#something is wrong with me but right now it doesn’t feel that way

[writerdownbookworder]

“Hey!” I cry out in shock. Jason obviously can’t hear me, up on the platform through the screaming crowds, as he kisses Ella soundly on the lips.

When they pull apart, Ella’s face is red. They turn to the crowd and bow proudly.

I am in shock. There are tears pouring down my face, but I can’t feel them. I stare numbly at the stage. I pinch my arm to make sure I’m awake. 

It’s not a nightmare. It’s real.

The tall guy next to me looks over and frowns. He shouts over the noise, “Hey man, are you okay?”

I can only shake my head, eyes locked on the stage where Jason and Ella are holding hands and staring at each other as they answer questions from the reporters.

The man takes my arm, leading me onto a side street a few blocks away, where the noise is significantly reduced. 

“What happened?” he asks, offering me a bottle of water. 

“Tha-that’s my girlfriend,” I say shakily. 

His eyes go wide. 

“And,” I continue, gulping the water. “My best friend Jason. We’ve known each other since we were six! And Ella…”

I can feel the tears now, hot tears falling down my face as I start to sob. 

The man sighs deeply. “I’m sorry, man. That’s rough. I’m George, by the way.”

He offers his hand to shake, and I accept it with a shaky laugh. 

“Dylan.”

I wipe my eyes roughly, trying to stop the tears. Now that I’m a bit less shocked, I’m angry. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” George asks carefully. 

My hands clench into fists. “We’ve been dating for three years! I was going to…”

My voice trails off and I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small box. I thrust it at George angrily, putting my head in my hands. 

George doesn’t have to open it to know that the box contains a ring.

“I was going to ask tonight,” I whisper. 

He tries to hand the box back. “Call her. Or him. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding?”

I know deep down that he’s wrong, but I can’t ignore the brief hope that flares up in my chest at the possibility. 

I fumble my phone out of my pocket and desperately press Ella’s name, putting it on speaker. 

George and I listen to it ring several times before she picks up.

“Hey, baby!” Her voice is breathless. “I’m kinda busy, can I call you back?”

I close my eyes, hearing the crowd in the background. “Where are you, Ella? I was going to surprise you at work.”

This was true. That had been my pan before the whole fiasco happened and the streets were blocked.

“Oh, you know,” she says. “Just…in the back, working on something.”

“Sweetheart,” I say quietly. “Have you seen or talked to Jason today? He was supposed to meet me for lunch, but he never showed up.”

“Jason?” Ella’s voice jumps up an almost imperceptible note. “No, I haven’t seen Jason today! Listen, I’ll call you back in a few hours, baby. I’m really busy right now, you can stop by then, okay?”

George shakes his head slowly, eyes angry for me, a bit sad.

I can’t stop the tremble in my voice as I say, “Never mind, Ella. I saw you. It’s over between us. You can tell Jason the same thing from me. I don’t ever want to talk to you ever again.”

I stare at the phone in front of me as Ella gasps and sputters, protesting. I can’t bring myself to hang up.

So George leans over and does it for me, turning my phone off and handing it back to me.

“I, uh, left my bag back there,” I mumble, pointing back to where we had come from, where the crowds were still screaming. 

George nods. “Look, I gotta get back to work, but I put my number in your phone. If you wanna catch up later, talk, get coffee, whatever, just text me.”

I nod, with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

I push my way back through the crowds, miraculously finding my things right where I had left them. Ella and Jason are still on the platform, though now they look considerably less happy.

But their hands are still tangled together between them. 

Ella scans the crowd. Eventually, her eyes find mine. She nudges Jason and they both lock eyes with me, clearly pleading with me to talk to them.

I find it funny that in doing this, they ignore the reporter currently talking to them. He looks confused, trying to see who they are looking at.

I shake my head and turn around, pushing my way out of the crowd.

I hope my disgust was clear on my face.

You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.

[mrsmnsn]

“It looks better on you anyway…”

summary: you’ve been dating for a while and, to make you officially his, Eddie gives you something very special….

*no warnings only fluff (ok maybe there’s a bit of a suggestive content here but nothing too serious)*

(i had this draft for a while now and i loooove this headcannon! hope you like it as much as i do)

“What do you mean by it’s not official?” You desperately asked Robin

“Wait a minute, i didn’t say that! It is official, just not official official.” She says sipping her drink.

“Robin you’re not making any sense right now.” Nancy replies seeing how nervous you got.

The three of you were having a girls night at a bar, only to gossip, have some drinks and celebrate womanhood. But now, after a few drinks, you shared with the girls your story with Eddie and how it was when you finally got to be together. It was actually so casual and simple because Eddie knew you didn’t like to cause a big scene and to have all attention to you. So you had a nice date and on the way back to your house, before you could get in, he asked if you wanted to be his girl and if he could be your boyfriend. You didn’t waist a minute and involved him in a hug and a lot of kisses.

“I’m just saying that some couples like to make a gesture to make it official, so everyone else can see they’re taken. And, in your case, that’s not what happened.” Robin explains herself and now your head was thinking of all the things Eddie might have given to you

“Didn’t you hear her story? That was exactly the opposite Eddie was trying to do, he wanted to be a special moment for just the two of them. I think that’s very sweet of him.” Nancy and Robin keep arguing when it comes to you

“So you’re saying that hypothetically he was supposed to give me something, like a ring?” You interrupt them making both girls look at you

“He’s not supposed to do anything, but yes, that’s what i meant.” She replied and then started to tell a story about one of her old friends.

By the end of the night, Eddie picks you up and takes you to his place, as you agreed. You were going to spend the weekend with him.

“Hey pretty girl! How was girls night?” He kisses the top of you head and help you get in his van.

“It was very nice, but you know how Robin can get very excited about some stuff and how Nancy doesn’t agree with her but still tries to be nice and it goes on and on.” He laughs at your words and he enters the van too. “But you’ll see, i’m still going to make them become best friends!”

You keep talking about your night to him and you two stay in a comfortable silence listening to one of his Black Sabbath tapes until you get to his home. He turns off the car and before he could hop off, you stop him.

“What is it sweetheart?” He asked looking at your face, searching for something wrong.

“Can i ask you something?” You look at his hands full of rings holding yours.

“Of course you can, you can ask me anything.” He said and his tone couldn’t be sweeter

“Earlier we were taking about dating and the girls asked me how it was when you asked to be my boyfriend, and i told them. But Robin said that even though it was the most teeth-rotting story ever there was something wrong, something was missing…”

Eddie was scared of your next words but still encouraged you to continue.

“She said that normally, after a while, it’s common for the guy to give to his girlfriend something, like a gesture or a gift i don’t know. But that’s supposed to be like an affirmation of the relationship… You know what, forget it, it’s fucking stupid.” You give up on telling him what you wanted and turn to leave the car.

“Hey hey, wait a minute. There’s nothing stupid about that! You can take your time, but i want to hear it.” Eddie says, giving your hands gentle rubs.

“I feel stupid asking you this, and you know how you are my first boyfriend so i’m not sure how things are supposed to be now…” You organize the words in your head before you tell him. “Alright, hm, I was going to ask if maybe you plan to do that… i don’t want you to give me anything, and i know we’re not dating for a impressive long time and maybe we’re supposed to wait a bit more for that, i don’t even know if you are expecting me to give something to you. I am a bit lost…” You said everything too fast and got lost on your own words. But Eddie listened to you very carefully and understood what was happening.

“Are you saying that you want something, this ‘gesture’, to officialize our relationship?” He asked and looked at your eyes “Well, i wasn’t actually thinking of giving you something right now, but now that you said that i’m thinking of something here…” He let go of your hands and put them behind his neck. “ I really like the idea of people seeing that you are taken, that you are only mine… turn around, please.”

You were confused but still, you turn around and you can feel him getting closer. So close that your back is hitting his chest. He starts to whisper when you see him put his necklace in front of you.

“What do you think babe?” His soft voice rings in your ear and you admire his hands holding his necklace that you always made sure to tell him how much you loved it on him, of how attractive he looked with the pick hanging over his chest. “I know how much you like this, and imagine that… you walking around with this very specific necklace around your neck. This screams ‘i have a fucking man, he’s a rockstar, a hottie, and im all fucking his’. Uh, i loved that!”

You were smiling and blushing at his words as he lifted your hair up and put the necklace on you. You didn’t know what to say and got all nervous but you were relieved he liked your idea.

“I loved it Eds, thank you!” You dropped your hair and looked at the pick now hanging in the middle of your tits.

“I loved the placement don’t you.” He teases you and you can hear his mischievous smile and the way he’s giggling when you shove him. “I’m serious, i can imagine already, you on top of me and the pick hanging there and… wait a minute. THATS WHY YOU LIKED IT SO MUCH!

You start to laugh and cover your face embarrassed. “Shut up Eddie!”

“No baby, don’t hide your pretty face. Let me see you.” You lean into his body again and look up at him. “You do look very attractive with it.” And as he speaks, you can feel his hand on your jaw, making you look up at him, and the other, caressing your thigh.

“What about you? I don’t want to just take your necklace like that.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, i can make another one for me so we can match, if that’s your concern.” He says teasing you once again. “But now that’s your necklace. It looks better on you anyway, so”

You just close your eyes, feeling him touching your nose with his before he kisses you passionately. Even after lots of shared kisses between the two of you, he still manages to take your breath away.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” He opened his door and yours too, being the gentleman he is, and with an arm thrown around your shoulder, he leads you inside. “Maybe we can test that theory, to see if the pick will look good on you when you’re on top of me.” He makes you giggle and you playfully slap his chest as you walk up and open the door.

“Maybe…”

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 3— Fool.

a/n: welcome back to the Be My Baby series! Sorry y'all, I left with some with friends and it went on waaaaay longer than I thought it would lol. I'm gonna break this chapter up into 2 parts so I can get it posted tonight. So an extra chapter will be added!! Chapter 4 will just be the part 2 of this one, and after that it'll be back on schedule. Oh and don't worry— chapter 4 will be out tomorrow btw!! that's where the big boy angst comes on. so y'all are safe until then. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this again, lol. I will later & edit any details that need touching up. Again sorry this is late, but I hope getting part two and the Keira fic tomorrow will make up for it haha.)

content: sick!Reader, caretaker!Leah, straight up no smut (CRAZY I KNOOOOOW), mostly fluff, and some angst.

warnings: talks of not hydrating & eating properly, the flu, A&E/ER, confusion caused by sickness

synopsis: You wake up sick and you call the only person you can think of for help.

word count: 3.0k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The sound of your alarm doesn’t jolt you awake this morning. You’re already lying wide awake before it rolls around this time. You’d woken up early and your mind drifted to Leah, your whole situation together, barca, and the inevitable moment when they all come crashing together like a high speed train accident. Is it severely toxic and self destructive? Oh for sure…but who’s gonna stop you?

You stretch out your limbs as you set up in bed, turning off your alarm as you settle back into your own skin. There’s a rolling storm of anxiety filling your gut, and as your feet touch the ground it flies up to your throat. You run to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time, emptying out your stomach contents. Which at the moment is just your bile. The sweating must’ve started when you were in bed; because you quickly notice the dampness of your shirt from the temperature drop in the bathroom. The cold tiles seep through Leah’s sweats and chill your body down. You shiver after a few minutes, staying seated on the floor as you take a moment to catch your breath.

You make quick work of going to grab your phone and sending your boss a quick message. As soon as it's sent you make your way to the shower. It's only when you bend down to take your pants off that you realize how sick you truly are. Your vision goes blurry and your head starts floating in and out of dizziness. You slowly lower your body, your hands making contact with the floor as you set yourself down. It's then that the headache starts— like your brain is pounding against your forehead on repeat. It's sharp and never ending, leaving you to crumble down into tears.

You don't have a car, and even if you did— you are in no state to operate a vehicle right now, and you definitely don't feel confident enough to order a taxi like this. So you are left with one option. One you know you're gonna regret when you're not sick and delusional, but it's the one thing your broken mind can think of…You call Leah. You crawl across the tiled floor and get your phone off the counter, dialing her number as you pray she picks up. And of course she does, because by the third ring her voice is greeting you through the speakers. "I knew you couldn't resist me, darling. I've just been wait—"

"Le…" you cut her off with a sob of her nickname. Your head is painfully throbbing now, and your mouth is so dry your throat is scratchy. She can tell just from the small amount of your voice she hears.

"y/n, hey— what's wrong? I'm on my way, alright? I'll be there soon, just stay on the phone with me," Leah's moving before the first word even leaves her mouth. She's leaving her breakfast on the table as she slips mismatching shoes on her feet. Running out of her flat with nothing but her keys and her phone in her hands.

"Something's wrong, Le. I'm sick and I-I..I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call," your voice breaks at the end. It's like a knife plunging into Leah's heart as she hears it; the absolute brokenness of your words. She knows there's a deeper meaning behind your them, but she won't push it. Leah knows any of the girls would come to help you in a heartbeat, so what's got you believing otherwise? Or maybe the better question is, who has you believing otherwise? She'll investigate that later.

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're alright, love. Take a deep breath for me, okay? I'll be there before you know it, and we'll get you to the doctor," Leah's voice would normally calm you down, but your brain is still running a million miles per minute…and it's only making you feel worse. It's like you can't focus on a singular thought, and the confusion only fuels your distress. Leah presses down on the gas pedal when she doesn't get a response from you. She can only hear your cries filling up the empty space of her car. She gets to your building in record time, and only then does she realize she didn't bring her wallet.

"God dammit," she chastises herself under her breath, trying to not let you hear her frustration as she searches for a on-street parking spot. She just had to forget you live in a fancy ass building with paid parking, today of all days. "I'm parking now, love. I'll be up in a few minutes." Thankfully she gets one across the street, rummaging through her center console for some change coins. She puts way more than needed in the parking meter, but that's not her main priority right now. "I need you tell me if the door's unlocked, okay? I know you don't feel well, but can you unlock it if it is?"

You close your eyes as you take a deep breath, gathering all your mental strength to answer her. "N-No. There's a key under t-the welcome mat though…I don't think I can walk by myself. I-I'm so sorry, Leah," you can't stop the embarrassment from filling your body. You hate having to ask people for help— especially when you need it the most. It makes you feel weak, helpless, and like a burden. It's a deep seated insecurity you can't seem to shake, but it's not like you've really ever tried to correct it. We all know Leah's stubborn, but you? You can be even worse than her. It's not like you mean to be, but you're just…broken. In more ways than even you would like to admit.

Leah sees right through it though— she always has. She is the one person in your life that sees you for who you are. Not the persona you put up for the rest of the world. You two may of only spent a short time together that year ago, but oh what an impact it made. Spending every waking second with a person for weeks on end does something to a person. You either ending up hating each other, falling in love, or whatever the fuck you two got going on.

"You don't need to be sorry, y/n. You definitely need a better hiding spot for your spare though, that's just bloody awful! You're asking for a break in!" Leah feels herself get a little frustrated as she retrieves your key. Her voice picking up into a scolding tone as she jiggles with your doorknob. You whimper out as you move the phone from your ear, the slight rise in her voice making your head hurt more. "Too loud," you say as she walks into your home. She makes sure to shut the door lightly, before smacking herself in the forehead for raising her voice with you. "I'm sorry, love. I just worry about you. Now which room are you in?"

"My bathroom," your voice sounds so small now. Like a child getting in trouble.

"I'm on my way to you now, okay?" Leah says as she climbs the stairs. Her eyes flit over your walls and she notices the lack of pictures. You have bare hallways and they look so, so lonely. She walks into your bedroom and she sees the void of no decor or really any of your things at all. It makes her sad, but mostly it leaves her wanting to ask more questions. Questions she knows she can't ask right now, but will get the answers to someway.

Nothing could have prepared Leah for what she sees behind the wooden door of your bathroom. You're clad in a mist of sweat, all the color drained from your face, and you're shaking like a leaf. It isn't until she's running up to you and falling to her knees that she sees the extent of your state. Your pants are still sitting halfway down your thighs, and Leah quickly moves to redress you. She makes sure not to look at you inappropriately, only doing what's needed to get you comfortable and less exposed. She knows how vulnerable you are right now, and she's doing everything she can to make sure you're okay. She sheds her Arsenal hoodie off, sliding it over your head as she encourages you to push your arms through.

“Hey love, let’s get you stood up– that’s it.” She helps you get to your feet, letting you lean all your body weight onto her. Leah guides you back towards your bed, sitting you on the edge as she goes to grab a pair of your shoes. It doesn't take her long before she's rejoining you and sliding some slip-ons over your feet. she pats your legs when she's down, looking up to see your disheveled appearance. "You ready to go?"

"Mhm," you nod your head along. Talking is only making your headache worse, so you've opted for noises instead.

With that, Leah is helping you back up. But before you can rest your weight back onto her side, she's picking you up bridal style. Your arms instinctively go to wrap around her neck, burying your face in the warmth of her embrace. You don't have the energy to argue with her, and honestly it's a relief to not have to walk right now. She carries you like you weigh nothing, shutting and locking your door like she isn't holding an entire human being. If you didn't feel like death you'd be obsessing over how hot she is, but right now you're just thankful.

You must've fallen asleep, because the next thing you know you're waking up in a A&E bed. You blink a few times to adjust to the lights above you, small groans slipping out as you try to stretch the cramped feeling out of your limbs. Then you hear her softly speaking on the phone across the room, and you go back to lying still. You close your eyes as you focus on trying to hear her conversation. "I know I should've called first, but you didn't see her. She couldn't even stand on her own, and she fell asleep in my arms before we even made it to her building elevator! She's in bad shape, and I'm not just gonna leave her here all alone in a country she doesn't fucking know. I'm the Captain and it's my responsibility to look after everyone— I don't fucking care that she's not a player! She's on our team, our crew, and she deserves our support. Call me back when you get your head out of your ass," and with that she hangs up.

You try and force yourself to just back to sleep and forget everything you've heard, but of course that's not how things work out. Your stomach starts turning again, complicating feelings swirling around with the uneasiness. The tears come falling down your cheeks before your eyes even open, your chest starting to tighten up as the sobs claw at your lungs to get out. It feels like you can't breathe, and honestly maybe you aren't. Not as you see flashbacks of Barca passing through your memory, a wave of dread blanketing over your body.

"What hurts, love? Do I need to get the nurse?" Leah's by your side the second she notices, a hand out grasping your forearm. Her fingers dance little patterns into your skin, and it actually starts to ground you. "Come on, take deep breaths with me again, okay?"

You nod your head, and then she's holding both your hands. You follow her lead as she sucks in a slow breath and holds it, before exhaling just as slow. She repeats the process with you until you're calmed all the way down. It doesn't take too long, but honestly Leah isn't going to leave you anytime soon anyway. "Nothing hurts," you say it so softly she barely hears it. Your eyes stay locked down onto the bed sheets below you, never making any eye contact with her.

"Then why were you crying, y/n?"

"Because I heard you on the phone…and I don't know. I guess I freaked out, and went spiraling into a self hate hole for a second. I'm okay, really."

"oh bloody hell! I'm so sorry you heard that, darling. I should've went into the hall or something—"

"It's okay, Le. I'm just sensitive, and really really delulu from whatever sickness I currently have…plus it was nice to hear you stick up for me, Captain."

"The mystery sickness is indeed just a bad case of the flu…but uhm, the doctor said it was made worse from you being dehydrated and probably not eating enough from the looks of your blood work. I'm not gonna judge you or yell at you. But I am taking you home with me when they discharge you. I'm your official caregiver until you're well enough to take after yourself again," Leah doesn't let go of your hand as she says it. She tries to connect your gazes, but you don't allow it. Actively avoiding her eyes as you feel them burrowing holes into your skull.

You wish you could argue with her and tell her she's wrong…but you can't. You've been skipping out on meals ever since you moved here. It's not been on purpose, you just haven't been able to eat. It's like your body hates the idea of eating, always growing nauseous after every few bites. So you've been drinking some meal replacements…not enough apparently. "Okay."

"…Okay? Really? That was a whole lot easier than I thought it would be," Leah is staring at you with her biggest look of, 'be so for real, bitch' written across her face. But you just shrug as you sink back into the uncomfortable mattress underneath you. You're so mentally and physically wore out right now, there's just no fight left inside you. Right as you're about to re-close your eyes, the doctor finally comes back in. After getting the run down from him, he lets you know that you can be discharged and to pick up your antibiotics before going home. Leah helps you redress again, and this time it has you giggling at the way she makes her eyes go anywhere but at your naked body.

"Hold on…how'd you get the doctor to tell you what was wrong with me before I even woke up? Aren't there some rules against that?"

"…I might have told everyone that you're my fiancé," Leah smiles at you nervously.

"Fuck you, Williamson! Take yourself on that date Thursday!"

"Oh, so you're finally agreeing that it's a date?" Leah smirks at you, only hearing the parts of what she wants to hear.

"Well, I guess we'll never know, now will we?"

She rolls her eyes at you for that, holding her hand out for you to take. And you do, still leaning against her some to walk. She helps you to the car, and once you're both secure she's driving you to your new home for the next few days…or weeks. God you hope only days. It feels weird to be back inside a house with another person, and it's extra fucking weird that it's Leah. You know this stay is when you have to put down some boundaries with her. To stop whatever there is between the two of you. It makes the previous pit in your stomach increase by double, because deep down you know you care about her...you're just lying to yourself about it. You can push every feeling down your throat, but they will all come spilling out at some point. That's what you've learned to be true over the years, but will you accept that as truth? Hell no! At least not anytime soon. Your worst problem is that you always get in your own way.

When she finally gets you inside, Leah starts cooking and letting her mind wonder to think of you. More importantly to the phone call you overheard in the A&E. She'd been talking with her manager, and completely snapped on him. He'd said something about how Leah 'follows you around like a lost puppy' and well…. it hurt her fucking feelings. Of course she isn't doing all of this just because she's one sided sickly in love with you…right? Sure she thinks of you literally every second of the day, and she's been day dreaming of you for the past year, but that's all totally normal...RIGHT?

Leah doesn't get to spiral into her romanic crisis for too long, because before she knows it the timers going off. She drains the gnocchi before putting it in a bowel for you, making her way back to the living room where she left you. She laughs at the sight that greets her— you snuggled up asleep in her Arsenal hoodie she'd given you when she first saw you. Leah just sets the gnocchi aside on the coffee table, opting to cuddle you instead of waking you up. She pulls you onto her body, your face resting on her chest as she tries to adjusts you without waking you up.

She finds herself running her fingers through your hair, and before long they're running softy across the features of your face. Leah lets a deep sigh come out of her chest. She truly feels like a fucking fool. Leah doesn't chase girls— they chase her. So for the first time in this game, she is the one crying. She's clinging onto any crumb of attention you'll give her, and she'll keep doing it for as long as it takes. Leah has you sleeping against her chest once again, and it's nothing like she's day dreamed of. You two aren't confessing your feelings, running around town making memories, or god forbid actually dating…but she'll keep feeling like a fool and waiting on you. She'll keep searching for your love until she finds it, because she knows she's felt flashes of it. She knows that carefree, wild, truly happy girl from Ibiza is still inside of you somewhere. Leah doesn't know what took that extra bright sparkle out of your eyes, but she is determined to see it light up your face back up.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.” 

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.” 

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice,  he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments. 

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else. 

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve. 

“No. Don’t worry about it.” 

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?” 

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using. 

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Well obviously something’s wrong.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?” 

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?” 

“I’m not upset!” 

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-” 

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him. 

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon. 

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?” 

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins. 

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.” 

“It’s not a joke.” 

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time. 

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you. 

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-” 

“I didn’t get in.” 

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke. 

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock. 

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?” 

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!” 

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has. 

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” 

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand. 

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation. 

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say. 

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?” 

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.  

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds. 

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?” 

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-” 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.” 

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive. 

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest. 

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to. 

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear. 

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you. 

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you. 

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed. 

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?” 

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving. 

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.” 

“Where?” 

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace. 

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.” 

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for. 

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified. 

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.” 

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home. 

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers. 

“You promise you’ll come home, right?” 

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too. 

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.” 

“Anything?” 

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness. 

“Anything.” 

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.” 

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did. 

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.” 

Frankie, Present 

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point. 

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings. 

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you. 

Well, he can’t think about you as much. 

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him. 

He let you take the first  shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run. 

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you. 

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!” 

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.” 

“You barely run the mile in gym class.” 

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.” 

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you. 

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to. 

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans. 

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day. 

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement. 

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.” 

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings. 

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.” 

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.” 

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.” 

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.  

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).” 

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past. 

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible. 

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him. 

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer. 

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school. 

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too. 

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school. 

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble. 

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to. 

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him. 

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”  

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage. 

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment. 

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him. 

August 18th, 2006

Frankie, 

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage. 

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe 

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL. 

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person! 

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha). 

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo. 

From, 

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line. 

October 13th, 2009

Frankie, 

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet. 

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do. 

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.  

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie. 

Kenzie 

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. 

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong. 

February 4th, 2011

Hey, 

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways. 

I guess I’ll see you when I see you. 

MacKenzie 

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business. 

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull. 

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done? 

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[all-purpose-dish-soap]

64 / 4.1k / soap soulmate au, final part

...

"You doing okay?"

Hearing Graves’ voice knocks what little breath you had out of your lungs. It's been months, but that's him. Your old boss. You never thought you'd hear his voice again.

"I've been better," you say finally. "Been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," he says. "Wish you'd've called me to catch up sometime, rather than under the circumstances. You don't sound too banged up. They treat you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you feel. I asked if they roughed you up."

You feel your own temper shorten in response. "I need you to call KorTac off."

There's a pause. You can imagine his frowning face, the way he's thinking that one over. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally says, but you can tell he's not going to do what you ask of him. "Puttin' me in a predicament here, kid. You're giving those boys a hard time, and here I thought I was helping you out. Paying your bail, so to speak."

"It’s more complicated than that."

"Always is. Let’s just have you dropped off back on base with us. You can clean yourself up and we’ll talk."

He waits for your crisp yes, sir, but it never comes.

He speaks again. "You got somewhere else to be?"

"I can't go back."

"Can't or won't? You got something you ain't tellin me, soldier?"

"I said I can't go back. And I'm not your soldier anymore. You're not my boss. I don't work for you."

"You know Shadows don't leave one of our own behind. Not to rot in some CIA prison cell. So lose the attitude," he says, voice like iron. "This ain't a good time to play games, kid. You're comin' back with me because I spent a pretty penny on you. You owe me. You have your personal business, fine. Come on back to base and let's talk this out face to face before you go makin' any hasty decisions."

You're so frustrated it's hard to form words. You should be grateful. You know that. Graves doesn’t pretend to care about his men. He cares enough to lead from the front. But you met your soulmate, and you can’t act like it didn't change you. You need to make things right. You also can’t exactly tell Graves you kind of sold him out.

"Hey. Focus up." He doesn't raise his voice to a command. Still, the order is in his voice, and you have been long trained to follow your commander's orders. Then he sighs. "What happened to you, kid?"

"You betrayed the 141. You killed innocent people in Las Almas, looking for them."

You can almost hear his jaw working behind his clenched teeth, the muscles in his face tight. He does not allow this kind of disrespect. "You think I like what I had to do? General Shepherd's orders were clear. We followed them. 141 did not." He huffs out a sigh. "I didn't enjoy it. But that's the job. You of all people know that."

You swallow. "You told us they were our brothers. You killed innocent people, Commander. Johnny said he saw you do it--"

"Johnny?" Grave's voice rises. "You on a first name basis with Soap now?"

"We all know what happened in Las Almas," you retort. Your skin goes hot at the way he says Johnny's name. "I won't work for Shepherd anymore after that. I won't fucking do it."

"Don't pull that with me." The warning is written in his voice. This isn't like you. To the Shadows, you’re calm. Cold. You don't lose your temper. You don't talk back. Especially not to Graves. "You think you can walk away at the drop of a hat just because you don't agree with an order? It doesn't work like that. You follow an order, even if you don't like it, even if it pisses you off. You don't get to decide what you think is right or wrong to carry out. When I give you an order, you follow it. That's your job. Your loyalty is with me. Not with the 141."

"I did my job."

"Then act like it," he snaps. "Stop acting like I'm some evil bastard out here. I made the only choice I could. Task Force 141 was not supposed to be there. They knew my orders, and what did they do? They came after my men, went behind my back, screwed us over. We did what we had to. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at them."

You glare down at the ice, but say nothing.

"You know I'm right." He knows you. He's getting to you. "And you know what else I find interesting? You don't seem a bit surprised to hear me alive." His voice is too casual and sharp as a knife. "Didn't you get the memo? Did no one forward you my obituary, soldier?"

You stiffen. You're not supposed to know he's alive.

"You're an awful liar. Always have been." He pauses for a long moment. "It ain't easy, surviving against the 141 if they want you dead. You know how I managed it, soldier?"

Yes. "No,” you retort. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your soldier. I don't work for you anymore."

"The hell you aren't. Maybe you're not on the payroll anymore, and maybe you're no longer under my command, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. That makes you my responsibility. And my goddamn headache." Something shuffles on the other end of the line. "You know exactly what I'm willing to do to keep one of my Shadows safe. But if you're so keen on turning yourself in, fine. I'll have you in front of Shepherd's desk first thing tomorrow. Is that what you want? You know Soap and Ghost put Shadows in the ground that night in Las Almas."

"Shadows tried to put Johnny and Ghost in the ground first."

"This isn't about who shot first. This is about you." His voice is dangerously low, but he keeps his temper in check. Then he huffs a laugh. "You keep callin’ him Johnny. Makes my brain itch." Johnny MacTavish. John MacTavish. Yeah, that's it. "I'll be damned," he mutters.

You touch your exposed soulmark compulsively as if to hide it. Most soldiers hide theirs, but yours has always been tough to cover up. He's seen it more than a few times.

"Got you right out from under my fuckin' nose."

Your stomach tightens. You feel too exposed, like suddenly he’s putting the story together--how 141 got in.

"Shoulda known. Shoulda known. You know the military has a registry for this shit. There are rules. What's wrong with you?"

"I made a mistake," you mutter.

That might be the funniest thing he ever heard. And he's heard some good jokes. "You don't make mistakes, kiddo. You never have. That's not how I trained you." He's right, and you know it. "But hey. Guess it's true what they say about it."

"What?"

"Soulbonds. Make you take your best-laid plans and raze ‘em. Full scorched earth.”

“This isn’t about that. I’m making this decision on my own.”

“You think?” He takes a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t. I don't blame you, either. You sure as hell fought it as best you could. Didn't give in to save your own life. If that's not the soulbond making your decision for you, soldier, I don't know what is."

You look up at the sky. For all the time you spent working with Graves, that past version of you might as well be dead. Maybe that’s the grave you’ve been digging. "I can't work for Shepherd anymore. I won't do it."

"You're a good soldier, 86. You were loyal. I still think you're loyal, even if I'm not who you're loyal to," he finally says. His voice is still calm. It doesn't make you feel any better. "You know if you choose to walk away from this, the next time we meet might well be as enemies."

"Then I guess we won't meet again, sir."

He says nothing. Then he lets out a long huff. You really are going to do him dirty. You can hear his scowl. "That's a damn shame, kid. But you have more of a spine than I gave you credit for," he says. There's a tone of reluctant respect to it. That's as close as you're going to get to a compliment from him now. "You're a loose end, then. You'd best stay well out of the way. Mine and Shepherd's. I hope you're not making the wrong choice, 86," he says quietly. "I really hope you're not."

"It’s out of your hands now. And pay KorTac," you add. "Pay my squad. They did their job."

That makes him scoff. "Now why would I do that? You might be a traitor, but you're still my investment. You were worth more on my payroll than theirs, and that’s a fact I intend to maintain."

"You owe me," you remind him.

"Don't push your luck," he warns. "You're an asset. You don’t get the privileges of rank anymore. But, well..." He sighs. You imagine him with his heels kicked back on his desk, cigarette in hand. "I’ll tell you what. I’m in a charitable mood. I'll pay them off. I'm a man of my word when the time comes to pay off my debts. Hell, I’ll even throw in a tip for a job well done." Despite the annoyance in his voice, you don't doubt he'll do just that. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you anymore. I trusted you once, and you went rogue. I let you go now, that means I expect you to keep my secrets. Don't you go singing if Shepherd puts you in a chair. You got that?"

You glance up out of the corner of your eye at Soap, whose hands are still clenched in tight fists at his sides. "If Shepherd puts me in a chair, he's the one who's gonna sing. Not me."

Graves chuckles. "You're a good soldier, 86, but you can't take on an old war dog like Shepherd. Leave that to someone more qualified."

"Like who? You?"

"As I said, you best steer clear. I don't want to hear your name again." His voice hardens, and you hear your old commander again. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it. And give Soap hell."

You toss the phone back to Horangi. He listens to what Graves has to say. Then, eyes meeting yours for a moment, he wordlessly moves out away from the river, leaving you weary with relief. It's over. Finally.

Soap watches him disappear into the trees. Then, he looks back at you, alone and shivering on the ice. You look half-dead, bleeding, and your lips are near blue. He wants to make his way to you, but the ice is scarcely holding you. It won't hold him, too.

"Oi," Soap calls. His voice is rough with anxiety. "Get over here. You're gonnae freeze to death even if you don't fall through."

You blink up at him. Standing in the rising sun the way he is now, he looks like someone’s guardian angel. Yours? You'd like very much to be wrapped in his wings.

You make your way over to the bank, but the rocky ledge up is slippery and icy. Behind you, between the ice where you're standing and the bank, there's a yawning gap. To your left, there's a bridge, but snow has already melted off the surface of the ice, and it looks thin. "There's no way up," you call. "But downriver..."

"No’ a chance in hell I’m going to let you try to cross that," Soap says as he approaches the edge. "You'll be swept away and drown, hen. You're not in any condition to swim, and even if you were, that river's too bloody fast to risk it."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His eyes sweep over the river once more. It's wide; too wide to attempt a jump across. The ice has fallen in, leaving it almost impossible to make it to the bank. It isn't safe. The longer you stand there, the more the ice cracks under you. He admires your guts for putting yourself on the line like that to get back to him, but damn you. His blood pressure has never been higher.

Soap throws off his pack and slings his gear onto the bank. "I'll pull you up."

"But..."

"But nothing." With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Soap thinks nothing of the risk of the bank collapsing under you both with his added weight. The only thing on his mind is getting you back in one piece. "We both know damn well, if I was the one on the ice now, you'd already be down there trying to help me, so for once, just shut up and let me help you."

Can't argue with that.

He pulls out an ice hook--mountaineering equipment; he was prepared to climb this mission, luckily--and offers it to you.

You toss the grenade as far as you can in the opposite direction. Then you raise your hands to grasp the rope. He's holding the sharp end and giving you the handle. You try to keep hold, but as he lifts, your bloodied hands slip just as the grenade explodes nearby, too close, spiderwebbing the ice with a final crack.

You land hard, break through, and disappear under the freezing water.

Soap has never known panic faster than when he sees you go under.

He dives after you. He has to get you back to the surface before whatever air you had in your lungs gives out. Your survival is his survival.

He finds you in the rushing black abyss when your fingers hook around his sleeve. Wrapping his hands around your arms, Soap anchors you to his chest.

You come to in his arms. You're colder than you ever have been in your life. Your fingertips tingle in pain and numbness. He's carrying you ashore somehow--far downriver, thinner ice--and he ducks into an old cabin with you in his arms.

Soap kicks the door shut behind him and moves into the cabin to set you on the floor, propping your back against the wall. His hands work fast as he pulls out his knife to cut away your soaked thermal clothes and gear. You dip in and out of consciousness until he wads up a fistful of gauze and packs it into your side wound. The sudden pain chokes you. Then a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d like nothing more than to tell him where precisely he can shove that gauze, but you’re too lightheaded.

"You with me, hen?" His gruff voice wavers. "I need you to stay awake."

He gathers you up in his arms and lifts you into his lap. It's a tight fit, wedged underneath the frosty window and between a table and an upturned stool. You register the warmth of his skin on yours and dimly realize he's stripped both of you almost bare, huddling around you to prevent hypothermia.

You soak up Soap’s body heat instantly. He's a furnace, and he needs to be, given the state you're in. He tucks you as close as he can. You're both shivering, but he doesn't care. He can be cold as long as you're warm. His broad body shields you from the drafts leaking into the decrepit cabin.

"No, no, eyes open." He tilts your face up as your eyes flutter. "Don't go passin' out on me."

You gaze up at him in your stupor. Maybe it's the blood loss, but even through your own pain and frustration, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"You have really odd eyes," you mutter. "Like blueberry soft serve."

Oh, you're definitely delirious. Maybe concussed.

But he can't deny the look you're giving him right now makes his stomach flip. The sight of you in his lap, your frost-scorched fingers wrapped idly around his ID tag and staring up at him like he's just pulled the moon out of the sky for you... it's the first time he’s seen you with your guard down.

He swallows and keeps you pressed against his skin. There’s a lot of blood. He can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. "You're in no shape to flatter me."

You hum, your fingers dabbing idly at a smear of blood on his chest.

He doesn't move to stop you. Instead, his eyes flick down to your hand. Your fingers leave a trail of sparks over everywhere you touch.

With a soft sigh, Soap catches your wrist. "Quit it, hen."

"Quit what?"

"Teasin'. Makin' me wish you'd put those hands to other uses," he says, voice quiet and rough. It's just you and him in the little cabin. The world is far away. His thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, trying to bring some warmth back into your skin. "You're in no shape to be feelin' me up, either."

Your head lolls against his shoulder. "Maybe it's the perfect time. Maybe we won't get another time."

Hearing you say that twists his insides into knots. He leans down to rest his forehead against yours. "Maybe you just need to shut up and let me take care of you. Don't talk like that." His voice leaves no room for argument. He tightens his grip on you, pressing you closer as if he can somehow press that into your skin by sheer will alone. "There'll be plenty of times for you to get your hands on me."

"Mm." You tuck into him tighter. You'd be mortified with yourself if you weren't half-dead from blood loss. "Sorry."

He exhales into your hair, pressing chaste kisses there.

You're practically in his lap, the two of you tangled into each other from head to foot in the space under the window. He's surrounded by the smell of you. It's a soothing presence in all that surrounds him.

He shouldn't want to touch you, shouldn't want to take advantage of your weakness--but the thought of having you so open and wanting, of you willingly in his arms, makes something in him ache. Makes the selfish parts of him scream.

"You're a pain in my arse," he says. He focuses on taking inventory of your wounds, brushing over your arms with his touch to assess the damage. "You gonnae bleed out on me?"

You shiver a little as he drags you closer by your bare thigh. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

"Oi," he snaps in warning. He slides his hand up your side, checking for bleeding. It’s just as much a caress over your bare skin. He has to ignore how his skin tingles every time the curve of your body slides against his in that tantalizing way. Something in his lower belly tightens. "You don't get to tap out after makin' me go through all this trouble for you. You're livin' through tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else." He moves his hand up to the base of your throat, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around your neck and tilting your chin up to look at him. He fixes his blue eyes on yours to take in the dazed expression on your face. "I'll drag your arse out of hell and tan it until you can't sit right."

You're too weary to laugh, but you rest your scuffed cheek on his thumb, and it pushes your lips into a smirk. "All for me?"

"Aye. Hell of a lot more trouble than your pretty face should be worth."

You pull free and rest your head on his shoulder again. "Where do you live?"

"Glasgow," he says. "Not sure I should be tellin' you that."

You trace his chest around the chain of his ID tag. So many muscles. "Probably not."

"And what about you? Do I get to know?"

"No. Maybe. If we get out of here."

"Yeah? Well, you're not goin' anywhere with this wound. Bleedin' out, nearly froze to death, and still mouthin' off. No idea how to shut up and be good." He looks down at the injury, assessing how bad it really is in the dim light of the cabin. "You lost a lot of blood. I bet you feel tired." He brushes your hair off your face. "Stay awake a bit longer. The boys'll be here soon."

"I shouldn't," you mutter.

Soap doesn't miss the slurring of your words. He knew the blood loss would affect you, but he was hoping for more time before he had to really worry. "Shouldn't stay? Too late to get away from me now," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. Your skin is too cold for comfort. The gauze in your wound soaking through with blood can't mean anything good. "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Sure as hell not letting you out of my sight. You've got a lot to repay me for."

You try to keep your eyes open. Every blink is more sluggish than the last. "Like what?"

"Runnin' away and makin' me chase after you, for one. Puttin' yourself in the line of fire for me, second. Takin' a swim in a frozen river. Scared me to death." He presses his lips to the crown of your head, a gentle, chaste touch at odds with the possessive, dominating instinct he can feel creeping into his thoughts. You're vulnerable right now, something he should never want, but part of him wonders if he’d ever have caught up with you without this. "Aye, you owe me. First thing we do once you're patched up? We have a long talk. We have a whole hell of a lot we need to say to one another. And you'll answer every question I ask you."

"I dunno if you'll like the stuff I say," you mutter.

"Hardly matters. You’re plenty keen on spittin’ fire at me as it is. No reason you can’t keep tellin’ me everything I don’t want tae hear."

Another shiver wracks your body.

Soap rubs your arms. "You gotta give your word you stay awake for me, aye? Stay here."

His radio beeps nearby. You huff. "Fine."

"Fine." He leans over to grab his radio and tries to keep an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as he does. He keeps you cradled against his chest as he responds to Price.

"Soap here."

You don't hear the conversation. Instead, you listen to Soap's voice vibrate through his chest. He speaks to Price in hushed tones, talking about your condition and the team's ETA.

Price has a laundry list of questions, but Soap manages to wrangle them into holding off until they have everyone back on base. No sense exhausting you on a mission that's already been a shitshow. Finally, they're done. Soap lets the radio go to focus entirely on you again. "Still with me?"

"How long do we have?"

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he says. He checks your side again. The coldness of the air has soaked into the wet gauze. You shiver again. It makes something in him ache. "ETA's about ten minutes out."

You pull his lips down to yours and kiss him.

He's surprised, but he doesn't pull back--not from you. He lets you kiss him. Your taste seeps into his brain and turns all rational thought to white noise. One hand cups your jaw with a surprising gentleness, and the other slides behind your waist to keep you against his body. He's gentle--you need to be handled with care right now.

He pulls back before he loses himself in the desire to deepen the kiss. His eyes search your face, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"You're lucky you're injured," he murmurs. "Or you'd be in a very different kind of trouble right now."

You shiver, but not with the cold. Just that one kiss has you feeling much warmer. You touch your name where it's written on his arm. Then you curl your fingers around the back of his neck and pull yourself closer. "Hold onto that thought for later," you murmur. "Give me something to wait for."

Then you kiss him again.

...

← previous part / [part 13] / epilogue →

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

thank you <3

[emchante]

Angst idea coming up!!

I imagine there would be a school event let’s say and Daniel would go with his children of course, possibly want to take you with him, but his ex wife would insist that it’s a family event and you’re not family in any way or shape, no matter how much you take care of Daniel’s kids, this just isn’t a place for you and this could make Daniel uneasy because he’d see the logical part in his ex wife’s reasoning yet feel bad because you are his new partner and his kids like you and I imagine this uneasiness and perhaps indecisiveness from Daniel would spark uncertainty in you as well and that just hits right in the heart

~🫠

🫠 nonnie always pulling through.. i know that’s right!! but GOD?? the thought of this?? it pulls my heartstrings. the angst potential LORDDD.

you know the usual, drabble under the cut<3

“she’s not family, daniel,” is spat across the line, daniel wincing at the harshness in his ex-wife’s voice. “she looks after the kids— great. that doesn’t make her family all of a sudden.”

daniel’s fingers drum against the kitchen counter anxiously as she rambles on, adding more reasons why you shouldn’t be at the kids’ charity evening. parents were invited along of course, running stalls with their children. it was a great idea, the kids were so excited to tell you, daniel and their mother.

but they didn’t know themselves that their mother wasn’t onboard with it.

“it’s— it’s not fair to leave her out,” he interrupts, screwing his eyes shut in preparation for another shout down the phone. thankfully, it’s only a deep sigh so he can continue. “the kids love her, they were so excited to tell her,” he explains, a soft smile appearing on his face as he recalled the memory.

“i don’t care, daniel,” she tells him, and she definitely isn’t lying— he had never heard her sound so bored, apart from the times daniel had tried to organise date nights that were more.. him. not a good memory. “remind me what the first line of the handout says?”

daniel frowns out of confusion at the question, but obliges anyways. he grabs the sheet of paper from in front of him, opening it up and reading it out. “dear parents of—”

“there!” she shouts, daniel flinching at the sudden loudness. “parents, daniel. she is not their parent. never has been, never will be.”

daniel exhales deeply from his nose. fuck. he should’ve seen that coming. what happened to letters saying ‘parents or guardians’? he shakes his head, trying to think of a response.

but he doesn’t need to, as she speaks up again. “we aren’t discussing this any more now, daniel. break the news— although it really isn’t much of a newsflash— and then start organising your outfit,”

and then the line fell flat.

daniel places his phone on the counter, before allowing his head to fall into his hands with a heavy sigh. he was feeling many emotions. confusion— about the whole thing. upset— he wasn’t able to get his side in. anger— over the newsflash comment. you had come a long way with his kids, and be had a controversial opinion on who was a better mother figure to the two.

————————————

“you can’t come tomorrow.”

the words feel like a stab in the heart when you hear them. daniel had sat you down in the living room after the kids had gone upstairs to play, and told you that he needed to talk to you.

you assumed it was serious, but you didn’t think it was this.

“what?” is all that falls from your lips, as you’re too shocked to form a proper sentence. daniel isn’t even looking at you, he’s more focused on picking his the nail of his index finger.

“you can’t— you can’t come tomorrow. i’m sorry, i know it’s quite late to tell you, but.. yeah,” he trails off, voice low. he still isn’t looking at you, hasn’t done since he asked you to sit with him. it feels dismissive, it feels wrong. it feels like a completely different person in front of you.

“have i done something? we were so excited to bake with the kids and sell their cakes,” you plead, reminding him that just yesterday, you were both so happy about the event.

“look— it’s.. it’s a parent event, yeah?” daniel lets out, cringing at his words. he hates that he’s listening to her, he doesn’t even agree with the decision, but something is telling him he has to.

then again maybe he shouldn’t, because the moment he finally looks up, he sees the saddened look on your face. he couldn’t read every emotion you seemed to portray— you looked upset, hurt and maybe.. betrayed? fuck.

“and— and please believe me when i say you do such a great job looking after them,” he starts, raising his hands as he goes to ramble out something to save his ass.

but you interrupt him with a dry laugh, shutting your eyes as you take a deep breath in. your head falls, and you stare down at your trembling hands that lay atop your thighs. suddenly your vision gets blurry and— oh, the tears have started.

daniel’s heart breaks as he sees the tears welling in your eyes, and he reaches out to comfort you. he wasn’t expecting it to be reciprocated well, but he wasn’t expecting you to completely pull away from him.

“sweetheart—” “don’t sweetheart me, daniel,” you snap, licking your suddenly dry lips. “i thought— i thought that maybe..” you started, daniel’s heart cracking even more at the wobble in your voice. “fuck— i really thought things were moving into a new chapter. i thought that the kids were seeing me as something more than just.. a babysitter. i thought you were starting to see me as something more than a fuck every now and then, like it was in the beginning.”

daniel gapes at your words, and shit. he hadn’t even thought about how the whole situation would have looked without context. but then again, would it have been better with it? it was too late to find out now, anyways.

“no— no, you know it’s not like that,” he tells you firmly, going to reach a hand out for you to comfort you, but he was taken aback when you abruptly stood up.

“i think i’m going to go,” you told him, not allowing nor wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say. as soon as you walked out the living room, he could only stare at the floor in disbelief.

he was trying so hard to obey to his ex, that he was completely disregarding you— his current partner’s— feelings. what the fuck was wrong with him?

he was brought back to reality when you had shouted upstairs to the kids, telling them you had to head back to your own house tonight— that there was some leftover work you had to do. daniel turned his head to the side, watching as his kids ran downstairs to give you a big hug, whining about how they wanted you to stay.

you didn’t even spare him a glance as you said your goodbyes, and he felt like the slammed front door was the only goodbye he’d be getting.

he had really fucked it.

okay honestly i did NOT expect it to get to 1k words.. LOL. angst just really draws me in and i get carried away!! thank you 🫠 nonnie again for this wonderful idea, you’re a godsend<3<3

part 2, perhaps? 👀

[foreverlittlesoshi]

the bondage of freedom

noah sebastian x reader

content warnings: smut, oral (f. receiving), fingering, sacrilegious, purity, dom! noah and bulge kink

word count - 1.7k

MINORS DNI 18+

an - i have no knowledge of religion as i didn't grow up with it so i truly apologize if i offend you but this idea has been stuck in my head for a good while.

there’s nothing wrong with feeling this way, noah told himself, it’s just a damn crush.

but he knew he had no chance with you at all, i mean you two were complete opposite of each other. while he was covered in tattoos, you had no ink littering your skin. he only ever wore dark colors, you wore bright and neutral colors. the only jewelry he wore were rings that adored his long inked fingers, while you wore a gold cross necklace along with a gold purity ring that wrapped around your left ring finger that you’ve worn since the age of 15. he remembers the day he had asked you about it.

“why do you always wear that ring? i’ve never seen you take it off or remove it once.”

“oh, it’s my purity ring! my parents gifted it to me for my birthday.” you told him while admiring it, “it’s my pledge to wait until marriage.”

he couldn’t help but scoff, “you really believe in all that waiting till marriage bullshit?”

“i mean, yeah. i’d rather focus on my schooling and career before having sex. in plus, i wanna wait for the right person who is gonna love me for the rest of my life instead of just using me for something sinful. wouldn’t you agree?” you question him.

“just because my dad is the priest doesn’t mean i’m innocent. that went away a couple months ago.” he informed you and you looked away from him.

“well, congratulations on that but that’s not something i wanna do.” you told him quietly.

he felt bad for making you uncomfortable back then but he was just trying to prove a point. he feels bad even now because he couldn’t control his thoughts when it came to you. you were sitting right beside him wearing a lilac floral cami dress with a white cardigan and black mary janes, the neckline kept you covered but for any reason if the dress was tugged down he would be able to see your cleavage and that made his mind spiral.

the service had ended about 20 minutes ago so there wasn’t a lot of people left in the chapel and you said something to him but he was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear you. as you stood up, he got the great idea to trip you though it was risky but he just wanted a peek and he got just what he wanted as you fell. the sight of lacy black underwear took him by surprise while his cock hardened fast though it didn’t last long as you quickly tugged your dress down when you stood up.

“noah! why did you do that?!” you quietly yelled at him, he had to restrain himself before he was a little too honest with you.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t realize i put my foot out.” his false sympathy was evident in his voice but you just sighed and made your way out of the chapel into the corridor. he waited a few minutes then got up to follow you. he couldn’t hold back anymore especially if he was gonna be able to get you alone somewhere.

when he saw you exit the restroom, he started walking towards you and you noticed him immediately though it wasn’t hard to spot him.

“noah, are you okay? you’ve been acting weird all day.” the innocence in your voice almost made him cum right then and there.

“yeah, i just need to see you on my cock hun.” your body froze at his words, face turning pink and your eyes wide at him. “c’mon. i know you’ve never done anything but do you really wanna until marriage when i could make you feel good. forget all that bullshit for once and just trust me.”

of course you found noah attractive but you couldn’t imagine that he wanted you and with how much you would be on his case with not following the right path, you thought he would’ve dropped you by now. not to mention, you have gotten off to the thought of him a couple times.

“fine, i trust you noah.” you swore you could feel the purity ring burning your skin after you spoke those words.

“good girl. now, meet me back in the chapel at midnight. keep this dress on as well.” he told you as he kissed your cheek and walked away.

what did you just agree to?

-

you felt nauseous as you walked into the chapel, you wanted to be here but you were just nervous since you didn’t know what to expect with what would happen.

“i’m glad you didn’t back out.” the sound of noah’s voice startled you.

“of course i did. i told you that i trusted you.” you told him as you walked towards the podium.

when you got close enough, he made you lean back on the podium as he began kissing you but it didn't last long since he moved his lips to your neck which caused goosebumps to rise all over your body. he grabbed a fist full of your hair tugging it as he dragged his tongue up your neck till he reaches your ear then lightly bites and you let out a whimper at feeling.

noah then fell to his knees before you, pushing your dress up to see you were still wearing those lacy black underwear and he couldn’t hold back a smirk as he tugged them off of you then quickly shoved them into his pocket as a trinket to remember this.

“no one can be this cute.” he murmurs to himself as he stares at your slick heavenly cunt, leaning in to start lapping it up with his hot tongue melting against you then spreading you open with his thumbs while an overwhelming ecstasy flows through your body starting from your toes all the way up to your head with hot pleasure mainly in your belly.

“oh god, noah!” you cry out as he wrapped his lips around your clit then began to suck and lick while your thighs trembled against his head and tangled your fingers in his hair.

“there’s no god here to save you, sweetheart. just me. accept me as your god and cum for me now.” he commanded as he slid his long middle and ring finger into you. the curling of his fingers inside of you causes you to forget everything as you feel the hot bliss in your body explode and you let out a loud moan of his name. he moves away to stand back over you while sucking his fingers clean of your slick as fight off tears of embarrassment since you enjoyed the sight of him.

noah made you rest your back against the podium again as he pulled his pants down to expose himself and you immediately felt intimidated by the size of his cock.

“wanna taste?” noah asked as he noticed how hard you were staring at him.

you quickly nodded at him, he dragged his finger along his tip to gather precum and then brought it towards your lips. your lips wrapped around his finger carefully with your tongue licking his cum up, it was sweet but slightly salty and it may have been a sin but you loved the flavor of him. noah watched you with hooded eyes as he slowly took his finger out of your mouth while you whined at him and he pulled you into a kiss, his tongue grazing over your teeth which you could still taste yourself on. it was supposed to be nasty but it felt so amazing.

“you’re so fuckin disgusting for letting me do this to you.” he groans as he pulls away from you.

“we shouldn’t be doing this in general.” you inform him as you run your hand down his body.

“it’s gonna feel amazing, doll. don’t worry. i can’t fuckin wait to ruin you and feel how tight this pussy is.” the sound of his voice causes you to shiver with pleasure and he removes his shirt then stuffed it into your mouth.

“just to be safe.” is all he says as he lines himself to the slick mess between your thighs.

noah slides in with no resistance, he tries to take it slow but the feeling of your tight walls causes him to thrust into you fully and the shirt muffles your scream. slowly pulling out just to go right back in which causes your head to fall back and mind to go blank. “are you really a woman of god if i was able to convince you this easily to sin?” he removes the shirt from your mouth which lets you finally moan loudly at the pleasure of him pushing your thighs further apart letting him reach even deeper if possible.

“oh fuck, noah. i’ve never felt like this before.” you whine at him as he accentuated each hard thrust against the podium, feeling the wood dig into your back.

“because your god can’t give you pleasure like i can. i knew this is what you needed so let me be your only god.” noah tells you.

“i will.” you whimper as you cry at the feeling of him speeding up, his hand grabbed yours then made you feel your stomach and your head fell back as you could feel his cock through your stomach which caused you to clench around him harder. he barely touched your clit which finally let you cum, crying with whines escaping your mouth and moan. the rough and bruising grip he had on your thighs felt amazing as he shuddered and faltered while sucking on your neck as he came inside you.

as he pulled out and let you go, you moaned and opened your eyes only to be met with the sight of the statue of christ staring down at you as the feeling of cum dripped out of you and down your legs.

“don’t move.” noah then spoke as he pulled his phone out, snapping a picture of your completely fucked out and ruined body. dress pulled up, hair disheveled, face red with tears still streaming down your face and his cum still dripping out of you.

“noah.” you groan out, he puts his phone away then helps you straighten yourself up and himself as well.

he gives you a soft kiss before saying, “so? am i worthy of being your god now, sweetheart?”

title comes from heaven by taemin which inspired this whole idea along with the hell i overcame mv

i already know i'm going straight to hell so don't even bother telling me.

[bunmurdock]

hii bun! it might be a strange question but i really like your inbox asks so i was thinking of asking you about how do you think matt would be if he ended up with a s/o that’s kind of lonely? like, if she doesn’t have much/any friends, is a bit socially awkward, stuff like that

hello, nonnie! i think matt would be so soft, protective, and empathetic ♥

matt murdock notices everything about you from the beginning. not just the sound of your voice, a little shy and hesitant, or the way you laugh, soft and nervous, like you’re waiting for someone to interrupt. it’s the quiet pauses, too, the ones that stretch a beat too long when you’re trying to find the right words. the way you hover just outside of conversations, your heart beating a little faster like you’re worried you’ll say the wrong thing.

he doesn’t say anything at first. matt’s good at holding his cards close, at observing and waiting until he knows the exact right moment to speak. he notices how often you downplay yourself, how you deflect compliments with a quick laugh or a shake of your head. but the more time he spends with you, the more he recognizes the shape of your loneliness, the quiet ache of it. he knows it too well, like an old friend.

it reminds him of those early days—after his dad died, when the rest of the world seemed to turn their backs. how the other kids kept their distance, whispering behind his back about the blind boy who wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t look at them. it reminds him of how easy it was to shrink into himself, to let the silence wrap around him like a second skin.

it comes to a head one night when you’re curled up on his couch, knees pulled up under one of his soft, worn sweaters he swears he doesn’t remember giving you. you’re scrolling on your phone absentmindedly, and matt is sitting beside you, his fingers tracing slow, idle circles on your knee.

“sweetheart, what’s going on?” he asks, voice low and warm, and you shrug, trying to laugh it off.

“nothing,” you say, a little too quickly. “just—” your breath hitches, the words catching. “just the usual. you know. everyone seems so busy, and i don’t want to bother anyone, so…” you trail off.

matt’s hand stills, resting steady and grounding on your knee.

“pup,” he says softly, leaning closer, his breath warm against your hair. “you’re not a bother. not to me, not to anyone who matters.”

you glance at him, cheeks warm, and he tilts his head, his hand sliding up to cup your face. his thumb brushes over your cheek, slow and deliberate.

“you don’t have to do it alone,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “you have me.”

and god, the way he says it—it’s not a suggestion, not a throwaway line. it’s a promise, steady and unshakable, and it makes something in you crack open.

matt pulls you closer then, wrapping an arm around your waist, tucking you into his chest like he’s trying to shield you from the whole world. you press your face against his shoulder, breathing him in, and his hand moves to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.

“you know,” he says after a moment, his tone lighter now, teasing, “if you’re going to be stuck with me, you’re going to have to get used to me dragging you into conversations. i can’t have my partner hiding in corners all the time.” he presses a finger to the tip of your nose, which twitches adorably.

you laugh, and he grins, the sound of it making his chest rumble against your cheek.

“what?” he asks, mock-offended. “i’m serious! you can’t just let me do all the talking. people are going to think i don’t let you get a word in.”

“matt,” you mumble, cheeks heating, and he tilts his head, brushing his nose against yours in the softest, most teasing eskimo kiss. soon, his lips mold against yours with loving precision.

“i’m serious,” he says again, but there’s so much warmth in his voice, so much quiet, unshakable affection, that you know he’s teasing to make you feel lighter, not smaller.

“you’re mine,” he murmurs then, softer now, almost to himself. his hand moves back to your waist, his thumb stroking little circles into the fabric of the sweater he gave you. “and i’ll remind you every day if that’s what it takes.”

and he does. not by changing you, but by making sure the world doesn’t miss the parts of you that are so easy to overlook. when you drift into your own world at a party, matt is the first to pull you back gently, his hand on the small of your back, leaning down to murmur, “what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours, sweetheart?”

he never lets the world dim you, never lets loneliness sneak back in, because matt murdock knows what it’s like to feel alone. and he makes sure you never feel that way again.

masterlist

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 51

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 48, part 49, part 50

“What if we let him stay with us,” Eddie says out of the blue, sitting on one of their new kitchen chairs.

Wayne stops unpacking glasses, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Steve, what if we let him stay with us. Just while he tries to find a place.” He fidgets with his hands, avoiding Wayne’s eye contact. “We’ve, uh, been talking, and he’s put off trying to find a place. Now that he knows the end date, he’s started looking but can’t afford any of places that are open right now.”

Wayne pushes the box back onto the counter, he can finish it later. He turns fully toward Eddie, leaning back on the counter and crossing his arms. “So, you want us to let him stay here.”

“Yeah, and it could be like paying him back, you know. For letting us stay with him. Return the favor, and everything.”

He sighs, wiping a hand down his face. “We don’t exactly have the space for that. Unless you’re planning on him sleeping on the couch.”

Eddie stutters, further ignoring Wayne’s gaze. Mouth opening with no sound coming out.

“Or is this the part where you finally tell me you two are seeing each other?”

Eddie freezes. “How did you know?”

Wayne shakes his head. “Cause I’m not an idiot. You two go from chewing each other’s head off to being super close and touchy. And I saw Steve try to sneak out of your room when I got back from a shift. He thought he played it off, but I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Wanted to see how long it took you to tell me yourself. It’s been almost three weeks, and we all live together. You really thought I didn’t know?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. We were just feeling it out, didn’t want to tell anyone in case it blew up fast.”

“And now you want him to move in with us? Sleep in your room, in your bed. You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I thought you would be cooler about this. Steve’s a good guy, you know that.”

He does know that. But he knows a lot of things that leave him questioning. Even if it’s just from passing comments. Ammunition that could have been meaningless, but there was history behind it. History Wayne doesn’t know but can assume what it means.

Maybe he’s an ass for assuming. Maybe he’s just being overprotective. But when it comes to matters of the heart, people can be reckless. They can jump without looking just to get hurt in the end.

Steve might be a good guy for letting them stay in his house. He might be a good friend, a good role model for the kids. But a good boyfriend, for Wayne’s boy, he’ll never be good enough. No one will.

“I know. I’m just worried that letting him stay here would make a jump you’re not quite ready yet.”

Eddie nods, looking down at his hands. “It’s early, I know. And it’d be temporary. I just—I don’t want to leave him high and dry. He helped us when we had nowhere else to go, I thought we might be able to so the same.”

Wayne gets where his head’s at. He gets wanting to do something to thank Steve that would be anywhere near the way he’s helped them. Hell, Wayne does too. There are just so many reservations in his head. So many ways that this could go wrong.

“I’ll think about it,” Wayne concedes. “On a few conditions, it is actually temporary, and I’m the one who talks to him about it. You say nothing until I do, got it.”

“Got it.” Eddie smiles brighter than he has in a long time. “Thank you, it means a lot, even you just thinking about it.”

He sighs. “Yeah well, you have a point.”

“You’re not going to get, like, super weird and protective now that you know right?”

Wayne scoffs, going back to the box that needs unpacking. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve told me what happened while I was still in the coma. I know you didn’t like him around me. I know that has changed, but it’s different now. And don’t you remember back in my freshman year where I told you about that guy in my English class and you threatened to kill him if he looked at me wrong?”

He shrugs. “That’s just part of being a parent, can’t turn it off.”

That kid would have deserved what came to him if Wayne actually followed through. After the first few months of peace, he made Eddie’s life a living hell.

“Well, Steve’s a good guy, and he’s good to me, so just, tone it down a little bit.”

Wayne turns to look at Eddie again. He’s honestly surprised that this conversation is happening, but also glad that it is. Eddie’s hasn’t exactly seen that many people. Not in the town that threatens to crucify you for walking on the wrong side of the road. As far as Wayne was supposed to know, this was Eddie’s first time seeing someone. But he knew that on some of the weekends where Eddie would disappear for a night, it was to sneak into one of those bars down in Indy.

That was dangerous, this was less so. As far as Wayne knows, Steve’s romantic life is a mixed bag. Short term relationships and one long one that ended semi-badly. Sue him for being cautious. Sue him for looking out for his kid. After all the pain they went through in the past year, he could at least try to make sure heartbreak wasn’t added to the mix.

“You happy?” Wayne asks, watching as Eddie’s face softens.

“Yeah.”

“You being safe?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet, but when we do, we will.”

Wayne nods. “Then I’ll tone it down a little. Just a little. Don’t go expecting miracles.”

The rest of the box gets unpacked, the glasses and other dishware slowly filling the cabinets. The home starting to really look like a home.

“Thank you,” Eddie says quietly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve gets back from work late. Wayne wasn’t exactly waiting for him, but he wasn’t exactly not waiting for him. He was just in the kitchen, putting something together for a late dinner, knowing that Steve was going to be home soon. If it felt like a good time, he was going to bring it up. If it didn’t, he was going to give it a day.

But he can feel that protective burn bubbling up and can’t snuff it out. He needed to know.

“I know about you two,” Wayne says. More menacingly than he meant to, but doesn’t know how else to start this.

Steve freezes, hand on the fridge’s handle. Holding it open. “What?”

“You and Eddie, I know.”

He nods, closing the door and clearing his throat. “For how long?”

“Few weeks. You’re really not a slick as you think you are.”

Steve leans on the counter, crossing his arms. Ready for a lecture. “We were going to tell you, just wanted to make sure we weren’t making a mistake first.”

“Interesting word there, mistake.” Wayne’s pressing, trying to lure out what he needs to see. Make sure that this isn’t something he needs to worry about.

“I just didn’t want to lose another friend because of a relationship. It took me years to be able to be friends with Nancy. I didn’t want the same to happen with Eddie.”

Wayne nods. Satisfied with the answer.

“What you said a few weeks ago, that you saw the way I acted around him. And you wanted to stop the hurt before it started. I’m not planning on hurting him. I can’t promise I won’t mess up; I tend to do that a lot. But I always try to make up for it, to learn. I’ve gotten really good at apologizing.”

The protectiveness dies down, Steve hitting everything he wanted to hear. And Eddie’s right, Wayne knows that he’s a good guy. He’s made mistakes, but he’s grown. He’s changed. It’s as much as Wayne can ask for.

“You know, earlier today, Eddie brought up this idea of letting you stay with us until you find a place on your own.”

Steve’s face fills with shock. “He did?”

Wayne nods. “Yeah. As you can imagine, I had my hesitations. We don’t exactly have spare rooms like you do. But,” Wayne can’t believe he’s really saying this, but it feels right, “if you wanted, you could stay with us. With the promise that you find a place on your own, and that this won’t put an unnecessary strain on your new relationship.”

“I—” Steve tries to get out. “Thank you.”

Before Wayne can register what’s happening, Steve’s hugging him.

“Thank you,” he repeats. The words heavy with relief.

“Yeah, well. After all you did for me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

Steve lets go, taking a step back. “But you didn’t, a lot of people don’t. So, thank you.”

He realizes that there is so much story of Steve that he still doesn’t know. Hurt and pain that he keeps hidden away. Not for other people to see. Steve walks away before he can ask, or even question. Hesitating before walking down the hall to Eddie’s room.

This was going to be interesting.

apologies for the late post, I was at work and then driving home from break, and forgot to post before I left (like I planned to). And posting tag lists from mobile sucks ass.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[cartoonsinthemorning]

So I absolutely love all your thoughts and ideas about a fem Stan, but what about a fem Ford? I feel like that could also be a really fun dynamic. Stan trying to be the man and protecting fem!Ford from bullies, but is really just entirely wrapped around Fords fingers. And then! The jealousy could come into play in other ways! Like Stan starts dating someone and Ford is pissed about it so she leaves a lipstick mark on his collar or subtly sprays him with perfumes so that Stans partner thinks he was cheating and leaves him. And the obsessionnn. Imagine her stealing Stan’s shirts and sleeping in them just because they smell like him. Or staring at him while he sleeps and sketching him in her personal diary (though let’s be real, canon Ford did that too lol.) Anyways, I also like the idea of all of these pent up feeling finally coming out and her just riding Stan until he can’t think straight and her being like “that’s right, you’ll never have it this good with anyone else.” Idk. Thoughts?

Hello new friend! Thank you for enjoying my thoughts and ideas about fem!Stan, and for now kickstarting a conversation about fem!Ford too! I have a lot of thoughts. So many, in fact, that before moving to the shippy part, I need to focus on Ford alone, first. What would differ, was he born a girl. Quite a lot. I’m gonna be blunt. All things Ford had been oppressed by, in canon, would hit ten times harder, if he was a girl. Take academic ambitions, for example: I’m not saying that fem!Ford’s extraordinary intelligence wouldn’t had earned her praise. I just doubt she would had been encouraged to pursue higher education, and convert her studies into a career. A jewish WOMAN into STEM? Back then? I don’t think any of her teachers suggested she shoots for a prestigious university- why give her and her family unrealistic expectations? Ma and Pa would had been happy to have a smart, studious daughter, but I’m sure the idea to invest into her studies would had been up to debate, if not shot down immediately: to spend that type of money, when her likely future job would be either high school science teacher, or museum curator- would had been a pointless waste, to someone like Filbrick Pines.

To be honest, I think teen fem!Ford would had rather been encouraged, by her parents, to attend professional classes instead, something like a typewriting course- in order to find a stable secretary job, for example, after high school. Can you imagine, someone with Ford’s potential, being told “Well honey, at least you can put those extra fingers to a practical use, if you learn to type very fast”? Can you imagine how UTTERLY humiliated fem!Ford must had felt, all the time? Just like Ford, I think she’d be perfectly aware what a genius she is, and how drastically she’s been underestimated. And yet, she’d have to take in consideration the evidence: it doesn’t matter how great her mind is. They are right, there’s no place that would want her. The only person that would root for her, ever the dreamer, would be Stanley. He’d just take her hands, wipe her tears away, and promise, with naive, granitic certainty, that he will find a way to help her. His plans would range from completely unrealistic and cartoonish (“Ya could invent a machine that turns me into a brainiac, and once Pa send me to that tech uni ya like, I’ll sneak you in the classes, and you’ll take my place!”), to painfully sweet, albeit still unrealistic (“If Pa doesn’t want to support ya, I’ll take two or three jobs and pay for your studies and stuff myself!”). Stanley would look at his sister with bright eyes, and a huge optimistic grin, stating that she’s the smartest gal that ever existed, so there’s NO WAY she won’t become some posh scientist and prove everyone in Glass Shard Beach wrong. Every time Stanley would pull his stupid, naive, adoring Protector Knight acts, fem!Ford would feel so angry at herself for blushing, and for her heart-rate speeding up. Because it’s so intoxicating to be believed in, but she can’t afford to fall for Stanley’s overly-hopeful view of her condition, and she can’t afford to fall for him either. And this brings me to yet another point I wanted to make: self-esteem, and societal expectations.

If canon Ford’s hands got him bullied, and classified as freak- for a girl, they would had also been a mark of ugliness and considered remarkably un-feminine. I bet F., as a little girl, suffered a lot for having more in common with the grotesque antagonistic creatures of her favorite books, rather than the princess. And I’m sure EVERYONE around her didn’t fail to make her notice too. In subtle ways, sometimes. Like her mom suggesting she gets ear-rings, for her birthday, rather than bracelets, because it would be best not to concentrate more attention on those, right? Even if teen fem!Ford would act aloof, as if she didn’t care anymore, she’d be so self conscious about her large palms and extra fingers- so unfeminine and gross- she’d fantasize about chopping them off quite often. If Stanley hadn’t happily held her hand throughout their childhood, and “made fun” of how tiny her hands look in his large ones, as teenagers, maybe she would have, in a fit of self-hate. Thing is, fem!Ford would hold grudges and set secret standards in her head. It’s not like she thinks she’d never be able to get a boyfriend, despite her hands: she doesn’t look horrible, she’d be pretty, even, if she cared for her appearance like her moms begs her to do- but F. wouldn’t be able to suppress the burning conviction that “No other man but Stanley deserves me”. Other men may want her despite her hands, but Stanley was there since the beginning, telling her her hands make her more special than any other girl, like she was magical, like she belong in the fairy tales book she used to read aloud to him. What a stab to the heart, then, that she can’t have him. Not only because they are siblings, but because, just like you said, Stanley would date someone else. Carla, and some other stupid bitch that F. would need to get rid of, because they don’t deserve Stanley like she does neither! I love all the strategies you listed, to “mark her territory” and push other girls away!! I love toxic, jealous girlies!! I don’t condone Ford’s yanderism, but fem!Ford has my blessing. She can be a creep, as a treat. As for the part you mentioned, about fem!Ford snapping and riding Stan- YES I also agree, AND I’d like to add to it. In this AU, Stanley isn’t a misogynist in the classic sense: he doesn’t consider his sister an inferior at all. But… he would not be immune to absorbing the Madonna-whore complex:Girls like Carla- he can fool around with, because they are that kind of girls. Promiscuous, slutty- bad girls. But his sister is different. She’s so virtuous, so smart- his pure, innocent little sister. Stanley would NEVER lay a finger on her. Yes, he may admit to himself he is in love with her, which is also horrible, but at least he would never, ever sexualize her. Cue Stanley playing dumb, or finding excuses to weasel away, whenever fem!Ford flirted with him, or even made clear advances- during the entire length of their teenage years. Until fem!Ford just. Decided she couldn’t take it anymore, stripped naked, slipped into Stan’s bed, and grinded and kissed his neck until he caved, lmao. I have even more thoughts, but it’s getting late, here. I must cut the yapping short, for now. Please, feel free to come chat again, and throw more ideas of your own at me! Thank you for this one, MMMMWAH, baci baci!

[holylulusworld]

Jerk next door (7) - Plans to make

 

Summary: You move in next door to a jerk after a bad breakup.

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Characters: Destroyer!Chris, Captain Syverson

Warnings: angst, mentions of past domestic violence (implied), mentions of divorce, mentions of past physical abuse, scared reader, mentions of past alcohol abuse, rueful Andy, mentions of murder

Jerk next door (6) - Two new players 

Jerk next door masterlist

Syverson rolls his eyes. For the better part of five hours, Andy tries to devise a better plan than killing your ex. “I can make it look like an accident. Trust me.”

“Sy, even if you make it look like an accident, it’s still murder. We are better than this rotten bastard. I don’t think Y/N wants to live with the knowledge that she’s the reason for Beck’s death.”

“What if he’s getting into an accident? We could manipulate his car; this way, Y/N won’t feel guilty,” Chris throws in. He grunts as Andy shakes his head again. “It’s a good plan.”

“Again—it’s still murder, Chris. No killing him,” Andy points at Chris. “I know you’d love to take this man down, but we can’t run around and kill people.”

Chris shows his palms and says, “Fine, fine. No killing. What else can we do? You must admit that we can’t protect Y/N for the rest of her life. She wants her home and life back.”

Sy rubs his scruffy chin. He wrinkles his forehead while trying to come up with a better plan. When Andy called, Sy had already decided to take Quentin down. “What if—” he takes his time before he says. “He commits a crime and gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Chris chuckles and slams his hand onto his thigh. “I knew you’d come up with a fucked-up plan. So, how do we do it?”

“It’s a rough draft,” Sy grumbles. “It’s the only way to make sure he cannot harm Y/N and won’t come back. If he’s locked away, there’s no way out.”

Andy frowns. He doesn’t share Chris and Sy’s enthusiasm. The skilled lawyer knows better than to keep his hopes high when it comes to justice. Sometimes you can give it all, and you will still lose. “If he gets sentenced. You know better than to have faith in our judicial machinery.”

Sy scoffs. “You’re an attorney lawyer and don’t believe in the system you defend every fucking day?”

“YES!” Andy barks and throws his hands up. “I see the worst scum walk out of the courtroom every day. I don’t have faith in the system most of the time. It disappointed me over and over again in the last few years. Even if he gets arrested after we faked a crime, there’s no guarantee he won’t get out.”

“Andy is not wrong,” Sy nods thoughtfully. “So, back to killing him?” He smirks at Andy. “Come on, you know that there is no other way. If you want Y/N to be safe, you must get your hands dirty.”

Andy grits his teeth and says, “No murder. Do you think they won’t look for Y/N? You know what the cops think, Chris. The partner, or ex-partner, is always suspect number one.”

“He’s not wrong, Sy,” Chris hates to admit that Andy is right. “We can’t kill him, and there’s no guarantee he won’t leave the courtroom as a free man.”

“What if I just give up?” You step inside the room. All three men look at you, following your every step as you sit down on the couch in Andy’s living room. “There’s no way out. Nowhere to run to. He wins.”

Andy winces because you look tired and worn out. It’s his fault. He blamed you for something you didn’t do, and there is no denying, he ruined your life. “No.” He simply says. “We won’t let him win. I lose against monsters like him in the courtroom. I won’t lose against that bastard.”

Burying your face in your hands, you sniffle. You don’t want Andy to watch you cry. He’s still the neighbor making your life a living hell. “Why do you even care? This is what you wanted! From the first moment you saw me, you wanted me to leave! I’ll be gone soon. Good job!”

“Christ, can you stop being so—” Andy sighs when you flinch at his harsh tone. “I know that I was the worst. Please believe me that I regret what I did. Let me at least try to make things up to you. Quentin Beck won’t hurt you ever again.”

“Alright,” Sy claps his hands. “It’s getting late. We won’t come up with a good plan tonight. I’ll take over the first shift and keep an eye on your house, Andy. Chris, you can take over in three hours.”

“Got it,” Chris says and gets up from his seat. “I’ll check on Y/N’s house and make my round. Sy, be careful. We shouldn’t underestimate that slimy piece of shit.”

“Got it.” Sy tips his hat before walking out of the living room. “I’ll be in my hideout, Andy. You know the signal.”

“Got it.” Andy nods. You stare at Andy. Everyone seems to get their plan. Everyone but you. There’s not a chance that Quentin will leave you alone. You lost hope the moment you heard he was in town. “Y/N, you should get some sleep. Sy, Chris, and I will make sure that he won’t even get close to you.”

You’re too tired and emotionally drained to argue. Maybe it’s better to not see your end coming.

The floor creaks heavily under the intruder’s weight. He didn’t expect Andy’s house to be an obstacle. It was easy enough to get access to the neighborhood and to find out that his lovely ex-wife’s house is right next to Andy’s.

“Darling,” he whispers lowly. “If you let that bastard touch you, you’re going to regret it.” He hums and slowly creeps upstairs. He waited long enough for the other man to leave.

“What are you doing at my house?” Andy stands only a few feet away, watching Quentin’s face contort in anger. “You know, breaking and entering is a crime. And I have the right to defend my home and my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Quentin growls. He gets his gun out, aiming at Andy’s chest. “You’ll pay for hiding that bitch from me!”

Andy dodges the first bullet by dropping to the ground. He rolls behind the couch and waits for his chance.

“Do you think you can dodge the next bullet, too?” Quentin laughs and shoots in Andy’s direction. He hits the wall, but nothing else. Picture frames drop to the ground and shatter. “Huh? Get out, coward!”

“You should’ve counted your bullets.” Andy gets up from behind the couch. He smirks before firing three bullets into Quentin’s chest. “What a pity, you broke into my house and tried to kill me and your ex-wife. What else could I do but give you what you deserve?”

Tags in reblog.

[clegfly]

PUTER MASTERPOST AT LAST!!!

If you’re one of the people that asked me for this, the wait is over!!

To my pleasant surprise since I started it puter has become probably the most popular thing I’ve made which I’m SO grateful for… so, I thought it only fair to give the people what they ask for and make a full master post compiling all the content I’ve made for the au thus far!! This will be updated as I post, hopefully.

Keep in mind that puter is still a work in progress, so there will be a lot that doesn’t work or make sense yet, but trust me, I’m working on it! Remember, patience is key!!

So, without further ado, here it is!!!

Quick Summary

For anyone wondering what puter actually is, here’s the gist:

Following the events of OMORI’s neutral ending (specifically the one in which basil dies… specific variation of THAT isn’t too key at the moment but that might change for plot reasons…), five years after the move, with some help from his mother, sunny is improving… very slightly. In fact, he’s had enough motivation to pull together a shitty little flash game, fuelled by his past passion for them. He’s still not fully all there, and he still spends most of his time in headspace asleep, but now he has SOMETHING to work on outside of it, and it’s giving him the slightest reason and encouragement to wake up each morning. The slightest.

And, notably, one of the characters in said shitty flash game is actually based on Mari… Even when he isn’t really trying to, he ends up putting her in the game anyway, because he wants mari to be safe, and he’s so consumed by guilt and regret that he feels obliged to make her in worlds where she can be okay. Another sort of subconscious way of both immortalising her and apologising to her in another fun, perfect world of his design, where no harm can befall her, and everything is perfect. He didn’t kill her. They never argued. Mari is okay. Mari is fine, again. He’s sorry. He’s so, so sorry.

However… this stand in mari character actually gains sentience and becomes self aware, convincing itself that it truly is mari… leading to a LOT of stuff. We call her “mariware” over here, by the way!

The au’s actual storyline takes place years after this, following kel after he visits sunny’s mother five years after his mysterious suicide, and possessing a flash drive containing her son’s game… and, as we know, something else.

As stated like thirty times at this point… VERY work in progress!!! But I do have most of it figured out… though I’m not sure how to convey it as an actual story yet… but that will come with time, I’m sure!!!

Lore/ Canon Posts

Posts I’ve made for puter which are actual pieces I’ve put thought into and are canonical to the au. Have fun!!

ERHUSGKSCAE UEGGVXAE

SILBVRUW

IHX UEPJMCE

BUKLIEGV!

ULTAL QTMKE

UUG

Doodles/ Sketches

Here is where you can find all my non-canon doodles and sketches for the au!!

Concept art

Awful dithering test

Cleg gets the artstyle right for the first time

Click and drag

Antivirus

Club penguin

Kel design concept sketch

Microsoft paint

Mariware bromine brush 1

Mariware bromine brush 2

Mariware boingoingoingoing

Wrong

Fries

She wants to KILL

Heromari

Get a job bozo

Sir this is a Wendy’s

Teaser

IHX IVPJMKEL

…

…huh? Is something else meant to be here?…

…

…maybe it’s not ready yet.

[venomwrites]

Something something blindfolding and handcuffs - doesn’t have to be sexy though can def be angsty because even though vi was acting real cool about it I doubt it didn’t give her a fair share of panic

The shackles are heavy in Caitlyn’s hands. 

How many nights has she dreamed about this? 

How may ways has she dreamed about this?

Vi being slapped with shackles and dragged back and held until she saw reason. Until the anger in her eyes shifted back to Jinx where it belonged. Because surely at some point it was directed there. It was just buried under the anguish. Surely Caitlyn did not read things that wrong, Vi only needed to see reason. 

Vi being shackled and hung and Caitlyn not knowing until it was too late. Until all that was left of Vi was her broken corpse, feet dangling from the bridge where she had saved her life. Ambessa’s hand falling heavy and triumphant on her shoulder as a scream starts but she can’t tell if it’s her own or Jinx’s or Vi’s ghost. It rings in her ears long after she shoots up in bed. 

There’s barely any pink left on the woman in front of her. 

“Let’s do this,” Vi says and holds out her wrists. 

Vi with her hands knotted above her head, looking up at her with trust as she is stretched along her bed. Her tattoos glisten and her hips rock as Caitlyn tastes every scar on her face. Ever scar lower on her body. Every shade of pink that makes up Vi’s kaleidoscope. 

Caitlyn thinks she might be sick.

“I can’t,” Caitlyn says. 

“What? Why not?” Vi looks almost indignant, “you’ve been arresting people for months.”

Caitlyn doesn’t know how to say ‘but not you’ without sounding like even more of a monster to Vi. All the Enforcers know Vi is to be isolated if she’s captured. Caitlyn makes up some reason about betrayal and Enforcers and agrees to whatever the next thing Ambessa says is so she can have this one. Of course Vi is never arrested and now she’s standing in front of Caitlyn with her arms outstretched. 

“Wait, before that you gotta hit me,” Vi says, “so it’s believable,” Caitlyn can only stare at her, “probably should be the face this time.”

“Excuse me,” she stammers out and shoves herself away.

Vi’s right about all of them. They’re as outdoors as they can be and their blindspot is small but Caitlyn gets right to the edge of it. The pain in her chest almost makes her hands shake. She’s played out seeing Vi again in a million different ways but this, this is something else. This is something she’s already done. Something she knows she’ll regret for the rest of her life. 

“Cupcake—Cait,” Vi’s voice is tight, “we don’t have time for this right now.”

“I know,” Caitlyn says. 

“Well—“

“Just give me a moment,” Caitlyn snaps. 

Vi glares back at her and shoves her hands into her pockets, muttering a curse under her breath. There’s less desperation in her now. Less need. In an odd way she’s steadier than the last time.  Her shoulders tense and she turns around. Caitlyn realizes she’s squaring up to make her hit her. And somehow that makes everything worse. 

Vi thinks she has to manipulate her. 

It’s like they’re back in Stillwater.

“Where?” Caitlyn grits out. Vi jams at her cheek, right under her tattoo, “that’s too close to your eye.”

“It has to be believable,” Vi says hotly, then gives a roguish smile, “besides, I block with my face.”

“Still?”  

Vi’s features twist which only makes her recently broken nose more apparent. Her eyes dart back towards her and if Caitlyn didn’t know better she’d say there was something like hope in her eyes. But the expression vanishes as quickly as it came and Vi squares her shoulders, turning to face her. 

“Just aim for the tattoo,” she mutters. 

Caitlyn can’t bear to do that. 

The sharp, surgical blow is still enough to whip Vi’s head to the side. It makes Caitlyn feel about ten inches tall when Vi’s gaze swings back to her. There’s no mistaking the anger. Though Caitlyn wishes she could. She can’t quite stop herself from stepping forward. The skin is bright and red against Vi’s pale skin. 

Caitlyn wishes the color didn’t look so much like the Vi who haunts her dreams. 

“You missed,” Vi says, rubbing near the spot.

“No.”

Vi’s hand pauses. Caitlyn turns back to the cuffs before she can speak. They feel just as heavy if not worse than they did a moment ago. 

Slapping the shackles on Vi herself in the temple and dragging her back. Not letting her go. Vi breathing hard in her ear as they made their way back Topside where Vi belonged now. Back to the Manor, back to home, back to where everything made sense. 

“Cait—“

“You’re right, we’re wasting time,” she says, “wrists.”

Vi thrusts them out. Vi’s hands have always been a mess. When they met it was by virtue of hitting concrete walls and faces with minimal protection. But she scrounged what she could. Her hands are still a mess but now there’s a carelessness to them. Half healed knuckles she’s continued to punch on, dirty wraps, its a miracle they are only swollen.

“When is the last time you broke out of these?” Vi shrugs, “we need to make sure you can.”

“I’ll be fine,” Vi says. Caitlyn holds her gaze, “fine! Here!” 

She slaps the cuffs on and gets out of them quickly. It’s a relief but Caitlyn can see the edge on her. Still she rallies and puts her hands behind her back, slapping them on again. Vi is always at her most brilliant when she’s protecting. Caitlyn wonders how she forgot that. 

“Last thing,” she says and she can’t help the apologetic tone though she knows it’ll just infuriate Vi. 

Vi sneers at the bag in her hands. Vi hates the dark. She has for as long as Caitlyn’s known her. Even in the pits of the Fissures, Vi went for the one place that had light. She hates being in the dark. Still. Her eyes flit from the bag to her before her features set in determination. 

“Do it.”

“I’m—“

“Don’t,” Vi cuts her off, “just do it.”

Caitlyn nods and approaches, guiding the bag over Vi’s face. Vi tenses when it gets near her nose. Caitlyn can’t imagine all the places on her that must hurt. She takes care not to touch her as she guides the bag down. Until all she can see of Vi is her bruised colored lips. 

“Just focus on your Dad,” Caitlyn says. 

“Wait,” Vi’s voice comes tight and strangled, “promise me you won’t hurt Powder.”

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the collision of emotions. All of this—all of it can be worth it. She wants to take her in. She needs to kill her. She cannot believe Vi is even asking that she not make this all mean something. Anything. All that was lost has to be for something—

Vi makes a noise in the back of her throat. 

“Cait—“ Vi chokes out, “please—“

It’s like being doused in cold water. The consequences of her actions are standing in front of her. Caked in grease and pain and Gods knew what else. And somehow still fighting. Still trying to aim her punches even if she was blind. Ambessa’s words echo in her head. Caitlyn doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to forgive Jinx. She doesn’t want to. But if Vi is strong enough to let her darken the world, surely—surely she can try. 

“Alright,” she spits out.

Vi sucks in a breath and relaxes. 

She believes her. 

Caitlyn doesn’t deserve her faith. She doesn’t deserve her trust. She knows that and yet Vi gives it. She stares down the darkness and the fear and claws her way back. Enforcers talk about bravery, they aspire to it. Vi puts them all to shame. It’s so bright Caitlyn can barely stand to look. 

So she pulls the bag down over Vi’s lips and resolves not to give her any more ghosts. 

[lemotmo]

911 8x08 thoughts and freak outs!

Okay…

Well…

WOW…

OMG!!!

What do I say about this episode? 😶

Uhm…

Well, my first reaction was this: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! 🤣🤣🤣

And I mean this in a very good way! 😏

I’m just going to start with the thing that made me go AAAAAH! In the first place:

Eddie and Chris! That scene was heartbreaking and when Brad talked to ‘Edmundo’ about his estranged son it was a great moment. Eddie has started to realise he has to act NOW, because he son is growing up without him and he doesn’t want that gap to become any wider. 😭

Side-note: Fuck the Diaz parents big time! They suck! 😠

So Eddie decides to move to Texas, which is so very much the wrong thing to do. But I get why he’s considering it. The right thing to do for him would be to go to Texas, talk to Chris and telling him he needs to come home, back to LA. But I don’t think Eddie is ready for that yet. He’ll need some time to get there, but he’ll get there in the end.

Which leads me to that one scene with Buck. And OMG! In the seven years that I’ve been here, shipping Buddie, I’ve seen a lot scenes between them that suggested something more, but it was never really anything concrete… you know? 🤷‍♀️

This scene? It was like being hit over the head with a sledgehammer. Buck just walks into Eddie’s house and Eddie’s okay with that. He’s teasing him about the tablet and Eddie lets him. They know each other through and through. And Buck’s face when Eddie told him it was in El Paso? That was interesting. And of course he wants to help Eddie. It almost feels like they’re buying a house together for a moment there. But then…

Then when Buck’s sitting on the Diaz couch (yes… hello couch theory, great to see you again! 😂), his face falls and there is something there that wasn’t there before. Guys… we just witnessed the very early beginnings of Buck’s ‘OH’ moment. Eddie making plans to move will help Buck realise just how much he truly cares for Eddie. 🥲🥲🥲

So, this is it. This is THAT scene we’ve all been hoping for.

I feel unwell.

In a good way.

The Buddie-arc has officially begun. 😋🌈😁☀️

So unwell right now.

Still in a good way.

But oh… this is going to be such a good hiatus! That scene alone will inspire so many writers to write excellent fic, it will fuel us for months and ignite the fandom to speculate and theorise. It’ll be epic! 😎

I wonder if there’ll actually be a time-jump or they’ll just pick up where they left off after hiatus. 🤔

On to the rest of the episode:

Where was the Maddie storyline they talked about?

Athena’s storyline was actually nice this time. It is entirely possible that something flew over my head when it comes to her scenes as a police officer. But to my non-American eyes, it was a nice storyline. The cart cop kid was a little naive, but he was likeable I suppose. I don’t really enjoy watching people like that on YouTube, but for the show it was okay.

I unexpectedly really enjoyed the Brad storyline. Granted, him rescuing that woman and risking hurting her? That was iffy, but 911 is like HotShots in that respect, you know? We aren’t supposed to take it all ‘that’ seriously. So I can live with that scene. I love the growth in Brad and how he talked that guy from the ledge. Do we think that scene was based on the fact that Jon Bon Jovi talked someone from the ledge a couple of months ago? I think that’s where Tim got his inspiration for this.

So overall, I really enjoyed this episode and I have to admit that I didn’t really expect too much of it. But it managed to surprise me in a few ways. But mostly that Buddie-moment… it just blew my mind. 🤯

I can happily skip into hiatus now. All is right with my fictional TV-show world again.

😎😎😎

I'm off to read the post interviews now and answer some asks in my inbox. YAY!

[underatreedrinkingtea]

Something Golden, Something Glistening

So I decided to write my first ever fic!! If you want to read on Ao3 there is a link below.

Spite x Rook

Spite wakes, Lucanis finally succumbs to slumber, he needs the rest after their trip to Arlathan Forest. And Spite has a mission of his own, he needs to speak to her. To Rook, her eyes always seem to look his way. Spite needs to know why, how. Nobody other than Lucanis can see him. He is..curious.

He walks to find her, finally he catches a hint of her scent and follows. Smells like vanilla, apricot and tea leaves. He ends up in the Lighthouse’s music room, her back is turned to him sitting by the harpsichord. Candlelight all around fills the space, but Rook is somehow surrounded by complete darkness. There is stillness in the room. She is humming a tune unfamiliar to him, but her emotions are sad. ‘Taste like agony, torment and shame!’, Spite exclaims to himself. Another mystery that needs to be solved for another time. 

“Spite, come to talk?” Rook says gently, not surprised he is here.

Purple eyes narrows. “You know. It is us. How!?” he asks impatiently. Rook turns around to observe him, her gaze feels heavy on him yet gentle, a warmth he’s not used to. Everything is usually sharp edges, harsh words spoken between him and Lucanis. Never a balance, always on pins and needles. She is so aware of him. It feels good. After a while Rook says;

“It’s good that Lucanis finally gets some sleep, I understand why he doesn’t want to but… maybe you and I can work together, speak to him?” Her voice is gentle and friendly.

‘She ignores the question! We want to know!’

Spite takes a few steps towards her. “ Agh! No. Answer us!” he grunts abruptly and fixes her with an aggravated look. Lucanis can wait, now it is his turn to be heard. ‘I matter too!’ He thought she was different when the mage and her dwarf companion rescued them from the Ossuary. Was he wrong?

“I apologise, Spite. Of course you matter. I don’t want you to think otherwise. I’m also curious about you two as well. But you are right, one thing at a time.” Her warm, gentle voice settles him a bit. He perks up, ‘Curious about us?!’

“Yes!” she grinned at him. “It’s funny you know, I can feel you all around, it’s the first thing I notice when you’re present. I see you clearer than most, your aura shines so brightly. It is hard to look away”, a soft smile is on her face. Dimples.

Spite walks closer. If he wanted, he could reach out and touch her. But for now it’s enough to be near and feel her warmth, so golden and fierce.

She pats on the seat beside her, inviting him in. “Come sit with me.” Her tone is still light and gentle.  Not tense, not scared at all. Rook wants him here and he does not know how to feel, unsure now. Once he is sitting down the smell of vanilla, apricots and tea hits him more intensely. He gazes at the half empty cup of tea infront of her. Lucanis would disapprove, he is sure of it. His heart calls out for coffee. He turns to glance at her now, golden hair so bright, a soft and kind face looks back at him. Scars that resemble lighting on the side of her face, rosy flushed cheeks. And her eyes, grey, blurry and cloudy. ‘Pretty.’ Some type of injury as well, Spite wonders?

“My eyes they…I have trouble seeing at a longer distance. Many colours are lost on me. A lot of my world is grey now. But spirits and the Fade are overwhelmingly colourful. I have learned to use the Fade to help me see the world in a new way. People now look more like an..aura at a distance. If that makes sense?”, she tells him calmly.

That explains why her companion were extra observant around her when they fought the Venatori vermin. Rook fought well still, the sight was mesmerising and passionate. Then she tasted like thick smoke, lightning and death. When Rook fights she is like a knife, piercing and quick-witted. Now all he feels is hot golden bliss. It was distracting, he only wanted more.

“I will. Watch over you! No one touches you!” Spite states forcefully.

“ Spite-” she protests.

“No! You fight well. And dangerous. I want to. Help!” He doesn't want to offend her, never her. He needs to make her see. ‘Listen’. Giving her a firm look. ‘Let. Me. Help.’ Spite will not look away until Rook understands. They stare at each other, equally stubborn the both of them. Who will crumble first? Not him, he likes when he gets his way, used to it. He wins, dominates. Despite looking at him so intensely, she is still so..relaxed. Her face perks up and gives him a mischievous look. At last she breaks their eye contact and laughs.

“Okay, you win.”

He grins. ‘Hah! I knew. I win!’ Spite is pleased and ready to leave. He got what he wanted. As he stands back up she takes his hand. Warm, so warm and firm. Purple glow meets a grey cloudiness. She gives him her dimples again and his- Lucanis heart flutters. Her scorching look warms him inside and out, it is almost too much to bear. He needs her to drop his hand. It tingles.             

“Will you make a contract with me? Let Lucanis sleep and not do anything stupid while he rests?”

 “No fun!” Spite objects. 

“Hmm..what do you say about hanging out with me again, here? Still holding his hand, but this time she squeezes it softly.

“And do what? Want to. Explore.” He demands.

“We can do that too, if you want. But I want to come with. Is that okay with you?” Rook suggests. Spite thinks it over, it could not be so terrible. He will ask her more questions and she will answer. He is very good at getting his way, this could work in his and Lucanis favour. Get information, Be useful.

He makes an irritated noise and sighs. “Fine! Contact accepted. And I want. To try. Tea!”

Rook only responds with a laugh and he once again sees her dimples.

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

i have a really difficult time feeling confident in my grasp of certain practical skills that are necessary to, like, survive as an human being in this world & i really cannot tell if a) other people are as uncertain as i am when performing these tasks and it’s something they’re better at breezily pushing through in a way i’m not able to do even if the task feels high-stakes and insurmountable or b) they’re not as uncertain about it because it comes more naturally to them and doesn’t require a detailed script like the kind i prefer and therefore seems less high-stakes and insurmountable. like either way i can tell there’s something wrong with the way i move through the world but i can’t tell what that thing is. for example, whenever i’m cooking an elaborate new meal or driving a longer distance than i’m used to with someone else, i tend to defer to the other person who’s there with me and ask them about each step i’m meant to take in a way that usually culminates in me pissing people off because they don’t conceptualize tasks in this detailed step-by-step manner i need to make sense of things or because they think i’m feigning incompetence or anxiety and deliberately asking them these things to get out of doing it. in reality i know i can’t fuck up a meal (i will waste ingredients and therefore money) or fuck up driving (my life is at risk as well as the lives of those around me) so i really want to make sure i get it right because the consequences scare me, but usually no one else is receptive to this notion and they get very exasperated or even angry, which makes me extremely frazzled and more prone to fucking up, which pisses them off further. this really makes me sound like that tweet that’s like ‘omg you people can’t do anything’ which is kind of really embarrassing. by no means am i a new hand to any of the (non-comprehensive) examples i’m talking about here tbh so it’s sad that i still struggle with such basic skills despite all the practice i’ve had—in addition to practical tasks i’m newer to, like the ones i now regularly perform within my work environment. i guess i probably need to try and do these things on my own more often so that at least the element of someone else hovering over me and yelling at me for being useless is removed, but i do not have my own space in which to move about as i please and i know that this frantic and pervasive sense of fear and consequences looming over me and this need to have some kind of step-by-step to refer back to when i’m at a loss for how to proceed will remain with me for a long time or maybe even forever. i feel so stupid and i really wish i could just be a normal person like everyone else