#mine skipped off too and it was a goddamn relief even though he did NOT leave us financially secure

[redshiftsinger]

The thing is that nothing Mary does is unreasonable, but that doesn't mean she's always right.

Her responses aren't absurd for what objectively occurs, but the audience gets to know information that she's lacking.

She gets upset with Stede about how he responds to her painting, which, objectively speaking yes! He kinda fucked up! He said some things that we know he intended as supportive comments but were extremely easy to interpret as insults, if you're not in his head and don't have the same perspective on his general personality that we get as the audience. One could maybe fault her for not having figured out his general personality after being married long enough to have children plural who are plausibly old enough to do a painting, but we also know that he masks hard and isn't open and honest with her the way he is at sea, so it's at least not COMPLETELY on her.

And we know that he meant well with the "hey let's all go live on a ship" thing but it's very understandable why Mary would think that's insane! Young children at sea long-term isn't a well-thought-out plan. WE know he's trying to include his family in his interests and can see from his excitement about the idea of bringing them with him that he DOES genuinely care about them and want them to be part of his life, he just also wants everything about his life to change. He's suffocating and desperate to escape, and his first thought is to bring them along to (presumably, in his mind) be happier as well. It wouldn't have *worked*, he'd have still been gay and both he and Mary would've still been trapped in a loveless arranged marriage that neither of them ever really wanted, but it does say a lot about his actual genuine caring for them and considering them his family, despite how miserable he is in those circumstances, that his original escape plan includes them. He didn't start building a ship with plans to run off and abandon them. He started building a ship with plans to share that new life where he hoped to find joy with them. He only changes the plan to one where he leaves alone after Mary makes it extremely clear that she wants no part of it.

What he writes also shows that he cares for them. "Dearest Mary, you deserve happiness." He values his own chance for happiness, yes, but he also actively wants her to be happy. It's not certain, but there's a valid possible interpretation that he may have been undecided about whether to leave (yet, or maybe even at all) before she admitted that she wasn't happy either. It's possible that conversation was his final catalyst to go, knowing that he wasn't making her happy either by staying.

And if he was truly a selfish deadbeat, as some like to pretend, he likely wouldn't have left his entire fortune (minus, presumably, the cost of building the Revenge and some amount of money to get him started with paying his crew etc until they start pulling in loot) and declared it hers. He may have left them, but he at least ensured that Mary and the kids would be financially secure without him, which is more than can be said for the average modern deadbeat father.

And Mary's actual reaction -- real Mary, not nightmare-Mary or flashback-Mary who are manifestations of Stede's guilt and insecurity -- isn't anger, not even initially. She reads his letter and gets a look on her face that's almost relief. Like she realizes that his leaving also sets HER free. She's surprised, and possibly not really thrilled about it yet, but she's not angry. As we also see when he comes back and she's more angry with him for coming back than for leaving in the first place!

When he comes back, she's reasonable to be upset with him for, apparently, expecting her to just go back to being unhappy after he's the one who left when she was still trying to make things work out. She's not wrong to think "hey fuck you, if you wanted this life you had your chance". She's not wrong to think he's being bitchy and unreasonable and a huge pain in the ass for no good reason. WE get to know he's lashing out from unhappiness, because he made a colossally stupid decision in coming back in the first place and now he feels stuck with it, WE get to understand he's starfishing all over the bed because it's the first chance he's had to get a halfway decent night's sleep in three days and he's exhausted and traumatized, not because he's just a horribly selfish douchebag who fucked off and then swanned back in like nothing happened and can't even refrain from pushing her around when he's asleep, but Mary doesn't have that context. It's reasonable to think he's a horribly selfish douchebag, in her position! And he's not exactly helping that perception by sniping at her about Doug, then getting sloppy drunk and crashing her art show to further bitch at her for not catering to his expectations and threaten her lover. WE know he's desperately hurting and doing a poor job of coping, but she doesn't know anything of what actually happened while he was away until they finally talk. And when they do, when she understands even a little bit that he's not really that douchebag in her head, she forgives him entirely. He says "I don't fit in here" and "don't be [sorry about Doug], he's actually wonderful" and "what's it like being in love" and she starts to get it. "His name is Ed" and she REALLY gets it. And her willingness to re-evaluate her perceptions so quickly when she gets additional information is what makes her a true queen.

the way ppl treat Stede leaving his family is so upsetting tbh.

Tell me you've never lived your entire life bearing the weight of expectations you literally cannot meet without telling me.

Like y'all forget this was a repressed gay man. He didn't leave "on a whim", that is a gross misrepresentation by A STRAIGHT WOMAN who went on to THRIVE in his absence.

And don't come at me with any of that "But Alex, No One Said Mary Was Straight In Canon" no one said Stede was gay either! Cut the semantics, this is not about your frilly little queer headcanons. Mary has only ever been intimate with men in canon, at least in the case of i stances she enjoyed. The same goes for Stede and we all accept this means he's gay. Idc what u project onto Mary Bonnet, we're discussing /canon verse/ content here.

It's extremely homophobic of y'all to just hop on the bandwagon of a str8 woman grossly misunderstanding the turmoil her husband was experiencing in order to center herself as a victim in a situation where - frankly - she was a complacent bystander at best.

Like yeah Mary saw it as a whim bc he did not communicate with her. But we KNOW, it is shown IN CANON, that Stede spent years deliberating that decision. That is LITERALLY the opposite of a whim, plz shut up!!

The fact that y'all cannot recognize an unreliable perspective when you see one shows me you shouldn't be doing in-depth analysis of these scenes bc u literally do not understand how to read the intentional implications if they smacked you across the face.

[sixxgurl26]

~ Sleazy Sugar ~ 6 - Two Blondies

Masterlist

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Layla Krane (OC)

Warnings: 18+, language, violence

Word Count: 2.3K+

“You guys really need to get your door fixed or something, climbing through this goddamn window isn't it.” I groaned, my foot catching on the sill, causing me to stumble into the small, musty living room these boys called home. Well, Vince, Tommy, and Nikki. Mick lived somewhere else, but we weren't really sure where. He kinda just showed up and disappeared into the night, he wasn’t into the antics like the other three and honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

“Tell the cops to stop breaking it down and maybe we’ll fix it.” Vince groaned, taking a sip from his beer as he flipped through his new Playboy magazine. “That would require us to not do things to make the cops break it down.” Tommy stated, ripping the magazine from Vince, before being punched in the shoulder and having it ripped back by the blondie himself. Note to self, don’t mess with Vince’s access to girls of any kind, real or print. “Which is not going to happen. Fuck em.” Nikki spat, taking a swig himself before walking over and handing me a beer already de-capped. Smiling, I took a drink before sitting next to Kayla on the couch, bumping shoulder’s with her as I watched Nikki grab his journal and sit on his lawn chair at the coffee table. Ah, where Sixx did his best work at writing any new song.

It’s been three months since the incident at the Whiskey and the night I stayed at the Motley house after Nikki saved my sorry ass from that creep. Nikki and I haven’t acted with each other like we first had, and he hasn’t made a move on me since, which I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or saddened, but I was becoming more and more comfortable around them, inviting myself into their home and finding myself spending time here after work and even skipping on school sometimes to help Nikki with his thoughts on a song. I wasn’t paying much attention to my real life at the moment, I was giving it the bare minimum I could, while the world of Motley got all the attention I could give it. I was becoming addicted to the electricity of their music, and the antics at their parties. It made me feel alive in a way I never knew was possible, and having Kayla with me almost twenty four seven made it even that much better.

“What are you working on now?” I asked, peering over to his book and he looked up at me with a smirk. “A new song for the new album we are going to be working on soon. I imagine this one will be a single hopefully.” Scribbling away, I could tell he had his verses outlined, but no choruses, though I didn’t know what they said. “What’s your middle name?” Nikki asked me, his eyes looking up into my own for a second as I searched my brains database for the information I didn’t really ever use except for medical forms. “It’s Tessa, why?” He shook his head with a laugh, “no reason, just wondering.” I nodded slowly, another sip into my lips. “Sure Sixx.”

Staring at him, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized. I couldn’t identify really what my feelings were for him yet, but I liked the way his lips felt on mine and I know I wanted them on me again, but that felt like irrational thinking, so I pushed it away as soon as it entered my thoughts. This is Nikki we’re talking about, a sleazy, drug snorting, crazy ass psycho, at least to the general public. Still, I would find myself watching him work, long enough that I’m sure he could feel the stare and he would pry his green orbs off his journal to stare up into mine for a moment, throwing me a smirk before heading back down into his own world. I knew Kayla could tell too, as her slanted smiles could tell me she could see into my own mind. She never brought it up in front of them though, to my relief.

The day had come and went and a week later I found myself back here for another party, another night of putting off my work and school and deciding to just “deal with it tomorrow”, which I knew was not going to get me anywhere, but the longer I ignored it, the better it felt to be away from. The Motley house as usual, was packed with people. Most of the people I was starting to recognize as people that usually showed up for the shows and then followed the boys home like they were the pied pipers of Sunrise. Their following was getting bigger by the show, and I knew this excited them.

In the Sunrise scene, they had made it. In Nikki’s eyes, they were just getting started.

The scene was laid out as usual, Vince talking it up with his most likely third victim of the night, Tommy with Kayla coming out of the bathroom disheveled and WAY too happy, Mick in the corner on the couch with a bottle almost passed out, and Nikki taking swigs by the kitchen counter, while talking smugly to a blondie that had been on his hip the whole fucking night.

“I can sense some jealousy.” Kayla playfully sang to me, poking me in the side as she flipped the cap off her corona. My eyes darted from Nikki to the blondie as she placed on a hand on his leather covered bicep, her laugh echoing. I rolled my eyes and turned to Kayla. “I am not.” I gruffed, doing an amazing job of covering the fact that I was, indeed, jealous. “Yeah and I have a dick, we can tell lies all night but I see through you.” I didn’t dignify that with a response and took another long sip of my own bottle, licking my lips with taste of corona, wishing it was a different taste of something else, or someone else instead.

I hadn’t pursued Nikki since making my exit that night at the club, my mind was still confused on what was the “right” decision, but that didn’t stop me from finding him attractive and getting weak in the knees around him. And the more I stayed around, the more the “bad” decisions seemed to feel right.

“Okay well, maybe go talk to some guy and get over it, or under it. It’s Nikki man, he’s sleazy.” She patted me on the head before walking her way through the crowd back to Tommy and I sighed, surveying the selection before me, but as I stared through the guys that had come to this party, nothing seemed to entice me, not even to make him jealous or even just look up from blondie. And then I saw him, the perfect person to enact my plan with, why had I not thought of it before, and lucky me, he just happened to be free at this moment. “Oh Vinnie!” I sang, shifting my stance to put my weight on one leg, popping my hip out and staring at him enticingly. He stared at me with curiosity, a smile hinting at his lips as he rounded the couch, making his way to me. “What’s up doll?” I smirked, I lifted my hand to his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze, and while I wanted to laugh, I had to keep it together. “You got some broad shoulders here.” I said, and his usual cocky smile turned off as a chuckle dared to come out. “What are you doing?” He asked and I moved in close to his ear so as no one else to hear. “I’m trying to make Nikki jealous.” His eyes widened as he looked at me in shock. “You like Nikki? Out of all the men?” Now I was shocked, I was so sure they all knew we had hooked up and he had even been seen with me all over me before I had ran out that night. “Didn’t you all know we hooked up?” I whispered back and by now, I couldn’t hear blondie anymore, well, not my blondie Vinnie, but Nikki’s blondie, so I was sure the talking between them had ceased at some point. “Well I mean yeah we knew that, but we fuck a lot of girls, I don’t expect them to really like me or like them back, that’s all.” I was going to fight that response, but he was right, that checked out.

“Look, you want to make a man jealous, especially Nikki, I’ll just act like you’re mine and if you’re something he wants, even if he denies that, he won’t be able to after seeing me all over it, he hates when I try to take things of his away.” He whispered in my ear before giving my neck a gentle kiss and while Nikki was the one I was wanting, I couldn’t lie that Vince’s lips on my neck sent shivers down me. Pushing me slightly against the wall, I went along with the act, as his hands came to my waist, gripping me as his lips came up dangerously close to my own, brushing against them slightly as his his free hand dropped to my hip, pulling me closer in. I was hoping to god Nikki did care, because at this rate, I wasn’t sure where this was about to lead me.

Another graze of my collarbone before Vince was ripped off of me with the rage of leather and jet black hair coming in between us and I sighed in relief that it worked, but now fear of what was about to happen.

What was I doing using Vince to get back at Nikki? I wasn’t trying to tear the band apart, just make a statement.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Nikki screamed, Vince taking a step back, eyeing me and then eyeing him back. “I-I was just giving her some attention man, she needed it.” He could of said it less matter of factly and that may have saved him a punch straight to the nose, but instead he chose the route of violence and down Vince went, clutching himself. “NIKKI!” I shouted, pulling his arm down and forcing him to look at me. “STOP IT!” I screamed as loud as possible, the whole place going silent, except the huffs of anger between us. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? YOU KISSING HIM? OF ALL PEOPLE?” He raged on, once Nikki got going, there was no stopping him. He was like a bull and all he saw was red.

“SO? YOU GOT FUCKING BLONDIE OVER THERE PRACTICALLY SUCKING YOUR COCK!”

I wasn’t the fighting type, I wasn’t even the arguing type, but something about him brought something out in me, and I wasn’t backing down in front of God or anybody tonight. Maybe a few too many drinks, maybe not enough.

He smirked slightly, taking amusement from my comment as he crossed his arms, Vince still on the ground moaning and clutching his nose. “So you’re jealous? That’s it? You don’t want me but I can’t play around with other kitties?” His tone was pissing me off and his smile, while deafeningly attractive, angered me like hell.

“I never said I didn’t want you, I was confused Nikki, I am confused, but yeah, maybe I was a little jealous, so I gave you back your own medicine.” I huffed, but my eyes were shifted from him when his blondie entered my view, taking a stance next to him with a wide, smug smile. “Oh honey, you couldn’t have him even if you wanted him. He needs a real woman.” She wrapped her arm around Nikki’s and while he didn’t push her off, he didn’t embrace it either. “Bitch, if you talk to me again, I’ll be knocking you so hard, you’re going to need a nose job before being seen again.” She look taken aback, and the once silent apartment was now filled with whistles and egging on a fight. What is it with men loving to see women fight?

Nikki looked smugger than ever, pulling away from her and crossing his arms. “Don't let me stand in the way.” He snarked. I couldn’t believe him as I stood there, but something inside me blamed myself more. Why did I expect this to go well? Why did I think I belonged here of all places? My anger started to evaporate and as I looked into the girls eyes that seemingly were filled with genuine fear as she eyes my clenched fists, I sighed, releasing my tension.

“Fucking forget it, you can have him.” I turned quickly and started to make my exit, ignoring the sounds of my name from various voices, but not one of them sounded like Nikki’s. Kayla’s was the loudest, and I could feel her hand grab my own as an attempt to stop me, but I ripped it away and stepped through the window.

The farther I got, the quieter it became. I didn't even want to go home, I just wanted to go, so I walked with no clear intention, clutching my arms to keep myself warm and safe. It had felt like it had been an hour after I had left, but I had no clear way of knowing. I didn't know where I was, I was inside my head and thoughts as my body walked on autopilot, but I was ripped back to reality when I heard honking. 

Repeatedly. 

I turned to the blinding headlight as a car whipped close to the sidewalk near me and stopped dead.

Nikki’s eyes glared into mine. “Get in the car before you get abducted or murdered out here.” I rolled my eyes, continuing to walk on. “Fuck off Sixx.” I mumbled out, but the car edged forward to meet me as I continued on. “Get in the FUCKING car.”

Thus ensued what felt like a forever staring contest as we both glared at each other, before I groaned, giving up and slipping into the car before he roared off.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Feels More Like a Memory

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Ric gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.”

“Wally. With a W.”

“That’s a tragedy.”

“And Ric isn’t?”

It’s not easy being a ghost. Ric isn’t dead. He has flesh, breath, motion, all signs of life. But Him? The person he apparently used to be but who might as well be a stranger told in someone else’s story? That person is dead, and Ric can’t help but feel like a murderer for pushing him out. He isn’t Dick Grayson. Not anymore. Ric slides into a bar stool, flagging down the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.” This place isn’t his favorite haunt in Blüdhaven, but they do serve good brews despite the lack of customers and general grossness. And, frankly, he’s not in the mood for company tonight. He’s been fielding calls all day from those people, the ones who knew him Before. The ones who foolishly call every few days as if expecting the ghost to answer in Ric’s place. Bruce. Barbara. Damian. Even some names that Ric doesn’t recognize but couldn’t care less about if he did. A Donna Troy. Jason Todd, even though Dick saw in some old files that he’s supposed to be long dead. Some kid named Tim. Ric doesn’t even pick up anymore when the calls come. It’s too exhausting playing defense, trying to remind these poor idiots that the Dick they knew is dead. Ric can’t keep pretending to have any part of himself that cares about these strangers, that keeps him straddling the line between past and future, or it will tear him in half. He’s had enough of the visits from “old friends” and family members he wouldn’t recognize from a Christmas card.

It’s a weeknight, so the bar is empty but for a few alcoholics and some guys playing pool in the back. Ric might even join them later, hustle a few rounds. The door to the bar opens, a dulled bell sounding to announce the newcomer. Ric doesn’t bother looking up. It’s not like he’ll recognize the new face—or any face, for that matter. The bartender brings over his beer. Ric thanks her and takes a sip. The stool next to him creaks. “I’ll have a Coke with three maraschino cherries, please. Thanks.” It’s a deep voice with a bit of a midwestern twang. From Missouri, maybe? The “please” is a clear indicator that he’s not from around here, nor does he go to bars a lot. Not this kind, anyway. Ric has tried and failed to turn that part off, the part that picks apart every detail in the world into quantifiable data. His memories may be gone, but whatever that crazy bat guy trained into him has stayed in his head as muscle memory. Ric couldn’t escape it if he tried. He drinks his beer, side-eyeing the guy. “Never met anyone who goes to a bar for a soda.” The guy doesn’t...he doesn’t flinch, exactly. But there’s the slightest of shivers that runs through his frame as if hearing Ric’s voice does something to him, even though he’s the one who sat next to Ric in the first place despite the plenty of empty stools around them. Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. Whatever this guy is, he recovers quickly. “You can’t exactly get a Coke with three cherries from your neighborhood grocer.” “You can if you make it at home.” The guy’s mouth quirks. “Then I’m here for the wonderful atmosphere.” Now that Dick is facing him, he can see that the guy has bright red hair that curls in front of his forehead, wind-blown like he spends his life riding on top of a bullet train. His eyes are green and practically every inch of visible skin is sprinkled with freckles. “If you’re looking for atmosphere, you’re sure as hell not going to find it here,” Ric says. “This place is the pits.” “Then how come you’re here?” Ric shrugs. “For the moldy buffalo wings and terrible service, of course.” The guy laughs and, for whatever reason, Ric gets the impression that it’s the first real laugh he’s had in a long time. The bartender serves up his soda, cherries and all. “I’ve got to be honest, Blüdhaven is even worse than I remember it. Ever since that bat guy disappeared, it’s like all I hear about Blüd now is how much the crime has escalated.” “Nightwing,” Ric corrects before he can stop himself. “His name was Nightwing.” “Right, Nightwing. What do you think happened to him?” He got shot in the head. Not that Ric can tell that to a complete stranger. Then again, he’s been meeting far too many “complete strangers” lately who turn out to be anything but. They try to worm their way into Ric’s life as if they know him, as if they have some kind of a claim on him. “Have we met before?” he asks. He tries to do it casually to cushion the blow of completely changing the subject, but it’s hard to remember what casual even is anymore. “You seem...familiar.” The guy plasters on a smile. “Just have one of those faces, I guess.” “Says every person who’s ever pretended not to know someone.” That gets another laugh. Maybe he’s just a happy guy? Definitely not from around here, then. “I’m from Central City, actually. Just here for the weekend. I was trying to track down an old friend.” “And did you find him?” The guy’s eyes dim, but he keeps up some of the smile, like he’s mourning a memory. “Nope. He skipped town pretty recently and has been missing since.” “Sorry to hear that.” The guy drinks his soda. “How about you? What keeps you in a place like Blüdhaven?” “Believe it or not, this is the only place I’ve been in so far that’s felt like home.” He’s already buzzing from the beer combined with the whiskey this morning and the vape he bummed off a couple guys earlier. Might as well go all in. “I got shot in the head a while ago and since then, I’ve been a clean slate.” He points to the scar on his scalp, but he doesn’t have to. A goddamn aircraft could see that thing from orbit. “It’s hard to figure out ‘home’ again when every place you go is filled with too many people who know and care about you, you know?” “You and I have very different definitions of ‘home’ then. The way I see it, home is wherever the people who love you are.” “You’d be surprised. It’s more like leeches, really. Or a landlord begging for rent even after you’ve moved out. It’s fucking exhausting.” He gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.” “Wally. With a W.” “That’s a tragedy.” “And Ric isn’t?” That makes Ric laugh. The weird part is that, at the heart of whatever this is, there’s something natural about laughing with this random person. Wally. It feels familiar, like this is someone important, as insane as that sounds. He blames it on the alcohol, but he could almost convince himself that this Wally guy is something vital he’s been missing. But Ric has seen the files Batman showed him while he was futilely trying to jog Ric’s memory. There was nothing about anyone named Wally in there, so he’s in the clear. “So,” Wally says, “amnesia, huh? And I thought I had problems.” “You have no idea. Weirdly enough, the amnesia part isn’t even the worst of it. I can deal with having no memories. The real problem is everyone else’s memories trying to force their way into mine. Everybody remembers me as somebody else, but they can’t understand that the man they knew is long gone. It’s pathetic.” “Can you blame them? If someone I loved forgot who he was, I’d want to bring him back too.” “Then you’ve never had to deal with lost memories before. Everyone talks about how amnesia can be a blessing in disguise, giving you a reset on life. But it’s more like being dropped in the middle of a sports game where you don’t know the rules or who your teammates are, and everyone’s waiting for you to just get with the program and kick the ball somewhere.” Wally bites a cherry off its stem. “What I wouldn’t give for that.” At Ric’s questioning look, he says, “I have two kids. Twins, Jai and Irey. They’re...they were incredible. They were the lights of my life. Then there was...something happened. I lost them both, and now all I have left of them are memories. But I swear to god, sometimes it feels like having the memories hurts a million times worse than losing them in the first place.” Well, shit. By the looks of him, Wally can’t be more than twenty-four, twenty-six years old. Losing two kids so young must be hell on earth. That Damian kid said stuff about how Dick was like a second father figure to him and how when Damian was dead, the greatest relief after coming back was that Dick wouldn’t have to mourn him anymore. But Ric doesn’t remember any of that. If he ever did lose Damian like he said, it means nothing to Ric now. Dick may have lost a child, but Ric didn’t. Wally swallows thickly, drinks his soda until his throat clears. “So trust me, I get wanting to forget. But if you want my advice, I say hold on to your family for as long as you can, even if you don’t want to. You never know how much time you’ll have with them.” Ric honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. “I’m...I’m sorry, man.” Wally clears his throat, forces a smile, but each one is dimmer than the last. “It’s fine. But you see why I don’t drink.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Ric gets the message: Because if I did start drinking, I would never stop. “I can’t even imagine losing someone like that,” Ric says, sipping his fresh glass of beer. “I know my parents are dead, but my memories are so messed up that I don’t remember much of it. And even though I can’t remember anything after that day, it still feels like it happened twenty years ago. I’ve never had to grieve anyone but myself.” “It helps to have people around you, for one thing. That friend I mentioned, the one who skipped town? We used to have a system that whenever one of us was having a bad day, we’d go down to that gay bar a few blocks from here and stay there until we forgot what we were upset about.” After a second, he asks, “You ever been there?” Ric resists the urge to grimace. “I’m straight, actually. That kind of stuff...it’s not really my thing.” Wally blinks at him. “You’re kidding.” “Excuse me?” “Nothing. That’s just...surprising.” “Okay?” This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s accused Ric of being queer. Just because he likes mesh shirts and the occasional crop top doesn’t mean he’s gay, okay? He’s as straight as an arrow. “No, that’s not—I mean...I don’t know what I mean.” Wally shakes his head. “It’s easy to forget that not everyone lives the same life you do, I guess.” Ric clinks his glass with Wally’s. “Cheers to that.” Ric can’t explain what about this conversation makes him feel more comfortable than he has in weeks. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the human interaction with someone who isn’t another bar-hopping asshole or part of his old “family” trying to bring him back to a home that isn’t his. Ric has spent so long driving strangers to their destinations in his taxi, sleeping under a new roof every night, gambling his money away and drinking himself into oblivion as long as he can afford it. But here, with Wally, he feels settled. His head clears, and it’s such a foreign sensation that he stops for a moment just to let himself soak in it. “How long are you staying in Blüd, Walls?” He doesn’t mean to say the nickname, it just slips out of him like a bar of soap between slick hands. Wally doesn’t seem to mind. He even smiles, and Ric can’t help but wonder if the friend he was talking about used to call him that. “This is my last night, actually. I’m going to this mental health facility in Nebraska for a while to recharge. I just wanted to see my friend one last time before I left.” “I’m sorry you couldn’t find him.” “Yeah. Me too.” Wally downs the rest of his drink and stands, tossing a few bills on the counter. “I should probably head out. It was nice talking to you, Ric.” Ric shakes his hand again. “You too. Track me down if you ever find yourself in Blüd again. It’ll be nice seeing a familiar face for once.” “You got it.” Wally turns to go but stops at the door, one hand mid-twist on the knob. He looks back at Ric. “Don’t forget me again, okay?” He’s gone before Ric can answer, the door closing behind him. Ric was lying before, when he talked about the worst part of being an amnesiac. The worst part isn’t the missing twenty years, or the annoying family members, or the fact that he can name all fifty states but can’t remember whether he likes mustard or not. It isn’t any of those things. The worst part is knowing about the past that waits for him to sink back into it even though he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. It’s struggling with the fact that he has a whole family he doesn’t recognize but who loves him more than he’s ever seen a person be loved before. It’s seeing that love, witnessing the lengths they go to just to have their Dick back, but not being able to feel any of it because that isn’t his life. It’s not Ric’s love to have, and it never will be. Dick Grayson may be dead, but the love he earned is eternal. And that, right there? That’s what hurts the most.

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2075

Warnings: Slow Start, Language, Tiny bit of Fluff

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change

As Promised, here’s Chapter 6. I really enjoyed writing this one, heck I even laughed at one bit XD Also I’d like to thank you all for supporting my work so far, It really means the world to me that people are enjoying my work. As always Enjoy! :)

-Third Person POV

The minutes turned to hours, the hours turned into days, concern over the young girl was increasing day by day. Every single day Bucky and Steve were there, telling her how their days went and what was happening in the world all while holding y/ns hand, each day the boys watched her progress, the memory of her skin slowly regaining its colour giving them a new sense of hope.

Day by day the boys stayed as long as they could, only leaving when Mr and Mrs Barnes appeared at the door to bring them home, each time Mrs Barnes placed a small kiss on the young girl’s head before leaving. All of them taking the opportunity to show small sings of affection towards the girl, hoping that it gave her the strength to recover.

Later that night, when everyone was in bed and resting, a sharp ring disturbed the silence surrounding the house, half asleep Mr Barnes answered the phone, a wide smile appeared on his face as the news the family had been waiting for all week arrived.  Quickly the parents rushed to the boys, the pair sharing a smile as they frantically ran around the room to get ready, a few tears of happiness sliding down their faces. A huge sense of relief flowed through Bucky’s veins, all the guilt he felt throughout the week lessened, at least now he knew that he didn’t cause y/n’s death.

-Back at the Hospital

Readers POV

My eyes felt like they’d been welded shut and my head was poundin’ like nobody’s business, what the hell happened to me? Finally, I managed to open my eyes and I was immediately blinded by the bright lights shining in my goddamn face, can I not catch a break for once in my life?! A loud groan accidently slid past my lips, why is it every time I wake up some part of my body is aching? You’d think I was a pro wrestler or somethin’!

I gazed around the room, distant voices could be heard from the corridor, hang on where the hell am I? the room was decorated plain white, with a few pictures hanging on the wall and a small sofa was tucked into the back corner. Another door, presumably for the bathroom, was to the right of the window, the curtains were drawn but the steady tapping on the other side told me it was raining. What a way to come back into reality, absolutely chucking it down with rain, my dumbass soon realised that the nurses might not know I was awake, which is kind of important information.

Slowly I raised myself up, the ache on my midriff increasing much to my displeasure, as I slowly moved my legs off the edge of the bed, both were shaking with the effort of holding my body up and I hoped to god that I didn’t land on my ass anytime soon. Hang on, that might be becoming a very bad habit of mine, I’m gonna need to work on that later… finally my legs stopped shaking, taking VERY cautious steps I started making my way to the door. You’d think walking 5 feet would be easy, wouldn’t you? apparently not.

After about 3 minutes of moving like a bloody snail, I could finally reach the door handle, now for the hard part… turning the door handle, a high-pitched squeak met my ears as the door slowly flung open, the voices outside my room stopped and foot steps came towards my room. Two nurses came around the corner and stopped when the spotted me, a few seconds passed before I started to feel awkward, so I decided to wave at them to try and break the tension. Which in hindsight was one of the dumbest things I could have done in that moment, but it did seem to break them outta their trance, they both came towards me and started fussing over me, “Miss you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed! Why didn’t you just press the call button on the bed side table? how long have you been awake?” There was a bloody call button?! For the love of god!

“I woke up about 5 minutes ago, I’m sorry but could you tell me what happened to me? All I remember is fainting near the bank” The nurses shared a look, both of them ignored my question for the moment and focused on getting me into the bed and calling for the doctor, they gave me strict instructions not to move till the doctor arrived. Well, at least I know I’m in a hospital but what the hell did I do to land in here in the first place? All I remember is getting ready for the war and setting up in the dinner before it all went wrong. Shooting happened, I was taken hostage, shooting happened again, Alexi punched me and broke my nose, I was held at ransom before till I got bored and ran outta the line of fire, Bucky and Steve were pinned behind a wall, I fought with a մոխրագույն օրխիդ and got shot…wait a second…

I’M GONNA KILL THOSE IDIOTS!

I got bloody shot! How the hell did I forget that?! It’s not like I stubbed my toe, an actual bullet went inside me! Oh god are Bucky and Steve okay?! Where are they? Did they get hurt? My mind was going crazy with worry, I hoped to god that this bloody doctor got here soon, or I’d be out of here looking for those pair of numpties! A knock on the door disrupted my thoughts as a team of doctors and nurses filled the room, a few carried important looking equipment with them, a man with a clipboard approached me with a reassuring smile.

“Good Evening Miss y/n, my names Doctor Miller, you’ve been unconscious for a week or so, due to a gunshot wound to your midriff, the bullet shattered on impact and we had to operate to stop any internal bleeding. Now don’t worry too much about that, it’s in the past and there’s no lasting damage done, but we’re going to have to keep you in the hospital for one more night to monitor your vitals but after that you’ll be free to go. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask me.”

Okay, all I heard was “unconscious for a week” and “no lasting damage”, I really hope that I don’t smell too bad, my pride’s been damaged enough for one week.

“Dr. Miller, do you know what happened to the two boys that were with me at the bank? Did they get hurt at all?” I could hear the fear in my voice, I dreaded the answer and prayed to god that nothing happened to them. He took a moment to reply, my worry increasing by the second, “No, none of the boys got hurt, but I can’t say the same for some of the members of the Црни лабуд, some were killed during the fight and a few passed away in their sleep. I believe that someone called Damien is still alive though, he gave a statement that completely cleared your name in court today”

What? I can’t believe it, why would he do that? One by one everyone started to leave the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I don’t understand it at all, why would Damien go out of his way to protect me? All that’d of done was increase his jail time for human trafficking. It doesn’t make sense…

-Time Skip

At some point I fell asleep, the sound of faint whispering disturbed me from my sleep as I slowly opened my eyes, sat next to me was Bucky’s mother, his father stood behind her as they both offered me a gentle smile. A few tears slid down Mrs Barnes cheeks when she realised I was fully awake, her arms immediately enveloped me into a warm hug, “Oh my Goodness sweetheart, please don’t ever scare me like that again, I was so worried about you” I didn’t reply to her, instead I chose to hug her tighter as confusion began to cloud my mind. Why would she be worried about me? Me? Other people would have been over joyed at the news of me being shot.

Slowly she pulled away from me, choosing to look me in the eyes as carefully stroked my cheek, inspecting the few bruises littered on my face, a small sniffle grabbed my attention as I turned away from her, my eyes glanced over in the direction of the sound. There stood in the corner of the room were the boys, both of their eyes red and puffy as they cautiously made their way towards me, none of us said anything when they reached my side. My eyes scanned over Steve checking for any injuries and damage before I pulled him into a hug, his body tensed up in shock before he relaxed and returned the embrace.  “I’m so sorry y/n I never wanted you to get hurt, neither of us did we just wanted to help you” even with his voice muffled, I could tell that the poor lad was crying and I couldn’t blame him, bloody Niagara falls was streaming down my cheeks, I pulled away from him and turned to Bucky, he was looking at the floor and completely avoiding my gaze.

Oh, hell no, no sad boys allowed here! Carefully I leaned forward and grabbed his hand, intertwining our fingers together as I pulled him closer, something inside me hurt when his eyes met mine, they held so much guilt, so much pain and sadness and I hated seeing him like this. No words were exchanged as he wrapped his arms around me, a sigh of relief escaped him, my arms automatically tightened around him when a single tear fell onto my neck. His silent sobs cut me down to my core, behind him Steve stood to the side, his eye meeting mine as I grabbed his hand in reassurance, once Bucky calmed down we both drew back, and I pulled both boys in front of me.  

“I want both of you boys to listen to me, none of this was your fault, this is all on me. I pushed you both away to protect you and I’m sorry for that, I should have been more honest with you, me getting shot has nothing to do with anything either of you did.” My voice was firm and assertive, but of course that didn’t stop either of them trying to argue with me. Not much of a surprise there.

“But we went in the middle of it, we tried to play the hero’s and we ended up being the villains, you should be mad, not forgivin’ our stupid asses” this is probably not the best time to notice this, but Steve just swore for the first time in his life, I couldn’t be prouder! Wait, where was I?

Goddamn it y/n, concentrate for once in your bloody life! “Okay, stop that crap right now Rodgers, none of this had anything to do with you, although I would like to ask the both of what THE HELL YOU WERE THINKING DIVIN’ INTO THE MIDDLE OF A BLOODY GANG WAR?!” it was safe to say that they weren’t excepting that.

It was actually quite funny, Bucky went completely pale and started stuttering while Steve actually jumped up in surprise and fell down, admittedly I felt a bit bad about that bit. Neither of the boys could form a coherent sentence, both completely panicking as they tried to explain the reason behind their complete stupidity. Slowly my eyebrows started to raise as a small smirk made its way onto my face, the pair of them making no sense as Bucky pointed to Steve and said something about justice. I know I shouldn’t be finding this funny, but I couldn’t help it, they were babbling like a bunch of school girls!

Eventually, they both shut up once they noticed me failing to stifle a giggle, their expression turning from ones of panic to amusement, and eventually I couldn’t contain it, “I’m sorry but your faces were bloody brilliant! Oh my god I’m dying” both of the boys rolled their eyes at me, shaking their heads as Bucky’s parents started laughing with me.

Another Chapter down, as always feel free to leave some tips on how I can improve my writing for you all, Requests and tags are open :) Thanks for Reading!

Rose xx

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hiya! Could I possibly request a Jason the Toymaker x Reader where the reader meets Jason through their younger sibling and offers to be Jason's friend to keep their sibling safe but actually ends up liking him? Thank you so much if you choose to accept my request! ❤

Hey! Ahhhh... I literally wrote this over months and months' worth of time, so I think it gets kinda better as you read on? Haha. Still not totally happy with it but I hope you like it!! So sorry for the wait, I had a lotta trouble figuring out how I was gonna spin it😬😆😅

I really, really hope you like it!! ^^ Thank you, it definetly tested by skills, haha XD

~~~

“Oh my god,” I gasp, a sharp, almost painfully deep intake of cold air paired with a high-pitched noise because I get it. I know what he meant last night when he said he would take him. It didn’t mean to his shop, that I see just ahead, looking like it was just plopped down there on the ground like Dorothy’s house. I whip around and start sprinting back down the road the way I came. He meant wherever he came from, or wherever he’s going next.

And I left Noah at home, alone. “FUCK!” I yell, not caring that the Asian couple strolling down the path the opposite way I’m going startled at the expletive. Jason has made it perfectly clear that he’s not playing around. He’s cut him, he’s kept me in a metal box for a day, he’s taken Noah so many times in the past 2 weeks that he’s cursed our goddamn lives that I’ve learnt quickly to always be on high alert. It is always code red with him around, and now… Gritting my teeth, I force my legs against the air and stupid gravity until I get to the front door, which I lunge at so hard my wrists would probably hurt if I could feel anything except freezing, numb dread and even kick the fucking thing before I’m able to unlock it with the key and throw it open so forcefully that the doorknob slams and dents the wall. “Noah?!”

For a second, theirs no noise and I nearly stop breathing.

Then the tiniest, could-have-been-the-walls-creaking kind of muffled sound breaks the silence and that’s all I need. I rush through the house, and it feels like 2 seconds but still way too long before I find them. Of course, in Noah’s bedroom. Immediately a horrible, angry scowl because I’m so fucking scared, crashes across my face like wretched broken glass, seeing Noah held up in Jason’s arms, one covering his soft little mouth. “Put him down.”

“See, Noah? Told you you shouldn’t make any noise, Y/N’s such a killjoy!” Jason says in a light, casual tone as he ruffles Noah’s hair a little too roughly. His gradually brightening green eyes flash up to mine and make it obvious that he feels the exact opposite of relaxed, though. And poor Noah takes this time without Jason’s hand restricting his mouth to ask me to save him. Like he really believes I can, because I’m his older sibling. Jason rolls his eyes and tightens his arm around Noah’s shoulders, holding him against his chest and not even bothering to support him. “You don’t need to be saved, kiddo. It’s a playdate. Hardly a death sentence… “

“Bullshit.” I say, my brain frozen about what to do. I can try to fight him, sure, but that’s not going to go well. And might put Noah in danger. Jason rolls his eyes and pastes on a fake, sniggering look on his lips. “Go find another kid.” I half bed, half demand, not sure which he might spontaneously start to respond too. I’ve tried everything to deter him these past weeks! But he’s just rotten, right down to his core.

“-Don’t you get demanding with me, you bitch!” He snaps back, immediately, black creeping up the skin of his hands and his eyes glowing way brighter then before, telling me he’s reaching his bursting point anger level, and this is becoming as dangerous as it can get. He tries, to calm down though. Flicks the long, sharp fingers on the hand that isn’t holding up Noah… then loosens his grip on my brother momentarily, deliberately so now he’s holding him up by his neck. Forearm against his little throat. I cover my mouth with my hands in shock, watching Noah struggle and strain in vein. My heart starts to beat faster, sensing the end of this, which cannot be good for me or Noah. “… hah.” The monster stretches his neck out, rolling his shoulders. Hair turning a shocking white. “Hate to get pissed like this but you know not to talk to me like that, sunshine.”

… okay. This is the end. The rumours said that when Jason’s true colours come out, that’s when it’s over. Noah and I are not getting away from this.

I don’t have a choice anymore, like I even did in the first place… So stupid. Plan Z.

The funny thing is that now, when I should be the most afraid, I’m absolutely calm. I hold my hands up in surrender, dropping the tension in my shoulders entirely. “Okay, I’m sorry.” At least Noah will be safe. That’s the point. Jason, sensing something new, raises an eyebrow and tilts his head. “I won’t ever disrespect you again.” I love my brother so much. I would’ve done this in a heartbeat in the very beginning, if I hadn’t known that this, giving myself up, would also hurt him. I just… I don’t have any more ideas. If this means Noah will survive and he’ll grow up safe, with the chance to be happy? Then it’s worth it. I step towards them, slowly. “I’ll be kind to you, and I’ll play with you. And I’ll never leave you.” Jason’s second eyebrow meets the first halfway up his forehead. “I’ll be the perfect friend- I mean, what does a kid know about being the perfect best friend anyway? They’ll always make mistakes, Jason, and aren’t you tired of looking?” When I reach them, I swoop down and hook an arm under Noahs butt, holding him up so Jason’s choke hold doesn’t hurt anymore. But I don’t take my eyes off Jason’s, watching the understanding and agreement dance across them, both in horror and relief. It’s working. I’m so afraid, and I’m so glad, that it’s working. “I’ll be your friend instead. Just let Noah stay safe, in his home. And promise you’ll never see him, or have him hurt, ever again.”

“What makes you think you’re in a position to make demands like that?”

“Because I’m giving you what you want. No resistance this time, doesn’t… doesn’t that sound good?”

Please. Please, please, please. That’s all I can think now. Just please.

Please let this work, please let him agree. Please let him let Noah go, please let Noah forget me. Please let him live a long and happy life. I love you Noah, be happy. Please.

Then suddenly Jason’s eyes flash and turn into a brilliant golden colour, his hair goes back to red and the black, corrupted mould that had infected his skin crept down to the tips of his fingers and dappled away. He smiles.

“I’m willing to take that risk! It might work, actually!” Jason lets go of Noah, raising his hands up to either side of his head, in surrender, as I take Noah entirely into my arms and his little arms wrap around my neck. Jason almost looks like a level headed and understanding guy, as he backs off now. I turn Noah’s body away from him, looking reproachfully at the being, whatever he is.

“D-… deal then.” I state, offering a hand to Jason to shake. “Noah lives a happy life, not any longer or shorter than it was meant to be.”

Jason jumps, making me jolt in surprise and encloses his hand around mine, shaking enthusiastically- but I can see the evil glint still in his eyes and in his smirk. “’Course! You’re gonna love it Y/N, I promise. I knew you had a little something better in you, less moody and not a stick in the mud. In fact! I’m so on board, have a couple minutes alone with Noah. I’ll just be in the hall.”

With that he lets go of my hand, but his presence stays with me even once he’s gone out and into the hall. Like when you’re in the hospital, or at school, and your parent is outside the door while the doctor or the teacher sees you privately. Except, much, scarier. My stomach’s full of dread.

Finally I turn to Noah and see someone safe and I know I did the right thing. Still, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I have to go. “Okay little bro. Mum and Dad’ll be home later tonight.” I start, setting him down on his bed and leaning down to him instead of looking down at him. His eyes are wide, and full of fear. And I force myself to look at them because it’ll be the last time. Oh god, it hurts. Tearing my gaze away for a moment, I point to the clock. “When the little hand touches the 5 and the big hand touches the 12- that’s when they should be home. If not, make sure all the doors are locked-actually, as soon as I leave, make sure they’re locked, -, turn on the TV, get comfy on the couch and make some two minute noodles. Here’s my phone; Call them if you want, whenever. Keep it charged. Remember to get the police, the doctors, or the firemen then you need to call 000/911/ (Insert your countries emergency phone number). Our address is on the fridge, they’ll be patient with you so please don’t worry about that. Ummm… “I try to say everything calmly, and clearly so he understands but now my voice is starting to tremble because he’s started to cry. “I love you so, so much Noah. Please remember that I will be okay, you don’t need to worry. I’ll miss you, and I wish I could be with you but this is for the best, okay? This is not your fault, I love you. Be happy when you can, okay?” I lean in and give him the tightest hug ever, then pull back and let him go for the last time.

Finally, I blow him a kiss and leave the room.

___TIME SKIP: 3 Years___

Slowly joining the conscious world again, I feel hard floor under my shoulder blades and groan, remembering where I fell asleep. Stupid Jason making me play trains until we fell asleep- not to say it wasn’t fun, but couldn’t we have situated some pillows under me or something? Opening my eyes, I turn my head on the floor and see the monster himself.

Red hair a mess of streaks and rivers around his head and over his forehead, he’s fallen asleep on his back too, the trains still between us. Groaning again, I pull myself up from the floor into a sitting position and roll my shoulders back to relieve the stiffness. “Shhh, I’m still sleeping.”

“Time to get up now, its like lunchtime.” Smirking, I slowly stretch my arms forward, linking my fingers together as I do so. He’s an idiot.

“I disagree.”

“Are we gonna do this?”

“Me disagreeing?”

“Yes.”

He rolls over onto his side, sticking his hands under his head as if they could ever match the comfort of a pillow. “Then yes.” I roll my eyes at him, getting up and hobbling to my room.

A couple hours later, I’ve taken a 45 minute shower and warmed up my joints again and am just flipping through Pinterest in my room, when Jason finally decides to join the land of the living- slamming the door open suddenly so hard that wall behind it cracks open. “Goodmorning Y/N!”

“Its 3pm.”

“Time is a construct!” He rounds the room, stops by me as I sit calmly on my bed with my iPad on my legs, then leans down with his arms folded behind his back. His grin is wicked. “Anyway, we have places to be- Let’s go!” With his usual level of rudeness and eccentricity, he grabs my wrists and flies off out of the house.

With me just managing to not have my arm ripped off.

When I actually have our pace under control and not in danger of losing one of my most important limbs, I look around and the street that we’re on is… unnervingly familiar. I know exactly where we are, immediately.

I nearly stop dead in my tracks when the street I used to live on comes into view. “Where are we going? Jason? Jason! Where!” We’re getting closer, and I’m starting to panic. “Are! We! Going!? Where are we-”

“If you would stop asking that same question over and over, I would tell you!” He snaps, causing me to shrink back and stop trying to wrench my wrist out of his grip. Okay, point taken grumpy gills. “We’re going to check on Noah.”

Immediately blind, horrendous panic spreads to every little crevasse in me. I think the worst and I try even harder to get away; Yanking my arm so hard that Jason’s yoinked back a few whole feet. “No! You promised; We had a deal!”

He growls down at me through his teeth after quickly recovering from the shock of being yanked back. “Come on, you’ll see.”

“No!” I don’t know anything else to say but no. Nothing else that comes to mind properly describes how I’m thinking and feeling. I just want him to know, NO! No, we can’t go see Noah, no he can’t hurt him, so no. No, no, no!

He keeps on dragging me, all down the street and past my old house which I don’t care to even glance at, to a skatepark. When we stop under the shade of a tree, in the park right by the skating area where surely no one who’s skating will glance over and see us with any clarity, Jason looks over at my terrified expression and tilts his head. He looks strained. “Now, are you going to behave and let us have a looky-loo, or am I going to have to keep holding your hand, like a baby?”

I just feel stuck, and shaking. All that comes out of my mouth is a shaky, squeaky, as I’m sure I like a terrified baby bird. “No.”

He nods his head side to side for a moment and let’s go of me, crossing his arms over chest instead. “Fine, I guess that’ll do.” He rolls his eyes. “Now look over at the skaters, one of them will be familiar.”

I look over, and immediately search the helmet wearing boys for Noah. I search the face of every sweaty, lanky boy here but goddamnit, its hard! They’re all zooming all over the place, I can barely search their features. Its hard enough, since I haven’t seen Noah for 3 years!

“I… I don’t see him.” I force out, still in the squeaky, strained voice from before.

Jason’s strong hand finds my head, and turns it like a peanut butter lid carefully to the left. I keep looking immediately forward, until-

I find him.

Or, her, now.

I look at those eyes, the same as mine, and I know that the girl at the top of the curve with a Marvin the Martian skateboard is my sibling. She’s safe, and she’s smiling, and a lump grows in my throat as I watch her for whole minutes without blinking.

Slowly, I raise my hands to my mouth, tears clouding my vision so much that all Noah is, is a bright pink helmet flying all over the place. I wipe my eyes quickly, turning to look up at Jason. He’s watching Noah, or whatever her name is now, and looks bored of course. He’s never happy when he isn’t doing what he wants.  

But he came here. He brought me here. He did this for me, even though he’s bored.

All the love and the happiness I feel about him comes rushing at me all at once. These past few years were hard, yes. Absolutely yes, it’s a nuclear yes to that, but Jason has also been… an oddly wonderful friend. The way we got here was wrong, and it will always be wrong because of that and I’m never going to think otherwise, but -and this is not even really a ‘but’, because nothing will ever make what he did to me and to Noah even the slightest bit okay. It’s just a… its other feelings. Unrelated feelings that overlap the hatred and the fear, that sometimes, a lot of the time, stand out more, - there has been a certain overwhelming magic about my new life with him.

My eyes fill up with tears instantly, all over again. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Yeah, okay, great. Whatever. Can we go somewhere better, now?”

“Just a little longer?”

“I’m gonna go make a daisy chain for you.”

[millennial-star-gazer]

When A Celestial  Prey Dreams: Chapter: 2 (Nalu Week 2020)

When A Celestial Prey Dreams

Nalu week 2020 Prompts: Voice, Flirt, Charm & Smile (All implied)

Genres: Romance, Drama & New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy & E.n.d. Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature/adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Discretion  is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: Such a carnal thrill of the hunt is too electrifying for words; especially when a fire demon sets his sights on a celestial maiden who's more-than-willing to be his prey. What seems to start off as a random dream for Lucy quickly escalates into far-more sizzling territory. New ficet which will eventually combined into upcoming chapters for TDDW along with other fics. First two chapters are entries for @nalu-week  2020. (Nalu/Endlu-centric and semi-au/canon divergent). 

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Chapter 2: A Major Reunion and The Most Lethal of Vows

A/N: Hey guys, here's chapter 2 aka my second entry for @nalu-week  2020. Special thanks again to @mannyegb for helping me edit and further develop this chapter!  Now on to the actual chapter-enjoy!

Note: Scroll past the Read More Button/Cut for designated links and actual story content.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which instead belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

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Read  More  of This Fic and  on other  Platforms 

Note: Copy and paste links into another browser tap if reading on desktop site

1. When A Celestial  Prey Dreams

A.  Tumblr

Previous (Chapter) (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/621681896131379200/when-a-celestial-prey-dreams-chapter-1-nalu    

Chapter: 2 (Click Here:)   Next (Chapter) (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/627371278930755584/when-a-celestial-prey-dreams-chapter3)

B. Fanfiction

I. Main Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13623687/1/When-A-Celestial-Prey-Dreams-Nalu-Week-2020)

II. Secondary (Click Here:) ( or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13143482/1/Millennial-Drabbles)

II. Other (Click Here:) ( or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13246734/1/Millennial-OTP-Drabbles)

C. A03

I. Main A03 (Click Here:) (or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24802720/chapters/59984170)

II. Secondary (Click Here:) (or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18244343/chapters/43167767)

3. Master Post  Of All My Writing And  Profiles (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post)

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Legend

Italics: Lucy's dream or song/literary quotes

Bold: First Person Thoughts Within The Dream

Bolded Italics: Telepathic dialogue or empathized words

Bolded Italics: (outside of main story): A/N

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"When you need me, I'll step out of the shadows and protect what's mine"

(Source: Unknown)

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Sometime later

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How long have I been running?

Lucy couldn't pinpoint just how much time passed when she reached a steady-moving creek just beyond the edge of the forest clearing. 20 minutes, 30, 40? Difficult to tell really. But hey, the brook was very much a welcome sight for her sore eyes either way.

Hmm…..I wonder...

A quick cursory scan across the surroundings confirmed that navigating through the shallow waters would be a Highly efficient trek across to get to the other side for Lucy.

And it'd shave a bunch more time off my trip than it would go all the way around. Not to mention, the opportunity for her to hopefully scope out the perfect spot for laying low. Like, say a cave or a grove beneath the cover of trees to set up camp with the much-welcomed cozy heat of a crackling fire.

It'd be nice to take a breather and regroup with my spirits. Figure out my next move. Maybe even get a quick bite and some shut-eye. Even better if it's in Natsu's arms and I can convince him to let us spend a few days together in the woods instead of being cooped up in that goddamn horrible fortress. Just us, plus Happy and my spirits when they pop by. Either way, all in all, it should be a nice retreat from all the chaos. God, I miss them all already. Okay, gonna cross.

All decided then, a proverbial hop, and skip to the stream it was.

A few minutes later

__________________________________________

A bit chilly and soggy but not the worst experience overall.   

Kind of impossible for the blonde not to notice the river water soaking into her boots though.

Definitely unfortunate though no biggie ... I'll just hang the boots by a fire to dry and wear shoes from one of my star dresses.

"Lucy-hey !"

Natsu's audible shout pierced through her thoughts.

Sounds like he found me ...

"Up here, Luce!" The voice hollered down a second time with an undeniable note of urgency. "Yeah, look up!"

Definitely Natsu then ...

Lucy's eyes flickered above to see the aloft fire demon in the air with unfurled wings.

"There ya' go. Wait. Why are you—" he began to question, brows knitting together in confusion. " Never mind. That's not important right now. How about you finish crossing and meet me on the other side?"

"Sure," Lucy complied, finding no actual reason to object. God knows she couldn't help but desperately need— no crave-to be inside her soulmate 's robust arms as if deprived of precious oxygen for too long. So much so that i had to be some kind of astounding miracle that her already fragile self- resolve didn't shatter sooner ."Meet you on the other side."

"Yep."

The celestial wizard watched Natsu sail over her head with relieved eyes before; making her way over to a grassy bank. Not long after, the demon lord's feet landed on solid ground just as she reached the river's edge.

Finally…

"Land ho, huh?". Natsy let loose a breath of tremendous relief. "Thank god you're all right. Honestly had me pretty worried there when I caught whiffs of your blood. Here- let me help you." An open hand to his mate who gladly accepted.

"Thanks," she breathed, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her lips. So warm ...   Mavis knows that it was impossible for the celestial wizard not to relish in the blissful warmth of the fire eater's touch. "and I accidentally ended up slicing my hand open when running earlier. Probably the reason why you could smell a bit of my blood too .

"Aw Shit... yeah," Natsu echoed, brow creasing in moderate concern." That does make a lot of sense actually. Can I take a look?"

"S-Sure..." Lucy willingly let her palm be turned over by Natsu's hand with the still-bleeding gash in plain sight.

"Oh crap— this is pretty bad". He sighed, dismaying the corner of his lips into a frown ."Not life-threatening but you're still gonna need stitches for sure". A thumb brushed over Lucy's wound; with such delicate care, that warmth flooded her veins.

"So sorry about your hand Luce. We'll get you fixed up in no time though."

"Okay... I don't doubt that ."

"Good to hear."

Still, there's something bothering me about Jackal and the others...

"Hey, Natsu?" Lucy spoke up, trying her most damnest to sound nonchalant—untroubled even. No need to panic prematurely after all. "I was wondering about Jackal, Rayan, and Tempest."

"Yeah, what about them?" Natsu's attentive hum along with the open light of his gaze in response to her question was an encouraging sign . "Now, where did I put that cloth? Be pretty useful for your hand right now. I'm still listening by the way. Please continue."

"Okay. So.. those three aren't searching for me too, are they?" Lucy couldn't mask the tremor in those words; not with the surge of terror shooting through her heart. "Really don't want either one of them coming after me..."

It'd be terrible...

"Those slimy bastards won't be getting anywhere near you, Lucy," E.n.d. declared, voice coming in eerily calm with a distinct edge that bordered on lethal. "Trust me. I'll make damn sure of that. His tone dropped to a thinly-veiled threat of menacing proportions that sent a chill down Lucy's spine." By smashing all their teeth by breaking and crushing every worthless bone in their bodies if they so much as lay a finger on ya' or even try. "

Jeez... Natsu really would go that far to keep me and everyone he loves safe, wouldn't he?

"Hell, why not broil their flesh to a blackened crisp too? Pretty sure I told em' as much and more before setting out to find you earlier."

"Okay…"

" Aw Damn.."

Just for Natsu's eyes to instantly soften at the unfettered panic that was written all over Lucy's face.

"Whoa easy there" The dragon slayer soothed, running the back of his hand down her cheek in a gentle caress. " It's gonna be alright, sweetheart. I'll protect you if it comes down to a fight. Just like I always have— promise. Plus, we got your spirits to back us up or get you out of here or create a distraction if we bump into those guys again. It'll be fine, okay ?"

"Okay," Lucy let out a breath, speeding heart rate now slowing down. Her fears were eased by Natsu's attentive care after all. "Okay. I feel a lot better. Thanks, Natsu."

"Yay— that's the spirit, Luce!" Natsu approved, flashing his mate a sunny grin that set her heart aflutter. "And anytime.  Now lemme' get your hand bandaged up for ya'."

"Alrighty."

__________________________________________

A/N: And that's Chapter 2 folks! Hope you enjoyed and stay tuned for more! Anyway, I don't really have to much to say other than my usual A/N spiel. You know by basically being sure to let me know what you think by leaving a comment/review, liking and reblogging! Please feel free to check my other entry and the rest of my writing. (Corresponding Links are above, in the navigation bar and bio if reading this on tumblr. Please also see my FF and A03 profiles!) All right, that's all for now folks! Thanks to everyone for the incredible show of support so far again ! Until next time-take care!

[biillyhargroves]

I need some happiness after some heated family discussions, so can we have fluff please??

I'm sorry to hear that you’ve had a bit of a tough time with your family tonight. Sending you lots and lots of good, positive vibes and I hope this little bit of fluff helps you feel better!! 

grand theft autumn(fic requests open)

Things go missing from Billy’s closet. 

First, it was a hooded sweatshirt from his old high school back in San Diego. Billy had grabbed for it on a chilly night and came away empty handed. He thought it must have gotten lost in the endless cycles of washing Susan always seemed to be doing, and figured it might turn up in a few days. It didn’t. Next, a red button-down shirt disappeared. He dug through his hamper, recalling wearing it not a week before, but again came away with nothing. He volunteered- willingly -to fold laundry in order to find it, but neither shirt turned up in any of the loads Billy sorted. T-shirts started to vanish from his drawers; old ones, worn and bleach-stained, the kinds he normally reserved for the gym. His collection began to deplete one by one, and Billy began to wonder if maybe Susan was simply tossing the rattier, threadbare ones. He started volunteering to do the laundry - willingly - to put a stop to it, but the shirts kept getting lost and Billy couldn’t seem to find them. When his denim jacket went missing, Billy finally confronted Susan. 

“I’m sorry,” she had said, and Billy would tell that she genuinely meant it by the way she blinked at him in utter confusion. “I haven’t touched them. I can keep an eye out for you.” 

Billy had thanked her gruffly. 

He’d kept an eye on Max. She's got a history of pilfering clothes: borrowing a jacket or layering one of Billy’s sweatshirts when it was particularly cold, but none of the missing items showed up on her. Once, he caught her wearing a Metallica tee that had recently gone missing, but Max swore up and down that she only grabbed it from the wash because all of her things were dirty. After a week with none of Billy’s things showing up in Max’s wardrobe, Billy believed her. 

It takes weeks more before Billy finally finds the culprit. 

It is a quiet November evening, and Billy is lying-in Steve Harrington’s bed, flipping through a battered old copy of On the Road. Down the hall, he hears the rush of the shower head come to a sudden stop. Within in minutes, Steve is padding barefoot into the room, still towel-drying his hair. He is wearing a faded Chargers tee. Billy raises a brow.

“California fan?” he asks. Steve glances down at the shirt. His cheeks flush red. He had not realized which one he had grabbed before heading off to shower. He hadn’t realized it had been one of Billy’s.

“Uh,” he stammers. “Yeah? I mean, I, uh- Well, y’know, you’re from-”

A pillow hits Steve square in the face. He stumbles backwards and just-barely catches the pillow before it hits the ground. “Fucking thief,” Billy says, though there is no anger in his voice. His words are actually undercut by a laugh, though Steve is not quite sure he trusts it.

“I, uh-” he starts, and then says, “I just, um-” and he stutters on, no real words forming, and the whole time he does Billy is watching him, a smug grin on his face, and Steve can feel his face getting redder and redder. Eventually, he says, rather lamely, “I’m sorry.” 

“What else did you take?” Billy asks, still more entertained than angry. Steve finds this reaction more embarrassing than any other. What must Billy think of him? Billy rises from the bed and swings open Steve’s closet door. “Oh,” he says, voice still light, and he actually chuckles when he tugs at the sleeve of his own denim jacket, hanging lopsided on one of Steve’s hangers. “I should’ve figured,” he says. 

“I didn’t mean-” Steve starts, and then he shakes his head. “I just- I don’t get to be with you all the time, and I’m not, like...used to that? With other-” other what? there haven’t been other guys, and would Billy get insulted if Steve said girls? relationships sounds almost formal, somewhat heavy, for two teens who haven’t even discussed what they are to one another yet. Steve feels trapped, and he’s scared that this might really scare Billy off, that he’ll decide that Steve is simply too intense and will run off on him never to look back. The silence, he realizes, is stretching on too long, and he clears his throat before continuing. “I just wanted...I don’t know, something of yours? For when you’re not here.”

Billy looks at him with one brow arched. It makes Steve feel like he is under a goddamn microscope, though the relief he feels when Billy returns to rifling through the closet is short-lived. For a while, Billy is quiet, just poking at hangers and tugging on pieces that Steve had pilfered from Billy’s own bedroom: a sweatshirt, some old t-shirts. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, if only to make some kind of noise. Those two words set off a domino effect, and more come tumbling out faster than Steve catch them. “I didn’t mean to take so much stuff. I don’t even think I realized I was taking so much. It’s just that we can’t be, like...open? And, I don’t know. It’s not- I just- I wanted to. Uh, what are you doing?”

Billy has pulled out a shirt, but it is not one of his own. He is not reclaiming some stolen piece that Steve has been hiding for weeks. Instead, he is pulling one of Steve’s sweatshirts off of a broken black hanger. He tugs it over his head, shakes his hair loose from the collar, and when he looks at Steve again that grin of his has faded into something kinder and more sincere. 

“I want to see what you’re getting at,” he says honestly. 

“You want to...” Steve trails off, the pieces fitting together slowly in his head. 

“I mean, you’ve clearly been taking my stuff for weeks. Do you, like-”

“I don’t really wear it around,” Steve admits. “I, uh...I’ve slept in your t-shirts.” At this, Billy’s brow arches once more, and Steve feels that hot flush creep back up his neck. “They...they smell like you. Uh, I mean, like- like your cologne, I guess? I don’t know. I like it.” Billy’s smile grows, and Steve thinks that it is not a mocking sort of smile. 

“That’s cute,” Billy says.

“Cute?” Steve repeats.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “It’s cute.”

“I just-” Steve says, and Billy laughs. “Relax, Harrington,” he says. He returns to his spot on the bed and pats the empty space next to him. The hem of Steve’s sweatshirt rises as Billy stretches one arm up to support his head. He takes up his book again, lounging there, on Steve’s bed, in Steve’s freshman Hawkins High sweatshirt. Steve hesitates.

“You’re not mad?” he asks. Billy peeks him over the top of his book.

“No,” he says plainly. “I’m just glad I know where all my shit’s been going.”

“I really didn’t meant to take so much,” Steve says again. 

“Seriously,” Billy says. “Relax.”

This time, Steve listens. He drops his towel on the floor and takes up the spot beside Billy. Billy opens his free arm and Steve comes to rest against, his head landing on Billy’s chest, Billy’s arm closing around his back. They are quiet again, Billy thumbing through Kerouac, Steve lying beside him. 

“You’re really not mad?” Steve asks again, and Billy closes his book. 

“I’m really not,” he insists. “I really think it’s fucking cute. Hell, I’ll sleep in this damn thing tonight, see if it’s worth snatching some more shit from your closet.”

“I can’t tell if that’s-”

“-it’s not sarcastic,” Billy says. “I mean, you can definitely, like, ask before you take my shit. Max would probably appreciate it.”

“Max?” Steve asks, confused.

“She was wearing my shirt,” Billy explains. “I thought she was the one taking my stuff.”

“Oh,” Steve says, and he makes a mental note to apologize to Max. 

“And I am going to take the jacket back,” Billy says. “It’s getting fucking cold.”

“That’s fair,” Steve agrees. “Unless-” he starts, and then stops himself, but he has already piqued Billy’s interest. 

“Unless?” Billy asks.

“You can take one of mine,” Steve offers. Billy thinks about this. He thinks about for so long that the silence makes Steve wonder if he has said something unbearably stupid. He rests his chin on Billy’s chest so that he can look up at him, trying to gauge Billy’s thoughts, but he doesn’t get far before Billy kisses him- briefly, but long enough to send Steve’s thoughts in a fluttering whirl. He blinks when they part, and Billy’s smug little grin is back in place.

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Okay?” Steve asks. “I mean, I guess you’d have to wear it out, so if you don’t want to-”

“The blue one,” Billy tells him. “I’ll take that.”

Steve’s brow creases. He wears his blue jacket quite often- often enough for it to be known, often enough for friends to know that it is, in fact, his. If Billy wore it, this would mean...

Steve doesn’t quite believe it.  “Are you sure?” he asks. 

“Why not?” Billy says, nonchalant. Steve cannot think of an answer. His heart skips a beat, maybe even two. Is this some kind of crossing a metaphorical threshold? It is a step in a new direction? Is it an official stamp on their relationship? He thinks that the answers are all yes, and as he rests his head back against Billy’s chest he finds that, for all of Billy’s effortless nonchalance, his heart is beating fast, too. Steve wraps his arms around Billy’s middle. He squeezes, and his heart jumps when Billy squeezes him back. 

[takeiteasypeasybaby]

Save Me: Chapter 14 - Trust

~Hey guys! This is Chapter 14 of ‘Save Me’ ❤️ It’s finally time for Molly and Negan’s first kiss 😍 Hope you enjoy and as always I appreciate you all so lemme know what you think! Chapter 15 is out on Sunday~

Emotions were running high for both Negan and Molly. But this time Molly was determined, she was going to get what she wanted. What she truly wanted, no matter how dark and twisted that was.

Waking up that morning felt different from any other, I had a mission, a plan.

Having these feelings about a man who I really shouldn't have feelings for made me feel like I was out of control, and I hated feeling like that.

Plus, I wanted to make him feel how I felt, when he would continuously flaunt his wives in my face when we both knew that we had feelings for each other.

So, today would be the day that he got what was coming to him and I knew exactly who to choose.

It was currently 7:00am so I knew that everyone would be in the main hall eating breakfast.

But, most importantly since Negan didn't have a morning meeting today, he would be there too.

I lingered getting ready, making sure I looked my best. Well, the best you can look in this fucked up world. I brushed out my hair, fluffing it up and cleaned down my jacket since it was still covered in walker guts. Quickly I pinched my cheeks, put on some skin tight jeans and my most low cut cleavage revealing tank top. Now I was ready.

I walked over to Dwight's room, he looked startled by my appearance but quickly asked me what I wanted. I asked him if he would help me out, since he owed me a big one after killing Denise.

He slowly nodded and after I told him, he scowled for a minute, refusing because of Sherry.

I told him that I didn't want to hurt her either, but as long as she knew it was just for show and she wouldn't be in the room anyway, he obliged, with less resistance than I expected which was flattering, I guess.

So, we made a plan that he would enter the hall first and stand close by to Negan, but not so close as it would be obvious that we were rubbing it in his face.

Looking through the little square of glass on the door to the main hall, I saw Dwight nod hello to Negan and go to stand against the wall.

So, there were groups of people chatting between Negan and Dwight but there was still a direct line of eye contact.

After taking a deep breath I marched in, smiling at some families and Saviours who had been kind to me, just before I pretended to spot Dwight in the room. I smiled at him before heading over while I completely ignored Negan.

Of course as soon as I walked through those doors, Negan sensed my presence and while Simon was talking to him, his eyes followed my every move, looking just past Simon's head.

I didn't make eye contact with him, not wanting him to think that I was doing this because of him, but because I genuinely wanted to.

Dwight's eyes were fixed on the ground until I came to stand in front of him. He was leaning back against the wall in a laid back manner which made the whole act much more believable.

Dwight said that looking past me, he could see Negan scowling at me just talking to him which made me smirk because I hadn't even started yet and he was already jealous as hell.

Dwight and I carried on like we were best buddies, even though we weren't. We were chatting about random shit and then laughing about it, Negan obviously thinking that we were flirting.

Dwight got up from leaning against the wall and moved closer to me as I decided just to go for it.

It was now or never, fuck it.

I pressed my lips firmly against his, Dwight's eyebrows raised as he moved in synchronicity with me, both of us going deeper into the kiss just hearing people whoop and cheer mockingly at our make out session.

When we eventually pulled away, I asked Dwight whether Negan was watching and as I said that, Dwight looked up and saw Negan standing there, his body now turned to directly face us.

Rage filled his eyes as he scowled harder than before, nostrils flaring and his grip on Lucille tightening.

Finally, he knew how it felt to have someone all over the person you like and not be able to do a damn thing about it.

I whispered to Dwight, thanking him while people still clapped and cheered. He just nodded, before clearing his throat and stroking my arm before heading out of the hall.

I turned around, still not looking at Negan but instead moving over to talk to some Saviours who hugged and high fived me as I left the hall.

I sighed in relief as I strolled back to my room, proud of how I finally got to feel like a badass again and finally able to take some control back over my life.

Shutting the door behind me, I went to take off my jacket and was just about to sit down when two loud earth shattering knocks erupted against my door.

I stood up, sighing because of my interrupted me-time when I opened the door to reveal Negan on the other side, breathless and red faced he shouted 'what the holy fuck was that?!'.

I looked at him, pretending to play dumb. 'I don't know what you're talking about' I said nonchalantly and moved back over to my chair and sat down.

'Dwight?! Really?! You've gotta be fucking kidding me?!' he said still yelling but this time shutting the door behind him so none of the Saviours could hear us.

Although they probably still could considering how goddamn loud he was being.

'Oh you saw that huh?' I said coolly as I picked up a book, flicking through the pages.

'Yeah darlin I saw that' he said angrily.

I moved around my room distractedly keeping my eyes on the pages.

'I don't know what it is about Dwight that just turns me on. Besides, I thought you'd be happy? Now you know for sure he's over Sherry...' I said shrugging my shoulders, a smirk slightly forming as I was amused by how jealous he was.

'So what is it? You got a thing for guys whose faces look like a fucking margarita pizza?' he said scowling and chucking Lucille onto my bed as he moved closer to me.

I sighed, 'Well, I don't think it'll be a long term thing, I'm just in it for the sex really' I said more nonchalantly than before.

I closed my book and chucked it onto the the chair as I walked towards him. He was furious at what I just insinuated.

'The fuck did you just say?!' he said inching closer till our bodies were pressed up against each other.

'I was surprised, he's really good with his hands...' I whispered seductively, making doe eyes at him.

He clenched his fists in frustration and grabbed my waist.

He inhaled and parted his lips, about to say something in response when he just sighed, dropping his head to the floor.

'Darlin, you know full fucking well what you're doing to me here alright? So can we just skip to the part where you say you want me instead?' he said defeatedly.

I looked back up at him, saying playfully 'who said I want you? maybe Dwight's a better fit'.

Just as he was lowering his lips to mine, I moved past him and walked to the door. He sighed in frustration, clearly wanting me as much as I wanted him, if not more.

He spun around to see me open the door and stand there, ushering him to leave.

He nodded, picked up Lucille and had a smirk rising to his lips as he got to the doorway and whispered in my ear, 'trust me darlin, I'd be a much better fit'.

He winked suggestively and left me speechless as he strolled down the hallway.

He knew I now wouldn't be able to think of anything else but him, inside me. Fuck sake.

Negan's words played on my mind for hours after he left.

I couldn't concentrate, knowing that he was just a few doors down from me. Then the thought of his wives popped into my head and my heart sunk again.

I could never have him because he would never give up his wives and I would never be one of them.

I had to take my mind off him, try to stop my feelings, think about everything he's done, everything he's done to people I love. What was wrong with me? How could I have feelings for someone like that?!

I sighed deeply before grabbing my jacket and headed downstairs to the main hall. I needed to see Dwight.

As I walked into the hall, people smirked looking at me while they turned back to their conversations, clearly whispering about what went down earlier with Dwight.

I walked up to Arat and said 'hey, have you seen Dwight?'.

She chuckled mockingly and said, 'shouldn't you know?'.

I nodded smirking. 'Thanks for the help' I said smiling sarcastically and rolling my eyes.

Before I knew it, Dwight strolled into the side door of the main hall and I ran after him.

Tapping him on the shoulder, I said 'hey, I need your help'.

Dwight looked around seeing all eyes on us, 'whatever it is, no' he said sternly.

'It's not what you think. I need you to come on a run with me' I whispered.

He looked at me frowning sceptically and asked 'why?'.

'I need to clear my head and I can't leave the compound by myself' I pleaded.

Dwight sighed before saying 'you do know Negan will kill me right?'.

I scowled, replying 'you do know you killed my friend and owe me right?'.

He looked down before saying 'fine, but only a couple hours. I need to get out of this place too. Meet me in five down by the basement stairs'.

He walked out, grabbing his cigarettes before talking to Simon and Arat.

Negan wasn't in the room, but it felt like he was since everyone was Negan and he had eyes everywhere. I looked around uncomfortably before grabbing some water from the canteen and walked down to the basement.

Dwight was there waiting for me as he brought two motorcycles round to the back door.

I smirked as I looked at the bikes, I hadn't ridden one in so long.

'This is where they're kept by the way. If you ever need one' he said seriously, like he predicted my future.

I looked at him sceptically before saying 'got it' and smiled.

We hopped on, strapped on our helmets and drove round to the front.

Arat and Simon had obviously told Negan I had left the compound because when I looked up to his room, he was standing by the window frowning down at me.

I looked at him briefly, knowing he would be pissed I had left without permission but I thought fuck it and revved the engine and drove off in front of Dwight.

We didn't even go anywhere in particular but it was just nice to breathe.

Sometimes with the amount of people, the Sanctuary can feel cramped and just too much.

Six months ago, who would have thought that I would be riding motorbikes with the man who killed my friend.

Our relationship had officially transformed into those who tolerate each other. Shit, I knew I would have to tell Sherry about all this before too long. I couldn't imagine what she must think considering someone must have told her what had happened.

Even though I cared about her so much, I didn't even know how to face her.

I think subconsciously I used Dwight in my plan instead of any other Saviour because I wanted to get back at Sherry for being able to sleep with Negan whenever she wanted, even though I knew she didn't want to. Fuck, I hated myself right now.

Dwight stopped on the road to have a smoke, while I just lay down on the grass soaking in the sun.

We didn't talk, we just sat in silence, both of us consumed by our thoughts. Dwight probably thinking of Sherry while I thought of Negan.

Suddenly, Dwight sat up and said hesitantly 'Molly, I have to tell you something'.

He stood up and stubbed out his cigarette on the grass. I looked over to him, 'go on' I said reluctantly.

He sighed and looked nervously around him in case any Saviours were close. 'I'm helping Rick' he said quietly.

My eyebrows rose in response, 'what do you mean?' I asked confusedly.

'A while back, your buddy Rosita, kidnapped me and brought me to Alexandria' he said defeatedly. I couldn't help but let a small smirk come to the surface at Rosita kidnapping him.

'Wait, Rosita was at the Sanctuary?!' I asked.

'Outside the walls, but yeah. Anyway, Rick interrogated me and I swore to them that I would do what I could to help them with Negan' he said slowly.

My mouth dropped open as my brows furrowed, 'why would you help my family?' I asked.

'Like you once said, I was doing it for someone else' he said slowly and now looking at the ground.

I just nodded, understanding exactly who he meant.

'If Negan ever found out...' I said worriedly.

'He won't' Dwight spoke sternly, 'we can take Negan down together, under the radar. Just you and me' he said reaching out his hand for me to shake.

I accepted it, not knowing what I was getting myself in for.

The sun was starting to set and we had killed a couple walkers that came onto the road so we decided to head back.

This time thinking about what people were probably thinking which couldn't have been further from the truth and in a messed up way, after Negan and Sherry, Dwight was probably the only person who actually knew me.

Once we got back, we propped up the bikes on the rack and headed back inside before I stopped him and said 'thank you, really'.

He nodded with a slight smile. Both of us understanding how much that silence outside the walls had meant to us.

Dwight headed down a passage, the one which he used to secretly meet Sherry when they knew Negan wasn't around.

I climbed the stairs from the basement up a few flights of stairs before a figure stopped in front of me.

Negan.

'Did you enjoy your little screw session with Dwighty-boy?' he asked annoyed but also cockily.

I just huffed and walked straight passed him and kept climbing up the stairs. 'It's not like that' I said sternly.

'Oh I'm sorry, did you not leave the compound to go screw his brains out in the woods?' he retorted smirking through his anger.

I stopped dead on the stairs and turned around to face him. 'Just stop' I said furiously.

'Well, just let me know next time and I'll arrange a pretty little fucking picnic for you two lovebirds!' he shouted.

We had now reached the top of the stairs and were finally at our corridor.

'You wanna know why the hell I went out there?! To clear my goddamn head because of you! To actually get some peace and quiet and the fact that I really scraped the fucking barrel by bringing Dwight, just shows how desperate I was to get away from you!' I yelled before walking down to my door.

He just stood there, looking at me silently as I faced against my door.

'Is that what you want?' he asked softly.

I sighed against my door, 'I don't know' I whispered.

He marched over to me and lightly grabbed my shoulder to spin me around. 'Have a drink with me. We can talk?' he asked.

I just nodded before following him to his room. This wasn't a good idea but lets face it, who could resist?

As we walked inside, he shut the door behind me and made us a couple drinks.

He only had bourbon in his room, but I needed something strong to take the edge off what I knew would be a difficult conversation.

I sat down on the sofa as he brought over the drinks, taking a seat opposite me.

I took a sip, squinting my eyes as the sharpness of the liquor hit the back of my throat. Negan chuckled at that.

'I don't know what to do' I said softly, my eyes tracing the glass.

'I can think of a couple things' he said smirking while taking another gulp.

I looked up at him faux warningly and said, 'I'm serious'.

'Alright, twenty questions because I am way too sober to talk normally about this with you' I added as I refilled our drinks.

'Alright, first question. Dwight', he said seriously and looking directly into my eyes for any trace of a response.

I hesitated before saying 'it didn't mean anything'.

'But you still fucking kissed the guy?' he retorted.

'What so i'm not allowed to kiss anybody but you're allowed to screw your wives and you expect me to just do nothing?!' I said with a raised voice.

He smirked and asked 'you jealous doll?'.

I took another large gulp of bourbon, not answering his question. 'Look, we both know where we stand. You can't give up your wives and I won't be with you unless you do, so where does that leave us?' I asked seriously.

He sighed, looking down and said 'can't we just ignore all of that shit and just focus on me and you?'.

'That's the problem, they are you, they come with you, you're a package deal! And I can't just betray my family over just becoming another one of your wives, not meaning a damn thing!' I responded with frustration in my voice.

'I get it' he said softly while standing up and placing his glass down onto the table. He smirked at me, raising out his hand and waiting for me to take it.

I looked up at him confused but slid my hand over his as he pulled me up from the sofa. 'What?' I asked softly.

He said nothing but leant down until our noses were practically touching. 'You could never mean nothing to me. God, what is this power you hold over me Molly?' he whispered against my lips.

I could feel his breathing and he slid his hands down from mine and placed them gently onto my waist, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in closer.

I moved my hands up to around his shoulders as one of his hands drifted up my arm and caressed my neck, holding my chin in place with a finger.

This was our moment.

Every nerve ending in my body sparked as I felt his lips come closer to mine.

My entire body went numb and limp as his presence made me feel woozy. I wasn't drunk, but he sure made me feel like it.

Our eyes closed softly as we were engulfed in each other.

Both of us breathing heavily with anticipation and longing when suddenly he couldn't take it anymore and crashed his lips against mine.

They were softer than I expected, but they were strangely complimented with the coarseness of his stubble against my cheek.

Our lips moved in synchronicity with each other, hearing his moans at the feel of me on him turned me on.

His hands drifted down from my waist to my lower back before he started to move towards my ass.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and jumped up onto my tippy toes to reach more of him.

He of course wanted to take control of the kiss, his tongue battling mine for access as he flicked it against mine playfully.

I could literally feel him smile at the fact that he was in control.

So, I swiftly deepened the kiss by flicking my tongue against his and nipping at his lip which made him let out a low growl.

I smirked back as we fought for domination when suddenly he bent down, moving his hands from my ass to the back of my thighs, hoisting me up to straddle him.

I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pushed us against the wall, placing his hands against the wall so I wouldn't hurt my back.

It felt like a dream, I was so lost in the kiss until he thrusted forward, feeling him stiffen against me.

I smirked, raising my eyebrows as I heard him moan.

The feel of his hardness against me made me tingle all over with electricity as a pool of heat formed in me.

Wetness started to form as he carried on thrusting his body against mine.

His lips suddenly parted from mine as he kissed from my cheek, to my ear, before finally landing on my neck.

I tipped my head to the side as he licked and sucked on my sweet spot which he knew exactly where it was from last time, knowing the effect he already had on me.

Well, two could play at that game.

My eyes rolled back as my head rested against the wall, letting out a quiet moan.

He smirked at the effect he was having on me, 'you like that doll? he whispered into my ear, sucking on my lobe.

I just nodded, 'mhm' which escaped my lips breathlessly. I dipped my head down and pulled back his t shirt from his shoulder a little to reveal his tanned bare skin.

I pressed my lips gently at first to his shoulder, moving my way up to his neck, leaving soft little traces of kiss marks. He let out a louder moan as I felt him stiffen further beneath me.

I wrapped my arms around him tighter as a wetness pooled within me, letting out a moan just as there was a knock on the door.

I looked up, eyes widened as Negan just nestled his head into my neck. I stroked his hair as he sighed and shouted 'what?' in frustration.

'Sorry to bother you sir, but there's an a situation with Rick's group' Simon shouted from the other side of the door.

Negan looked up at me and bit his lip in frustration, I just smirked.

'Goddamn it' he said softly, slowly placing me back down onto the ground.

He cupped my face in his hands and gently pressed his lips against mine.

Negan put on his jacket before saying 'I'm sorry darlin' and opened the door.

'Si, this better be one hell of an fucking emergency' Negan growled at Simon who just looked at him, then me before replying 'it is sir'.

'Well, I'm gonna need one hell of cold shower now' he said looking back at me and chuckled.

He told Simon to wait and closed the door slightly on him as he walked back over to me.

'To be continued...' he whispered as he lightly pressed his lips against mine before smirking and walking out.

I stood there, alone in his room.

I wanted to scream with excitement, pinching myself to see if it was real.

We had kissed, finally.

I looked around his room before flinging myself down onto his bed.

The dark silk sheets felt so soft against my skin, almost cool to the touch which was a relief seen as it was still hot out.

I laid there, looking at the chandelier on the ceiling, taking in the aroma of his scent on the pillows.

It could have been the alcohol, or the fact that I hadn't slept well the past few nights but my eyes felt heavy. I promised myself that I would just close my eyes for a few minutes seen as Negan would probably be back in an hour.

As I started to feel myself become aware of my surroundings again, lying on my side, I felt an arm wrapped around me and breathing against my hair.

I frowned in confusion and as I turned around slowly I saw Negan.

He was just in his t-shirt and black lounge pants, nuzzling against my neck whilst he spooned me.

We had the covers over us and feeling me roll over, Negan awoke. 'You okay darlin?' he asked half asleep. I just smiled to myself and turned back over.

I mumbled quietly a soft 'mhm' as he wrapped his arms tighter around me not wanting me to leave.

There was something about lying there in his arms, it felt so safe and comfortable like we'd know each other for years.

Content and safe, I drifted back to sleep.

The next morning...

The sunlight beamed through the window in front of the bed.

I squinted, rolled around waking myself up and rubbed my eyes.

When I came to, I rolled over to see that Negan wasn't there.

I rolled back over frowning to see that Lucille was propped over on his chair with his leather jacket. Knowing him he would never leave his room without them.

But, maybe this had just been a one time thing...

Just as I was contemplating his whereabouts, suddenly his bathroom door swung open as he walked out wearing nothing but a white fluffy towel around his waist.

Steam seemed to fall around him as he strolled out, clean shaven and his hair damp and slicked back.

My mouth dropped open to see his tanned toned torso covered with tattoos and his chest hair glistening in the sun.

He caught me staring at him while I lay back on the bed.

He smirked at the trance I was in, 'mornin doll' he said with a hoarse voice.

'Morning' I said smiling sweetly.

He looked me up and down, biting his lip before waltzing over to me.

He smiled, bent down and kissed me gently. 'You are so damn beautiful you know that?' he said before throwing on a t-shirt.

I was mesmerised by him as I smiled back at him, 'since when did you get so sweet?' I replied mockingly.

He chuckled and replied 'must be your influence'.

A serious look grew across my face as I looked down avoiding his gaze. 'So what did Simon want last night?' I asked nonchalantly.

He looked back up at me as he pulled up his pants, 'he wanted to show me the plans for the crops we'll be plantin' at Alexandria and Hilltop' he said avoiding my gaze.

'So, they agreed?' I asked anxiously as I sat up.

'Uh huh. Lucky for you we'll be lightening the pricks load' he replied while throwing on his jacket and picking up Lucille.

I smiled up at him gratefully.

'You ready?' he asked as I stood up stretching.

'For where?' I asked grabbing my jacket.

'To pay Rick a little visit' he said seriously and opened the door.

'Alexandria? You're letting me go back?' I asked confused by his sudden interest in me going with him.

'Yup, figured you'd want to see your family' he said softly.

I just looked at him for a minute in awe of how genuinely nice he was being.

'Wow, I have melted your heart after all' I said smirking before wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

'Hey, i've got a reputation to uphold' he said smirking back.

Negan's POV//

~flashback to last night~

'This better be fucking good Si because now I've got one hell of a case of blue balls' I said strutting in front of him.

'It is, apparently Rick hasn't been keeping to the gun quota, seems like those pricks have some more stashed away' he replied marching behind me.

'Well, looks like we're gonna have to pay Rick and his merry band of pricks a little visit again' I said smiling down at Simon.

'He broke yet?' I asked seriously, referring to Daryl.

'Not yet, but it won't be long now' Simon replied happily.

'Good, crank it up a notch will ya while I'm gone' I said patting him on the shoulder before sauntering down the hallway whistling as I went.

'Dwighty-boy, I need you to make sure that Daryl is broken by the time I get back. Whip out the photos to make things really suck ass' I said shouting over to Dwight who was in the corridor.

'You know what, since your doing such a fucking great job with Daryl, you wanna little blast from the past with you know who?' I said throwing Lucille over my shoulder, teasing him. He looked scared shitless.

'I'm kidding man lighten up. Nah, pick whoever as long as she says yes' I said smirking. He didn't reply.

'What? Ah shit is it...is it not working down there? Your penis? Cus that guy, well he chomped on it!' I chuckled.

That one was to get back at him for Molly.

'I'd rather get the job finished first' D said nervously.

'But, I just said that it's happy hour at the pussy bar and Dwight eats for free and you're telling me no?' I said frowning.

'I-I haven't earned it yet. I want to do it' he replied anxiously.

I chuckled at seeing him squirm, 'that's my boy!' I said patting him on the shoulder before I walked off to the meeting to plan Rick's demise. A boring ass meeting and I couldn't wait to get back to my gal.

'Later fellas, my girl's probably in bed waiting for me' I said winking at Dwight as I walked out of the room.

He must have thought I meant Sherry, what if he was thinkin' about Molly? She was mine, no doubt about it.

I swear, just thinking about screwing her I knew I could never get bored. Goddamn just thinking about how perfect she is and a fucking badass. I want her by my side, I mean I like screwing Frankie and Amber but I don't need them like I need Molly.

Fuck, I was getting soft and I wasn't about to lose what I'd fucking built just for one girl when I have six of them waiting for me at all hours of the day.

Then it hit me, opening that door and seeing her lying there. So peaceful, so goddamn beautiful. Fuck, she was an angel and she was asleep in my bed. She trusts me.

I crept around the room, trying not to wake her, got changed and then slipped the covers over her to keep her warm as I wrapped my arms around her.

Her skin was so soft and smooth, her hair smelt like her, sweet and floral. I didn't just want her, I needed her, forever and only her.

She had already asked me to leave my wives and I actually wanted to but they're part of my image and if I had a real wife, it would ruin my reputation.

I don't think I've ever cared about someone this much since Lucille passed away.

But I was weak when I was with her. So, I now knew that no matter how much I needed Molly, I had to let her go because I could never be what she wants.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 37)

Horsemen, Apocalypses Part.2

A continuation from the last chapter, Arthur tries to deal with what has happened to reader. Contains: angst, some gory details, fluff. 

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Eventually, Hosea – one of the few men who had joined us in the house – rose to his feet and called out to Dutch from the top of the stairs. 

"They're gone! You can come down now, though be prepared, there's rather a lot of…" Dutch called back, trailing off. "Pearson, Miss Grimshaw?" 

"Come on folks, whoever can stomach it, get to work," Susan exclaimed, standing up as if nothing had just gone on, like everyone in the room wasn't at least a little bit scarred and practically needed a clean change of underwear. She was one hell of a woman, Miss Grimshaw.

I got up – well, dragged myself up on the balustrade – hugging the bucket to my chest. My nausea hadn't shifted, but I forced myself to move and headed for the stairs. 

"Not you, we only just stopped the bleeding, you move too much it'll start up again," Susan warned, holding me back as people started filing down the stairs to help out. Some hung back, notably Molly and Mary-Beth, and Abigail with little Jack. I couldn't blame them, I certainly wasn't rushing downstairs to haul bodies about, I was rushing to see Arthur, see that he was safe, and to show him that I was.

Even so, I let everyone who was going to help pass first, only descending when Miss Grimshaw was gone and the stairway was clear. My legs shook every step down, so I held tightly to the banister. I met Arthur with one foot on the first step, heading up, he sighed out my name in relief and ran up to meet me halfway. 

"You gonna help with these bodies, Arthur?" Dutch asked, not looking our way. Arthur's whole aura shifted at that; his face dropped into an irritated snarl, his shoulders hunched up and he looked about a second away from lashing out. 

"We've got enough help, he's excused. Come on, Dutch, that girl was a hair's breadth from being killed today," Miss Grimshaw, the absolute angel, fought our corner.  

"Very well," Dutch responded, his tone unhappy, yet accepting.

"Come on, princess," Arthur whispered, turning me around and sending me back upstairs. 

I picked up the bucket of water still on the landing on the way to Arthur's room, and checked that there wasn't any stray blood on my backside before sitting down on his bed with it.

"I'm so goddamn relieved. Angel, I thought– I don't know. All I saw was you covered in blood an-and–” Arthur shook his head and dropped to his knees in front of me, gripping my hands, "those bastards," he breathed, closing his eyes and burying his face in my lap. 

His hair was damp with sweat, and I could smell its muskiness mixed with the metallic scent of blood.

"I'm okay," I murmured vacantly, somewhat stunned to have him nuzzling into my lap, his breaths laboured and unsteady. 

"I'm sorry I didn't stay with you, I would've.”

"I know, you had to be there for the others."

"Princess, I'm so sorry. So goddamn sorry, I can't even begin to tell you," he lifted his head and my heart skipped at the sight of his wet eyes, "you don't deserve any of this, you'd never– if it weren't for me, this gang, having you here where you don't belong–"

"I don't belong?" I squeaked and Arthur shook his head harshly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"Not that– this ain't no life for you. You're too good for this. You ain't never hurt anyone and this is exactly what I was scared of; you having to use that goddamn gun when I know it ain't like you."

"It's not your fault," I shook my head, my voice was hollow sounding, my heart too full of emotions for any single one to let another show, so I just seemed empty.

"You're a good person. I'm more certain of that than anything and in this gang you're gonna be changed, you're gonna get hurt and you'll end up seeing yourself become someone else and you won't be able to do nothing about it, trust me, I've seen it," Arthur spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on my chest, his hands squeezing mine so tight, "and it'll be my fault 'cause I never gave you the chance to go."

"Arthur, don't, I don't know what you're saying, you're making me nervous," my vision turned blurry, obscured by light shining on the moisture forming in my eyes.

"I'm sorry, angel," he shook his head, "I think it's worth considerin' getting out of here. You, I mean, just go; someplace safe."

"What?!" I gasped, shaking my head. He let go of my hands, lifting his, holding a finger up to me and shushing me softly. It was useless, everything overwhelmed me and I started to cry.

"Listen, listen, just for a while. You find somewhere quiet and at some point I'll join you, just– money. I need some money, this trolley job, I don't know, I just need enough and then I'll… I can go to you, and we… we can," he ran out of steam as he spoke, losing faith in his own idea, it seemed, "this is all such a mess."

I sniffed and dragged a hand across my cheek to dry my tears, then pushed my hand through my hair. My fingers tangled in clumpy stickiness and I realised my hair was far from clean. I picked something hard out of the rat's nest on my head, and almost vomited when I realised it was a piece of skull. I sobbed, fumbling for the bucket of water on the floor. Arthur helped me lift it and held it steady on my lap for me, his eyes distant as he thought deeply. I cupped handfuls of water and scrubbed at my hair, it tangled and knotted and was a complete mess but I did my best with what I had. I was so desperate for a bath, but I had to look somewhat presentable before heading out to Saint Denis to get one.

"I'm not going anywhere," I told him, breath shaky from crying, squeezing the orange water out of my hair, "I don't want to leave you, not knowing anything about where you are or what you're doing, not knowing if you've been caught by lawmen or killed. God no."

"No," he shook his head in understanding, "and maybe I can't send you away, maybe I'm too scared and selfish to do so. Christ, I don't know what to do. Why am I so fucking stupid?"

"Arthur, stop. You're not stupid and you ain't gotta know what to do. There's nothing we can do. I'm not leaving, not unless it's with you. And I can't ask you for that," I shook my head, moving the bucket of water aside once my hair felt a little better.

Arthur took my hands in his again, squeezing them, shuffling closer so his chest was pressed firm against my knees and our faces were closer. 

"One day," he said, his head bobbing, "one day you will. I'll save some money, baby, and when the time is right…"

"The gang."

"Baby," his face crumpled with hurt and he tilted his head, "life keeps on making me choose, I can't keep making the same choice, getting nothin' but pain for it. I just need time, closure, I need to make sure these people they– they have a future," he spoke so quietly, like he was scared of who would hear.

I stared at him through the blurring of my eyes, my lip trembling. I didn't want to hear these words from him. I was terrified that they'd hurt me; whether he'd go back on them one day, or he'd live by them and I'd forever bear the guilt of him leaving his family for me. 

"All I want is you," he breathed, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and carefully pulling me down so our foreheads touched, "if I lost you… today put things into perspective for me, showed me just how much I– these things are hard for me to say, I'm scared if I say it, it's willing something bad to happen."

"I think I know," I told him through a sob.

"Yeah, you know. You're smart," he nodded, a shadow of a smile on his lips. 

"I know 'cause I feel the same," I breathed and his eyes closed against tears that he refused to let go of. "Of course I do, you're all that matters to me. You and Rayna– Rayna!" I suddenly jumped and Arthur squeezed my hand, shushing me soothingly.

"All the horses are fine, she's fine," he reassured me, and I sighed in relief, "nobody got hurt besides you… are you in pain?"

I shook my head weakly. "Only a little bit," I told him, despite actually being in a fair bit of pain. A constant burning.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," he murmured, then pressed a soft kiss to my lips, "that was too damn close."

"I'll be okay."

"What happened, exactly? Why were you over there?"

"I was tending to the horses and I heard a struggle. I think they were gonna kill Kieran. One of 'em was going for his gun and so I– if I hadn't shot him– I didn't want to kill anyone but I–" I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. 

Arthur got up and sat beside me on the bed, encircling me with his arms and pulling me tight into his chest, pressing his mouth to the top of my head. 

"Don't you feel bad at all, you did what you had to. I'm proud of you, my darlin', I know it wouldn't've been easy for you."

"I need to thank Charles, if it wasn't for him, if he'd been half a second later," I shook my head, shuddering at the thought. Having my throat slit sounded like one of the worst ways to go.

"He's a good man, Charles," I felt him nod, "people like him, it's the reason I can't just leave all this without looking back."

"I know. It's okay."

"Sweetheart, I don't know what I can say, just… when the timing's right, you and me," he whispered, "right now, there ain't enough money and there's too much going on. Just know that I fully intend to give you a better life."

"Just focus on your family, Arthur, whatever happens, as long as you're safe and I'm with you, I don't care about anything else," I told him. 

"My family… you're family, now. Angel, if things get worse," he started with a heavy sigh, "if things get real bad, and it's safer for you to be someplace else, away from me…"

"Arthur," I shook my head and turned, pressing my face into his chest. 

"Just think about it, please. You ain't done anything the law knows about, they ain't lookin' at you. If you can get away and be safe if things go crazy, it'd make me feel much better," he pleaded with me, swaying just a little, moving us both gently. 

"As long as you promise me you'd come back to me."

"Of course I would."

"My apologies for the intrusion," Dutch spoke, his voice coming out of nowhere, I hadn't heard anyone approach. Both Arthur and I jumped at his words and looked up to the open door.

Dutch was glancing between the two of us, his expression bare of any emotion, impossible to interpret. He focused on me after a moment. 

"I came to see how you're doing, Miss Grimshaw explained that you'd been shaken up pretty good," he asked in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice. Or it was flat and emotionless, I couldn't quite tell.

"Oh, thank you," I said, then looked up at Arthur who's face betrayed his discomfort. He looked like someone caught red handed; I wondered how long Dutch had been standing there, whether he'd heard anything we'd said. "I'm alright," I added.

"You saved that boy; Kieran. I'm sure he'll wanna thank you properly," he told me and I shifted uncomfortably. In all honesty, I'd been saving myself when I pulled the gun. I felt a little fraudulent.

"Well, I'm just glad we all got out of that mess alive."

"Me too, Miss," he nodded, "Arthur, I realise I was perhaps a little short with you today. I hope you understand, I was simply looking out for everyone here, and we were all on edge."

"I understand," Arthur responded without hesitation, the words coming out quick and curt. 

"So, you two are serious about each other?"

"Yes," Arthur told him.

"Alright, Arthur. I suppose this has been going on for a while, now, and I get the distinct impression I was the last to know."

"It weren't on purpose–" Arthur started, but Dutch held up his hand.

"I won't ask why you hid it. But I don't like secrets," he interrupted, and we remained quiet until he continued, "anyway, you use this evening to relax, get your head clear; tomorrow, meet me in Saint Denis for the trolley station job. We need money, and we need it fast so we can get out of here."

"Okay, Dutch," Arthur nodded. 

"I'll leave you two in peace," were his parting words. He looked to me once more, nodding his head politely before leaving. He never smiled, though, and it unnerved me.

Arthur took my hand in his, running his fingers in light swirls across the back of it. He must've felt the way it was shaking. 

"You should eat something," he told me, "let's go see if there's anything left in Pearson's pot, hm?" 

"I won't be able to stomach eating till I've had a proper bath," I sighed.

"Well then, let's ride to the city and get you one," he gave me a small but warm smile.

I nodded my head and he led me by the hand out of his room and downstairs. The gang had been working hard to clean the mess up, evidently, since it looked as though nothing had happened. All of the bodies were gone, and everyone had gone back to their business; granted, there was an atmosphere of tension, but still. Things were almost normal, I had no idea how it could've happened so quickly, but it did. Perhaps these people were used to being shot at and ambushed. That was an unpleasant thought.

The ride to Saint Denis went quickly, and I got my bath at the saloon while Arthur waited at the bar for me, sipping on a beer. I scrubbed every inch of my body using way too much soap, and despite all of Susan and I's efforts earlier, the water was still a grimy orange colour by the time I was done. But I was clean. 

I had the horrifying experience of having to dig a piece of bone out of my upper chest, right above my collar bone. It had buried itself pretty deep and I was left with a chunk of my own skin missing, but I refused to stop digging until I was sure it was all gone. Having someone's head shot off with a shotgun right in front of me was an experience I only needed once, and it'd certainly stay with me. I contemplated joining Arthur in the bar and having a lot of drinks to take my mind off of it, but I knew it wouldn't do me any favours, so instead we just headed back to camp. 

Besides, my appetite was beginning to come back after getting cleaned up, and my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten all day.

We made it back before the sun began to set and Arthur sat with me after I'd grabbed a bowl of stew. Hosea came and asked how I was doing in that paternal way of his, squeezing my shoulder and telling me he was proud of me for stepping in the way I did. Stepping in? I'd walked into it like an idiot and almost got myself killed, but okay, I thought. 

"I think this belongs to you," a low, cool voice spoke as my revolver was placed down on the table next to me. 

"Charles," I breathed when I looked up at him, opening my mouth to thank him, but he held his hand up to me. 

"Don't thank me, I should've stopped you in the first place," he told me, and I shook my head. 

"No, that was my stupid fault. I knew something was wrong but it didn't occur to me to just wait until you got to me."

"You just did what you thought was right, I should've known you were walking into danger and done something about it. I was on guard, it was my responsibility."

"Charles, you saved my life. I was silly and got myself into that situation, you got me out of it. Thank you," I took his hand – he looked down at it, his eyes widening slightly at the unexpected touch – and squeezed it.

"Thank you, Charles," Arthur said, and I felt his hand touch the small of my back, "if anything worse had happened… I'm just glad you got there when you did."

Charles looked like he didn't know what to do with the thanks and he shook his head dismissively. 

"Well, I am too. How's your neck?" He asked.

I let go of his hand and touched the bandage around my throat, reminded of the tenderness of the fresh wound.

"It'll heal up soon enough. It only broke the skin," I explained, as Javier took a seat opposite me on the table with a bowl of stew of his own. 

"Maybe one day you an' me will have matching scars, huh muñequita?" Javier said, tugging at his neckerchief, loosening it enough to reveal the ghost of a wound similar to mine, raised pink flesh, the kind of scar that caused goosebumps to look at. 

I didn't know what to say to him. 

"Hey, I know it's scary, right? The feeling of the blade… but trust me, you'll learn to love that scar," he said, then a smirk danced on the corner of his lips, "it's told a lot of guys I ain't one to be messed with. And ladies tend to like it, too."

I chuckled, though even I could tell it was lackluster. Javier gave me a small smile of understanding, and I appreciated the people around me for their kindness, even when the more time went on, I felt like a fool for what had happened. 

I finished my stew and Arthur and I were about to head back inside and up to his room when Kieran approached, all nervous and quiet but with a sense of urgency, almost. I'd spotted him earlier on, out in the gazebo with Mary-Beth, they'd shared a kiss. It was hard to tell from the angle and distance whether it was on the lips or on the cheek, if it was one of good friendship or something more, either way I never drew attention to it. Especially not to Kieran himself.

"I just wanna say, thank you, Miss. You didn't have to do what y' did, you could've just hightailed it in the opposite direction to save your own skin, but you stayed and you helped me," he said to me on the porch by the front door. 

I shifted on my feet, feeling my face pinch unintentionally. 

"I acted on a snap decision. I pulled my gun because he was doin' the same, I don't think I deserve much thanks," I mumbled and Arthur – who was right beside me – squeezed my hand. 

"Well, I felt hopeless, thought I was a goner for real. Thought no one was coming," he explained, looking up at Arthur hesitantly before stepping a bit closer and continuing under his breath, "truth be told, I ain't ever felt much like one of you folk. I thought what with my ties to the O'Driscolls, all of y'all weren't ever gonna trust me. But what you did; that made me feel somethin', Miss. I appreciate it."

"I trust you," I countered, saddened to hear him speak like that. 

"Thank you," he smiled softly, his posture shifting to one of pleasant surprise, "after what happened today, people have been real nice to me. I guess I feel a little more like I… like I belong here, you know?"

I nodded and smiled at him. "I'm glad, Kieran. I hope those bastards leave you alone, now, just don't go too far out of sight from now on, where we can't come and help if anything goes wrong. It was just lucky I was standing where I was."

"We both had pretty lucky escapes, huh?"

"Very lucky."

"Thank you, again. I know you don't think you did much, but I really do appreciate it. I'll let you get on, now," he dipped his head then strode away with an awkward little smile. 

I turned to Arthur, who seemed amused. 

"That kid…" he mused, "he really don't feel like one of us?"

"Well, yeah. People ain't all that kind to him. Including you, so I hear," I poked him in the chest then entered the house. I heard Arthur chuckle as he followed me inside and up the stairs. 

"It's all in good fun, you know. He's a good enough feller, could use some bigger balls, though," he commented. I glanced over my shoulder at him and narrowed my eyes.

"Maybe he'd grow 'em if he settled in more."

"Maybe. Does this mean I gotta stop flicking my cigarette ash in his bedroll?"

"Oh, Arthur Morgan. You'd better be joking." 

He snickered. "Ahh, course I am. He ain't even got a bedroll."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

When we got to his room, Arthur found my satchel sitting on my bedroll. Wordlessly, he peered inside it and retrieved my sketchbook and pencil, handing them over to me before plopping himself down on his bed, patting the space before him. I gave him a quizzical look as he retrieved his own journal and smiled at me.

"Take a seat, we're gonna do some drawing together. We said we would. Might not be as nice as sitting in a pretty meadow like last time, but it's still you an' me, being together," he said. I humoured him, sitting down cross-legged at the end of his bed, turning so we were facing each other.

"You wanna do this?" I asked, concerned that he was just doing this out of obligation, because he felt like he needed to babysit me after such an intense day. 

"Of course. Drawing helps clear my mind, maybe this'll be good for both of us. You still like drawing, don't you?"

"Yeah, even more so since you gave me this," I told him, flipping through my sketchbook. 

I'd filled quite a few pages since Arthur had given it to me; I often drew in the evening when people were winding down for the day. I had sketches of a few members of the gang, some done without them noticing, some done because they'd asked me to after seeing what I was doing; as in Sean's case. I lingered on the page with his portrait, remembering the evening I had done it. He took posing for me seriously, I'd never seen him sit so still. Oh, Sean. For a moment I was sad that I never spent more time with him while I still could.

I took a breath and carried on flipping through until I reached a blank page, then looked up at Arthur. "Can I draw you again?"

"Sure. Maybe I could draw you?" He asked hopefully. 

"Oh, okay then. I've never been drawn by someone else before," I giggled, shifting on the bed and bringing a hand over my hair to ensure it looked neat. 

"Sure you have," Arthur told me with a cheeky little smile on his face, his eyes cast down to his journal as he opened it up to a blank page. I flushed, recalling my conversation with Tilly, when she'd mentioned seeing him drawing me. I hadn't been sure whether to believe her at the time. 

"Knowingly, anyway," I added coquettishly, "maybe one day you'll show me?"

"Maybe," he said in a light, playful voice, "come on, while we still have a little daylight. Ain't the same by lantern light."

"Oh, you sound like a proper artist."

Arthur snorted. "I don't know about that."

And so we spend the evening alone, sat cross-legged, face to face on the bed, simply drawing each other.

[shinneth]

subject to future deletion

Normally I wouldn’t resort to that and I might end up being too lazy to do it anyway, but between getting sick again, dealing with some very intense verbal abuse every day irl, and the monthly burdens of the gender, I’m really not in a good place right now and I need to vent something. 

It’s officially gotten bad enough to interfere with my ability to write, even though I’m at a point in my current story that I’ve been very eager to reach... and every step of the way I’m struggling to write it and I hate what I currently have and it’s taking everything in my current power to not just scrap it entirely. 

Basically, I think I’m failing as a writer.

The irl stuff is actually not what I’m gonna get into because it’s really nothing new and it’ll probably resolve itself, but the side-effect of suffering that kind of negativity is that it enhances lingering negative feelings you’ve had about other things.

Namely, things you do to get away from the pains of the real world. The things you do to have fun and get some enjoyment out of life, no matter how challenging it is to be in this thing because it’s so wrongfully derided and demonized by the majority of your peers.

I try to keep telling myself it’s just because I’m still relatively very new to the fandom compared to my contemporaries, but as I’m typing this right now and listening to my favorite wrestler Shelton Benjamin in an interview, immediately I see the pit I’m starting to fall into. 

Like, it’s uncanny. This is what he said as I started on the above paragraph:

“If I sit and constantly compare myself to other people’s successes, you would drive yourself crazy. Because no matter what, there’s always someone who’s gonna be more successful.”

“I need to remember where I come from; how far I’ve came.”

Basically, in the very small world of Stevidot (and to a lesser extent, SU’s fandom as a whole), despite my efforts, I feel very much like the Shelton Benjamin in a small, dedicated group of talented Stevidot content creators.

Which is to say, I’m basically a midcarder in the mix with a bunch of top-tier legends. Shelton graduated from the same group as some modern very well-known mainstream stars that I can easily associate with a very well-known and accomplished Stevidot contributor.

Shelton graduated with the likes of John Cena, Brock Lesnar, Dave Batista, and Randy Orton. At least half of those names should be at least vaguely familiar for my followers as most of them have had such great success that they’re known in avenues beyond wrestling (save for Randy Orton, but he’s well past outshined his father as a legendary wrestler who’ll never be forgotten). 

I could easily say Watcher is the John Cena of Stevidot, while Platon’s probably the Brock Lesnar... sinderella0069′s the Batista. But I honestly don’t feel like I’ve done enough (or stood out enough) to even be a Randy Orton for this pairing. I’d at least give that honor to Ig just for being so active with it on Tumblr despite the wave of hatred thrown her way (even though she’s shifted focus onto Stevinel now). 

Again, I keep trying to tell myself that it’s because I’m not even remotely as tenured in the fandom as any of them are. 

Then I see this said in a review on a very recently-made Stevidot story...

And said reviewer has not once ever left a review on any Stevidot story of mine. Not even a follow or a favorite or a goddamned kudos. Considering I currently have an actively-updated Stevidot story going on (and a two-shot that I just did last month), I highly doubt my stuff was just overlooked.

Now, is it true that Stevidot is hard to come by? Of course it is. But this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a fellow Stevidot fan lament about the lack of Stevidot content while completely disregarding anything I contribute.

I know there’s one that outright doesn’t like my content based on personal taste (nothing to do with Stevidot itself, just how I execute it). There’s another big-name who shows no interest whatsoever in reading what I have to offer - and at this point I feel that’s for the best, because I have a feeling they’d hate my execution as well. 

While I’ve always primarily written for myself, I also felt a great fulfillment for providing content for a niche crowd that really deserves more than what they have. I think Stevidot’s a fantastic pairing with tons of unexplored potential and should be much more readily available than it actually is. Even if I tend to not get many reviews, I keep track of the site traffic every day on my stories and I know for sure that there are people reading my stuff. Since I’m really bad at leaving reviews myself, I go out of my way not to whine about not having very many overall for my series since I’d be a huge-ass hypocrite to do so. 

However.

Statements like the the aforementioned review and statements I’ve seen elsewhere by those who I know are at least aware of me are like stakes through the heart.

Because it can only mean one thing: my content doesn’t count.

I’m honestly not sure which is worse for me; being critically panned for the stuff I’ve put my all into over the past year, or being treated like my stuff doesn’t even exist. 

I prided myself on contributing as much as I did for Stevidot over this past year. Quantity doesn’t = automatic quality, but I’ve got 20+ years of writing experience in, so even someone with a shit self-esteem like myself can’t just say I’m an objectively bad writer, because I’m not. 

But apparently it doesn’t matter that I put in over half a million worlds in the name of Stevidot to a good chunk of the very tiny Stevidot fanbase; according to them, my contributions are irrelevant.

Is it my fault?

One thing I will admit is a detriment to my particular brand of Stevidot is that, save for one story (which happens to be by far my most successful Stevidot story in terms of recognition numbers), the rest of my series follows a continuous narrative that greatly deviates from canon as of Change Your Mind. I’m also notoriously a very verbose kind of writer - I have the tl;dr curse something fierce. 

So all stories I’ve written since my main 3-act series (which ended up being nearly 200k in length on its own) have been direct sequels to that. Because of the heavy deviation from CYM, the environment of the following stories is very different and easy to get lost in if you skipped GA entirely. 

Because there are so many dangling threads and new opportunities to be had after GA ended, I basically committed myself to my AU.

It’s not like anyone else is going to explore these possibilities.

Beyond that, honestly, I just don’t want to rewire my brain back to the canon status quo - not after the shitloads of character development I’ve not only given Steven and Peridot, but nearly everyone at this point has had a moment or two of really intense character growth. 

I like having Peridot co-star with Steven. I like having her become a more competent and active teammate than she’s portrayed in canon (while still giving her comic relief moments). I like that I didn’t redeem the Diamonds and instead had them killed off to force our protagonists to deal with the fallout of the collapse of a mighty empire on a much grander scale than what’s going on in the actual show.

In a way, this AU of mine has helped me cope with the shortcomings of the show itself. I already went on a stupid tirade once about how the sadistic nature of my writing has basically made me no-sell whatever trauma Rebecca Sugar’s throwing on Steven and upsetting everyone else. I’m still fairly certain I’m still outdoing her in that department. 

And because 100% of my passion for creating Stevidot is through this narrative I weaved, I have no desire to leave it. 

So I’ll admit my stories aren’t exactly the most accessible to the average reader who hasn’t been following my work since Day 1. 

Then again... I first got into Sinderella’s series completely ass-backwards at first. I eventually read it in the proper order, and like many of the great Stevidot epics, it’s canon divergent from a much earlier point in the series, so it was very easy to get confused about why certain things happened differently at first... but ultimately, I wasn’t that bothered by it because I just wanted some good Stevidot. I’d figure out the finer details later. 

I really do owe this author more props than I’ve actually given - she’s one out of two readers I know for a fact have been following my series since the beginning without missing a beat. I’ll probably review her newest story sooner or later now that it’s complete. 

Not gonna lie, though... when I saw our numbers side-by-side like this:

Considering they’re very similar stories (Stevidot smuts that were originally meant to be one-shots), mine is over a month old and hers is only a few days old and there’s already that big of a gap in our numbers? 

It’s hard not to feel like a failure; like I did something horribly wrong to suck this bad by comparison. 

I really should stress that I bear no ill will against Sinderella or any Stevidot author; this isn’t a competition, so this isn’t a matter of popularity. I knew coming into this that I wouldn’t get popular overnight; especially not with such an unpopular ship being the focus of my story. 

But when other Stevidot stories get frequent reviewers that I’ve never seen once acknowledge my stories even passively, I can’t help but feel like I’ve massively fucked up somewhere. That despite all my efforts, I might as well be invisible. When they say “Oh, good thing your story is here! It’s been such a Stevidot drought around here until you came along!” to other authors after I’ve written half a million fucking words in under a year for this ship...

You know, is it unreasonable to feel that I utterly fucking failed in several ways? 

I guess it’s no wonder why I’m struggling to keep writing. I still want to - like I said, I’m at a part I’ve been eager to write for a while now - but ever since I started it, I’ve just hated almost all of what I have so far (almost 8k words). And I’m really having trouble trying to salvage it.

I’m honestly not the type who’d scrap all my progress and start from scratch once I’ve gotten this far in. But maybe I’ll have to make an exception this time, because I think I finally made the mistake of trying to write while being mentally and emotionally distraught.

I thought I’d calm down once I wrote all this out, but honestly, I’m not really feeling it. Now I’m wondering if I should have just reached out to someone instead of making this, because now I’ll come off as a whiner with my pansy-ass first-world problems. 

But then again, I’d be an asshole to subject anyone to my idiotic woes. 

Maybe this’ll pass. I’m hoping it’ll pass. I really, really really really don’t want to lose my drive to write again. I was used to it coming and going in short and random spurts for almost all my life - then it finally came to me and stayed with me just a little under a year ago, and I’ve been desperate not to let it go because I’ve been more productive now than I’ve ever been in my 20+ tenure as a writer. 

I don’t want this to go away. There’s still so much more I want to tell. 

But then my logic goes... if you tell the story and no one’s there to hear it, is it ever really told?

[merryfortune]

Vrains Rare Pair Week - Day 6b

Day 6 / Dec 28 - Bad Pick-up Lines and/or Puns / Playing Games

·         Ship: Kengo/Ryoken

·         Warnings: Gunplay, sexual references 

  Revolver stared down the nozzle of Blood Shepherd’s laser. It had undoubtedly been hacked into the game; it suited his aesthetic well and Revolver was certain that if it fired, it fired for real, that a snarky little green light would be able to tear him to pieces, burning both his Avatar and his body.

  Nonetheless, Revolver stared down such a real and valid threat with a cocky grin. His hands were held high in mock surrender as he waited for Blood Shepherd’s demands of him. He already had his own concocted and couldn’t wait to inflict them upon Blood Shepherd. Regardless of whether or not Blood Shepherd wanted such things.

  “I want copies of your cards,” Blood Shepherd told him in a stone-cold tone of voice, “the ones you were able to use against the Wind Ignis and trump him. I’m going to get my revenge on that fucker Lightning and to do it, I need those old ass cards which aren’t in the system anymore.”

  “Sounds like a fine plan,” Revolver drawled, “I thought your initial match against the Light Ignis was magnificent, personally. But yes, a shame about how it ended.”

  Blood Shepherd, forever emotionless behind that mask so tight, did not reply. Those memories – the memories of being destroyed – were still fresh. He could feel the prickle of light beneath his skin. He could feel his blood crackle and shatter, even though these were just memories incited by mere suggestion of it. How pathetic.

  “Are you willing to meet my demands or not, Revolver?” Blood Shepherd finally spoke; his voice so cutting like a dagger.

  Revolver smirked. “Of course, but only if I can put my own little twist on it. You know I don’t like to bow to others.”

  “Make your statements.”

  “Let’s play a game.” Revolver suggested, all too eager with a devious edge to himself. “Let’s play a little game of… Russian Roulette, it’s a favourite of mine but all too often, I don’t get the thrill I’m looking for. I have to satisfy myself with safer alternatives. But I’m sure you would let me play the game I yearn for.”

  There something akin to lust in Revolver’s voice. Blood Shepherd honestly detested it, but he was intrigued by the proposition anyway. He and Revolver were of similar strains. They were uncomfortably bonded in this world which was so trusting of artificial intelligence. Not to mention, they were both roused by danger.

  “Alright.” Blood Shepherd agreed. “If I win, I get the cards. What do you want if you win?”

  “Your body.” Revolver said with a flippant hand gesture and a glint in his grey eyes.

  Blood Shepherd stiffened. Again, hard to read by his face, the rest of his body language had to suffice to communicate wordlessly but Revolver was quite certain that the reaction was repulsion. That amused him.

  “Too forward?” Revolver asked.

  “Perhaps.” Blood Shepherd said, his voice dropping a few octaves, but Revolver wasn’t intimidated.

  “Alright, just a kiss then.” Revolver said. “Oh, and to pick our winner, the winner should be the one to get shot.”

  “You’re a goddamn masochist.” snarled Blood Shepherd.

  Revolver flashed him yet another shit-eating grin. “A sadomasochist actually. So, do you want to play or not? Otherwise, you’ve squandered my time and I’m logging out. I have better things to do than banter with someone not willing to put out.”

  “Very well then. I accept your conditions, you strange bastard.” Blood Shepherd huffed.

  “Fantastic, well, you can go first then.” Revolver said.

  Blood Shepherd drew in closer and his gun changed slightly. There were now three slots in the barrel now, rather than five. He spun it and Revolver counted the clunky clicks. He relished the noises. He hadn’t a doubt in his mind that Blood Shepherd intended to cheat in this little match, but Revolver didn’t mind. It was a win-win for him given his affinity for pain and pleasure and how blurred such things were.

  Then, Blood Shepherd brandished his little pistol with alien confidence. There was no way of confirming his true feelings. He remained of stern shoulders and kept his head held high. If he was afraid, there was no way for Revolver to know. Blood Shepherd kept it all hidden and Revolver found that… alluring.

  Revolver watched, with sadistic eagerness as Blood Shepherd put his weapon to his head. His hand was steady, and his finger slowly inched around the trigger. Revolver felt his innards curl into each other and knot as cruel glee filled him. Finally, Blood Shepherd pulled the trigger.

  He held his breath. He did not wince or flinch. He was ready and willing to take the punishment. But it did not come. Neither did a stringent breath of relief. Blood Shepherd then handed over the pistol.

  “How unlucky for you…” Revolver mused.

  Blood Shepherd had nothing to say to such a thing. Not when it was voiced in such a tone of voice; such a vulgar coo. So, Blood Shepherd remained eternally stoic with his fists by his side and his gaze, piercing and judgemental, unto Revolver who was slightly occupied.

  Revolver assessed the weapon. It wasn’t as weighty as he thought it would be. He felt as though a sudden surge of wind would be able to knock it off course, but it had the virtue of being loaded with lasers rather than bullets and light was not so easily avoided unless refracted.

  Revolver swallowed. It was not a nervous act. No, not at all. In fact, it was significant to his great amusement to it all. He wondered – no, he hoped – that his luck would succeed where Blood Shepherd’s had failed. He licked his lips. And where Blood Shepherd had trod carefully, Revolver was far too reckless.

  He put the pistol’s nose to his forehead and he grinned. Without fumble, Revolver pulled the trigger and in the corner of his eyes, he could see it. He could see the grandiose flash of emerald light and Blood Shepherd’s heart skipped a beat. Revolver’s grin grew wider and wider. His stomach dropped.

  The light pierced Revolver’s head and Blood Shepherd’s stomach lurched. His eyes shied away and then he heard it. Revolver’s laughter. He was laughing and so, Blood Shepherd’s gaze returned to him. He was untouched by the laser’s shot.

  “You didn’t think I wasn’t prepared for such a thing, were you?” Revolver asked. “I’m already a step ahead of you, Kengo. I’m untouchable, at least in the Link VRAINS anyway.”

  “You rat. You preach one thing but live another.” Blood Shepherd snarled.

  “I’m horny,” Revolver informed him as he handed back the pistol, “not suicidal.”

  Blood Shepherd likely could have continued snapping at him, but he was afraid that such a thing might be construed as concern in the mind of the Hanoi Leader. So, his tongue stayed put despite the lashing he very much wanted to deliver unto Revolver. He then returned his little gun to his inventory where it was safe from possible purges, at least for now.

  “So, Blood Shepherd, may I claim my prize? I won the game after all.” Revolver asked, and he tapped his bottom lip.

  “Do as you please.” Blood Shepherd huffed.

  “With pleasure.” Revolver said.

  He was the one to close the gap between them. The distance had always been strangely amicable up until now but as Revolver went onto his tip toes, and placed his hands onto Blood Shepherd’s firm chest, the distance became heinous. And so, Revolver claimed his prize and Blood Shepherd was indifferent to it as Revolver sweetly, amorously with closed eyes and a sigh on his lips, kissed him.

  The kiss which ensued was drawn out. Or maybe it just felt that way because Blood Shepherd was not the most willing partner in such an affair. As part of a game, or otherwise. But Revolver enjoyed himself. And that was the main thing – for him at least, whilst Blood Shepherd counted the milliseconds until Revolver broke off the kiss. His lips tingled, and he smiled impishly as he returned to the ball of his heel.

  “Enjoy yourself?” Blood Shepherd asked.

  “Perhaps.” Revolver said but his expression betrayed himself.

  For that reason, Revolver almost missed his prior Avatar. He wanted to be just as enigmatic as Blood Shepherd, even if he had found himself changing within his headspace and had wanted to reflect that in the post of the destruction that the Tower of Hanoi had spurred.

  “I shall now take my leave.” Revolver said and the smile, the tingles, upon his lips began to fade.

  “Very well then. I can’t say its been a pleasure.” Blood Shepherd said.

  With that, Revolver pardoned himself. His Avatar shattered into a haze of blue-white data before turning yellow. His log-out data erased completely in the system and before Blood Shepherd’s view.

  Blood Shepherd turned away from where Revolver had once stood. He began to cycle through his plans. He could attempt to hack the SOL Tech Data Bank since summoning Revolver for a favour had fallen through. But the Data Bank option was strenuous. Sol Tech no longer permitted him to root around in it and was now constantly updating. Blood Shepherd resolved to attempt such a thing again; perhaps he could try to recruit Playmaker’s Ally – his so-called shield – to help him.

  But, as Blood Shepherd walked away with his thoughts and adjusting his Duel Disc, he discovered something in his inventory. He found those bastard cards he wanted in his deck. He cursed himself for not realising that Revolver had likely given him them during the kiss.

[theofficialcunt]

Simplicité - Chapter 4

Short chapter this time! Happy Saturday y'all! Special thanks to @veronicasanders for being my new beta for this story and helping me make this story 50303178283x better. Clap for that hooker! I hope you enjoy, and I’m gonna try and get back on schedule (Thursdays for those who don’t know). Have a great weekend everyone. ❤️

She walked out of her bedroom, grabbing a wine glass from the kitchen cabinet and poured herself a full glass of white wine. She patted her box of wine lovingly; it wasn’t the most spectacular wine in the world - but fuck she drank so much of it she had to buy the cheap $10 boxes so she constantly had it on tap.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. Bianca raised an eyebrow at the text message before taking a big gulp out of her glass.

Courtney Act: Do you have time to talk tonight?

“Boxed wine? You’re a 40 year old trapped in a 25 year old’s body.” Adore snorted, walking out of her room curiously in a pair of sweats from her high school and an old concert t shirt.

Bianca smirked, still feeling weird about what had happened in the dressing room between the two of them. She had never had that sort of connection with anyone before. Love was a business transaction in her mind. You fuck, you kiss, and sometimes you pay for dinner. There were no overwhelming feelings clouding her judgement. She usually spotted someone attractive, swallowed her pride, and made it a goal to make them hers.

But there was something different with Adore. Something that said their relationship wasn’t fully professional. But she couldn’t put her finger on it. Fuck, and she was feeling this way on only the first week of knowing her.

“When you begin working for real, you’ll understand why I have this crap on tap.” Bianca joked, taking a big swig of her drink.

Courtney Act: Can I come over at 8?

“Who’s that?” Adore asked curiously.

Bianca groaned, looking between Adore and her phone. The last person she wanted to deal with right now was Courtney, especially with how much of a raging cunt she had been to Adore. She really didn’t know what the blonde wanted to talk to her about, but reluctantly she responded.

Bianca : SURE! NO HARASSING MY ASSISTANT WHILE YOU’RE HERE!

“Courtney’s coming over.” Bianca started. “So, if you wanna avoid her like the plague - which I’m sure you do; you can go in your room and lock the door. I’ll get you when she’s gone.”

“Ugh. Can’t she just see you tomorrow?” Adore sighed. She had enough of Courtney for the day. She honestly didn’t know how she was going to work with someone who blatantly hated her as much as she did.

“She’s really not that bad.” Bianca muttered. “Just a bit headstrong.”

“Well, I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Adore said, starting to walk away. “Wait. I came over here to ask you something.” Adore tapped her finger on her lips as she tried to remember. “Oh! Do you have Farrah’s number by chance?”

Bianca narrowed her eyes at her, before scrolling through her phone locating the number. She hastily texted the contact information to Adore, setting her phone down dramatically on the quartz countertop.

“Thanks!” Adore exclaimed as she skipped happily to her room and shut the door.

Bianca drained the remainder of her glass and immediately refilled it.

It was going to be a long night.

—————–

When the doorbell sounded, Bianca groaned as she dragged herself out of her bed and to the front door.

“I thought it was just you coming?” Bianca asked incredulously as Courtney and Bob pushed past her into her living room.

“That’s clearly code for, why the fuck are you here?” Bob smirked.

“Why the fuck ARE you here?” Bianca questioned, raising an eyebrow. She loved Bob to death, but Courtney usually didn’t team up with Bob unless…

“Bitch. You need an intervention. Where’s Adore?” Bob asked peering around the corner.

“In her room, avoiding you buffoons.”

“Smart girl.” Courtney commented, taking Bianca’s wine glass and sipping from it.

“Hey! If you guys are going to force me into an awkward intervention at least give me my goddamn wine.” Bianca scowled, snatching the wine glass. She led the way to her room, Courtney closing the door discreetly.

“Before we start, I just wanna say it’s not Adore I have the problem with. It..it’s you.” Courtney said nervously, biting her lip. Bob sat down at Bianca’s nearby vanity table, and pretended to be enamoured with her collection of makeup.

Bianca sighed, knowing damn well there was no escape from this inevitable conversation. It was a long time coming and she knew where Courtney was going with this.

“I was in a really bad place that night.” Bianca started, sitting down on the edge of her bed and crossing her legs.

“I understand that, and I was willing to forgive you but you never apologized. You never said sorry for just-”

“You were willing to forgive me?” Bianca shot back angrily. “My mom had literally just died when I came to your apartment that night. I was trying to confide in a friend-”

“Confide in a friend?” Courtney snorted. She threw her head back and laughed, letting a long cackle ring through the apartment. “Confiding in a friend is crying on their shoulder and watching ‘ Paris is Burning’ 50 times in a row. Not sucking my clit and destroying my favorite robe! Which, was custom made by the way!”

“Custom made by who bitch, Jo Ann’s?” Bianca sneered, rolling her eyes. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say to you. That happened months ago, can we just move on?”

“No, we can’t just ‘move on’,” Courtney hissed, making air quotes with her fingers “God, you’re so fucking dim sometimes Bianca! Don’t you ever think about anyone but yourself?”

“Don’t you think I had the right to be selfish that night?” Bianca argued, standing up as she looked into Courtney’s eyes. “My mom died, I was hammered, and it’s not like you were complaining when it happened.”

“You didn’t have the right to play with my feelings like that Bianca. You knew how much I liked you! Whether or not your mom had just passed, you don’t fucking do that to someone,” Courtney seethed, opening the door. “Fuck you. This was a stupid idea. I’ll just see you at work.”

Adore quickly slid from behind Bianca’s opening door to the kitchen, pretending to look in the pantry for a snack. Courtney stomped out aggressively, with her head surprisingly held high. She made eye contact with Adore for a split second before she stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“Did you hear any of that?” Courtney asked curiously.

“Uh, no.” Adore lied. “I was just getting a snack.”

“Good. Well, since you’re here I might as well tell you now.” Courtney shrugged, “I’m sorry for being a bitch to you-”

“You weren’t a bitch-”

“I was.” Courtney said abruptly, cutting her off. “It had nothing to do with you though Adore. So I’m sorry. Can we be cool at work now?”

“Um, yeah sure.” Adore stammered, taken off guard. “Maybe you can teach me some of your skills. I’m pretty sure my face will never look like yours, but a girl can dream.”

Courtney laughed, “Oh girl, no one’s face will ever look like mine. But sure. I have to prep you anyway for your clients on Saturday.”

“I have clients on Saturday?” Adore asked, eyes wide.

“Yep!” Courtney exclaimed. “Anyway, I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, bye.” Adore said perplexed, grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry.

Well, as much as she was confused by that whole interaction - she was happy to have her on her side.

—-

Bianca tried to overhear Adore and Courtney’s conversation in the kitchen, but they were talking too low. She would just have to ask Adore later. Who knows where her and Courtney stand at this point.

“Bitch,” Bob cleared his throat before he continued. “I’m your best friend and I love you so keep that in mind when I say what I’m about to say to you.”

Bianca just shrugged, knowing that whatever Bob was about to say was probably for the best. He always kept it real with her, which she appreciated.

“You knew damn well how much Courtney liked you, and you took advantage of that. Then on top of that, you treated her like a one night stand and pretended the night didn’t even happen when you saw her at work.” Bob sighed, taking a deep breath before he continued. “ Bianca, Courtney is your fucking employee. Not just a hoe you found at a bar near Wrigley field. She’s supposed to be your best friend when I’m not around. Which is never. I’m always around.”

Bianca laughed, thinking about when Bob used to feel threatened by Courtney. My, how things change.

“And now you have doe eyes living with you, and you look at her like she’s a slab of meat. Openly. In front of Courtney!” Bob continued. “ Do you understand how fucked up this whole thing is? You’ve barely known Adore 24 hours B. Get yourself together. That is your personal fucking assistant, not your personal play toy.” Bob got up and stood by Bianca’s bed as he stared down at her.

“Honestly, I love you and I know you’ve been going through a lot. But girl, you need to keep it in your pants. You owe Courtney AND Adore an apology. That’s all I’m going to say. I’ll see myself out.” Bob sympathized, as he walked out of her room.

What a bunch of rude cunts, Bianca thought bitterly as she laid down fully on her bed. They had the fucking audacity to come to her house late at night, stage an intervention - if you could really call it that - it was more like a Courtney-attacking-her fest featuring Bob being awkward in the corner until she left.

Courtney was way out of line for organizing that fiasco. If she thought that she could get under her skin, she was sadly mistaken.

Bianca wanted to resolve things with Courtney, she really did. She just wanted Courtney to be more sympathetic to her situation. Bianca had acted recklessly, and it was her way of crying for help. She didn’t understand why Courtney couldn’t put herself in her position.

No, no. She was not going to let herself fall down the rabbit hole. She could cry and moan and ponder about this all night, it would get her no where fast. If anything, it would get her 6 cups of coffee in the morning since she had such a long day tomorrow. As far as she could tell, she did absolutely nothing wrong and Courtney was the one with the problem.

But yet, Bob’s words were still on repeat in the back of her mind as she closed her eyes to go to sleep.

[coolbeansmarvel-blog]

You’re back

Summary: After confessing your affection for Bucky quite sometime ago, you are more than terrified of facing him again as he comes back from a year and a half long mission.

Word count: 1543

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: slight angst? nothing too intense though with fluff at the end.

A/N: First off, I would like to say a huge ‘thank you’ to anyone who had read “Smartass”, I’m overwhelmed by the positive feedback! Again, I’m sorry for any typos/ grammar mistakes/ mistakes in general (English is not my first language). Feedback is very welcomed and I hope you enjoy!

(As you have probably guessed, the text in italics is a flashaback)

(gif is not mine)

Walking out of your room in the Avengers HQ, you yawned loudly before entering the kitchen, occupied already by your teammates.

“Family breakfast, how lovely” you smiled at the sight of all of the Earth’s Mightiest Superheroes sitting by the table. You poured yourself a tall cup of black coffee and sipped on it in silence.

“We’re going to have a visitor today” Steve announced with a huge grin. “Bucky’s coming back from mission.”

“What?” you choked on your coffee in shock, hot liquid almost burning your throat.

“He’ll be here in an hour” Rogers added, putting his dirty plate in the sink. Passing you, he send you a wink, before whispering: “Maybe it’s time, Y/N.”

You swallowed thickly, knowing already, that it was definitely not the time. Trying to avoid your friend’s gaze, you quickly finished your drink and almost ran into your room, closing the door shut, breathing heavily. He can’t be.

Your heart was beating faster than ever as the memories of the day before he had left filled your mind. Shutting your eyes, you tried to wipe the scene away, but you knew already that your attempts would fail anyway.

“You should tell him” Nat pleaded, looking at you.

You were laying in your bed, eyes still red from crying. The day before, you had learned that your crush, James Buchanan Barnes was leaving for one and a half year for a mission. How on Earth were you suppose to survive that amount of time without him?

“I can’t just go and tell him, his leaving in few hours anyway” you swallowed your tears. 

“Then you’ll regret that he left and you didn’t tell him. What if he dies or something?” she told you, squeezing your hand.

“Natasha!” you exclaimed outraged.

“I’m just… I really hate seeing you like this. Please, just go and tell him” she pleaded again. “If he doesn’t feel the same way, then, he is the one missing out.”

Finally, not knowing exactly how, you were standing in front of the door to his room, taking another one of the thousands of calming breaths. You raised your hand curled up into fist, trying so hard to knock at the stupid wood, but something was still holding you back. To your surprise, the door opened before you, revealing Bucky, your Bucky, standing in his room.

“Oh, Y/N, hey” he beamed at you, making your knees even weaker. “Come on in.”

“Hi” you replied quietly as you walked into his room.

“What’s up kid?’ he asked you, throwing out another pile of clothes out of his closet, before putting them into his bag.

“I…um… I came to say goodbye I guess” you stuttered, eyes avoiding his.

“Oh” you could feel a slight disappointment in his voice. “Already?”

“Yeah, I mean… I guess I want to spare myself from pain, you know, it’s like with a band aid, the faster you remove it, the better” you rambled on a little, which made him chuckle slightly. However, no matter how hard you tried, he could still see through your façade and he knew that something was off.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” he asked with a sudden concern, dropping his clothes and making his way to you, which made your heart skip a beat.

“Natasha made me do this…” you started, stuttering again, feeing flustered.

“Made you do what?” he tried to look into your eyes, failing as you avoided his gaze at all costs. Finally, he lifted your chin with his human fingers and held it, so you couldn’t do anything but stare into his grey orbs. His eyes made your heart melt as they always did, but this time you knew, there was no coming back.

“Tell me, kid” he whispered concerned, sending a warming smile to you that you’ve grown to love so much. God, he was perfect.

“I-I… I like you Bucky. I really like you” you finally confessed, feeling like a huge concrete block was finally off of your chest. Breathing heavily, you smiled for the first time in hours. It was that easy. Saying these words was the biggest relief you had felt in your life.  

However, your face fell once you saw Buck’s expression. He removed his hand from your face, looking at you wide-eyed, brows furrowed in confusion. He was more than shocked. You couldn’t not like him. Everyone, but not you, you were so innocent, so pure and young… He was a monster compared to you.

“W-what?” was all he managed to say, shifting his gaze to the floor.

“I like you” you told him once again, smile reappearing on your face for just a second until he took a step back from you.

“What, you don’t…? Oh you don’t, okay, that’s okay, I mean, I’ll just um… I’ll just go.”You turned on the balls of your feet, eyes filling with tears, but then he stopped you.

“Y/N…” he grabbed you by your wrist and faced you.

“No, it’s fine really…” your voice was cracking, you knew that, but smile was not leaving your face. You had to live through it. No matter how hard or humiliating it was going to be.

“No, Y/N, I… I am flattered” he tried to find the right words, already regretting all of this. “It’s just… I am over  seventy years older than you, I…We… We can’t do this, you’re a child…”

“It’s not like I’m seven” you said a little offended by his words, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

“No, no, of course, not…” he knew he failed again, but he had no idea how to play this one. “But I am… I am a terrible person, Y/N.”

“No, you’re not” your voice was barely audible, but for him it sounded loud like a scream.

“You don’t know me Y/N!” he raised his voice at you for the first time ever. “You have no idea of what I’ve done! I… I’ve murdered people, I’ve done horrible things.”

You trembled a little, you had never seen this side of him and you were most definately scared of it.

“And you’re so young Y/N, you have a whole life ahead of you, you shouldn’t waste it…” he continued until he saw tears rolling down your cheek.

“Y/N, I…” his voice softened. 

“No, you’re right…” you breathed out, wiping the tears away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“I respect you” he started, grabbing you by your arms. “I care for you, so darn much Y/N… But this… This is not… We’re not…” he struggled finding the right words, swallowing thickly. “We’re just not meant to be, Y/N.”

He tried to look away, your tears making him feel even worse, but he just couldn’t. He did care about you deeply. He really did. But he couldn’t agree to any of this. He couldn’t let you waste your life with him, you deserved so much better.

“Maybe… one day” he tried to cheer you up somehow, not quite believing himself. You just nodded and released yourself from his hold. He didn’t try to stop you that time, he didn’t have the strength to be honest. Turning away, you headed towards the door, with a heavier heart than you had walked in with.

“Take care, Bucky” you said with your back facing him. It was the last thing you had said to him before he had left.

You stood with all of your teammates in the hallway, waiting for Bucky to arrive. Everyone was excited, except for you. You were just terrified. You had imagined your meeting thousands times in your head, but standing there, minutes away from facing him after all that time, you couldn’t be more scared.

And then, the door opened.

He was back.

With a huge grin plastered across his face, he dropped his bags, before greeting with all of you. Hugging Steve first, he slowly made his way to you. Saved the best for last, you thought.

He had the same leather jacket on that he would always wear, but it was a little bigger on him at that moment, his hair was pulled back slightly as always, but in a less groomed way and his five o’clock shadow was replaced by a beard. Yet, he still managed to look as handsome as ever.

Finally, gathering all of the courage he could, he looked into your eyes and the whole world stopped. One and a half year. You both changed, but in that moment, you felt like a missing element in your life was finally back.

He had a puzzled expression at first, but slowly, a smile crept onto his face. Your racing heart slowed down ever so slightly as you saw him smirk. That goddamn smirk that made you fall for him in the first place. Something warm filled your insides and you started to feel at home once again.

“You’re back” you breathed out quietly, not being able to stop your lips from curling into a shy smile.

“I’m back” his gaze was not leaving yours, before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. “And I’m really glad to be” he whispered into your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You took a deep breath, while closing your eyes as warmth overtook your body.

“Me too.”

[areswriting]

a x e : xviii

My shoulders shake with a silent sob as I fall against the wall behind me. I curl against it, my hand covering my eyes, because I can’t watch them take Elise away—but I know that they need to. In a perfect world, I would come to her rescue. No. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t be here. In a perfect world—she would be healthy and full of life. But this world is not perfect. She is not healthy—and what little life Elise has, she takes from herself every day.

The door slams shut and I’m ready to let myself fall to the floor and break into a hundred thousand pieces. I’m ready to find God and beg, plead, pray for him to spare her—we’ll stop what we’re doing, just please let her live. I can’t lose someone else. It’s less of a prayer and more of a bargain, but most of all it’s a realization. She’s the other half of my heart; the second beat. Or maybe the first—God, I just know I can’t live without her.

“Sir?”

I look up and see that I’m not alone—that the doctor didn’t leave the room. “Why aren’t you with her?” I try to shout, but my voice is small and broken.

“I assure you, she’s in great hands,” he says, stepping nearer. “You did well by bringing her in today. Had you not gotten her here when you did, she would have died.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I say. “And she did die—”

“She did,” he nods, “But you saved her life.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I stood in the corner—you saved her and you need to go and keep saving her.”

“We actually need her parents here to treat her since she’s underage,” he explains. “Do you know how to reach her mother?”

I shake my head. “Her mother isn’t in the picture—her dad’s name is Simon O’Hair, but he’s in California. You can’t wait for him to get here to help her.”

“Mr…?”

“Dyer,” I say.

“Mr. Dyer, we just need consent, it can be over the phone,” he explains. “We’re going to do everything that we can.”

▲ △ ▼ ▽

“What do you mean, I can’t see her?”

The nurse gently folds her hands and offers a look of sympathy even a blind person could see through. “I’m sorry, but Ms. Allaire is underage and we only allow immediate family in the ICU.”

“Can you at least tell me how she’s doing?” I ask. “She’s been back there for almost twenty-four hours.”

“As I’m sure her other nurses have informed you, we aren’t allowed to give information to anyone who isn’t family,” she says, plastering a fake smile to go with her fake compassion.

“This is ridiculous!” I snap. “Can you tell me if she’s breathing?”

The nurse sighs and pulls me into the corner of the room, where several pairs of eyes follow us. “She’s breathing, okay?”

“On her own?” I press.

“Yes,” she says quietly. “She’s breathing on her own. But I can’t tell you anything else.”

“Fine—thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes as I turn to walk away. I find comfort in a plastic recliner and look at my phone. My reflection on the black screen shows deep, dark circles around my swollen, blood shot eyes. My body begs for sleep, but my mind won’t let it come.

The screen lights up with a picture of Jason and I quickly silence and ignore his call. Within seconds, texts from him flood my notification bar.

J: Where are you? Are you with Elise? Are you guys ok?

J: The school notified dad and Cerise that you two aren’t here.

J: Wtf is going on?

J: Abram???

I consider not opening them—but that wouldn’t be fair to Jason.

I’m fine. Elise is in the hospital, they won’t tell me what’s wrong. Don’t tell Cerise.

No sooner than the message sends, Jason is calling me again—and I ignore him. Again.

I can’t talk. I’ll let you know something as soon as I know something.

J: Seriously?

I don’t bother opening the message, instead I turn it off completely and rest my head in my hands. I knew this day was going to come—I just thought I had more time. And that’s all I can think about for the next two hours.  

“Abram?”

I slowly raise my head. A dishevelled Simon runs toward me and I jump to my feet. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me and I shock myself by hugging him back—not knowing I needed that until it happened.

“Is she okay?” he asks, pulling away.

“They won’t tell me anything,” I say.

He nods and walks to the desk. I hear him tell the woman sitting there that he is Elise’s father and she presses a magical, hidden button that opens the door to the ICU. Once Simon disappears through it, I deflate back into the recliner and close my eyes. I’m at ease knowing that at least now, she isn’t alone.

A gentle hand on my shoulder stirs me and my eyes pop open revealing Simon bent down in front of me. I rub my eyes, looking from him to the clock on the wall—it’s three hours later than it was the last time I looked at it.

“Is everything ok?” I say, pushing myself out of the recliner.

Simon nods, smiling. “She’s stable and she wants to see you.”

“I’m not allowed,” I say, stifling a yawn as I stretch.

“I gave my permission,” he says. “Go, I’ll get us something to eat while you visit with her.”

When I look at the door, I see the nurse that had refused to let me go back motioning for me and I say thank you to Simon before power walking to her.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you come back earlier,” she says.

“Where do I go?” I say, not caring how sorry she is pretending to be.

She leads me through the ICU and directs me to room 9. I run through the open glass door to see Elise waiting with her arms outstretched.

I try not to fall on top of her when I hug her, but I can’t help but to pile myself onto the bed beside her. She clings to me and doesn’t let go and I feel her tiny body shaking against mine.

“Abram—I’m—I—I’m sorry,” she sobs against my neck as her small hands grip the back of my shirt.

I shush her and shake my head, my eyes filling with tears of relief. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I do,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you.”

“I’m just glad that you’re okay,” I say, my hand brushing down the back of her hair. “I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry about that, too,” she goes on. She pulls away to look at me and I quickly wipe my faces with the back of my hand. “Abram, the doctor told me—he told me that you saved me.”

“I didn’t,” I say.

“You did,” she says, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. “If you hadn’t forced me here—I would be dead. Technically, I did die, but you’re the only reason I’m still here.”

“You’re going to win this, Elise,” I say. I grab her hands—and for the first time, they are warm. “You already look so much better—I—”

“I know,” she says. She brings my hand up to her mouth and kisses my knuckles. “I know. This is going to sound vain and bratty but my teeth—they’re not healthy. I can’t lose my teeth.”

I laugh and cup her face and plant a kiss on her forehead. “If it takes the state of your teeth to help you, that’s fine—I just want you to be ok.”

She grips my wrists and leans into my palm before kissing it. I want to pull her in and kiss her mouth and it takes everything in me to stop myself from doing so.

“Abram,” says Elise, her eyes on mine. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

I swallow hard and gently shake my head, prying myself away from her. “Jason is really worried about you—you need to call him.”

Her eyes avert over my shoulder and her face falls. “Mama?”

It takes the sound of heels clicking for me to look over my shoulder. Cerise saunters from the door to the end of the bed, hair done up, all tight white dress and diamonds.

“Sors, ​​mon garcon,” Cerise snaps and lays her coat over the back of a chair. When I don’t budge she places her hands on her hips. “Voulez-vous que j'appelle la sécurité?”

“Abram, go,” Elise says, glaring at her mother. “I’ll be fine.”

With a scowl at her mother, I do as Elise says and leave her room. I find my way back to the waiting room and I feel my heart skip a beat then pound relentlessly when I take in Malachi, who stands with his arms folded across his chest.

“How did I know I’d find you here?” he says.

“Someone had to take her to the hospital,” I say.

“Does it look like I care?” Malachi replies. He places his hand on my shoulder—just where my bruises are starting to fade, and squeezes. “What did I tell you about embarrassing me?”

“Is there a problem here?” I look to my left to see Simon with two boxes of food in his hands. He sets them on a chair and moves to stand in front of my father.

Malachi releases his iron grip and extends his hand to Simon. “Malachi Rose. Abram’s father. And we only have one problem. My son.”

Simon looks at his hand but doesn’t take it. “Simon, Elise’s father,” he replies. “And I’m not sure what the problem is, exactly, seeing as though your son saved my daughter’s life.”

Malachi laughs. “He’s had some issues with skipping school, isn’t that right, Abram?” I nod and look at my feet. “I’m only here to make sure he gets back there.”

“Why don’t you let me give him a ride?” says Simon. “Their school isn’t that far from here.”

“That’s not necessary,” says Malachi. “I want to spend some quality time with my boy.”

▲ △ ▼ ▽

The tires squeal as the car turns out of the hospital parking lot, sending me flying against the passenger door. I try to adjust myself, but my seat belt locks up and I can hardly move.

“Is this how you were driving when you killed her?” Malachi asks as the engine revs and the car speeds off. “Like a fucking idiot?”

“Or did you brake too soon?”

I watch his foot slam onto the brake pedal, and if it wasn’t for my locked seat belt, I’m sure I would have gone through the windshield.

“Answer me, goddamn it!” he screams and pounds his fist onto the steering wheel. “You aren’t allowed to sit there and look like you’re scared—not after what you’ve done!”

He reaches over and unclicks my seatbelt, his foot pressing the gas pedal all the way down.

“Were you speeding? Huh? Answer me!”

“Someone hit us,” I scream back at him. “They came into our lane and—”

“Like this?” Malachi jerks the wheel to the left, just barely missing a car in the other lane. “Huh? Is that how it happened? You just let someone swerve over and hit you?!”

I grab the handle above the door with both hands, hanging onto it with a white-knuckle grip. Malachi doesn’t let off of the gas, and when we’re on the freeway, he swerves in and out of traffic until there are no cars in front of us.  

“She shouldn’t have died,” he says—and I’m more scared now that he’s not screaming. “She shouldn’t have died.”

And when I see tears roll down his cheek? I’m terrified.

“God, I would have died for her a hundred times—why did you do this to me?” His fist hits the steering wheel again, only this time it seems like all of his strength has been sucked out of his body. “Why, God. Why.”

He looks over at me—and his body shakes the same way mine does when I break. When anger is no longer enough to contain my pain. When it rips its way out of me.

“I can’t even look at you,” he says, and while I hear the disdain in his voice, I also hear something else. The vacant rattling sounds of something once soft, but now dead. “All I can see is her.”

“How do you think I feel?” I say. “When I look in the mirror and see her—but knowing I’m nothing but the worst parts of you.”

The back of Malachi’ hand slaps hard against my mouth, which immediately fills with blood.

“Hit me back,” he shouts, shoving me so hard that the car swerves. “Come on, you big fucking jug head. Hit me. Big bad hockey player—come on you pussy! HIT ME.”

“NO,” I shout, and blood spews all over his seat. “I may have gotten all of the worst parts of you—but I am better than you. I don’t beat on people, you fucking monster!”

The back of his hand hits hard against my mouth again, effectively silencing me the rest of the way back to Middlebury.

[saintworthit-blog]

O’ Sweet Daughter Mine: Chapter One - Daddy’s Home

Chapter One: Daddy's Home

Songs (Audio Enhancement)

"Easy Living" by Billie Holiday.

"Who Did That To You?" by John Legend.

"Hang Me, Oh Hang Me," by Dave Van Ronk.

On days like this, Eliza would be by the lake.

It was the middle of spring, and the air was cool and brisk: the perfect time to play by the lake. It was too cold and too shallow for swimming, but other children were bound to be there, skipping rocks and playing tag. In the summer, the lake would be an arid, dried-up wasteland, and nobody would want to play outside anymore.

But today was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The pristine smell of the mountains melded perfectly with the forest dew. A fresh bouquet of snow graced the mountaintops like a blanket. A perfect day to play. But instead, Eliza was stuck at home, wasting away the good Springtime. She sighed. It wasn't like she was allowed to leave the house when her father was away working.

The Sharp family lived on top of a hill overlooking the town of Cold Springs, a sleepy community, just a stone's throw away from New Reno. They lived in a one story, three-room cabin, near the forest. Electricity was limited, and even on good days, the Sharps barely had enough to power their home. On cold days, it was freezing, and on hot days it was sweltering. The ground wasn't suitable for farming, and no animal could live off of the land. There was only one appealing factor of the Sharp family home, and that was the isolation. Way up in the hills, nobody often came up there. On good days, at least.

Eliza didn't have many good days.

On this day, Eliza was busy, repairing the water pump. Her father had built it a while back, and the Sharps had never been short of water since. It came out a little brown, but it was clean, and most importantly, it was free.

"We don't drink any government rationed water around here," she remembered her father saying. "I ain't paying for it. A man gets his own water."

Eliza wanted the pump to be fixed before her father came back from his delivery run. He'd been gone for a few days. Eliza noticed that the longer he took on his deliveries, the worse he'd smell when he got back. So Eliza always made sure that whenever her father completed a delivery, he'd have a hot bath waiting for him at home.

The water was not coming out the tap as intended, instead leaking out at the base. A loose pipe perhaps. She cursed under her breath, and went to work, wrench in hand.

While her father was away, Eliza was expected to take care of the cabin, which was even more boring than it sounded. Nothing ever happened around the Sharp family household. Some days, a stray mole-rat might pop out of the woods, but they were so easy to get rid of, Eliza gave up on killing them (The Sharps had made a makeshift spear out of deadwood to get rid of pests. They called it the "Sharp Thingy") and instead toyed with them, luring them away with bait, or trapping them with rocks. She even took to naming them; a habit frowned upon by her father.

She wished her father would teach her how to shoot. Every time she helped clean his guns, she always contemplated what it would be like to shoot something. To kill something. Her friend from school, Jake Sutter claimed he once shot a brahmin with his daddy's shotgun. "Shot one of the heads clean off!" he bragged to everyone in earshot. She secretly hated Jake Sutter; his family was rich, and hers was not. Ever since that day, she had wanted to learn how to shoot. She had made a point to bring it up with her father, but he was always too busy to listen.

Eliza hated the days when he went away. She wasn't allowed to go to school; he'd sent a note to her principal, excusing her from her studies when he was working. She was only allowed to go into town if absolutely necessary. Other than that, she was stuck up on their house in the hills.

She gave the wrench another strong turn. The pipes looked pretty tight. She pulled the lever. A rush of familiar, brown-tinged water came rushing through. She sighed in relief, running her hands under the stream. Nice and cold.

"Yes!" Eliza exclaimed, proud of herself.

"Well, ain't that nice," called a voice from behind her.

Eliza spun around quickly. Behind her were two men. Bandits, by the looks of it. She gulped. Nobody ever came up here. On a good day at least.

The first man was tall and lanky. He wore a dirty black coat over a gauche purple suit. He had a thick black mustache, and an ugly black top hat. Under his hat, Eliza spotted tufts of purple hair. A large revolver hung by his waist. The second man was a short, pot-bellied man who wore puke coloured overalls, worn over a filthy white shirt. In his hands, he carried a rather large knife. What Eliza most noticed about him right away was his smell. She was standing a fair distance away from him, and yet she could still distinguish the man's vile odor.

"Hey there, little miss," asked the purple-haired man.

"Hello mister," Eliza said, politely.

"You seem a little young to be all out here on your own. How old are you?"

"I'm ten."

The two men snickered. She raised an eyebrow.

"You're a pretty little thing. What's your name?" asked the smelly man.

"My name is Elizabeth Josie Sharp. But people call me Eliza," she said, frowning. She didn't like the look of these two. "What's your name?"

The purple-haired man gestured to his smelly friend. "This here is Bully Bogan. And they call me Purple Randy. You know why they call me Purple Randy?"

Eliza shook her head.

"They call me purple on account of my hair. And they call me Randy cause I'll fuck just about anything." The two men broke into laughter.

Eliza grimaced. She heard that word a lot: from her father mostly. She had never known it to be associated with anything good.

"We don't have much, but our water pump is working again, so we have plenty of water. Can I get you some to drink?" asked Eliza politely.

"No need for that. Is your momma home, Eliza Sharp?" asked Bully Bogan.

"My momma's dead. Radiation poisoning took her when I was young. Daddy buried her up on that hill," Eliza responded bluntly.

"Ain't that a crying shame" said Purple Randy, smirking. "And what about your daddy? Is your daddy home?"

She bit her lip. "My daddy's away working. He's a courier. He'll be back soon though."

"Oh Christ, Randall!" said Bogan, his voice broke into a whisper. "Ain't her daddy Albert fucking Sharp?"

"Quit worrying, he ain't around. Ain't that right little darling?" affirmed Randy, laughing. "You're all alone out here, aren't ya?"

Eliza dug her feet into the dirt. "He's coming back! Any minute now. So if you're tryna' rob us or anything-"

"Rob you? Oh no, not at all little miss!" snarled Bogan. "We just wanna get to know you, is all." The two men began to stalk dangerously closer to Eliza.

"I wanna know what you got under that pretty pink dress of yours."

"I don't got nothing under this dress," scolded Eliza.

"Oh I don't think so. You know what you got under that dress?"

Eliza shook her head once more.

"A ten-year old, pretty pink pussy," sneered Purple Randy. His friend cackled. "I think I want a piece of it."

Purple Randy suddenly grabbed Eliza's waist, while the other man grabbed her arms. Eliza let out a scream. She could feel their hands, ripping and tearing away at her clothes. She bit, kicked and screamed.

She heard Bogan squeal in piggish delight. The two men wrestled her to ground. Bogan grabbed her arms and held her down.

"Let go! Lemme go!" Eliza continued to struggle against the stranger's dirty hands. She watched in fear, as Purple Randy began to undo his belt.

"You a fighter, Eliza?" he asked. He brought his pants down. Eliza looked in horror at the thing in his legs. "I'll beat some sense into you!" he cackled. But suddenly, a voice called out from behind them.

"HEY!" It was a loud, barking voice. An angry, frightening voice. Eliza smiled.

It was her daddy's voice.

Purple Randy and Bully Bogan turned to look at the stranger behind them.

He was dressed head to toe in black, from his black boots to his black hat. He wore a thick duster over black armor, emblazoned with the shiny white image of a two-headed bear, made impeccably noticeable by years of thorough cleaning (Eliza liked that bear). His eyes were empty and soulless, and his hands were quick, ever-moving. A large gun was strapped to his side. His gaze was set straight on the bandits attacking his daughter.

Purple Randy didn't seem to recognize the danger in front of him.

"This ain't any of your business stranger. Keep walking," said Randy.

"This is my goddamn house. And that's my goddamn daughter," he snarled.

The color disappeared from Bogan's face. "Aw shit! It's Albert Sharp! I told you we shouldn'ta gone up this far-"

Eliza barely blinked as Bogan's sentence was cut short by a loud crack, as a round went straight through the man's throat. Blood shot out of the bandit's neck like a geyser, as Bogan fell to the ground, clutching at his fatal wound. She looked to her father, his gun suddenly in his hand. He pointed it at Purple Randy.

Purple Randy was now a pure shade of white. Fumbling, Randy aimed his gun at his attacker, letting out a shot in panic.

The bullet zipped into her father's arm, tearing a small hole in his duster. He really did love his duster. He took one look at the bullet hole, and looked back to Randy incredulously.

"Motherfucker!" he exclaimed.

Randy dropped his gun, his fingers paralyzed in fear. He held up his hands in surrender.

"N-now hold on, mister Sharp. I-I was just on my way, you needn't worry 'bout me no m-more!"

Her father reached into his jacket, pulling out his knife: the one that Eliza was never allowed to touch.

The bandit dropped to his knees. "P-please! I'll never come back I promise!" The outlaw spotted his gun on the ground. He made a motion to grab it, but was intercepted by Eliza, who quickly snatched it away. Eliza then brought the butt-end of the pistol down on Randy's face, who howled in pain, clutching his forehead.

Randy looked up. Above him stood the man with the large knife. He raised it above his head.

"P-please-"

Eliza looked away.

When it was all said and done, they didn't even bother to bury them.

Her father took each bandit in one arm, dragging them as if they were lifeless sacks of meat; which they now very well were. Eliza noticed that his left arm was bleeding heavily, but he didn't seem to notice.

He dragged them up over the hill, into the woods, where the colony of mole-rats lived. He told her to stay a far distance away, but she wanted to see what happened next.

The mole-rats and the Sharp family had a mutual understanding. The mole-rats left the Sharps alone, and the Sharps wouldn't kill them. While it was rather inconvenient to have such vermin close to home, it did offer some sort of "protection," so to speak. To any brave bandit who came through the woods looking to off one of the Sharps, they'd meet their grisly fate in a nest of hungry mole-rats.

The two made their way to a ridge, overlooking a small clearing- a pit. All around the walls of the pit were holes, large enough for a dog to crawl through. Tunnels, made by mole-rats. Eliza stared into the pit. Inside it, wrapped around the skeletalised arm of a dead raider, was a shiny, brown leather Pip-Boy. She recognized it on the arms of wealthy travelers, passing through to New Reno. Not even Jake had one. She eyed it greedily. Her father looked at her.

"Don't go in there," he warned.

"I won't," she pouted.

He flung the two bodies down into the pit. Eliza watched as the corpses comically tumbled down into the clearing. A minute or so passed by. Eliza looked at her father.

"Just wait. They'll smell 'em."

Sure enough, a few seconds later, out from a hole popped a single mole-rat. It was a large one, muscled and hairy. It's leathery skin stretched out over it's entire body. A distinguishing brown mark adorned its side.

"It's Mocha," Eliza said quietly.

"Mocha" carefully walked up to the two corpses lying in the clearing, sniffing at them. He took a bite, tearing off Bully Bogan's ear. As he chewed, he started to squeal, signalling to the rest of the family that dinner was on.

Suddenly, another mole-rat popped out from the ground. Then another. Then another, and another, and another, until there were dozens of mole-rats, swarming the bandits.

Eliza watched in fascination as the mole-rats went to work, stripping the flesh from their bones. She could barely make out the bodies under the tidal wave of pink, leathery, wriggly vermin. Eliza watched as Mocha took a huge chunk out of the smelly man's neck, leaving the head dangling from the body by a string, until it was torn away by the rodents. Another fat mole-rat came and dug itself between the Randy's legs, tearing off the disgusting thing with it's sharp teeth. She looked to her father.

"Why don't they ever come up and eat us?" she asked.

Her father stared emotionlessly at the macabre spectacle.

"Because if they ever did, I'd kill 'em," he replied.

He spat into the pit, which went unnoticed by the squirming creatures.

"Fuck 'em." And with that final statement, he turned and walked back towards the house.

Eliza took one last look into the pit. She watched as the blank-eyed face of Purple Randy was slowly torn apart. She spat into the pit.

"Fuck 'em," she said quietly to herself, as she ran off to rejoin her daddy.

Another fight. Another fresh new pair of scars for Eliza to treat.

Once they were inside their cabin, Eliza helped her father out of his armor. She looked at his chest. It was adorned with new wounds, scars and cuts. None more serious than the fresh bullet hole in his arm. He took a seat against the wall as Eliza retrieved the first-aid kit. He looked fatigued- he was pale and sweaty, and it looked like he hadn't eaten in awhile.

"Do we have Med-X?" he groaned, as she applied the tweezers to the wound.

"It doesn't look that bad. An' we don't have that much Med-X left," she said, clumsily trying to extract the bullet from his shoulder. He winced.

"I don't care. Get the Med-X," he said, taking a deep breath. "Your hands are shaking all to hell."

"Sorry," Eliza mumbled, as she got up to retrieve the medicine box from the bathroom.

Eliza had learned the basic fundamentals of first-aid a few years ago, back when her father came back from a particularly hard day of work. His leg had been shattered, as he had jumped off a particularly steep ridge while escaping the clutches of a band of raiders. He showed up to the house, wobbling and cursing, bleeding half to death. The femur had protruded his thigh; a thick, shining white bone, dripping in blood. He collapsed onto the floor, a few moments away from dying of shock. As he lay there, screaming his lungs out, Eliza frantically went to work. Working off an old physicians magazine, she sterilized the wound, created a makeshift splint, and properly administered painkillers. It was only due to Eliza's skills as a medic that he was able to hold on until she could run into town and fetch the surgeon. She was six.

"Hurry up!" he called. Eliza cursed under her breath. There was only one dose of Med-X left in the box.

"This is the last one we have," she told him, carefully applying the syringe to his arm. She slowly pushed down, administering the Med-X. Her dad's breathing slowed. He closed his eyes in relief.

"Thanks," he said, his voice sounding more steady. "What about whiskey? Are we out of that?"

"Uhm…" She got up and went to the kitchen. It was times like this she appreciated having a small house- it made her chores easier. Like retrieving daddy's alcohol. She opened their tiny fridge. It was dryer than the lake in the summer time.

"...No, no more whiskey."

"Shit," he breathed slowly. "Check the bottles. What do we have?"

Eliza carefully inspected the clinking glass bottles in the back of their dirty fridge.

"There's beer...something called "B'kardy"...an' there's this clear glass bottle of water…"

"What does the label say?"

"...Ab-slut Vodka."

"That's the one. Bring it here," he said, beckoning her closer.

Eliza sighed, and pulled out the glass bottle. It was half full, and warm. The fridge hadn't been working properly for weeks. She handed the bottle to her father.

"Thank you," he said, taking it graciously. "And it's pronounced 'Absolute'," he said, twisting off the cap, and putting the bottle to his mouth. He burped.

"Then why's there no 'E'?" she asked.

"I don't know," he admitted, taking another swig. He offered the bottle to her. Eliza recoiled.

"That stuff tastes yucky," she said, grimacing at the bottle. She never tried that particular one before, but all of dad's bottles had a similar, unpleasant taste.

"You don't drink it for the taste," he said. "Your hands shaking like crazy. You keep doing that and the bullets likely to sink deeper into me. I need you stable."

Eliza's face distorted unsuredly. Her father's voice softened.

"Just a little bit. Come on," he said, comfortingly.

She grabbed the bottle.

The vodka made Eliza's hands steady, but it also made her feel sick. She had successfully extracted the bullet, and she had managed to staunch the bleeding. Her father's arm was now nicely wrapped up in thick white bandages ("You saved us a trip to the Doctor, huh?"). Now, however, Eliza was feeling rather ill. Her head was spinning and her tummy ached a little. Her father told her to lie down.

He too, was experiencing some slight dizziness, from the mixture of painkillers and alcohol. He sat up against the wall, head up, eyes closed, breathing softly.

Eliza buried herself in the couch pillows. Her head felt very warm, she thought. She felt ill, but at the same time, strangely energetic. She nudged her father.

"I don't feel good," she said, poking him.

"Mm," he grunted.

She poked him again. "I don't feel good," she repeated.

He tisked. "It's just the vodka. Sleep it off. You'll feel better in the morning," he said slowly.

Eliza shook her head. "No I won't. Whenever you drink that stuff, you always wake up cranky."

"Will you shut up?" he asked, annoyed. He closed his eyes once more.

"Daddy? What's a 'pussy'?" she asked him.

"It's that thing between your legs. Don't ever say that word again."

"Oh. Cause Purple Randy said he wanted a piece of it. Why'd he want a piece of it?"

"Who the fuck is Purple Randy?" asked her father angrily.

Eliza made a small head motion towards the woods behind her. Her father sighed.

"Because some people are fucking evil, alright?"

"Is it 'bout 'sex?'" she asked.

"How you know about that?"

"Jake Sutter told me."

Her father grumbled. "I'm gonna stop sending you to that fucking school…"

"I'm hungry," Eliza whined.

"We don't have any food," he snapped.

She groaned. Her stomach rumbled disappointingly, as the notion of a hot meal evaporated. She heard her father sigh.

"Look, tomorrow morning, I'll take you into town, and I'll buy you a new dress. Then afterwards, we can go get breakfast, okay?"

Her eyes lit up. "Milo's?" she asked. Milo's Bar and Diner was Eliza's favorite restaurant in town. On the off days they could afford to eat there, Milo was always ready to serve them. He had a nice smile. He gave her extra syrup on her pancakes.

"Sure. You can get some of those…what are they called? The thing you like?"

"Pancakes," she said dreamily. "Are you sure we can eat at Milo's?"

"Mhm," her father grunted. "I'm getting paid tomorrow."

"Oh, good. Cause we also need to buy more Med-X an' more whiskey, an' a new dress."

Eliza carefully played with the loose string on the couch. The ache in her tummy was beginning to dissipate.

"Can I be a courier like you? When I'm older?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why do you want to be a courier?"

She shrugged. "You get to go places. See a lot of stuff."

"There ain't a lot of 'stuff' worth seeing these days, sweetheart," he laughed softly. "Ain't worth the trouble. Be a doctor. You're good at it."

"I don't wanna be a doctor."

"Well, you're damn sure not going to be no courier," he replied curtly.

Eliza shifted in her couch. "Jake Sutter says that his daddy used to be a courier. Said his daddy had the fastest gun in all of California."

"Sutter? The fucking mayor's kid?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Tell your friend he's a fucking moron, and that his daddy's an even bigger moron." He spat into the ground. "He was never a fucking courier."

"How do you know?" Eliza asked.

Her father's reply was tinged with venom: "No fucking 'politician' could do what I do. Least of all, Bill fucking Sutter. Any junkie with a pistol could kill three Bill Sutters."

"Okay…" said Eliza. A few awkward moments of silence went by. Then, a thought wormed it's way inside Eliza's head.

"Daddy?" she asked innocently. "Will you teach me how to shoot?"

"No," he said, not even opening his eyes.

"Pleaseee?" Eliza begged. "It'll be easy! I already know 'bout all the types of bullets, an' I can use the small gun that you keep behind the bed, an'-"

His eyes shot open. "How do you know about that gun?" he barked. Eliza jumped a bit.

"...Found it."

"Listen to me," he said, looking her in the eyes. "You don't touch my guns, understand?

Eliza pouted immediately. "Why not?" she whined. "Jake Sutter said-"

"Shut the fuck up about Jake fucking Sutter," her father snapped. "I'm not teaching you to shoot."

Angered, Eliza stomped the flimsy wall behind her. The entire house seemed to shake.

"I hate you! You never let me do anything!" she yelled.

His laughter did nothing to cease her ire. "Shit, my daughter's a mean drunk. I feel sorry for your future husband."

"You're the worst dad ever!" she cried.

He stopped laughing. He turned to look at her. She looked back at him defiantly. Some days, she could get away with small things. Other days, however, he'd use his belt. She didn't care. Her eyes never broke with his. Her father opened his mouth to speak. Eliza braced herself.

"I know," he said. Having said that, her father then promptly fell asleep.

[loveissilentlyworthit]

Shout Out To All Ex-Best Friends

I don't know what makes me a bad friend since you did the same thing to me, ‘B’. The most painful part was, you didn't even tell me what I did wrong and slowly left me away like I am some fucking filthy smelly garbage. Yeah, go out with your other best friend that used to be mine too. Yeah, you and ‘A’ should be better hanged out without me. Heck, it's so fucking ironic that you and ‘A’ get to joke "I am better than you." and when I did the same to him, he gets 'triggered' at some point. It's so unfair. I know that you're impatient and hot-headed but when I am impatient even for just a little, you get so fucking annoyed and posted up a ranting post of me on Twitter like I did the biggest goddamn crime of my life. When ‘F’ told me about it, I just laughed it off like it's some kind of a joke.

You think I didn't know that you're fucking lying straight up in my face when I invited you two to come to my second open house in our personal group chat and you guys said you have family business?? You think I’m fucking stupid not to even notice? I didn’t even bother to ask you because I don’t want you guys to feel so fucking guilty about it.

[A: "I'm going for family day."]

[B: "Sorry, I have family issues right now."]

And THEN, you STRAIGHT up posting some pictures in our class group chat of YOU guys at one of our classmate’s open house which was made in the same day of my open house that I invited you to come. I am not mad or anything that you’re going to her open house but at LEAST fucking invite me because her house is like, so close to my house which is like 15 blocks away. I was relief to know that some of my classmates came to visit me and they played throwing darts at porch. But what really broke me inside were that they asked me “Where’s A and B? They didn’t come?” I told them that you guys were busy with family issues. I bet J noticed that you’re lying because I said that before you posted some pictures of you guys at one of our classmate’s open house.

WHOA, SUCH FRIENDS ARE YOU.

MUCH FAMILY ISSUES.

SO WOW.

HERE.

COME, I’LL GIVE YOU MULTIPLE CLAPS ON YOUR FACE.

I have never felt so betrayed in my entire life and B, you called me a fucking BAD friend for trying to make the same joke as you do but YOU started to see my jokes as a fucking insult while you could fucking do the same to me.

When you called me to start over our friendship, I was so fucking awkward and even hesitated to talk to you. Then you said I ticked you off somehow? Even though I only told you a story that doesn't even fucking involve with your life?

Is it the part when I used A's watercolour paint brush and you asked for it multiple times impatiently? But when I did that at you, you ended up getting mad at me? Whoa, I wasn't even mad at you when you asked me multiple of times but you called me a bad friend? Not just that, a bad influence too.

It's true that I cursed a lot but at least I fucking tried not to curse in front of your parents and I even slapped my own mouth when I accidentally curse. Like, I even tried to practice myself to say 'Screw it' and 'Crap' like Nathan Drake instead of 'Fuck it' and 'Shit'. Yeah, I'm still practicing because I am going to university soon. When I confessed to you about our past fun memories was because I saw someone acting like me in one of my group chat and I felt like I'm regretting something. You said you guys don't hate me or anything, yet why do I feel like you're just saying that to make me feel better?

Especially you, A. Your message sounds so insincere and it looked like you're chatting with B and copy pasted those messages and sent it to me in paragraph. I sent a paragraph message to you and you didn't even blue tick and seen my message for 3 MONTHS like you blocked me or something. Yet, you said you forgave me in that insincere message. At least B read it and replied. But now, she didn't but just read it instead of saying anything even I told her that I'm going to accept her apology.

Y'know I kept those pictures of our memories and I printed it out to make it into a frame? Heck, I feel so fucking emotional and depressed just by looking at it. I just want to lock those memories away in a box and hide it deep into the storage room or just dig up a hole in my lawn and bury deep it in.

I might make a treasure hunt paper for my future self to look for those locked memories. Or maybe go to Pont des Arts to lock away my feelings alone. Fuck what people said if it's only for lovers. Magical or not, I want to magically lock away my memories of it. I am still hurt for like 10 months because of you guys.

Do you guys know that R and her friends kept staring at me with pitiful eyes that says “Just look at her? She’s being left out by A and B.” When I chased to catch up to you guys multiple of times to the bus station.

What also really hurts me more was back in tuition. A didn’t come for History session. R said “I bet B would leave M and sit beside A if he came.” And guess what? A came for Math session and sat elsewhere because the seats beside us are occupied, and R’s words were right. I ended up leaving Math session because left me to sit beside A and didn’t even called me. J asked me what’s up and I said I feel sick. I ended up binge eating for the rest of the night because of that shit and slept for 15 hours straight and didn’t go to school. I kept on constantly skipping school because of you guys too. Don’t say it’s just because I am lazy and that I’m just accusing you guys.

Even though I hanged out with F, I became quiet when I am with her other friends because they don't even understand what I am talking about. I don't either but I still tried to blend in. I FUCKING TRIED.

When I talked to L (One of F's friends) about this certain anime NORMALLY, she and I enjoyed our company but F's friends HAD to cock block us and told us to finish our food before talking EVEN THOUGH, THEY'RE LIKE EXAGGERATING ABOUT KOREAN BOYS BAND LIKE THEY’RE OUT OF FUCKING AIR TO BREATHE AND SOME YAOI SHIPPING AMONG THE BTS MEMBERS WHILE EATING.

Wow. Just, wow. Like, hey little shit. I don't fucking care about those cute Korean guys you're talking about but don't fucking ruin the moment that I am enjoying. I ended up being the most silent person on that table and just answering questions. F even wondered why I became so quiet and gloomy because I used to be so bubbly and talkative and LOUD like Jackseptieye in his videos.

When you were sad, B, I tried to cheer you up but you called me annoying?? Whoa, okay boss. I won't bother you anymore if you're sad. But you might ranted about me that I'm not there for her. Don't say it's my fucking fault. But when I'm cheering you up, you said I couldn't read the situation. I did this, you called me annoying. I did that, you called me annoying.

What should I do? Nothing? You might called me useless too. I tried to fucking help you. I tried to brighten up the day when you had a fight with your mother. Or do you prefer for me to be a fucking savage at you to stop being sad over little things like that? Even I fought with my mother, yet I never intended to show my feelings but continued the rest of the day with a smile because knowing you're still there with me cheered my day up and made me smile. Knowing that I still have best friends in real life made me smile because I never had any best friends before in my real life, except for my close childhood friend that I'm still contacting from Edinburgh to Glasgow. I don't know how my online friends that I met in real life ACG events are much better than you. We roasted each other with sarcastic insults like it's a normal thing to do while you, A and B roasted each other while I can't be sarcastic with you guys.

It's true that I can't keep certain secrets which is WHY I have like 10 plushies for me talk about your secrets with but when I told you about it, you get fucking 'triggered' over the fucking plushies? Whoa, how childish can you fucking be? What if I told the world that you're weeding and also vape while we were fucking underage? Don't like it, yeah? But you still don't know who I am. [Please note that I have never weed or vape because I lived in a very religious family of 10 members. I don't even drink alcohol too.]

Some people might think I'm talking about their own ex-best friends, so don't jump to conclusions because you don't even know if it's your friend or me that posted these shits up. I don't even want to ruin people's friendship over a misunderstanding of this post. Okay, y'know what? I'm just going to call myself as M in this case. Ugh, drama here and drama there. Even though we didn't fight, I am still fighting over the fact that knowing you still avoiding me is making me fucking sick.

I don't even know how to fix this because I used to be very anti-social. But A, you're the reason that took away all of my depression. You came up right at me on my first day of school after I moved back in Edinburgh from Dubai. I thought I finally had real friends, but I guess I don't have at all. Maybe our memories are just an illusions of mine. Maybe I'm just going crazy over the fact that I'm lonely in real life and I don't have my own freedom since I am locked in this house of mine with very strict parents. I even created and drew some characters based of you two and now, just by looking at my characters I felt so depressed. Like, it’s so precious for me to throw it away because I’ve created background stories for them and also drew them. They’re also part of the main characters. We even drew each other in our own version of art style. At least F and N didn’t leave me alone. But I still couldn’t call them my best friends since we both don’t have any special memories together.

I'm turning 18 next month and I still think I won't be able to go out with my online friends that I've met multiple of times in events since they lived quite far from me. [My elder sister and my brothers went to ACG events to keep an eye on me.]

If you think I’m still upset about you, then yes. At least I didn't mentioned your real names because that would be very bad. o: I tried to change for the better yet, I’m changing for the worst because you, B, said I’m annoying when I’m trying to be by your side but you’re just being a bitch about it. I ended up screaming so loud at this fucking girl who went depressed and kept on degrading herself as stupid and an idiot which was so fucking annoying. I told her to just fucking move on and take her life seriously and she almost sounds so suicidal but at least my other friend went to counsel her thoughts. I tried so hard to keep my temper for 10 years because I’d actually have a very bad and worst temper than you do, B. I could scream at you in real life worse than what you did to me. I don’t care if others heard it but I would scream to the top of my lungs like I did when I was 8. Wanna know what I did? I threw the chair to the cabinet and broke both of them, because my maid didn’t let me go out to play with my friends. The chair almost hit my maid but she tried to calm me down with some ice creams like all good babysitting maid would do. And because of you, I snapped, losing my temper to the max over this one stupid guy who’s bullshitting that he didn’t go to prison or court for almost beating up some guys to almost death because fuck his logic.

[Him: “I didn’t go to court or prison because they said I wasn’t wrong for beating them up to almost death for insulting my mom.”]

[Me: “No, you should be in juvenile prison because that’s attempting murder.”]

[Person 1: “She’s right. You should be in jail by now.”]

[Him: “It was long time ago. The law must’ve change.”]

[Me: “What the fuck is wrong with your logic. Bro, my father is a fucking Associate Professor Doctor Faculty of Law.”]

[Him: “I don’t trust you.”]

[Me: “OH, LEMME SHOW YOU A PICTURE OF MY FATHER AND THE UNIVERSITY HE WORKED IN THAT HAS HIS FACE ON THE PANEL OF FACULTY OF LAW. HERE’S HIS NAME, YOU CAN SEARCHED UP HIS NAME.”]

[Him: showed a picture of my father Is this him?”]

[Me: “Yes. showed multiple pictures of my father and myself and this is father and I back in Istanbul trip. ❤ Oh wait, I won’t forget this one back in Korea and Egypt. ”]

And that’s the bullshit he’s spitting. He didn’t even go to juvenile prison. I don’t even know why I even bother someone like him but it just pissed me off already until I realised something… My close childhood friend was in that group chat when I lost my temper. My childhood friend is like the most pure innocent angel (she’s still innocent and doesn’t even know what porn is even though she’s like 18) and I promised myself not to lose my temper in front of her because I was afraid she would be scared of me. I ended up having a mental breakdown and cried for almost a few weeks over that fucking incident because I loved her like a lover but too bad I couldn’t marry her because I have a very religious family. I just wanted to protect her. I don’t want her to see this scary side of mine.

Well, I guess this is the end of my ranting post. I don’t want to sound too fucking annoying to other people. I know that the world is wide and some people out there experienced the exact same memories as mine. Their ex-best friends that did these to them might thought that it was them that posted this rant up.

To all you ex-best friends across the world, please don’t start a fight with them without knowing who’s putting this post up. Don’t even doubt the slightly because I don’t want things going to shit and people start committing suicide because of me. Also, pardon for my grammars because English is actually my third language. My first language was Chinese (I forgot how to Chinese even though I was born with a Chinese mother) and my second language shall remain a secret.

Credit goes to (C) M.