with chocolate powder, cigarette and spoon swirling in a dance of smoke and clanking ceramic.Â
âthereâs some vicks in the bathroom if you need it,â jonathan says, stubbing out his cigarette into the nearest ashtray, balancing the mugs in each fist, â tell her to take a day off for christ sakes.âÂ
âyeah thatâll go over well.âÂ
they both chuckle knowing just how stubborn you are and jonathan disappears into his bedroom. flicking out the lights, eddie follows the hall to your room and sneaks inside, laying down next to your burning up body and sweat slicked forehead.Â
he pulls you into him and you groan with the uncomfortable delirium from your fever.Â
âeddie?â you whisper into his chest, fisting his shirt into your palms, âit doesnât snow in arizona.âÂ
âyouâre right princess,â eddie says pressing his lips to your fevered head, âit doesnât.âÂ
you snuggle deeper into him, and speak a barely audible âletâs move there.â before you fall into a deep sleep.Â
when morning comes and the wind hasnât died down, you sigh a little relief when his van doesnât start, and donât object when eddie hands you the phone so you can call your job and tell them you wonât be making it.Â
here is the actual temp from my weather appâ 𼲠also tagging @eiightysixbaby bc jonathanâs girlfriend is her, duh.
#eddie blurb#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#stranger things
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Hear me out.
It's angst.
I think I used 2/3 characters but it's mainly a brief mention of CatNap and a brief Poppy mention + scene. Just dogday and reader afterwards.
---
Poppy runs to Dogday , maybe after the part where CatNap takes the gas mask , because we haven't contacted her in a while.
He finds us from where we passed out in game , but we haven't woken up yet, due to the heavy dosage of the sleeping gas.
When he does find us , we're also partially injured due to the effects of the gas by proxy- Aka. we probably scratched ourselves during the nightmare.
He takes us to Poppy's glass room , which they can probably use as a hideout when they need to rest.
He watches over us as he feels guilty --- having not been there to protect us as we stressed that we'd be okay , so he could go do a different job in the task list to make things faster.
We wake up maybe a day later or you can leave that up to the reader's imagination.
Rapture
Note || AHHH- this is such a neat idea đ
WC || 945
Sypnosis || feeling injured and for lack of a better word â comatose, it left DogDay in feelings he didnât want to experience ever again.
She didnât know what to do, this was inconceivable. Many questions ran through the depths of her fabricated mind, but all she could do is alert DogDay to find you.Â
You hadnât responded for a long period of time, she was beginning to get worried. Sure, you sometimes didnât respond at times, dealing with certain situations that had left you with a bitter taste on the tongue. Poppy was distressed more than ever, worry was a common feeling when you are in a place like the Playtime Co. Factory. But this was something different, a pitted feeling in her gut that this was something different.
She couldn't slow down however, she needed to tell DogDay. Poppy clambered through the familiar vents, trying to find the large dog. Finally, she came to a stop and had found the very toy she was looking for.Â
âPsst-â Poppy climbed through the vent completely, exposing herself to DogDayâs view. âDogDay!âÂ
DogDay yelped, growling as he whipped his head around. His false temperament faded away quickly enough as he realized that it was only Poppy, the small toy. âPoppy?â His strewn voice echoed, laced with clear exhaustion. He certainly didnât expect her to make an appearance so soon after the last time they all met up with each other.Â
Poppyâs face had presented fear and worry, which was something that had instilled a shadow of fear over his heart. Her red brows furrowed as she thought for a moment, a way to articulate her words without making it even worse than it needs to be. âI know somethingâs wrong, what is it?â
âUhm, you know who?â Poppy began, her tiny hands crossing over each other as she stood with a presentable stance. âI havenât gotten word for some time now, and itâs worrying.â
Those very words struck a fear in his heart that DogDay didnât like, he didnât like those words at at all. You were in trouble, and he was gonna find you. He needed to find you at all costs, DogDay didnât waste time, leaving Poppy where she stood. Poppy had understood his time of hurry, not resenting the sunny dog at all. DogDay walked in fast and large strides, having gotten better use of his legs now that they are attached again.
âAngel..â A small whimper escaped him, not wanting to know what kind of state he might find you in. âPlease be okay.â
Not at all, were his wishes true. The state you are in had left DogDay dumbfounded, he straggled over to you, strength slightly sapped after he had struggled the door that had opened to you. The room was full of Poppy Gas, no doubt trapping you in a nightmare â not a dream. You were injured, he had no doubt it was because of CatNap you were desperately trying so hard to escape it.Â
DogDay cradled you in the warmth of his arms, trying to not move you too much due to the extent of your very clear injuries. CatNap had stolen your gas mask, which had in return caused you to fall asleep to the effects of the sleeping gas.
 He was surprised you hadnât awoke yet, later on he had assumed it was due to the heavy dosage of the Poppy Gas. This was a sight he had so desperately wished to escape, but for your sake he had continued onward to the glass room with you in his arms.Â
Once he had finally arrived, DogDay opened the door and walked into the room and set you down with a gentle tenacity he didnât know he had in him. For a moment, he dared let his attention stray from your being as he had walked back to the door and closed it. His head thunked against the wall forlorn laying atop the door, as he was quite tall. A noise, between a groan and a whimper had escaped him, âI shouldâve been with you..â. You on the other hand were still asleep, you had been through enough as it is. Even though he remembers your insistence that you would be fine and right by yourself.Â
âDogDay, itâs gonna be fine,â You grin at him. âBesides, itâs not gonna take that long..â Your hand wanders over to his arm, patting it as you want to reassure him. He frowned for a moment at your stubbornness.Â
âOkay?â
DogDay shouldâve been so much more clearer, more defiant at most. So that your grim situation never happened in the first place, he couldâve been there to protect you against CatNap. You saved him, and he couldâve saved you. That much he shouldâve been allowed to do, but for now, he had to watch over you. In order to make sure you were okay and could continue onward and stop the Prototype once and for all.Â
Minutes passed, perhaps even hours. But he hadnât paid proper attention to the passage of time, only you were on his mind constantly. DogDay could feel a churning fear of guilt and sadness in his chest, building up so far that even he was surprised at how big his emotions could go.Â
The one thought that continuously ran through his mind is that he shouldâve been there for you, so that you werenât injured, that you werenât in such a deep sleep because of it all. DogDay had allowed himself, only slightly, to tentatively rub reassuring touches upon your head as if he were caressing your cheek.Â
He did that to ground himself, and maybe to see if that were to elicit a reaction out of you.Â
It was only within the fifth hour that you had finally woken up.
âDogDay?...â
#poppy playtime#dogday poppy playtime#poppy playtime x reader#poppy playtime chapter 3#x reader#poppy playtime dogday#catnap poppy playtime#poppy poppy playtime
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Multi-Troop Transports
STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:48:40
#Star Wars#Episode I#The Phantom Menace#Naboo#Great Grass Plains#Battle of Naboo#Battle of the Great Grass Plains#control room#Multi-Troop Transport#MTT#rack drive heat exhaust vent#Kuat Drive Yards#Premion Mk. II power generator#heavy duty repulsor cooling fin#repuslor motor gas cooling system exhaust#Baktoid Armor Workshop#main troop deployment hatch#lower troop deployment hatch#17kv antipersonnel twin blasters#heavy forward armor
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Just had an exciting moment, and accidentally posted a new picture all at the same times
We smelled gas in our house, we knew the rules, you get your dog, and leave the house. It is snowing and blowing wind outside so we got in our truck and went across the street to wait for the fire department. They came real quick, brought the big truck to our townhouse complex and had a look around.
Turns out it that the wind might have blown our furnace exhaust back into the vents, thus the gas we were smelling was just exhaust. They did send the gas company to check it out too, and they had a negative reading as well.
There was a chorus of âyou did the exact right thing!â As we are huddling in our jammies in the snow. But everyone was safe, whole episode took about an hour, but we are glad we did the right thing, and we are going to install new fire and carbon monoxide monitors everywhere tomorrow.
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I work for a call center that services water heaters and hoo boy, the stories I could tell you.Â
First of all, you'd think it would be common sense that you have to actually be standing next to the appliance that you're asking for help with so that we can get the info we need to get started (No, I cannot help you with a water heater in Florida if you are calling from FRANCE), and they will find new and inventive ways to look everywhere except where you told them the serial number was located. I've learned that I have to specifically tell them to bring the phone with them to the unit or they will put it down and walk away for several minutes leaving you in awkward silence. And that's before we even get into the actual problems.Â
Attempting to return the unit to the store despite the bold print label on the front of the tank that says "STOP! DO NOT RETURN THIS UNIT" and lists our phone number and then will claim that the label isn't there when we bring it to their attention.
Not bothering to read the manual and then complaining when we tell them their electric unit needs a different breaker switch.Â
We ask for pics of the exhaust venting and it looks like a 90's screensaver (gee I wonder why your carbon monoxide detector is going off).Â
Customers who physically cut the tank open to prove that the leak isn't repairable and then complain when we tell them they've voided their warranty.Â
I once got a person who called to complain that they didn't like the indicator light on the gas valve flashing to indicate that it was working properly.Â
another guy stopped in the middle of installing his unit to turn the water back on and flooded his basement.Â
Another one waited TWO YEARS to tell us that the part we sent him didn't fix his problem and then demanded a replacement.Â
The ones that just go "yes yes yes yes" when you tell them to turn off the breaker switch and then complain that they got shocked when they open the panel on the front of the tank.Â
They actually won't let me troubleshoot anymore, not because I did anything wrong, but because too many customers complained when I pointed out to them how they caused their own problems.Â
It's not uncommon to get a caller who just goes "MY NIPPLES (the fittings where the pipes attach) ARE BURNING HOT AND LEAKING ALL OVER THE PLACE! AND MY AY-NO (mispronunciation of anode) ROD IS MAKING MY WATER SMELL LIKE SHIT! IT SHOT OUT LIKE A ROCKET AND GOT STUCK IN THE CEILING!"
Bottom line, there should be a mandatory government-subsidized class for new homeowners so that they know how to take care of their homes.
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sweet nothing sleeping
summary: lucy has never been so happy to have fallen in love as she is when sheâs falling asleep
pairing: tim bradford/lucy chen
word count: short??? i wrote this on notes app donât ask me to count
warnings: none
a/n: this was written at *many* a 2am but it was my coping mechanism for the chenford breakup so there will be nothing but fluff and happiness here!! but also sorry in advance for any typos. written for my @morganupstead who gave me this idea ages ago and I just took forever to write it LOL
â˘â˘â˘ â˘â˘â˘ â˘â˘â˘ â˘â˘â˘
cause they said the end is coming
everyoneâs up to something
I find myself running home to your
sweet nothings
Sheâs had a long day.
The list of grievances wracked up in a single shift has been nothing short of astounding. For example: a man no less than an hour into her first stretch of patrol who puked on her. A bar fight gone horribly wrong, and he was drunk out of his mind so when she showed up at the tail end of a swift punch to the drunkardâs gut then⌠well, you can figure out the rest. Then another man threatened to sue her and the entire LAPD Mid Wilshire division because he refused to be told by a woman to stop ejaculating in public. Nothing but insufferable misdemeanours one after the other, without end. The robbery homicide tailing the end of her shift was the worst. Lucy doesnât know whatâs more horrible: how violent the young married coupleâs death was, or how her first thought was that she wished she could have been the detective on a flashy case like this. Knowing she was even capable of putting her career before her compassion and duty left her gutted.
It leaves her now with a bitter aftertaste of guilt and shame. That coupled with the exhaustion and ridicule of her other calls makes for a particularly dreadful combination. Normally she can see Tim in passing and vent to him about things, but heâd been stuck in some new Metro training program all day. Updated protocol or tactical practice, or whatever they wanted to call it. Based on the state she sees Tim in at the end of one of those days, sheâd call it something more akin to torture. It also means she had no support system throughout the day whatsoever apart from Nolanâs typical words of encouragement, which were swell but never substantive.
Since Tamaraâs moved out, things have been lonely too. She misses her old roommate. If nothing else, at the end of the day Lucy still had a young and vulnerable kid she had to feed and house and clothe. Cooking for them always felt like a backup ritual, a healing sort of constancy, and thatâs gone too.
So she heads to Timâs. Her foot feels like lead on the gas, pushing down hard and inching dangerously closer to speeding the closer she gets to his place. Itâs like her heart can feel the distance closing and misses him even more, the weight of her bad day crushing her heart and leaving spider fractures. A magnetic pull is always at its strongest the minute before contact, after all.
For the most part, Lucyâs been able to hold it together. Sheâs kept things professional, never complained, held her head high. And even as she trembles with anticipation as she knocks on the door, thereâs a part of her refusing to let go of that facade.
She knocks at the door, but thereâs no answer. Three louder knocks after a minute of waiting, and still nothing. Only after a third round of knocking does she think to use the spare key heâd given her last month.
âHi,â Lucy calls out as she enters his place. No immediate response, but thatâs no matter. She puts the keys down in his key bowl and hangs up her jacket.
The sound of nails skidding against the floor alert her only seconds in advance to Kojoâs presence. He runs up to her full speed but comes to a screeching halt when he reaches her. With his tail still waving fervently, he tries to sit down. (Timâs trained him to understand that petting and general affection from guests is contingent upon his very handsome sitting.)
âKojo! Hey there buddy,â she greets him with a soft laugh, like an old friend. Lucy knows by now, even having owned him once, to scratch him behind his ears. The gesture earns her a right good lick from chin to cheek on the left side of her face.
âYeah, youâre a good boy, arenât you? Youâre a good boy,â she tells him as she keeps petting him. âNow whereâs our Tim?â
She looks around half expecting Tim to appear in the hallway, but no sign of him is to be seen anywhere, save for the sound of his television from the next room. Football. Figures.
âAlright, Sir Kojo, King of the Canines,â she declares, patting him on the head and gently urging him forward by the collar, âletâs see what your dadâs watching.â
The two of them make their way to the family room to see what heâs up to. For a football game, Lucyâs already surprised that he isnât shouting at the TV and jumping up and down like he normally does.
When she enters the room though, she doesnât see him watching sports. Instead, she sees a passed-out Tim on the couch, snoring in his Rams jersey, remote loosely balanced in his hand. She tilts her head, curiously soaking in the scene.
She should have expected this. Heâs been working as hard as she has lately. Though she isnât entirely sure as to why, heâs been taking on extra shifts and doing double overtime these past two weeks. God knows he didnât have the steam for a full game of football. Tack on her unexpected company, and sheâs sure sheâll tire him out even more.
But the look of him. The television emits a soft glow that flashes hues of green and blue across his stubbled cheekbones. His head hangs back completely crooked on the headrest, and with the positioning of his arms, Timâs posed like a dramatic renaissance painting. She canât help but let out a soft giggle under her breath, and then silences into the brightest of smiles she can give after a day like hers, because nothing about this is funny anymore.
Even drooling, his mere presence soothes her. Lying there, entirely disarmed and peaceful. The world and all its troubles just melt away, dissolve in her mind until only a faint trace of what remains lingers like dust. Itâs a beautiful haze Lucy can get stuck in, just standing there and watching him. The tight corners of his mouth, his eyes shut gently, the curve of his neck, the way his hairâs a little shorter right now.
Oh hell. Who is she to disrupt him anyways.
She tiptoes over to the couch and carefully extracts the remote from his hand. Turning the television off to avoid more light and sound will definitely help him sleep. Whether Timâs asleep or awake, it doesnât matter. Lucy always sleeps better when sheâs next to him.
What doesnât help Tim sleep, apparently, is Kojo. Having followed Lucy into the room, though she will defend him ferociously and say his heart is in the right place, Kojo makes a beeline for the couch and starts pulling at Timâs jeans with his sharp canine teeth.
âNo! No, Kojo! Bad Kojo, stay back,â she pleads in a whisper pushed out through gritted teeth.
Kojo seems to only get more excitedâ a sort of escalation which Lucy saw all too frequently in her calls from today. Tim jolts awake almost immediately.
âWhat the-â he sits up and pulls his jeans away from Kojo, but then looks up at Lucy, still hovering over him guilty as ever. âLucy?â
âSorry.â She winces, finally shooing Kojo away enough to give them more space. âI didnât mean to wake you. I was trying to put a blanket over you but Kojo got excited.â
âItâs okay,â he assures her, though heâs still rubbing at his eyes. Lucyâs almost certain heâs still half asleep and hasnât registered the whole situation before him. âI gave you a key for a reason. What are you doing here?â
âIâŚâ She tries to explain it rationally to him, to go through each bad happening chronologically, to compartmentalize. But then, his voice. His sweet, low, milky, humming voice like the pulse of a heart being soothed into a slower rhythm. Itâs so steady, so calm. Something about hearing it unlocks a valve within her. She cracks, as she knew she would when she decided to come, and before she knows it sheâs crying.
âHey, hey,â Tim hushes gently, immediately sitting up. âWhatâs wrong? What happened?â
âOh nothing,â she sobs. âI just had a crappy day. I got puked on and yelled at and all this nonsense which I can normally handle but I donât even know why Iâm⌠why IâmâŚâ
âDonât question it too much,â he tells her. âJust let it out.â
âOkay.â
And so she does. For a little bit, she just cries. Surprisingly, itâs not sad. The world isnât ending, nothing is going to go wrong. There is no other shoe about to drop, no real heartbreak, no evil around. These tears are but a release, and thereâs a safety to them.
Once sheâs done, she wipes at her tears with her sleeves and sniffles.
âBetter?â
âBetter,â she says, and can really mean it, genuine smile and all. âThanks.â
âYou never have to thank me.â
She nods, but switches the subject. âYou never told me how youâre Metro seminar went today.â
âEh, it was alright,â he says. âApart from being exhausted and sore all over, of course. Weâve got some new recruits who are⌠eager.â
She looks at him with loving suspicion. âYou went full Tim 1.0 on them, didnât you?â
âYes,â he admits with a big huff of relief. âI ran through the drills and protocol updates 36 times because they couldnât get it right. I didnât have the heart to just demote them from my team.â
âTim Bradford not having the heart for a tough love moment? Who are you?â She teases. âWhere was this energy 6 years ago?â
âWaiting for you to come along and change it, I guess,â he sighs wistfully. âAlways just waiting for you.â
âYouâve gone soft, Sergeant Bradford.â She shakes her head. âPeople will talk.â
âLet them.â
He pulls her in for a kiss, and it only deepens for a moment, then plateauing into a pleasant and chaste hum before release. His arms pull her into his side and her head finds that perfect spot on his chest to nestle into.
The sigh she lets out is almost a song. âThis feels good, being here with you. Feeling at peace.â
âJust wait for it.â
âHuh?â
Lucy doesnât know how Tim saw this coming, but before even asking sheâs given an answer. Kojo jumps up onto the couch and steps on Lucyâs lap to lick her and Tim all over their tired, sweaty faces.
âArgh! Kojo, off!â She squeals, though not so gravely that she canât laugh in the process. Eventually, with enough shooing, Kojo calms down. He doesnât leave the couch, but lies down next to them, choosing to rest his head on her lap and make happy little sighs.
âTold you.â
âHow did you know he would do that?â
Tim shrugs. âHeâs happier when youâre around. Like me.â
Lucy smiles, even when pushing Kojo off of them. âI love you.â
Tim doesnât respond. Too much time passes. A beat, and then another. She gets worried.
âTim?â
âOh so you werenât talking to the dog then?â
She giggles and smacks him playfully across the chest with the back of her hand. âNo! Well I do love him, but he drools. And youâreââ
âHuman?â
âThe love of my life.â
She watches the ripple of those words dance across his face. Tim smiles, his cheeks turning all shades of pink and red. Though he doesnât seem scared off by her comment, the surprise of it still shows in his raised eyebrows and subsequent lines in his forehead. The way his head tilts, like he canât quite believe it. But, above all else, the love in his eyes. And that way heâs looking at her now⌠sometimes she thinks thatâs what lifeâs all about.
âI know I donât have to be yours,â she continues. âYou know, having been married before and all, butââ
âDonât think for a second you arenât,â he lets out, almost like the words couldnât contain themselves. âYou are.â
âGood.â Her turn now: the ridiculous blushing, the smile, the love in her eyes. So much joy.
So much fatigue too though. Being around him, getting to decompress like this, itâs making her crash fast. She yawns, and Tim yawns in subconscious response, and out of his own fatigue.
âI should get going,â Lucy tells him, though her face is still nestled into his sweater and has no intention of leaving. âI really only came over to feel some comfort and decompress but I didnât bring a change of clothes or anything.â
âMmm,â he groans in disapproval of the idea. âStay for a bit.â
âNo. No, Iâve⌠gottaâŚâ She sucks in a deep breath, Timâs woody scent catching onto her nose. Her eyes flutter and her muscles start to release their tension as the hand which isnât sprawled across Timâs chest starts to massage the spot behind Kojoâs ear.
âOh, maybe just a few minutesâŚâ she tells him hesitantly. âBut keep me talking, I donât want to fall asleep.â
âOk. What about the rest of your day? You never finished telling me all the things that had you so upset.â
âWell it started when the air conditioning in the shop nearly exploded on me, and then I immediately took my first call at this dive bar before I could get it fixed. But oh, you wonât believe what this one guy didâŚâ
Lucy goes on and on, her eyes growing heavy and her voice growing layers of drowsy rasp, fighting sleep to tell all her stories of woe. The drunkards, the sexist pigs, the violence. Part of her registers Timâs lack of response or reaction as she tells her stories. Time passes. She talks, and he listens.
âI think itâs better not to dwell on it though,â she concludes eventually. âIâve felt all I can feel about it for one day. And anyways I⌠I can barely remember my own anguish now. It feels so far awââ
She looks up to see him passed out, his breathing a low rumble that threatens snoring. The soft fur under her other hand feels alarmingly still as well, until she looks to the other side and sees Kojo sleeping on her lap.
So much for leaving. She supposes thatâs exactly how she wants things anyway. The heartbeats of these two precious boys at the tips of her fingers, nestled right next to hers. Giving her strength, steadying her scattered mind. Under these dim lights and warm blankets and beloved company, she wouldnât dare move a muscle.
âOh hell, who was I kidding,â she whispers to him. âI was always going to end up here anyways. With you.â
She rests her head on his chest once more. The last thing she remembers is the rise and fall of Timâs chest against her hand and the feel of Kojoâs soft fur against her other.
This isnât a big moment. No fireworks, no heartfelt confessions, no twirls or kisses in the rain. But even as the day ends and the lights go out, she feels love where it dwells best: in a quiet room. And it remains that Lucy has never been so happy to have fallen in love as she is when sheâs falling asleep.
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eight days of christmas carols - day 8
jeongin - a nonsense christmas
a/n: im a little christmas morning drunk so i didn't proof read this!! but happy holidays to everyone :)))
christmas was over - you had opened your gifts, sang carols with family, cooked and ate more than your bodies fill of delicious snacks and meals that you only got once a year. you had wrapped and unwrapped gifts, exchanged pleasantries with folks that you only saw once a year. it was as wonderful as it was exhausting.Â
now it was time to go back to the comfort of your shared home with jeongin, sitting pretty in his passenger seat as he drives with one hand on the wheel.Â
âoh, i love this song,â you perk up in your seat and turn up the volume, expertly dodging his hand when he tries to flick you away from the console. he hated when people messed with his settings, even just a little bit.Â
âitâs not even christmas anymore,â he complains, but pushes the volume up by two more clicks for you.Â
âitâs still the 25th!â you argue back, letting the christmas bells in the background fill your heart with that familiar ebbing feeling of the holidays.Â
âyouâre ridiculous,â he rolls his eyes fondly, nothing but soft affection and tenderness exuding from his gaze.Â
âtake me for a ride, iâll be your vixen,â you ignore him to sing along to the song filtering through jeonginâs old car speakers. your intertwine your hand in his free one as he drives down the streets littered with barren trees, continuing to croon at him along with the radio. the sparse streetlights make his curls glow golden and his eyes seem almost supernatural as they pass by.Â
he cuts the gas once you reach your apartment complex, flecks of snow just starting to make themselves known as they fall onto his windshield. the lack of heat from the vents makes you shiver, and you tighten your hand in his.Â
âlet me come warm you up,â he tugs you to him, helping you across the middle console until you were settled into his lap. you lean into him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you press your lips to his, cherry scented lip balm hitting your tongue.Â
âlooking at you got me thinking christmas,â you mutter against his lips.Â
âyouâre my wishlist,â he goes along, mouthing the words of the song as he slides his hands under your jacket to rest on your hips.Â
â
carols masterlist
#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids#skz fluff#jeongin fluff#jeongin imagines#jeongin x reader#stray kids x reader
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vent that I will probably delete later:
Iâve been coming across livestreams of people debating over who theyâre voting for and why (yeah I know, why would I subject myself to this?) and some are entertaining in the way kamala supporters (to my surprise white men â and good for them) come with facts and logic and call out bigotry on the spot and how the other side can do nothing but insult when asked a simple question or be faced with the truth.
the pure garbage (to put it nicely) that comes out of m*ga supporters just with like no regard for how insane they sound is nothing new, but still insufferable because of the repercussions this ideology is having now and for the foreseeable future.
idk my main point is why is it so hard for adults, no matter their affiliation, to stand up for whatâs right? to call this man and movement for what it is? I know there are people that already do this, but there should be more.
it feels like weâre all being gaslit every single day when we know this is not normal, nor should it be tolerated. and the normalization of it is wild.
like looking back on the past few decades things werenât as daunting, right? social media just exacerbates it and I think itâs too much to expect someone to think carefully before posting something for all to see. not everything needs to be shared online.
I say this as someone who has lost friends and family because they are so deep into this and refuse to see the truth. it feels hard to trust anyone or feel safe around them if they hold these beliefs.
this is one reason why in the past few years, Iâve had to step back from how much media/news I consume because itâs depleting and exhausting. bc itâs the same thing over and over. people who used to be able to reason have fallen under this spell of silence and falling in line and complicity.
it just feels like good people have to fight back harder. there are moments for this, and this is one of them.
anyways, thanks for letting me rant. make sure you register to vote. 99 days đ
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