#these 3-4 hours a night don't work in my favor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohangeleyes · 2 months ago

Text

⎯⎯ I'M TIRED OF USING TECHNOLOGY, WHY DON'T YOU SIT DOWN ON TOP OF ME

The bathroom door locked hurriedly behind Sam, trying to bind his time before his brother noticed his absence among the other chicks he invited over the table, the company being both unsettling and uncomfortable for Sam.

He quickly took his phone out of his back pocket, finding your contact and sending a text with his somewhat trembling fingers.

"hey, are you awake?"

It didn't take long for you to respond, sprawled out on your bed, doing nothing but thinking about him.

"awake and thinking about you."

The second he read that, he smiled like an idiot, replying instantly.

"I was just thinking about you too." "are you alright? I know it's late I'm sorry."

"I'm okay." "how are you? everything okay?"

"I'm alright." "Just been busy. I wish I could be with you though."

And you were smiling like an idiot too.

"I miss you."

You meant it.

The perks of having a boyfriend who hunts supernatural creatures for a "living"- you only get to see him 3-4 days a month if you're lucky. There was a time he managed to stay for a week and you were the happiest girl to walk on earth.

"I miss you too. and I love you. so much." "I want to be next to you right now. to hold you in my arms."

It was hard at first. The lack of quality time, his whispered compliments and words about how much he loves you, bouquets of your favorite flowers, his fingers caressing your cheeks or washing your hair in the shower in such gentle moves that made you feel like a porcelain doll.

The lack of sex.

Like it or not, it affected your relationship. But luckily, the modern technology was working in your favor.

In times when you were missing him too much or you were getting frustrated too much, His voice at the other end of the telephone was all you needed to fall back into a placid state.

"I've been thinking about you all day."

He knew what it meant. He just wished his time wasn't so limited and that he could call you right now.

"I've been thinking about you too, baby."

And the second he hit send, he heard loud banging on the bathroom door, snapping him back into reality with a flinch.

"Sammy, did you fall in the goddamn toilet?" Dean.

He gritted his teeth, a heavy exhale leaving his nose.

"honey I have to go. I'll call you when I'm alone later alright? I love you."

About an hour later he got back to the motel, locking the door behind him and kicking his shoes off in a weary manner. He quickly dropped his heavy body on the bed, running a hand through his hair.

Once he was sure in his mind that Dean wouldn't come back to the motel and spend his night at a chick's place, he grabbed his phone and called you.

It's not like you were asleep. You were up the whole night desperately whimpering in your bed and he knew that. Knew that you needed to hear his voice.

"Hey, It's so late I was getting worried." you spoke, your tone dangerously soft and gentle.

A smile appeared on his face in an instant, hearing your voice. "Hey hun... did I keep you waiting long?"

"way too long."

a small chuckle escaped his lips at your words. "I'm sorry baby, but i'm glad I got to hear your sweet voice."

Your hand trailed up to your shirt, his shirt, playing at the hem of it. "I missed you." you said in a low tone, the tone that always got you what you wanted, the tone that always drove him crazy.

"I missed you too," He could never say that enough "why aren't you sleeping?"

"The thoughts about your fingers in me got me frustrated and worked up. "

"Couldn't sleep. I was lying in bed thinking about you." you sighed.

He knew what this sigh meant, what your words meant, what your tone meant.

"Bet you look real pretty in your bed."

"Yeah, real pretty in your shirt."

He inhaled through his gritted teeth, the thought of you lying in bed in his shirt, thinking about him, touching yourself at the thought of him...

"Wish I could see you right now..."

"It smells like you, makes me miss you more..." you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper, every word sending a shiver down his spine.

"Yeah?" He said with a smile, feeling his heartbeat increase.

"mhm" you bit the inside of your cheek, shifting on the bed slightly, "you get me all worked up..."

"Oh, really?" He asked, with a growing grin. His voice was a whisper, but it was deep. Low and slow. "Want me to do anything about it..?"

A small huff escaped your mouth, licking your lips, the heat suddenly traveling everywhere throughout your body. You pushed the covers off yourself by your feet, the faint shuffling of the sheets being heard by Sam.

"Don't get all shy on me now," He whispered, his grin evident in the way he spoke "do you want me to help you?"

"Yeah." You almost moaned out. It was crazy that he could get you soaked in a second with just his voice.

"Good girl..." He whispered again, a small groan leaving his dry lips "God, I haven't stopped thinking about you all night..."

"Me too. I got myself all worked up earlier..." you admitted "I really needed you on the phone with me."

And the thought about it alone was enough for his jeans to suddenly feel too tight around him.

He chuckled under his breath, his free hand reaching to his belt, unbuckling it. "Sorry baby. I'm here now, so don't you worry," he said, palming himself through his boxers, "Why don't you take off your pants for me."

"I'm... not wearing any. Just your shirt." you almost whispered, your words followed by a heavy breath.

A soft groan escaped his lips "God baby you're killing me here."

Your small giggle followed his words, "spread your legs a little and touch yourself for me, princess, c'mon."

He could tell the exact moment you did so, the soft moan that escaped your lips sending a shiver down his spine and his hand inside his boxers.

How he wished he was with you right now, his head between your thighs, his fingers deep inside you reaching spots you could never, drawing each and every moan from your pretty lips.

Or how he wished it was your fingers wrapping around his throbbing dick instead of his, your pretty lips wrapping around his tip, taking him whole. Maybe if he got a bit selfish in his thoughts, he'd imagine you gagging on him, saliva and his semen dripping from your lips.

"That soft voice of yours got me so hard" He spoke with a groan, his palm working in a rhythm on his dick.

"Really?" That tone of yours again.

"Yeah baby. Can't help it, you drive me crazy."

"Fuck- keep talking." You barely managed to speak between the raggedy breaths leaving your mouth.

He cursed under his breath at your words, it was a miracle his dick didn't drip cum right then and there. "Yeah? You like my voice that much, honey?"

A hum and a moaned out "please" is all you could manage.

"I can't wait till I have you again," He spoke, his own breathing becoming heavier and heavier each second, "You sound so desperate f'me, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Go on, princess, you're doing so well."

And those words alone was enough for you to feel that familiar knot in your stomach.

"Fuck- Sam..." You whispered in the phone and he understood what it meant in a second.

"C'mon baby, let me hear ya" He said with his eyes closed, his head dropping back in the mattress.

And you did as Sam asked. Your whimpers, his moaned out name and desperate breaths echoing through the phone, making it so easy for him to finish himself, his semen dripping down his dick.

"That's my girl." he spoke with a smile of victory, lying down comfortably with a small groan.

Heavy breaths were still leaving your lips, your orgasm-taken-over body finally falling back into a calm state, all your frustration leaving. "You're always so quiet when you finish, I hate that." You spoke in almost a whisper.

Sam chuckled at that, shaking his head slightly. "Sorry, force of habit. Wish I could've been there to see your pretty face tho..." He said in a low and a caring tone, "God I miss you."

A pause followed his question, biting the inside of your cheek "I miss you too..."

He sighed, feeling his chest get heavier, "I'll come back to you soon, princess, I promise. You think you can handle couple days without me?" He asked, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

"I think so." You spoke with a small smile.

"That's my girl" Sam smirked, even though he was so desperate to have you in his arms in that moment, caressing your cheeks and your hair before you fell asleep in his embrace.

"What did you and Dean do today?"

"We killed a ghost actually," He spoke into the phone with a smile, "then we went to a bar. Dean called a couple bimbos over to flirt with him."

"Oh my god..."

"Yeah... I told him I missed you and he told me to leave the bar."

A tired laugh escaped your lips, shaking your head at the thought of the scene.

He could tell you were getting sleepy, your voice becoming more and more quiet, the thought making him smile.

"Do you wanna go to sleep?"

"I don't like going to sleep without you next to me..."

He felt his heart clench. "I know, honey."

"I'm sorry if I'm making you feel bad, I just miss you." You spoke in a low tone, sighing and turning over to your side.

"No- no, baby" He smiled at your words "I get it. I miss you so much too. I can't sleep without you by me."

"When are you coming back?"

"I'm not sure honey. But I'm gonna make sure I come back to you, okay?"

And those words and his gentle tone were enough for all your bad thoughts to vanish completely.

"Okay." You said softly, a small smile tugging at the end of your lips.

"Get some sleep, darling. I'll call you in the morning." He spoke in the most gentle tone.

"I love you."

"I love you more angel. Don't have any bad dreams."

With his every word, every action, he showed you that it was worth fighting for, worth waiting for, if it meant that these kind of words would be whispered in your ear every night.

"Goodnight Sammy."

Made this so tired instead of uni work, goodnight y'all. 💔💔💔💔

Lmao. Sorry...

#tina's works ⊹₊⟡⋆#sam winchester #supernatural #jared padalecki #sam winchester x reader #spn fanfic #sam x reader #spn #supernatural fic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fic

121 notes · View notes

thatbitchery · 2 months ago

Text

My thing with self improvement is if you don't know who you are not only will it obviously not work but you will also leave the space feeling like you're a lost cause that can not be helped. The same way a beautiful dress can look ugly on the wrong body and an ugly dress can look right and pretty on the right body- that's exactly how people are. I'm so glad when I started leveling up I didn't even know I was leveling up and it just happened as a consequence of adaptation so I wasn't watching creators bc the damage would've been irreversible. When girls and boys come to me for help or coaching and they just sound like an Alibaba version David Goggins the wizardliz its like slow down. That's not how it works babes. I want to wake up at 4 am and workout - you're a night owl your productive hours are after 10pm when the whole world is sleeping and you hate working out be fr with me rn. Even THEY don't do all that chill. You're not a tall skinny white Russian baddie or a Mariner with Severe ED YOU'RE 23 middle class average body who wants to succeed in medicine not sugar dating, chill. Like it literally NEVER works like that. Also you're an individual thats unique in every single plane, but mostly the 4D babes of course another person's blueprint won't work for you be fr.

For example when people say be a leader not a follower I just laugh because I am 100% a follower no part of me wants to make the big decisions I do NOT want that pressure pls. YOU focus on taking the risks I'm happy to clock in my eight hours and go home thanks. Or "Move in silence" sounds good but I'm a manifesting generator I have to yap my plans to someone it's how i Think. Literally for me to figure something out I need to be talking to someone and will find what I'm looking for in conversation it'll serve me better to find two people to overshare with than not overshare at ALL that's the exact opposite of my 4D blueprint? 'Make A PlAn anD sTicK tO' ADHD. ADHD ma'am. In fact 90% of mainstream level up advice works the EXACT opposite of me so I know the Universe loves me because it didn't allow me to be consumed in content that will send me the exact opposite direction of where I'm supposed to be and make me think there's something inherently wrong with me bc why does it work for everyone but me?

First of all, people on the internet do not exist. We out here lying in the real world what do you think we do in the virtual one. The 'Ever Since I started Watchung Your Videos I have Started Earning 2000k Per Month comment in that Iman Ghandhi (is that the name) is made by a social reject 14 yr old looking for comradery in identifying with a figure he idolizes baby no one is making 2k from doing that ok? ok. That 'My Life Has Changed' only lasted 2 months. That's not how lives change. That's called motivation it wears out. Lives are not supposed to change in a month. Fires that burn that fast die that fast ok. There's nothing wrong with you you're just not looking for community by appealing to bots. You're good.

Second, learn who you are and find what works so your therapist / coach doesn't spend the first 3 months of your money shedding all the dumbass weight you attach to yourself that is doing literally nothing but hold you down. Save time save money save yourself from self loathing and 'I'm lazy I'm stupid I'm bla bla" and just learn yourself. Your blueprint is unique to you that's why no one else's is working. Of course you feel shitty you're fighting yourself in favor of someone else of course your essence and spirit will fight back??

"Mother how do I-" who are you lets start there. Bc I could throw words at you all day and actually mess you up over helping you bc I told you what I would do and ma'am is you me? So I spend the first two months of personal coaching talking about light topics like fashion and grades trying to get who is this person? Based on actions and reactions (reminder to RP with your therapist and coach. Demand it. You're paying so you're the boss.).

Third PLEASE stop consuming How To content. See how I don't tell you how to do X and Y i throw sociology at you? Because sociology is uniform people are just monkeys with watches and houses we are programmed by evolution but How To X is personal your actions are programmed by your personal environment, internal and external. Also, I love you I really really really love you so I'll tell you this rn for free- there's a very thin line between being inspired by someone and downright wanting to be them. Stop that. STOP IT ok ok? Make moodoards on pinterest like the rest of us and stop looking up to Kendall your mom isn't Kris Jenner. I think it's important to have someone to look up to and in my books its better to cosplay someone else instead of bedrotting yes go do wonyoungism but not at the expense of you okay? Its better than bedrotting doesn't mean it's good. Extreme bodybuilding is better than anorexia but that doesn't make it good though does it? Just the better poison but ED is ED.

Fourth, I will NEVER stop preaching about how not only stupid but also impractical Morality & Co are because 90% of the time to 90% of the people I talk to that's the issue. I get it how ok I shouldn't kill people is an issue yes but why is it hard for you to accept that you don't want a 9-5 and you don't want to get married you want to be some rich man's mistress like. Even people IN THE BIBLE did it sooo why are you acting like that degree you're going to uni for won't just rot in your closet be serious. I get how some things do need moralization like yes we don't steal from orphans but you know that in every single relationship you get into with a man, romantic platonic family etc, he will be the taker you will be the giver like this is set on stone right. Like you know this. Women give men take. Even just by vicinity. Just rob him sis he's robbing you by virtue of existing in your life look at your brother. BROTHER? DAD? That one boy in class that makes you uncomfortable and steals your joy just by the way he looks at you? Just rob him how is this a moral debate. A man exists in your life? He's robbing you. You want good grades but hate studying? Ok are you going into medicine or something that genuinely requires studying for? No you're studying business. Just cheat . The school itself is cheating you otherwise Justify tuition. Tell me I'm paying 80k $ in tuition bc this and this. Be fr. You can not accept what you are because you're moralizing them. "I want X BUT-" yeah no one cares. At least not me. You can't unwant something desires are inborn, lets save time and your money and work on how you'll get it I'm not a therapist I'm not bound by a license. My job isn't to make you palatable in society and easy to exist with you're paying me to get results. Lets save the preaching I go to church I got that covered let's focus on how to get you results who cares about all that. You're a monkey in a dress. The only laws that matter are evolutionary, the only god that matters is you. Heaven is Gstaad on a horse not white cloths and rivers of gold in a place with no economy to give the gold value you're pushing 30 be serious.

BMAC

68 notes · View notes

formylovetodaryldixon · 3 months ago

Text

"Like there was no tomorrow." CH.8—Daryl Dixon.

Chapter Summary: Your first night in Alexandria is peaceful with you, Daryl and April sitting on the porch steps, ending with an interesting tattoo and the promise to let April slowly experience a "normal" childhood.

A/N: This chapter is just to show how you three are becoming more of a family? Hope you like it! Just a sneak peek, there will only be a couple more chapters but in this story Negan never existed 'cause that would trigger the events we all already know, and I prefer to end it with an and they all lived happily ever after :) And if you want to read the prequel about how you and Daryl met, I'll leave you the link of the intro here just in case. Thank you! Sorry if this is boring :(

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

“So, what did you do before all this, darling?”

The road to Alexandria was filled with bumps and jolts, walkers everywhere and it ended with a wounded person, but for the first time in what feels like a lifetime away, the afternoon doesn’t grow deeper, darker or scarier with the protection Deanna offers, all in exchange for the group returning the favor.

“I was a journalist for the local paper.” But that seems like part of a distant, blurry life as you sit on the single couch across from her, watched by her critical eye and the camera on, and it feels like you’ve had to push away who you’d been, so far away that you don't always remember who you were: that ordinary person, with an ordinary life, only for you to become who you are now. “I went to college, graduated, worked. The usual.”

Deanna nods, but the almost imperceptible way her eyebrows raise for a second in surprise doesn’t go unnoticed in front of your eyes.

“Aaron said he saw you shoot and that you have a hell of an aim, did you learn on your own?”

“No. My dad made me learn while growing up.”

“And where is he now?”

The silence is overwhelming in your world, but a lifetime with a man who just pretended to care is summed up before you as a truth that you already accepted: Jeff was really never a father, not even when your mom was alive.

“He died on the way.”

She nods again, sadly.

“I’m so sorry, darling, may I ask what his name was?”

“Mark. His name was Mark.” Despite the pain, the smile that brings you to think of him is sincere, as much as his love for you: a stranger who became a true father, full of love for you all the time he treasured you like a real daughter. “He was an architect, but an accident left him bedridden. He was a good man, tho, good father and husband.”

Deanna smiles softly, as if she's accompanying you in the pain of an irreparable loss.

“That's sounds nice. And just to finish, may I ask, who in your group are you engaged to?”

Her gaze travels to the ring on your hand in your lap, and like a reflex, your nervous fingers try to hide it as you let out a soft, shy laugh.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you his full name.” You stand up and the conversation is over, and she smiles knowingly, amused by the mind game you just let her as a homework, but at the same time, you can see her monumental effort to uncover the truth in that second. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Monroe.”

“You’re welcome, darling. I hope you and your family have a good night.”

The walk to the entrance is lonely, and the memory of a fake home in your past life is like a ghost haunting your mind, memories of your own house with cold walls, with people related by blood, maybe, but who now you don’t know if you should call family: mom & brother, those titles that suddenly feel too big and foreign, unreal, like an illusion you lived in for many years, but to which you never really belonged. However, when you open the door of the Monroe family house, the orange–tinted sunlight of those afternoon hours hits your face, with an expression that relaxes again the moment you realize how beautiful the sunset looks when danger doesn’t lurk from all directions, not when there’s an entire wall around protecting you.

Aaron is standing at the bottom of the porch stairs, hands in his pants pockets and another friendly smile on his face.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” But the question floats back into the air as you frown in curiosity, and both of you stand still for a few seconds, taking in what home meant to each of you two. “That sounded weird, didn’t it?”

You chuckle as you walk down the stairs, and both of you begin to walk down the street.

“It did, honestly. It’s still really weird to think about this community, an ordinary neighborhood like the one I used to live in. And it's weird to see so many people together, happy, almost as if fear didn’t exist in their world. My best friend and I went through some bad things, you know? and I guess that keeps me from believing in this.”

He ponders your words, eyes observing the neighborhood he lives in as if it is all suddenly an illusion. But the warmth of the sunset feels real on your skin, the conversations of some people on their porches are pleasant sounds that one felt a lifetime away with those incessant grunts: however, now everything seems like a proof that you could have back that homely feeling.

“I know it can be hard to get used to this life after fighting for yours for so long, but I think your daughter deserves that chance, I think you all deserve that chance.”

Aaron smiles, but the bruise on his cheekbone is still changing color.

“I’m sorry about the punch: I know it wasn’t from me, but for what it’s worth, I did believe your speech. It was really nice actually.”

“Thanks. I practiced it a lot.” His eyebrows wiggle playfully, and you both share a laugh before changing the subject. “I’m still trying to… figure out all of you if I’m honest, but I can understand the distrust of your group, especially from your husband.”

The word is still new to you, foreign to your ears, as if it’s all an illusion too. But a short distance away because they all still look the same, you can find the house provided for everyone to spend the night, or to start a life, a home, a family… and depending on what? You don’t know for sure yet, but the thought of staying permanently gains strength when you think of April.

Through the gap between the white painted wooden railings surrounding the porch, you see the wings on Daryl’s vest, who’s sitting on the floor, leaning forward slightly, doing something.

“We’re actually engaged. Something like that, I don’t know, it feels weird to think about it.”

Aaron chuckles.

“Don’t make it so complicated. I understand. It’s hard to define marital status in this world, too.”

You nod, agreeing with him, but by the time you reach the house, Aaron sees the river of blood flowing from the possum’s open body while staining the wooden floor. Daryl’s knife sinks into the poor animal’s stomach and he looks up, blue eyes as cold as ice when it comes to looking at strangers, and he answers Aaron’s wave with a nod, cold too, like a warning sign more than a friendly greeting.

You bite your lips when Aaron looks at you, his gaze slightly wider.

“Have a good night. I think you know where my house is if any of you need anything.”

Nodding warmly in thanks, you wave goodbye too, trying to silence your own laughter until he’s finally far enough away to not hear you.

“What’s so funny?” Daryl asks, but you shake your head as you walk the porch stairs to the wooden chair in the corner.

“You have to skin that poor animal that did nothing to you just now, right here? Do you want to traumatize April?”

Daryl scoffs, turning his attention back to the possum.

“April saw me do the same thing to squirrels, she ain't picky like ya. Besides, Sam took her for a walk.”

You twist your lips.

“Well, excuse me but not all of us had to eat rare animals like you.”

He chuckles.

“How did the interview go?”

With a heavy sigh, you wish the lie you told had been true.

“Good I guess, though I had to lie. I told Deanna my dad had been an architect because Mark was one…”

Your voice drops to a whisper at the end of the sentence, as if the weight of the lie had sunk deep into your chest, (because after so many years together, your mind still registered Jeff as a father figure) but when Daryl looks up and your gazes meet, you can feel the warmth in his ocean–colored eyes, so you just shrug.

“He was yer real dad, peach. Don’ feel guilty for choosin' him.”

“Guess so. Thank you.” You manage to smile amidst the confusion that comes from thinking about those two infinitely different men, internally wishing you could find your brother now more than ever, as if he had the answers to everything. “It’s just that… I would like to know how things happened in my house, if my mom was what I always thought she was, or if she was also a lie.”

Daryl nods, understanding, but he holds your gaze.

“She loved ya, that’s the only truth among all the lies, okay?”

When you nod too, he continues cleaning the poor animal, but when you see his hands stained with blood, an idea appears in your mind.

“You haven’t take a shower yet.”

Daryl shrugs, eyes still on the floor.

“Why ya ask?”

You laugh sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re cute, love. Did you really think that was a question?”

He chuckles, and silence reigns for a while, but always comfortably, like the afternoons in the different seasons you spent together, for 3 and a half years: but now, like a peace offering from the life that seemed like it would always go at supersonic speed, you can finally feel a little calm to enjoy the small luxuries that still existed in that new world that still rises from the ashes, that is rebuilt from the ruins.

The decision in your body makes your boots make a sound against the wood when you stand up, a sound that Daryl follows until his gaze meets yours again, after looking with confusion at your outstretched hand.

“What?”

“Will you make me explain it, Dixon?”

His head tilts to the side slightly.

“Can ya?”

His honest question makes you let out a laugh, but at the same time, makes you frown in confusion.

“Are you serious?”

Daryl chuckles, stabbing the knife into the center of the animal, pinning it to the ground so no one tries to steal it from him before standing up.

“Ya should have started there.”

But when he tries to get closer, you hold up a hand, stopping him in place.

“Please don’t put your hands on me when you still have that poor animal’s blood on them.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, but he begins to walk slowly as you walk backwards.

“Whatcha think our kid is gonna eat tonight, woman?”

You roll your eyes before turning to the door, taking advantage of the time alone before everyone comes back.

The velvet carpet feels unreal beneath your fingers, but the weight of your body completely stops being yours the moment you sit beneath it, your back against the couch, with cushions that must feel like heaven as April sleeps on them, on her right side and in a fetal position with a sense of protection.

Night has already fallen, but the light from the ceiling envelops everyone, always close, clean and tired, so some choose to sleep the night away, among them Sam and Carl who, laying in the couch behind his dad, continues to cradle Judith in his arms.

Emotions and sensations are still confusing, but for the first time in a long time, every one feel the peace.

“So…” Michonne is the first to dare to start a conversation, and she holds a mischievous smile when she looks in your direction, and at Daryl who's sitting next to you, although his attention is on the arrow he continues to sharpen. “I know we had to split up when the prison fell, but you guys came back with a cute daughter. I see you didn’t waste any time.”

The rest of them chuckle knowingly, a little louder when Daryl scoffs, but it’s endearing to see the affection they all seem to have for each other.

“And what did you do before all this, (Y/N)?” Across the carpet, Maggie is still stroking Glenn’s hair, who has his head in her lap. “Before you became Rambo, because I saw you shoot, and you don’t seem to have learned it in this world like some of us. That, and how the hell did you get a falcon?”

Their gazes that fall on you are curious.

“I was a journalist.”

The answer hangs in the air, but you wait to see if anyone will dare to inquire about it.

“No fucking way.” Abraham laughs openly, sinking further into the single sofa that receives his large, worked body, taking another swig from the bottle of whiskey he stole from somewhere.

You laugh with him, because you know that who you were was never hand in hand with who you were force to be.

“I was, really, but… I learned the fine art of shooting, too. I took classes for years, but I did it because my dad saw the hell of an aim I had: every time I threw a toy at my older brother, it always hit him right in the head. Ask Daryl, I did the same thing to him once…”

Michonne laughs as she recalls the story of the peach hitting him in the forehead, but when Carol and the others frown in confusion, Daryl looks up when he feels the weight of the stares, mimicking their expressions before he turns his attention back to the arrow.

“I ain't tellin' that story.”

Rick chuckles at him, looking at you next.

“And your brother? Was he with you when all this started?”

Thinking about Austin is trying to unravel the whole mystery of your family, but doing so at this moment is useless.

“No, he disappeared before all this happened, but I hope he’s alive. And about Aeris, I found her shortly after leaving a camp: she was injured, nothing serious, but I tried to take care of her as best I could for a couple of weeks until she regained the mobility of her wing. However, when I tried to get her to leave, she stayed with me.”

The story is fascinating for everyone.

“How do you know she’s a she?” Rick asks, and his question makes Daryl look at you, silently challenging you to repeat what you said in the car when you went to the prison.

“Aeris is a girl. She taught herself to listen to the walkers and look for a way out away from them. No offense, all the men here are pretty tough, but it would have taken a boy a long while to figure that out on his own.”

There’s not a shred of shame in your words but they take the compliment with smiles and little laughs, and the group continues the conversation for a few more minutes, until, after seeing that Daryl is still in his own world, Carol is ready to make him the main topic again.

“Maybe you should tell us now about the very, very romantic way Daryl proposed to you, (Y/N). Because don't think we didn't see the ring, Pookie.”

“Don'…” He warns her, but his failed attempt at holding a menacing glare no longer works with her or the others, not after everything they’d been through together, which ends in a grunt of frustration from his part. “Jesus, ma lil' monkey behaves better than ya'll, an' she’s 6 barely.”

“Speaking of your daughter, Daryl…” Glenn chuckles, but his brow furrows in genuine confusion. “Why do you call her monkey? That’s not very nice.”

Daryl shrugs, pretending the memory of the first time he held April doesn’t weigh with the thought that, at that moment, her small body fit perfectly in his arms, as if she was made to be his baby girl, his little monkey.

“Every time I hold her, she clings to me like a monkey. Plus, I know the nickname bothers her.”

Michonne frowns too, chuckling.

“That’s so you…”

A little later, even though everyone tried to fight harder to stay awake longer, you all succumb to the need to close your eyes and rest your mind and body, each in their own world, dreaming of memories from the past. But you seem to be the second one who brought with you the casual insomnia of your past life, and now, the shadows of the night feel as painful as the scars on your wrists, as if you suddenly feel that burning hell in your body again, forcing you to open your eyes. Luckily, the real world is not too dark with the light that filters through the curtains as you sit back down, noticing that Daryl is not by your side. Abraham's hand is no longer clutching the now–vanished bottle, and for some reason, everything seems to click in your mind as you stand, walking silently to the slightly open door.

The air is cool on your skin, and it brings back memories of Daryl and you sitting on the terrace of your room, hiding from your dad, talking about everything as you sit on the first step of the porch next to him: you breathe in the scent of the dew on the grass, and he reaches out to hand you the bottle.

You take a sip, and the bitter liquid slides down your throat.

“I don’t know what I missed more: this or the sex.” You chuckle at the way he frowns at you, genuinely offended. “Relax, I’m kidding. God, I’d forgotten you have no sense of humor.”

Daryl scoffs, taking the bottle back.

“I never get to make a joke 'cause ya spent our time together makin' fun of me.”

“Oh, please. You don't know how to tell jokes, Daryl Dixon.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles, but then, for a few seconds you remain silent, continuing to accept the fact that the street is free of walkers or any danger at all. “All of this is kind of crazy, isn’t it?”

He nods.

“Yeah. But I think this place can really be a home for April an' Judith.”

“But?”

“No buts, peach. For the first time, there ain't a but.” Daryl shrugs as well, looking at you seriously. “Though it feels weird to think that the life I pictured with ya can become a reality in a world where the undead walk.”

His words fall on your chest with the weight of your story that seemed to end forever that night: the same life that you two could now continue or start over with April when there was finally no one to stand in the way. But selfishly, your mind brings back those words Daryl uttered: “I don’ wanna see ya anymore. Go home. S’ over.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Dunno. I got bored.”

“Of me?”

After that, the devastating and deafening silence.

The feeling of leaving him that night was ugly and painful, and in that moment, in that second, you understood what a heartbreak felt like.

“Did ya hate me for that?”

His voice is shy like his gaze that this time can’t make eye contact with you, and so full of guilt that it can fill the whole night.

“No. Never.” The confidence in your words is like a spark in the darkness of his life, and Daryl can finally look in your direction. “It was painful and confusing, but I could never hate you, Daryl. I thought about it a lot, trying to find a reason why, but even if I couldn’t find any, I realized that I let you in, I chose that life with you, and honestly, I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

He takes a moment to let your words settle in his chest and to free him from the guilt that accompanied him all that time, but listening to you is all Daryl needs to start letting go of all the sadness, the mistakes, and the opportunities that he lost for fear of betting everything and the thought that you, eventually, would get tired of that life by his side, walking away from him like his parents did.

“When did you get the tattoo by the way?” You ask, softly.

Daryl clears his throat, feeling the heat on his cheeks despite the breeze, looking at your profile and the way you give him time to compose himself (while you admire the moon and the starless sky) because behind his rough exterior, there had always been that person who once told you that he didn’t know how to love or let himself be loved, the same person who now has your name tattooed on his chest. Daryl knows that was going to happen the moment you two entered the shower, but when you didn’t say anything, perhaps because of the darkness of the bathroom, he really thought that you hadn’t noticed it.

Daryl put the bottle aside as his hands wake up as nervous as his frantic heart.

“I got it the day after I pushed ya away. That night I knew ya weren't comin’ back so I needed to get somethin’… a proof that I really got ya.” Daryl is shy, he always was, although he knew how to mask his own insecurities well with his cold gaze, and that menacing attitude and sarcastic comments, but it all comes down to this moment, to being able to be completely honest with his feelings because now Daryl knows that, although you can still choose to leave, you have chosen to stay with him, you have chosen him. “Ya have always been the only one, peach. Ma life 'fore ya had no meanin' 'til ya showed up with yer bold comments an' the way ya told me that ya liked me, when ya told me that we were all a lil' broken an' that was okay. Ya have always been the only one since the moment ya walked into ma work with yer eyes full of life n' I felt like an idiot lookin' at ya. S'always gonna be ya, for the rest of ma life.”

It’s overwhelming, all of it, like the world suddenly stops spinning, so abruptly that it’s like that moment when you get off the roller coaster and your body has to acclimate to the change. But when your hand cups his cheek and Daryl leans slightly into your touch, the warmth of his skin against yours is proof that it’s all real, that the journey apart was worth it in the end.

“I’ve always loved you, silly, even if that head of yours didn’t let you fully believe me. But do you know why I chose you?” Daryl shakes his head, but loving the way your thumb caresses his skin. “My grandfather told me once to find someone who would let me linger in his gaze, and I never understood what that meant until I saw the way your gaze changed when you looked at me. And at that moment, I understood every word.”

And in that instant when Daryl place his hand on your waist, moving closer to you until your lips meet, it's as if you and him finally understand that, after so many ups and downs in that roller coaster of emotions, you two can step off that wild ride and step safely onto the ground, without any fear at all when it comes to love.

And the kiss is soft at the beginning, as if you two were going back to the start line, trying to recognize each other, but he needs more, so much that Daryl licks your lower lip for you to let him in. You open your lips a little bit for him, and drowning in lust after being away from each other for so long, Daryl pulls you against closer to his body, your back arching under his touch as his fingers start searching for your skin under your t–shirt.

“Mommy?”

But as if that were the most impure image in the world, you pull back to see April stopping in the doorway.

“Now I know why people say kids ruin all the fun.” Daryl sighs, and even though you know he’s joking, you slap his shoulder making him chuckle as he looks at April. “Ya okay, sweetheart? Did ya have a nightmare?”

April rushes to take the hand he extends, walking across the wood in her fuzzy socks. Expertly, as if he’s always been her father, Daryl guides her to sit between his legs, shielding her from the night’s chill with his arms.

“You look like quite the father.” You chuckle, but he knows you mean it too. “Who would have thought?”

April laughs at the same time Daryl snorts.

“I wasn’t jokin' 'bout what I said in the shower.”

“In the shower?” April looks at him with curious eyes, a gaze so deep it forces him to swallow.

“That’s somethin' between mommy and daddy.” Daryl clears his throat, still nervous but full of excitement to talk about himself as her daddy. “An’ ya should be sleepin', monkey. S'not like every day ya get a couch that comfortable to lounge on.”

You chuckle as a flash of the past crosses your mind.

“Believe him, sweetheart, because his bed was rock hard.”

Offended, Daryl frowns.

“I bought a new mattress.”

“After I complained of pain.”

And there it was in front of April, the way you two used to tease each other, earning smiles at the end because it was all just that, a joke: and it makes her smile.

“Ruby never laughed, but you two do quite a bit.”

Her words are lighthearted, but they’re also like an arrow sinking into your skin. But before she feels the first pang of pain from a life half–lived, your hand pushes her lock of hair behind her ear, your fingers caressing her soft skin in the process.

“Why are you so cute, uh?”

She giggles cutely.

“Can I ask you two something?” Her gaze still holds that spark of happiness, and she alternates it between you and Daryl, both of you nodding. “Can you please teach me how to swim?”

Confused, you two share a look before looking back at her.

“Why, sweetheart?” Daryl asks.

April shrugs.

“Ruby’s friend would tell me stories of when he and his family would go to the lake to swim. He said it was one of his best childhood memories in the whole world.”

Childhood, a childhood April didn’t get to experience healthily, not when she had learned what it was like to be afraid and terrified, abandoned, of having a gun pointed at her twice, of having her short life constantly put in danger instead of enjoying games and laughing like a normal little girl.

But before you can find a good excuse and say no, Daryl speaks again, and there’s a certain playfulness in his deep voice that masks the fear he feels too at the danger of exposing her outside, just to try and get her to experience a life without fear.

“I heard someone say there was a lake nearby. We could practice there.”

“Really?!” April asks with genuine excitement. Nodding when she looks at you too, you swallow the lump in your throat, along with your own fears as April’s gaze comes back to life, as if the stars that weren’t in the sky have awakened in her eyes. “I love you two! Thank you so much!”

She presses herself against Daryl’s chest, as if her life depended on it, and he rests his chin on her head, hugging her back, breathing out his own fear: but now, you two know what being parents was all about.

@fluffy-dixon @stunkbiggu @kurogxrix @ffsjustletmesleep @kaz11283 @daryldixmedown @enretrogue @minnie-min @carbonnite-copy

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #dad!daryl dixon #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon

56 notes · View notes

kayleigh-83 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, could you share which ROS events you use please 😀

I know I'd shared these a couple times before, but I scrolled back a bit and it's definitely changed a lot since the last time, which was August 2022! Back then I had 48 on the list, now it's up to 70.

Putting more info and the full list behind a cut to save your dash!

I just keep all my gameplay notes and stuff on my ipad, easiest for me. I don't use an ROS program or anything so there's no weighting, no major or minor scenarios etc. I just use Siri or random.org to pick a number.

The scenarios are a mix of other people's lists I've found, plus ones I've made up myself. It's pretty nice to my Sims so there aren't any death or divorce ones or anything lol. I've removed some I used to use as my gameplay has evolved, if they no longer fit.

Day out - all eligible Sims go to a community lot

Movie night - invite friends over for a movie and snacks

Picnic - make food and go to a park for a picnic

Family reunion - invite over any known family members

Blind date - call matchmaker for a single Sim

New outfit - your Sim wants a new outfit, go shopping

Games night - no homework for kids, play games all night

Large pet adoption - get a cat or a dog, Roll dice to choose

Small pet adoption - a small caged animal will join the family (including rabbits)

Grouchy - your Sim picks d4 arguments with another

Vacation time - spend a couple nights away at a vacation destination (or more!)

Fitness regime - your Sim wants to work out, get fit and eat healthy

Rebellious - child or teen skips school and doesn’t do homework for 1 to 3 days, sneaks out, bad interactions

Date night - take a Sim couple out on a date

It’s a phase - a child will only wear a costume for 1 to 3 days, teens get a piercing or drastically change appearance

Party time - throw a party!

Friendly neighbour - chat up the next d3 walk bys

Bad influence - influence someone to do something stupid d4 times

Take advantage - influence someone to do you a favor d4 times

Exchange student - host a teenager from a foreign country; receive $5000 from the exchange agency to cover your expenses

Tired of cooking - order delivery at least once a day for 2 to 4 days

Shopaholic - patronize at least 4 different local businesses this round

Stray love - greet and interact with the next stray you see, try to adopt

Old pets, new tricks - teach a pet a new command

Lottery win - roll dice 1 to 10 and multiply by 10,000

Scratch card win - roll dice 1 to 10 and multiply by 1000

Worst fears realized - fulfill 5 fears in a rotation

Barber shop - change your Sim’s hairstyle

Four eyes - your Sim needs to get glasses

Witchy - become a witch for at least two rotations

Redecorate - choose a room or space in the home and give it a facelift

Identity crisis - change aspiration for this round

Reconnect with friends - invite 2-4 friends for an outing

Make Your Move - if single, try to initiate a romantic relationship with a Sim that you have a high relationship/chemistry with

Time to Commit - if you’re in a romantic relationship but uncommitted, take it to the next level (either go steady or engagement/marriage depending)

Scary dare - visit the cemetery at night

Dine out - go out to a restaurant to have a meal

Lead by Example - have your Sim encourage their child in a trait they value

Kitchen Renovations - no dishwasher or stove, just a sink and microwave or toaster oven, while you wait for the new appliances to arrive! (D4 days)

On the prowl - take a single (or romance) Sim out on the town to pick someone up for woohoo (or teen level activities)

Hobby Focus - Spend at least two hours every day doing an activity for your chosen hobby

Brace face - child or teen Sim must get braces for the round

Dye Job - dye hair a different colour for the round

Slumber Party - teen or child invites friends over for a sleepover

Cool Parent - try to befriend d2 of your kid’s friends

Playing Matchmaker - influence a friend to flirt with someone else

ISBI light - pick a Sim and control only them for 3 days

Creature of the Night - become a vampire for the round

Unexpected Tax Bill - lose d20-40% of your family funds to unpaid back taxes

Power outage - d2 days with no power (only make uncooked meals)

Family Heirlooms - inherit d3 family heirlooms from a distant relative; use kaching and purchase items of around $1000 each

Infertility - your Sim is sadly no longer able to have children!

Orphan relation - a close relation has died, leaving their child orphaned! As the closest living relative, you are now the legal guardian. Move in a toddler or child (d2). Receive $5000 from the government for your generosity to help raise the little tyke.

Rocky relationship - couple argues at least 2 times a day in the round

Great aunt/uncle in town - create an elderly Sim to come stay for the round - after they become a townie if desired

Bylaw fine - your Sim put the trash out to the curb too early and have received a bylaw fine - d6 x $100

Start a club! Find up to 3 Sims who share your hobby, and get to know them better. If you can participate in your chosen hobby together, even better!

Money tree! Your Sim finds a mysterious tree in a pot by their front door. The note on it says to use it wisely because it will only be around for a short time? Buy a money tree and keep for one rotation

Resurrect old friendships - call and invite over the friend your Sim has lost touch with the most (lowest relationship score while still being friends)

Customer appreciation day - to thank your loyal customers for their patronage, mark down the prices at your shop for a day and provide treats for your customers

Ambrosia - take a sip from the elixir of life (Roll to choose between adults or elders in the household)

Mate like rabbits - risky woohoo d5 times in the next 48 hours, hope there aren’t any unintended consequences!

Unexpected vet bill! Your little companion swallowed something they shouldn’t have and the bill comes to $5000! If you don’t have enough money, you might have to take out a loan.

Woohoo scavenger hunt - must woohoo on/in four different possible locations this round (bed, couch, car, photobooth, hot tub, changing booth, elevator)

Lost a dare - walk around in a silly costume for d3 days, go on at least one date or outing in it

Holding a Torch - your Sim is feeling nostalgic for their first crush; have them meet up for a date and see where it leads…

Running with the pack - become a werewolf for the round

I Want More! - your Sim now has six want slots

Changing Preferences - change all your turn ons and turn offs - will this affect how you feel about your significant other?

A Sudden Craving - change to grilled cheese aspiration for the round

Kibble of Life - give your four legged friends something to help keep them around longer

Sudden Poverty - family funds reduced to $100

Sudden Weath - family funds increased to $250,000

You Can't Always Get What You Want - try not to fulfill any wants for d5 days

#ts2 #the sims 2 #ts2 simblr #ros scenarios

101 notes · View notes

lovelybeesthings · 2 years ago

Text

Quick like a bunny Ch 2

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Warnings: none I think

Word count: 1.8k

Ch 1 & 3

Mansion

Why did he have to say such hurtful things all I’m trying to do is to care for him is that not enough? What does Lucy Grey have that I don’t she's a poor tribute form that distracts 12 from what he's doing he can end up killed or hanged! *I cry into my pillows as I try to find a way to release my feelings and emotions as tears find a way to escape from my sniffs and efforts push them away* “Yvanna dear come down for dinner!” *I hear my mother call as I get up in my pink pastel long puffy Lacey dress with my hair in curls*

Training

The next day I attended the Academy sitting threw my classes and lessons with focus but I couldn't help but look at Coriolanus his beauty his curls his looks- I stopped myself from looking and continued to focus on ways to take advantage of the games. As the lesson soon ended I came across my tribute as we practiced one-on-one trying to think of how I could better his odds even though he has the brown I would like to give him the brain.

I shortly walked away to get some Items to see how Reaper works with them and I soon came across a tribute his features were beyond what I'd seen from the Capitol his eyes sea green, his hair bronzed color his skin the color of gold if possible whatever he came from they had been keeping him well.. I felt a rush of warmth from my cheeks this tribute quickly noticed my luring eyes. “Fenwick Odair District 4” his smile was a bright pure one he knew he was handsome and showed it* “Did I scare you little bunny?” he said as I quickly regained my thoughts and answered “No, I was just impressed I believe you have a good chance of winning I think the odds are surely more in your favor” he looked at me hand on his chin smirking “That so little bunny?” “Better watch out then this bunny is quick” I smile as I flirt a bit with him and quickly return to Reaper to continue our training.

Unnoticeable to me Coriolanus was watching our interactions on his way to Dr. Volumnia's lab he felt his heart clench with bitter thoughts surfaced in his head what did he do to that tribute from District 4- no what did he think he was here to learn more knowledge to find a better way for Lucy to better her odds for his odds.

After hours

I spent my time brushing my silky (c/h) as it didn't have any tangles or any worries in my long healthy hair as I think about my encounter with Fenwick his love is his charms make me blush still, I hope he wins the game is know I should try to win but Id like to spend more time with him.

I heard a sudden knock on my door and I got up from my vanity in my pink lacey nightgown opened the door got my candle lamp to see who had visited my room in such late hours Maye a maid “y/n” Coriolanus speaks I'm shocked to see him here this light at night “what happen why are you home are you alright is Tigris okay?” I say confused and worried soon his cold hands reach my face and hold my chin I look completely lost to his sudden affection.

He pushes his way inside my room and preps me down on my bed I'm blushing and not sure what he's planning to do “What are you doing Coriolanus?” I say as his piercing blue eyes look at mine like a wolf looking at a poor rabbit to slaughter in minutes, his response was his lips on mine I'm surprised I mean this man was my fiance but he never really showed me an ounce of affection like that and since our last words, I wasn't sure he wanted to be in my life.

I respond with his kisses as he’s on top of me vulnerable to his lips how could I shut him down his mop of white blinding curly hair he just does it for me though in the back of my mind I think of Fenwick and gently push snow off “what are you doing..?” he looks at me a bit surprised and confused “What do you mean y/n I'm showing my affection and love for you” he looks at my eyes then lips then back up to my lips “No this doesn't feel right you don't….Are you okay this doesn't seem like something you think about clearly” I know I want his attention and his kisses but it feels like he's thinking of someone else..not someone Lucy..

“You don't want this you think you do but you love her..” I say “Right now you don't know what you want to be what makes you happy” *I say as I hold a smile and angle face holding tears back pushing the one I want to be happy “Lucy will cherish you as much as I will” he nods and slips out of my room my house like he was never even there the only reaches left were the stolen kisses of mine.

How do we think about this chapter? Is it good for your guys' standards I'll try to make the third one a time skip to after what goes down in the book and snows return back to the Capitol.

please like 😘

SHOUTOUT TO @edb954 for some of the inspiration and @watercolorskyy

#coriolanus snow x reader #fanfic #coriolanus snow #reader #tom blyth x resder

154 notes · View notes

lucystark12 · 10 months ago

Text

songs that should be used in season 5 and why by lucy

1- smalltown boy by bronski beat

obvious first draft pick here. genius. it's so mike wheeler coded it makes me want to die. for this song, i'd either like to see it used in a very very dramatic physical fight scene with vecna ala running up that hill or playing very faintly in the background of an important scene like the fight at rink-o-mania. i think the song sounds just eerie enough that it could work in that context but the instrumental is just so badass fight scene coded.

2- operator by jim croce

hopper canonically listens to jim croce!! you don't mess around with jim!! this song has been loved by my family since decades before i was born. it's such a sad but beautiful song and really gives almost a lettergate situation of one side of byler trying to reach the other during the months they spend apart between season 3 and season 4 and if they did use it i would lose my shit.

3- alone by heart

people are theorizing in favor of this song being a part of the season 4 soundtrack and i mean it when i say that if i heard that opening piano of alone i would die. it would be the end of my life. i used to listen to this song on my ipod as an eight year old. it's always been one of my favorites. i don't really know how they would use it and i almost feel like the sound of it doesn't fit in with a lot of the other music in the show in regards to that 80s music sound, but i would die if they did.

4- africa by toto

AFRICA PLEASE COME BACK BABY I MISS YOU!! another song that's easily in my top ten favorite songs of all time, i think this would be such a cute callback to season 1 and would be the equivalent of hedwig dying as far as childhood-ending-events for me because it would just be such a beautiful full circle moment. i would scream.

5- summer of 69 by bryan adams

if we get to see anything taking place during summer (which, problematically, i kind of hope we don't) i need this playing on every radio in town. it just gives such it 2017 stranger things season three in a way that would break (and fill) my heart in such a beautiful way for the last stranger summer. i also think that if this was the song we decided to make viral from the new season's soundtrack that we'd all have a lot of fun.

6- take me home tonight by eddie money

i love the intro to this song like no other. it's tense and weird like the into to sunglasses at night which was used in season 1 in such a perfect way that also reminds me of the vibe of the show. a little tense and scary sounding, but at the heart (or chorus) of it a fun show about positive and beautiful characters.

7- heroes by david bowie

duh.

8- CRAZY TRAIN BY OZZY OSBOURNE!!!!!!!!

DUFFERS. MASTER OF PUPPETS AND NO CRAZY TRAIN? i fuck with crazy train like no other. i'm fully convinced that if i listened to that song on repeat for a few hours it would inspire the willpower in me to climb all of mt. everest in a day. it's such a perfect song for a show like this. i can picture nancy shooting something to crazy train in the background. somebody is frantically running around too. i think they should have just used this instead of master of puppets because the guitar in crazy train is way better (sorry not sorry) but it's never to late to right your wrongs, duffers!

#stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #byler nation #byler is endgame #stranger things 4 #byler brainrot #nancy wheeler #max mayfield #eddie munson #stranger things 5 #jonathan byers

38 notes · View notes

fountainpenguin · 1 year ago

Text

"I'm not the kind of girl to get messed up with you- Hello! ... You're all right, but I'm here, darling, to enjoy the party..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 31 - “Flame (Etho, Skizz, Pearl)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Scar files a microaggression complaint with the HALO team. Pearl helps Scott settle in while he recovers from glitchy code. They have a spat that's not about a sticker.

Meanwhile, SnifferMyFeet and Etho separate their souls… and start an honest talk about Sniff's identity as Sniff, not Joel. It was needed. It's for the best.

(First 900 words under the cut)

---

Etho - Fox

Status: Resting

Self-taught programmer, full-time hero

💙 💙 💙

He gets it now.

It's like ice in your water. It's like marshmallows in your cocoa. It's like wind beneath your wings. The final week before he's due back in Between (reluctantly, but definitely due), Etho flops on his bed and sprawls his arms to either side. Is he giddy? He doesn't mean to be, but this feels…

… Oh, it's a game-changer. Which is exactly what he texts Cleo after scooping up his admin panel. They won't see it if they've left their private server, and since Session 2 of Dog's Life could be starting any day now, there's no telling how long that may take.

Etho: hey so Etho: remember after limlife 4 or 5 when we talked about burnout?

Grocery shopping. For a family dinner- he and Cleo both made one (like a peace offering) in a way that wasn't really flirty married life roleplay, but more like… regular, everyday person roleplay. Did all their shopping together so they wouldn't cook the same thing. Call it 'date night' if you want; he walked her home and there might've been a little 'dramatic logout' roleplay in there. We don't… We don't need to go into detail about it.

To some people that's romantic and to some it's completely gross. Not really sure why… It's a natural process, isn't it? Soul-eaters can't help being what they are, and you may as well snap at endermen hybrids for struggling with eye contact or shame unthreaded players if they expose their glitches instead of keeping them covered up. This world's too big and life too long for arguing. Do you really want to make enemies and be rude to people who are going to carry the echo of your words for the rest of their lives?

Lend a helping hand. Extend a little kindness. Be polite. Respond to the hurt. Try not to avoid responsibility when others are counting on your strength. Sit with the injured, even when the night is cold. They're simple goals, but so easily forgotten these days.

Etho: I think you said if I felt stuck then I should break my routine for a while

Nothing happens for several minutes. Etho rotates words without meaning through his head, then types out something else.

Etho: you were right. I get now why you go on adventures with Martyn. Why you let him and no one else log you out all the time. Thanks for the advice. Let me know next time you need a favor. Rating this cycle 10 of 10 and I owe you big xD

He takes a long, guilt-free nap in his cushioned bed. Catching up on block updates and videos really drains a guy (especially this close to the end of the Hermitcraft season, not to mention Vault Hunters and a Life series on top of it), but he spent all morning prepping the bed and it's already providing every agonizing tick of its worth. Two hours later, he's stirred awake by a buzz on the admin panel.

ZombieCleo: yay! So glad that worked for you <3 I want to hear all about it. Maybe in a couple weekends you can watch MCC with me and the kids + Martyn? If we catch a minute alone, I can recommend more stuff you might be into ;)

The kids refers to Bdubs and Scar, who skated through Limited Life like energetic teenagers spreading their wings. It's goofy, it's endearing, and Cleo's got her roleplay voice on because she knows it makes him snort. His tail gives a twitch as he tries to keep a smirk from creeping out behind his mask.

Martyn, huh? he muses, but doesn't say that. Cleo circles between lovers, friends, and exes like a pollinating bee.

Etho: whoaaaa Etho: inviting a fox? that's dangerous! ZombieCleo: nose out of your tail, fur boy Etho: dibs on Martyn, I see ZombieCleo: If you're serious about returning the favor, Martyn says Rhetoric's down here and this might be our best chance at smash and grabbing from your mum's museum Etho: Hm… ZombieCleo: I mean, you did leave my eggshell when you rescued Grian and that other soul

Yeah- it looked distressed. Now Sniff's down here. He can actually talk now when he couldn't before. Honestly, not the worst decision he could've made.

If anyone's going to try getting into the Fox Dragon's museum, a fox has the best chance of doing so. It's kept separate from the nesting cave where souls respawn, but even the deadliest traps won't keep foxes out since they'll just respawn. Unless they're traps that can't be dodged even with careful planning, or some sort of system that short-circuits code. The phantom roost is nearby, right? Frankly, phantoms are excellent trackers, they can fly, and they're probably the fastest of all non-swimming hybrids, so a phantom alone provides great security as-is.

Etho: I'll think about it. Not tonight, though. Full moon fox face isn't for me. Also if there are raiders there then that's probably the worst time to show up ZombieCleo: Fair ZombieCleo: I can think of something else, but if you ever get the chance, I want it back Etho: duly noted ✌️ ZombieCleo: btw say hi to Scar and Bdubs when you see them. They've been cracking nonstop jokes since you disappeared. One can only imagine they're attempting humor to bury immense throes of pain Etho: D:

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

22 notes · View notes

fictionsoul · 2 months ago

Text

Chuseok series V (the end): A meaningful dinner

Fem!reader x Yesung

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | END

Synopsis: It's Chuseok already and neither you nor Yesung have to work, so you have all the time in the world to spend the days together.

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, and maybe grammar mistakes.

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: Thanks for read every part of this "Chuseok series" It was entertaining to write every part so I hope you had enjoyed all of them.

A meaningful dinner

The sun was beginning to descend on the horizon. The clouds were painted in shades of orange and pink, and the buildings were wrapped in shadows and lights that traced figures on their surfaces.

The afternoon was coming to an end, giving way to the darkness of the night.

That slow passing of time invited you to stand in front of the window admiring the panorama. It was not a view of a thick forest or an image out of a fairy tale. It was the city, it was the buildings, it was the heavy traffic on the roads.

Yesung entered the room and found you gazing into the distance. He wished he could have your skill and taste for drawing to capture that scene, but unfortunately he did not have that talent.

He took one of his cameras and activated it to immortalize that moment.

The flash forced you to turn around. Your expression of surprise changed to one of happiness when you noticed Yesung's presence in the room.

"You still don't have enough pictures of me?"

"I was missing one more to finish with today's" his arms wrapped around your waist and your lips soon met his.

They were affectionate gestures that came out of nowhere; they were gestated only with the desire to feel, to taste.

He lifted you off the floor and gave a couple of twirls making you let out a satisfied laugh that filled the silence of the room.

The singer allowed your feet to touch the floor as soon as he stopped spinning. His forehead rested on yours and your eyes closed allowing you to enjoy the sensations. Of the fluttering of your heart, of the masculine fragrance that filled your lungs, of the touch of his skin against yours and the brush of his fingers on your cheek.

"Did you know what this reminds me of?" he whispered, an auditive caress that made you shudder.

"What?"

"Our second date. I took a picture of you while you waited on the park bench, then I hugged you just like now and we twirled among the flowers too".

"You looked so handsome. You stole my breath when you handed me the bouquet of flowers."

"At least I wasn't the only one who had forgotten how to breathe" He laughed wistfully, remembering perfectly every dialogue, every movement. "I thought you could hear my heart beating."

"I wouldn't have been able to because I was deafened by my own heartbeat. You have no idea of the thousand scenarios I ran through in my head after you said 'sorry I'm late'".

"You weren't upset?"

"I would have waited a full day if it meant seeing you. I was madly in love. I'm still madly in love," you pointed out.

His lips curved into an honest smile, one full of love that lit up his eyes.

"We're already two crazy people in this household. Would it be okay if we went on a date?"

The idea came out of nowhere in his mind and was put into words without him being able to think twice before saying them.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. Put on something comfortable and get in the car."

Yesung left the room so he could go get his car keys. He hoped you wouldn't guess the place you were going to visit as he programmed his phone with the route to take.

The autumn vacations were coming to an end and he needed to end those days with a romantic detail just for you.

The memories of previous years by your side made him get creative, wishing those days had more than twenty-four hours so he could spend every single one of them by your side.

He checked the time again and decided to send a couple of messages before you got out to take your place in the car. He needed to ask a favor urgently

Your closet was a mess but you finally had the ideal wardrobe to look good by his side.

The excitement of having a date with Yesung set the butterflies in your stomach active again. The adrenaline of going into the unknown enveloped your body with its warmth.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror again and liked what you saw. You were finally satisfied with the result.

Before leaving, you slipped your feet into your shoes and got out to find Yesung inside the car, right behind the steering wheel.

He raised an eyebrow when he noticed your presence, looked you up and down and returned his gaze to yours, giving you a dazzling smile.

Yesung did not allow you to open the door, it was him who descended and went around the vehicle to open it for you. Once you got in, he closed the door with a delicate movement.

You really felt as if you were being courted by him, as if you had met just a few days ago.

The idol took his place behind the steering wheel again and put the car in motion. The destination was still unknown to you, but the feeling of anticipation was more than familiar.

The vibration of the vehicle was nothing compared to the dizzying pounding of your heart.

When the speed slowed down and the car took a left turn, you knew immediately where you were. It was the place where you used to meet when both first got to know each other.

The buildings hadn't changed a bit and the relaxed atmosphere of family evenings was still present.

You didn't understand how something like this came about now, how he managed to reserve a small space in the cafeteria where you used to dine during the rare evenings when you had the opportunity to meet.

"Why did you bring me here? You're going to make me cry" your voice trembled showing the truthfulness of your words "Since when did you reserve the table?"

That cafeteria was tiny. It was small enough to have only two tables and four seats. The cramped space was always busy, so he always reserved a table well in advance.

"The owners' daughter is a friend of my brother," he explained as if it was no big deal, as if you weren't already head over heels.

"The clear example of influence peddling."

"I won't deny it," he stopped the car and got out to open the door and help you out. "But it was necessary for this."

The cafeteria door opened and the warmth you remembered welcomed you.

The wooden furniture, the red lacquered counter now looked worn. On the wall where famous people could put their signature, there was Yesung's autograph along with your fingerprint stamped on the side.

Nostalgia filled your heart threatening to overflow through tears. You had spent so many moments there that it was impossible to forget such a meaningful place.

The only thing different in the establishment were the display cases that exhibited the cakes and other desserts. From there on out only time had passed but the things inside were still intact.

The tables had their classic crocheted table linens. You could swear that as soon as you walked in you heard the same music, the same conversations and the same noises from the coffee pot as when you dined there with Yesung for the first time.

A girl came out from the counter to serve. The apron she was wearing was the same as it had been years ago.

The woman deftly balanced the serving tray until she placed it on the table to begin arranging the plates and glasses on the surface where you were going to taste the food.

Yesung pulled the chair for you to sit in. He was being so considerate, so gentlemanly that you could get used to such gestures.

The cafeteria attendant placed in front of you a slice of lemon meringue pie and a glass with a strawberry latte. Yesung had instead a slice of cheesecake along with an iced americano.

That was precisely the menu you both ordered that first time.

You were pleased and amazed. You didn't know that he remembered every detail of that moment so well, that even the food remained etched in his memory like that.

"When did you plan this? You really surprised me Yesung. Everything is identical to that moment" the surprise remained smeared on every word that caressed your lips.

"You haven't changed either. Your shy smile, your bright eyes, the way you move your hands when you talk. You're still exactly the same."

He meant it. He really thought that time had stood still in you, keeping intact that jovial and carefree attitude that characterized you. Sometimes he feared that it was only he who had changed.

"How romantic you are today. If your intention was to make me fall in love again, you succeeded. I love you."

Your hand reached his over the table and your fingers caressed the idol's in an intimate gesture.

"With this I think I have justified the influence peddling."

His fingers lifted from the wooden surface and let them intertwine with yours.

He was enjoying that date. He loved seeing you happy and hearing you say how much you loved him. He was sure you had no idea of the effect those words had on him

The dinner was romantic, quiet and emblematic. The after-dinner conversation brought back memories of your first dates, your first kisses and the first 'I love you' you whispered to each other.

You were happy, you felt fulfilled and more in love with Yesung. He looked so good behind the wheel and it felt so warm his hand on yours.

The last day of Chuseok had turned out to be the best of all. The cherry on the cake.

Spending that little week by his side, cohabiting together, living as a real couple, was what it took for you to remember why you were still together.

"What are you thinking about?"

Yesung's voice brought you back to reality, to the passenger seat where you were lying comfortably.

"On you. On us. I don't think I've told you enough times that I love you."

"That's why I treasure every one of them."

"I'm going to give you one more for your collection. I love you."

"I love you too."

The inside of the car was silent again. It was a comfortable one that held the warmth of your little impromptu date.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too.

#super junior x reader #super junior imagines #super junior yesung #super junior x you #super junior #suju #yesung x reader #yesung x y/n #yesung x you #yesung fanfic #yesung oneshot #yesung imagines #yesung #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop fanfic #kpop idols #슈퍼주니어 #예성

3 notes · View notes

christiansorrell · 2 years ago

Text

Play-By-Blog #1: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my large-scale play-by-post of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (although this will likely be adjusted somewhat to fit the Play-By-Blog format). This is the first proper entry, but you can check out PBB #0 to get a feel for the ideas behind this play-by-blog concept and at character creation. For now, let's lay some groundwork.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Last week, LOADS of you (over 150 people) voted for our character's class and Magic-User won in a landslide. Using that, I randomly rolled a character (using this Vanilla Game character generator). Let's get to know them a bit before we dive in.

The Player Character: Medon Girdou - Magic Cutpurse

Medon Girdou, a cutpurse turned unlikely wizard, is in a bad way. You don't stage a solo raid on a place like the isle if things are going well. Somewhere back out in the world, there are forces calling for Medon - calling on their debts, calling for their death, or calling them home (when they'd rather be anywhere else). Now, the chance of riches, enough to possibly settle the score, has brought them here to the isle.

[Because Medon is braving The Isle alone, they are coming in at Level 3 to help turn the odds very slightly in their favor. This isn't their first raid.]

[We'll let any background and whatnot build out during play. Feel free to propose your own ideas about what kind of person Medon is and what may have come before but remember, Medon's true character will come out during play and be determined by the actions they take!]

With their katana in one hand, spellbook in the other, and a pocket full of cheese and lead figurines, they step onto...

THE ISLE

"The isle is tiny, a mere 40 acres of forbidding rock and low grasses. Seen from the sea, the monastery buildings stand adjacent to the peak of the isle, lit by a fire atop a tower. The monks never let the fire go out.

"Cliffs rise above the bitter sea, mauled by waves and weather. Fallen stones jut like Frisian horses, big enough to skewer whales. The abbot knows this, because he has seen it."

You've convinced Cioran, a local fisherman, to grant you passage to the island, claiming to be a pilgrim in search of your god. Once a month, he delivers supplies to the monks on the isle out of some sense of obligation you can't quite place. You watched him sit and listen to the sea in the dark of night for hours aboard the boat.

Cioran drops you at a small cove on the island's eastern side [C], wanting to see you on your way before sailing around the island to the main jetty. He's not sure how the monks would take to an unexpected visitor on his boat, even if you are a pilgrim. He'll check this cove again in a month, if you are looking to return to the mainland. His ship slides away quietly around the northern cliffs.

You are alone.

A bloated corpse, fought over by a dozen or so gulls, is bobbing facedown in the water of a small, rocky alcove.

A stone-carved staircase leads up out of the cove, coated in wet, slimy moss fed by the ever-humid conditions. [Saving Throw to not fall down the stairs and take damage: Success!] Taking your time, you manage to safely climb to the top and look out across the rest of the isle.

[You can see out to 3, 4, 5, and 6. 2 and 1 are partially obscured.]

To the north [3], you see a squat formation of man-made stone some 30 or more feet high, scars and bird shit marring the surface.

To the northwest [4], you see a collapsed building of some sort, a loose pile of rubble.

To the southwest [5], you see a scenic view of the western sea atop of an hill topped with an outcropping of rocks.

To the south [6], you see the Monastery, the reason you came to this place. The supposed home to a number of riches, meant to bring glory to a god but that do little more than languish here in obscurity when they could change everything for you, if only you can get to them.

Beyond these places, you can make out a partial view of a sizeable collection of graves to the far north [1] and the upper branches of a large tree to the northwest [2], past the collapsed building.

The choice now, of course, is...

You can now read PBB #2 HERE.

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #fantasy #vanilla game #the isle #play by blog #play by post #luke gearing #meatcastle PBB

34 notes · View notes

chartreusejelly · 2 months ago

Text

Am I Born to Die? || Sean MacGuire x f!OC

Since I don't think many people are reading this here, I'm not gonna bother writing up a summary and such.

Chapter warnings: None

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

AO3 link here

Chapter 4

Life was miserable when it rained in New Hanover. The wind wailed an eerie tune. The clouds rumbled and rain came down like a vengeful, biblical force as if trying to wash us all away. Sometimes it only lasted an hour or two. Sometimes it lasted for days. Good for the farmlands, bad for us outlaws. The ground got soggy and muddy and there weren’t enough tents or wagons in camp for everyone to sleep in, even crammed together.

Arthur had warned me that I should find a wagon to steal from another camp the first day it drizzled. That old cowpoke even had the nerve to lecture me and tell me that I needed to stop acting like a guest in camp and “pull up my cowgirl boots”. Meaning I needed to pitch my own tent, and steal or break my own horse instead of relying on someone to lend me one, like I had been. So I put up a damn tent with some branches and some moldy canvas I found, and the wind blew it in on the first night of the storm. I ended up cold, wet and sick.

Hosea took mercy on me. He gave me an awful tasting tea and let me sleep it off for a couple of days in one of the near-empty supply wagons. The rain meant supplies were low, since no one wanted to travel or hunt in it. I already had been made to feel useless by Arthur’s lecture, which I had bitterly stewed over while I was nursing that head cold. It was the last thing I wanted to hear from the man I had caught feelings for, and that was when I started to wonder if I was only wasting them on him. I kept praying for a sign he felt the same way, until I felt foolish for even thinking it. It seemed romance and women were the farthest things from that man's mind, except for when that damned Mary Linton, his ex fiancé called him in for a favor.

As soon as I had a little more energy, I started getting back to work on the lighter duties just to prove him wrong, however. I started with laundry. One of the least glamorous chores that the men seemed to avoid like the plague, and usually left for us women. I saw that water barrel for washing was low, but I didn’t feel up to trekking all the way down to the creek and climbing back up the hill. Instead I stumbled upon some ankle-deep rainwater that had puddled along the rocky surface just a few feet from the tree line that hid our camp. I came back with a few empty cider jugs to fill them.

“You ain’t supposed to drink still water.” I heard a little voice behind me say. I turned, smiling gently when I saw Jack watching me. His hands were dirty from the mound of mud he’d piled at his feet. “You could get chol…chlor..” He paused, giving up on the word and rephrased himself. “Um..you could get real sick.” I couldn’t help but smile. Having a child around camp sure kept things interesting, and reminded us of the innocence of the outside world we’d all long forgotten. We all looked out for little Jack like he was our own.

“You mean cholera.” I corrected him. “Who told you that?”

“My Pa.” Jack answered. You’d never know Jack was John’s boy, because it seemed like Abigail raised him on her own most of the time, and everyone knew it.

I nodded. “You’re Pa is right. You should boil it first, just to be safe. But you see, I’m only using this water for washing clothes, not drinking.” I explained.

“Oh.” Jack said. He seemed satisfied with my response and crouched down to go back to his mud pie. I heard Sean’s laugh in the distance, which gave me a startle. I hadn’t noticed him, on guard duty (once again), a few feet in front of me. He slowly turned around to face us.

“Boy’s right, y’know.” he said. “Ya shouldn’t drink it. Someone could’ve pissed in it.”

“You better not have.” I grumbled in response. Even after the peace offering of his blanket the other night he interrupted my nightmares, the man’s presence mostly just irritated me at that moment. I guess I still hadn’t completely forgiven his comment about my Pa back when I’d tried to kill him. Most of the time, I never did. When kids in Georgia had laughed at Pa’s limp or his accent, it took everything within me not to break their necks. I speak ill of my daddy all the time, even now. I know he was a miserable, abusive, drunken hypocrite, but those who hadn’t lived with the man didn’t know, and had no right to say so.

“You alright, Miss Millie? I heard you coughin’ last night.” Sean’s show of concern made me reconsider my gripe for just a moment. “It ain’t nothin’ contagious, is it? Smallpox or typhoid or somethin’?” I looked over my shoulder, and Jack had tottered back into camp. His clothes dirty, and bored of our conversation, apparently.

“No.” I muttered to Sean’s dumb question. “It’s just a cold. It ain’t exactly been warm or dry here, if you haven’t noticed.”

He rubbed his hands together, trying to create friction and warmth. “I have. I’m used to the rain though. Rains twice as hard as this back home. We Irish are practically cold-blooded, you know.” I thought of my Pa’s stories of how it rained buckets in Ireland, which I’d always thought were an exaggeration. I was suddenly intrigued. I’d never really had a chance to talk to someone else who had lived there. I set down the jugs of water and sat on the slightly damp surface of a raised rock ledge, tucking my skirt underneath me. I pulled my pack of cigarettes out of my apron pocket. I saw Sean eyeing them, so I held out the pack, offering him one. He accepted and sat down next to me, slinging his rifle over his back.

“What part of Ireland you from, anyways?” I asked him before striking a match to light my cigarette. Sean leaned in and I lit his as well. He took a pull of smoke into his lungs and let it out.

“Donegal. Mostly. We moved around a lot. Me Da and I. Always runnin’ from the bounties after the raids. He was practically famous, y’know, me Da.”

“I woulda guessed Dublin.” I commented, and he raised a brow.

“Dublin? What makes you say that?” I shrugged.

“Just a guess. My Pa was from there. The way you talk…”

He gave a nod, visibly impressed. “No one’s ever caught that before. I was born in Dublin. Spent a good chunk of me life there, when I was just wee. But people here don’t know the difference. They all ‘tink Ireland is just one big rock.” He swept out his hand, motioning the mountain view before us for reference. I took another drag of smoke and coughed something fierce for half a minute while Sean watched me. “You sure ya ain’t dyin’?” He asked, while I was busy trying to catch my breath. “You know, where I’m from, if ya catch a cold, ya boil down some Irish moss. Works better than any medicine.”

I cleared my throat and spat on the ground before I gave him a hoarse response. “Yeah? Why don’t you go get me some?” He looked confused for a moment.

“I’d have to get on a boat to get’cha that.” I stood slowly, flicking the rest of my cigarette onto the wet ground and watched it sizzle.

“Exactly.” I muttered. After a moment, he caught onto the snark in my tone and snorted, humorlessly.

“You’re a funny gal, Miss DonOghue.” He sipped a few more drags off the end of his cigarette before he tossed it down as well to go back to guard duty. “Why’d your Da change his name, anyhow?” He asked as he scuffed out the cigarette with his boot.

I sighed irritably. “Christ, why are you so stuck on that? A lot of Irish changed their names when they come here.”

“I know, and I think it’s feckin’ stupid.” Sean uttered. “Bein’ Irish ain’t somethin’ you can hide, unless you’re a damn good actor. An’ besides, we get looked down upon no matter where we go. There’s no escapin’ it.” I knew that he probably wasn’t the only one who felt that way, even if I had never really thought of it before. In fact, it wasn’t something I’d ever thought to ask Pa when he was alive, and maybe I should have.

After a moment of thought, I shrugged. “It was a different time then, Sean.” I said. “He never said why. If I had to guess, it was probably because he didn’t know a soul when he came here, and he needed work. He wasn’t an outlaw, like you. He wanted to make an honest living. Had nothin’ to do with shame.”

His harsh gaze softened and he gave a nod. “Well..I’m sorry. For insulting him earlier. The way you talk about him, I bet he was a good man.” The sincerity in his voice was unexpected. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help but give a snort to his assessment, rather than accept his apology.

“He was a miserable bastard.” I told him. “Drank like a fish all week and dragged me to mass hungover on Sundays.” I started to walk away. I didn’t want to distract him from guard duty for too long, which wasn’t hard to do.

“Nice talkin’ to you, Miss.” He called after me. I turned my head and saw him rub his hands together again, breathing into his palms to warm them. It was oddly chilly that morning. Nothing like up in Colter, but cold for mid-spring because it had been so damp and sunless for so long. Then I remembered those gloves I’d crafted for him.

“Wait here a minute,” I told him. His upper lip quirked into a curious sneer. I went to the wagon where I had moved my burlack shoulder sack, where I still kept my things. I dug around until I found the gloves, buried and long forgotten. I looked over the stitch work. It still held up good, despite how unfocused I had been when I’d made them. The harsh memories of the cold and losing the Callandars and Jenny, my fears of losing Sean…it all came flooding back. It felt like just yesterday. In reality, it was only a couple a month and a bit. How quickly we’d all moved on.

I went back to Sean’s stoop. “Here,” I held out the gloves. “You’ll probably get too warm wearing them here. They’re lined with wool. But I guess if we ever find ourselves in snow again, you’ll be prepared.”

Sean lifted his gaze from the gloves to my face, looking perplexed. “Wait…these are the gloves I asked for? The ones you charged me twenty dollars for?”

I chuckled at the memory. “I don’t want nothin’ for them. Thought I was making them for a dead man when we was in Colter.”

He looked less confused and almost emotional as he took them and pulled one on his hand. He wiggled his fingers. They fit as well as I thought they would. “I... can’t believe you made these for me. I don’t know what to say, Millie. You’re a real sweet girl, you know that?” His words made me smile shyly at the ground. Then, he suddenly pulled me in, gently by the wrist and tried to kiss me. On the mouth. I was so put off by the gesture, I gave him a hard shove and he stumbled back. His soles slid in the mud and he fell back, ass first. He straightened upright and looked up at me with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “What the hell’d you do that for? I was just tryin’ to thank you!” he sputtered.

I was still trying to process the unexpected turn our conversation had taken. “Well you coulda just said thank you. Damned fool. I don’t want your filthy mouth anywhere near me!” He looked pissed off as he pulled himself up. I guess I would be too, if I knew I’d be wet and muddy for the rest of the day. I didn’t have much sympathy, though. Not after the stunt he’d tried to pull a moment ago. He wiped the mud off his hands on the front of his pants, shaking his head.

I fumed as I stormed away from him. Tilly and Karen had been waiting for me to bring more water so we could all tackle the laundry together, but they saw my flustered face as I carried the cider jugs. “Took you long enough.” Karen was finishing a cigarette as she looked me up and down.

“That Irish idiot just tried to kiss me!” I blurted as I set the jugs down forcefully.

They both blinked at me. “Who? Sean?” Tilly asked, glancing over her shoulder in his direction.

“You know any other Irish idiots ‘round here?” I muttered as I started throwing shirts and dresses into the wash bin. Karen threw back her head and gave a dry laugh.“Of course he did.”

I stopped my vigorous washing, suddenly thinking I might have overstepped a boundary by announcing to Karen what happened. She didn’t seem to show any interest in Sean after that night of his welcoming party, but I realized that perhaps that didn’t mean anything. I doubt anyone had more than an inkling about the way I felt about Arthur, after all. Some women kept their true feelings locked away in their hearts, and guarded like a royal jewel. I liked Karen Jones. She drank a lot, but she didn’t take anyone’s crap. She was good company. I looked up at her and opened my mouth to better explain, but she stopped me before I started. “No need to fuss over me, darlin’. That fool can do whatever he pleases. Says he loves me..” She clicked her tongue. “I bet he’d love a snake too, if it slowed down enough to let him.”

Tilly laughed and so did I, feeling the tension start to leave my body. I certainly didn’t want to get on Karen’s bad side. I’d seen her and Dutch’s Molly get into a screaming match once. Karen was strong willed and she didn’t back down. She reminded me of my mama a little. But I had my doubts she was being truthful.

“You sure did like him after a few drinks.” Tilly teased her, to which Karen let out a puff of air.

“That don’t mean nothin’.” She insisted, then addressed me. “Except that booze and a man’s charm ain’t a good mix. I’ve loved a lot of men after a few drinks. And trust me, charm is about the only thing he’s got going for him, which ain’t sayin’ much.” She went on as she started ringing water out of the shirt I had just washed. “It’s slim pickings for us gals out here, but I ain’t that desperate. One day I might find myself a real man to settle down with and leave all this behind, but Sean? He ain’t nothin’ but a dumb boy. Don’t fall for his crap, like I did.”

“Who said I was even interested?” I replied, slightly offended by the very thought.

“Well, he is. I can tell that much. Started the same way with me. All hot-headed, then comin’ on strong. He still won’t take no for an answer. I’m kinda glad he’s got his eye on you now. ‘Least I can get some peace.” The thought that made my stomach sink once the realization settled in. Was this why he was suddenly being nicer to me?

Tilly laughed it off as she wrung out a pair of socks. “It’s that Irish charm, huh? Even Mary-Beth seems to have her eye on the O’Driscoll boy, ever since we cut him loose.” Karen’s jaw dropped at the bit of gossip, which I tried to ignore. I went back to washing thinking about everything Karen had just said. Once she put the thought in my head I knew it would plague me for days. I looked up seeing Sean in the distance, still trying to brush mud off the seat of his pants while cursing loudly to himself. I bit my lip to keep from smiling.

—----

Us women were warned constantly not to wander far from camp unescorted. We knew there were Pinkertons and O’Driscolls prowling around every corner. Although as long as I was properly armed, I wasn’t afraid of them. The thing is, it wasn’t long before the view from camp, no matter how large the mountains or vast the valleys, felt like prison walls. We’d get stir crazy waiting around for a job we could do that wasn’t camp chores. With Dutch harping on us all the time about needing money, and one way I knew how to get it was playing cards, I decided to take off one morning. I’d heard there was a poker table in Valentine, even though Dutch has warned us not to spend too much time there. He didn’t want to risk people starting to recognize our faces. I went in disguise anyway, wearing my best dress; a pastel pink silk and lace thing with a long skirt, slim waist and low cut top. I borrowed Mary-Beth’s curlers to style my hair, added a pair of white gloves and a string of stolen pearls. To the untrained (and drunken) eye, I could pass for a middle-class lady who was just a little on the adventurous side. I’d seen how the saloon girls in Valentine dressed, and I wanted to stand out from them, and maybe leave a little more to the imagination.

It wasn’t easy for me to hustle a card game solo, but my plan was to play it sweet and innocent. Flirt with the men and pretend I just wanted to learn the game. Unsure if it would work, I just stood close to the bar and slid the bartender a quarter. I asked for a glass of white wine figuring I might as well cut loose a little. It was nice to be away from camp and among other company for a while. I glanced over at the poker table, trying to decide if it was worth it to try and get in on the next round. The men around the table certainly seemed like regulars. The type who sat at that table from down until dusk throwing away their mortgage payments.

The saloon doors swung open, and I was surprised by the familiar faces among the small crowd that came in. I spotted Sean, Bill and John, and unfortunately they spotted me before I could duck out, feeling foolish. “Well, look at you, Millie.” John gave a low whistle looking me up and down. “Sipping wine in that fancy window dressing. You could almost pass for a real lady.”

I rolled my eyes as Sean stared at me nodding in agreement. “I’ll say. I was about to try and buy you a drink meself.”

“Well I’m sorry to have to miss out on your dull pick up lines. Guess you’ll have to save them for some other poor girl, Sean.” I sassed before I turned sharply towards John. I felt his eyes on the back of me. “And Mr. Marston, my eyes are up here. Where you should be lookin’” I said in a stern tone meant to remind him that Abigail existed. He just chuckled and raised his hands in defense.

“Sorry. I was only admirin’ the dress, honest.” I was about to ask if it was because he wanted to borrow it, when Bill spoke. He seemed uninterested in our banter and acted as if he had something more serious on his mind.

“I’m gonna chat with those fellars by near the back. See what I can find out.” He said, taking his beer and heading that way.

I glanced at the two younger men. “What’s going on?”

“Pearson got robbed this mornin’” Sean explained. “He was comin’ into town here with the supply wagon. Bastards took all our meat, and the wagon.”

John shook his head. “I told him not to go in alone. Man’s ‘bout as intimidating as a toothless brown bear.”

“Shit..” I muttered, thinking about what that meant for the camp. Pearson’s stew, as unappetizing as it was sometimes, was the only thing that kept us alive at times we couldn’t get into town. If his wagon was gone, so was our food supply. I had gone on hunts with Arthur and Charles, and I knew the effort it took to feed that many hungry mouths. It wasn’t a small job. “You reckon it was O’Driscolls tryna starve us out?” I asked.

“Nah,” said John. “Pearson didn’t think so. Didn’t recognize none of them. Besides, O’Driscolls wouldnt’a spared him. Coulda been someone from around here, lookin’ to sell it cheap. I heard the meat auctions ain’t been goin’ so well.”

“Yeah, we were hopin’ to talk to the butcher, but his stand is closed.” Sean chimed in, then he looked at me, curiously. “What you doin’ here alone, anyhow? You know you it ain't safe, Miss.”

I gave a defeated sigh. “I was tryin’ to win us some money.” I explained.

John patted me on the shoulder. “That’s good. You go stand by the poker table, talk to those men. Most of ‘em are here every day. Maybe they’ve seen or heard somethin’. I’ll hang by the bar, see what I can find out.”

Sean gave an indignant scoff. “You’ll stand by the bar and get drunk, like you always do.” He took one of the beers John ordered them and stepped towards me while John leaned on the bar, ignoring his comment.

“Why’d they send you three fools for this?” I questioned. “Where’s Arthur?”

The Irishman let out a laugh. “Don’tcha know what a mess your hero Arthur made in this very saloon with Lenny? Ain’t exactly well behaved after a couple shots of hard liquor.” I looked over as I heard a whoop of laughter from a man at the poker table, pulling in a pot of chips while his fellow players groaned and grumbled and threw down their cards. I started over, trying to get back into the state of confidence I’d been in before I was interrupted, but Sean stepped in my way, to my annoyance.

“Ay, you really know how to cheat at cards?” he asked me. “These fellas might not let a woman at their table, you know. Just how it is with these rough necks.”

“I know a few ways to cheat. It ain’t easy to do on my own, but I ain’t askin’ for your help.” I said. “You gotta be smart. You gotta pay attention.”

He puffed his chest a little. “Heyyy... I resent that. I know how to play cards. Me Da taught me when I was barely big enough to see over the table.” He insisted.

I thought it over a moment. “Alright. Then you play, and I’ll watch. Pay attention to my signals. One tap means fold. Two means raise the bet or all in. Nothin’ means hold. Got it?” I use to pull the same scheme with my fellow bandmates back in the day, standing by watching the dealer’s cards. One of the more risky ways to cheat, but in a dive like this where it was full of loud rowdy distractions, there was a decent chance it would work.

Sean looked as if the wheels were already turning in his stupid little head and he nodded. “Right. Let me do most of the talkin’. I’ve got it all figured out.” I heaved a heavy sigh and he took my hand, leading me towards the poker table. “Evenin’ fellas. I see you’ve got a couple seats open.” he gestured to the two that were empty. The men at the table glanced up, most of them looking at me. “You know, gamblin’ aint too becomin’ of a young lady.” One of the older, gruffer men said. I hate to admit it, but I was glad Sean was there. He laughed before I could say anything.

“Don’t worry. S’only me wife. We just got married in Rhodes ya see, and we’re headed up to West Elizabeth for a little mountain getaway. What’s a honeymoon without some light gamblin’, huh?” He laughed heartily. “Thought I’d show her how to play, but she ain’t from around here. Barely understands English. At least she’s pretty though, in’t she?” He laughed some more and pulled up a chair. “What do you say, lads? Deal me in so I can show off to the little missus.”

I couldn’t believe the yarn he was spinning, but all I could do was hold my tongue and let him string them along. The man throwing out cards stole another glance at me, looking a little suspicious. “So where’s your missus from, then?” Sean looked up at me trying to think of an answer.

Because he was taking too long, I panicked a little and said the first thing that came to mind. “Denmark.”

He laughed and nodded. “Denmark. That’s right. My little Danish princess, aint’cha, Heidi?” He reached over and squeezed my waist in a way that I would have slugged him for under any other circumstance. “Don’t know what she sees in and ol’ sob like me, but I guess she likes me Irish charm.”

I stood back quietly and stayed ‘in character’. Sean wasn’t kidding about knowing how to play, I’ll give him that. I let him play through the first few rounds without my help to sell his story that I was only there to pretend to be interested. He won a pot on a full house and bluffed his way through another round. Whenever I could carefully sneak a glance at other player’s or the dealer's cards, I gave his shoulder a squeeze twice to let him know if he had the winning hand. He asked me to bring him drinks every so often which gave me the opportunity to get a good look. After playing for about an hour, losing a few rounds deliberately, to keep suspicion down, Sean walked away with twelve dollars and a few coins. Which was decent, for the crowd there. Valentine wasn't exactly known for it's riches.

He took me to the bar, his hand around my waist. “Not bad. Not bad at all, Miss Heidi.” He laughed, the bills in his palm. “You’re quite the convincing Danish gal.” He handed me my cut of the cash.

“And you're quite the convincing conman.” I responded to which he chuckled.

“How ‘bout that. Married to a conman. We make quite the team, huh?” He draped his arm around my shoulders and I shrugged it off. “Come on, don’t be like that, darlin’. I thought we made quite the handsome couple. Let me buy you a drink at least.” he flagged down the bartender before I could argue against it. I could tell I had probably fed him one too many drinks at the poker table, from his overly confident behavior, and now I had to begrudgingly deal with him. I was glad when we re-convened with Bill and John, who we found upstairs drinking and speaking amongst themselves away from the crowded area of saloon girls and customers.

“Find anything?” John asked, which made me realize we had both forgotten about the stolen cook wagon.

“Well, uh… no. But we won twelve dollars.” Sean answered, optimistically.

“Well, according to one of the auctioneers, they have one coming up this weekend.” Bill told us. “He said a couple fellers showed up this afternoon tryin’ to pass off some butchered venison as beef. Sounds like our guys.”

“Feckin’ idiots.” Sean clicked his tongue. “How hard is it to shoot yer own game in these parts?”

“I reckon it’s our wagon they’re after. It was full of Pearson’s good cooking supplies. Probably took it for another camp.” John said, giving a sigh of annoyance before addressing Bill. “They say where they was headed?”

Bill shook his head. “Said they wasn’t from around here. But they couldn’t have gone far. It might be best we spread out and look around.”

Sean gave a groan. “Aw, can’t we do that in the daylight?”

“The longer we wait the farther they could get.” Bill argued, but John seemed to agree with Sean.

“They’re probably camping out somewhere near by.” He said. “Besides, there’s only four of us. We need more to cover more ground. I say we wait until sunrise.” After some back and forth discussion, it seemed John was right. Although I had a feeling he and Sean just wanted to stay and drink longer. I should have headed back to camp with Bill. It was too dark for me to go on my own, especially the way I was dressed. But Bill ducked out at some point without us noticing. He left me to deal with John and Sean, a pair of drunken buffoons, by that point.

I was sure one of their loud mouths would end up starting a brawl. Maybe it was the change of scenery from camp, however, that put them both in a foolishly joyful mood. I knew that it was too late to get rooms at the hotel, which meant I’d be responsible for getting them back to camp. I rounded them up about an hour before last call. John could barely walk out the doors and Sean was swaying back and forth while loudly singing an Irish tune.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re too drunk to ride a horse.” I muttered just before I watched John stumble down the front steps of the sidewalk and drop hard, head first into some fresh mud. Sean doubled over a hitching post and howled with laughter. I made him get John up so I didn’t ruin my dress. We managed to get him onto his horse, where he slumped forward, barely conscious.

“Abigail’s gonna be mighty pleased to see you in this state, John.” I muttered with sarcasm.

“Ohh..he’ll get an earful tomorrow. Great way to nurse a poundin’ headache..” Sean helped me rope John’s horse to mine a few feet back so it wouldn’t run off, and then got on his own to follow me, with some difficulty. It was a little surprising that Sean was the more coherent one of the two with the amount I’d seen him drink in camp. He was able to stay near John and readjust him a few times so he didn’t fall off his horse, but I could tell by his slurred speech that he too had gone overboard.

“Miss Millie…you made a fine Danish wife to me. In that lovely dress.” I heard his voice rambling on behind me as I kept my horse and John’s at a steady pace. I knew it’d be a long trek back to camp, and I sighed, trying to ignore him. “You’re exactly the sort o’ woman me Da woulda wanted me to marry, you know?” He went on. “Irish, stubborn as hell, hard workin’, stunnin’…”

“Well I ain’t lookin’ to get hitched. Especially not to someone like you.” I told him sternly. He rode up beside me.

“Ahh..come on. I love ya, Millie. I really do. I know I don’t have much to offer.. but I’d take good care o’ you. Ya know I would.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and I knew it was the liquor talking. I gave a snort. “Yeah? A couple weeks ago you loved Karen!” I pointed out.

“Karen?” He let out a huff and waved his hand as if what I said was complete rubbish.

“If you didn’t love her, then why’d you tell her you did? We all heard you. Several times. So you could get a good feel of them knockers of hers?” Maybe the liquor had loosened my tongue a bit as well, but I was mad on Karen’s behalf.

“No!” he remarked, defensively. “Well…I mean, maybe a wee bit…but.. No! It ain’t like that, at all. It was different wit’ me an’ Karen. You weren’t there when it started.”

“Sure..” I muttered as I trotted along finding the steep path that lead up to Horseshoe Onlook. “Bet it’s the same story with any girl within five feet of you when you’re sloshed.”

He exhaled heavily and looked back to make sure John was still there, and on his horse. “Look…I did love Karen, okay? I surely did. But… she don’t feel the same way. She’s made that loud an’ clear. An; it weren’t for a lack of tryin’, on my part. I hoped she’d change her mind but..” He shrugged. “A man’s heart can only take so much rejection.” His shoulders suddenly sagged. I felt a tinge of sorrow for him. I knew I shouldn’t, but all those years I’d lusted over that ranch hand, who saw me as nothing more than a kid sister-type, I knew how it could hurt. He perked up a little.

“But you, Millie…” he started and I shook my head.

“But nothin’! I ain’t interested. End of story.” I insisted.

“Ah. That’s what they all say.” He still sounded a bit dejected despite his soft laugh. “If you’d just give me a chance, you’d see. If someone would give me a chance..”

“Mhm..” I muttered. The silence between us as we rode the rest of the way grew uncomfortable, as it was unusual for him. It occurred to me that I probably hurt his feelings a little, but I felt like I needed to stand my ground after seeing the way he’d pestered Karen around camp. Perhaps, though, seeing this more vulnerable side of him made me think about how he might have just wanted something real, just like I did, deep down. We reached the camp and passed Charles, who was on guard duty, as the darkness was beginning to fade into a shadowy haze. The sunlight was beginning to barely crack through the clouds. It was quiet. Everyone was still in their beds. Sean got off his horse and gave John a hard nudge. “Marston…wake up. We’re home.”

John gave a startled grunt and rubbed his hand down his face. “Shit…will someone quit spinnin’ the goddamn place…can’t get my footin’. I think I'm gonna be sick.” He mumbled as Sean helped him off his horse. He fed him some water from his canteen and helped him walk into his tent to sleep it off. I had a feeling Dutch wasn’t going to be too pleased with them tomorrow, when we would be needing people to search for the cook wagon and they were both hungover. Once John was alive and in his bed, I turned around to find mine.

“Well..I had a good time tonight, Miss.” Sean said, rubbing the back of his head. “You’re a hell of a poker player.”

“It was you who did the playin’.” I pointed out. “But thanks.”

After a moment, he came a little closer. “Hey, uhm…I was wonderin’..” He paused, swaying slightly where he stood, obviously still drunk. I figured he might be until midday tomorrow with how much he’d drank. “Might be the booze, talkin’...but feck it. Could…could I kiss you goodnight?”

I couldn’t think anything to say, so I just groaned. “At least I asked this time!” He pointed out. “Just one little kiss. Please? I won’t try an' do nothin’ else to ya. I swear on me Da.”

“You did ask this time.” I agreed. I appreciated that much. “But you’re also drunk as a skunk. And I ain’t. 'Least not as much as you. It wouldn’t be right.”

He started to get that wounded puppy look in his eye again and I hated that it affected me. I hesitated a moment, knowing I might regret what I was going to say. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”

His head jerked up, his eyes full of hope. “You mean that?” He smiled a little, looking pleased. “I will ask ya. I won’t forget.” I wasn’t sure if it was true, but I smiled a little. “Goodnight, me darlin’ wife.” he called out.

I rolled my eyes. “Goodnight.” I mumbled back, and walked heavily to my bedroll to try and get much sleep as I could after our little adventurous night.

#also sorry it took me 83 years to update!#sean macguire #sean macguire x oc #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 oc

3 notes · View notes

84reedsy · 11 months ago

Text

The Mentorship, Part 22 - The End

The Mentorship

Characters: Curt Hennig/FemOC , Scott Hall/FemOC

Part 22 of 22

Warnings/Considerations: Smut, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Dirty Talk, swearing

Word Count: 3470

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Taglist: @writeandsurvive @theweaselandthekilt To anyone and everyone who's read this; a sincere thank you from the bottom of my heart. This was the first thing I started writing when getting back into the wrestling fandom and it was meant to be just a one chapter blurb - but it grew into much more! Everyone's kind words and encouragement made finishing this possible <3

Pay-Per-Views were always more stressful. There was a lot more pressure to perform perfectly - much less was left to chance. Honestly, it felt like managerial over-reach, especially when they second-guessed Curt's suggestion for opening the match. Brinkley frowned at the man she'd never seen before yet acted as if he knew better than the three professional journeymen who stood next to her.

Curt shook his head to discourage her argument and Scott subtly touched her arm. She didn't know how they were so calm and so willingly taking bad direction from this wannabe booker. It was insulting to her, let alone them.

“This time,” Curt looked around them once the four of them were alone again, “we are here to protect you. We usually end up doing whatever we want. For us, it's like ‘so what if Russo bitches about it’. But…when you're on your own, you're gonna have to pick your own battles with them,” he knew as a newcomer she wouldn't carry enough clout outside of this match.

“There's only so much we'll be able to say,” Scott followed up.

“I get it…” she nodded, understanding their warning, “Don't rock the boat unless I absolutely have to,”

“Jesus, that boat is gonna end up capsizing” Kevin rolled his eyes, but smirked at her, ruffling her hair like a child.

“Thanks A LOT, now I have to go fix it!” She scurried back to hair and makeup, knowing time was running short. She could already hear the crowd reacting to the opening matches. Her stomach turned as her hair was resmoothed and fixed into a high pony with a braid wrapped around its base. She wasn't sure she'd ever been this nervous.

She worried she might throw up in the hallway from the nerves as she made her way to the locker room, trying to ignore the distant roar of 50,000 people that echoed through the concrete halls. Their match was still an hour away, how was she ever going to maintain until then?

“Aren't you glad we taped our promos already?” Curt smirked as she paced in the locker room looking a little pale. Scott and Kevin were filming their response live to the crowd now. He knew she'd get there eventually, once she got all of these tough firsts out of the way.

“God, yeah, I'd be a mess if we did it now, live. Why are pay-per-views so stressful?!” She continued pacing around the room to dispel her nervous energy, shaking out her arms to keep them loose.

Curt watched her, thoughts and memories swirling around in his head. If he’d never suggested what he had to Scott, he had to wonder if she’d still just be pining from afar and spending her nights in Curt’s room, working out her energies there. He knew he’d done this to himself and that it was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t help but feel some level of selfish regret.

He knew what he’d like to do to redirect her mind and what to channel that energy into. He couldn't deny that he'd pleasured himself before many big matches just to level out. Sex (even with one's self) was the ultimate way to prepare for a high energy performance. It was the same with actors, singers… wrestlers were no different. He could feel his impulsivity tapping at the back of his mind, making unsettlingly concrete arguments in favor of the proposition.

But he knew she'd tell Scott. She was adamant about being honest with him. He was grateful and irritated that she'd listened so well to his lessons. He didn't think he wanted to deal with however Scott may feel about it. It was better to keep the peace.

“CURT!” Brinkley snapped him with his towel, jarring his focus back to the present, “where are you?” She asked, having been rambling on for a few minutes only to see him staring off into the middle distance. The way he broke out into the tiniest of cold sweats and looked a little befuddled gave her a hint.

“Sorry, what? What were you saying?” He still shook his head, hoping it was dissolve the vivid memories in his head.

Brinkley straddled the bench he was sitting on a he pulled his kneepads just below his knees. She picked at a knot in the wood with her fingernail.

“Is it always gonna be like this?” She asked barely above a mumble, only looking up at him after she asked. He paused from answering right away, fiddling with his boots still. He sighed and rested his forearms on his knees.

“We're friends first, right?” He asked.

“That's what I hope for,” she oddly thought of all the times he turned her down, wondering if he was regretting them, “But is that too selfish of me? Is that me being naive?”

“No, it's not selfish of you. I should be able to give that to you.” He ran his hand over his slicked hair, “but I'd like to say something if I could,” he looked at her for silent permission.

She nodded.

“I wish I'd stayed professional with all this,” he knew that part would sound harsh, but he paused before the rest, “Because you are the best I've ever felt with somebody in that way…in a lot of ways actually. And going forward now knowing what I'm missing, knowing what we had…I just hate that I have to gatekeep what I didn't before” he stumbled around his words a little, looking frustrated.

“I know what you mean,” she tried to reassure him, “The idea of doing anything to hurt Scott makes me sick to my stomach…but it doesn't stop me from thinking about you. You were my first, I'm always going to remember what we were,” she reached out, resting her hand on the inside of his elbow.

“I know you moving on is the right thing, baby girl. I just hate the idea of being left behind,” he laid his hand over hers, “But I want you to do well…I want you to turn this place on its head. Be the first woman to get top billing. Of anyone…you can do it.”

“Thanks for believing in me all this time,” she squeezed his hand a little, “Curt if you want-” she started but he cut her off.

“I want you to do well in this match. And I know in my gut you will, so just…focus on that,” he said, squeezing back harder. He knew what she was about to offer; either inspired to out of pity for him or out of mutual desire, maybe even nostalgia…he knew nothing down that path was going to help her. And his job had been to help her.

Letting her go was the best thing he could do for her now.

--------------------------------

Brinkley didn't think she'd ever been this nervous on this side of the curtain. Even her first day was less nerve wracking than this. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she focused on her breath and tried to blank out the last few months.

“Don't forget,” Curt reminded her, hoping that any conversation would be calming, “you're not my valet this time. You're my partner. First time and last time with me, “ he looked over her outfit, the long leggings a better choice than her ass half hanging out of her shorts…at least for this match. The leggings were still stunning, criss-crossed orange and black lines went up the outside of each leg, large swaths were thin mesh, leaving a lot of skin somewhat exposed. The purple was perfect against her skin.

The top was another piece he bought, the strappy corset laced top. It added the perfect subtle sexuality to her outfit, not that she needed the help.

“Partners,” Brinkley reached out her hand, Curt took it, nodding his head as he smiled.

“One last time,” He took a deep breath as the entrance music began playing.

This time, he went out first, playing to the crowd and then building up Brinkley’s entrance to a surprisingly loud pop from the crowd. The sound made Brinkley grin widely. She wondered if the face turn would carry through her turning on Curt. They had been heels, but if the match was done like they’d planned…Curt would remain a heel and she would be the face among the Outsiders. That is until she adapted to their sneaky ways.

She felt comfortable with their plans. The future wasn’t scary - she wasn’t nervous or mournful like she thought she might feel. Curt hyped her up on the way to the ring as the camera followed closely.

The intimidating factor came from the two large men waiting in the ring for them. She almost wished she was still mad at Scott, it would make keeping a straight face easier. Especially with the way that Scott and Kevin looked at her like they were going to devour her. She did realize that she was the prize of the match - she let that boost her confidence and distract from the imposing opponents ahead.

She and Curt played to the crowd, mimicking each other's movements while they stood on the ropes in opposite corners. They synchronized their gum slapping and the crowd ate every bit of it up.

As they all four stood in the ring, separated only by the referee who was telling them to get to their corners, Brinkley pleaded to start the match. She enjoyed the acting part of kayfabe and she was among three of the best at it.

“C’mon Hennig, let me start, I can take these old guys!” She insulted them, as if Curt wasn’t the same age as them.

“Yeah, Hennig, let her take us on, let us have a go at the rookie,” Kevin nodded, sarcastically smiling as his words were meant to be insulting.

“Yeah, we got lots of moves for what’s about to be ours,” Scott pulled on a strand of her hair lightly, stepping back quickly as she shot him a warning look. The crowd responded as well.

“Yaaaaawn, same old tired moves you've been using for the last 15 years? Spare me,” she rolled her eyes, taking a step back as Scott started for her.

Curt shoved him back, barking at Brinkley to get to their corner. She frowned as if offended.

“Yeah, sweetheart, wait in the corner like a good little girl,” Kevin doubled down on his disrespectful tone. She flipped him off, but retreated through the ropes as did Kevin, Scott and Curt beginning their dance around the middle of the ring. After smacking gum through the air and a toothpick being thrown, the two locked up.

Brinkley tried to encourage Curt, holding her hand out for a tag but was denied when she was ignored. She played up throwing a tantrum, even playing the first couple of rows of fans that his refusal was “bullshit”. A contingent of fans started a change of the word, turning into a chorus against Curt. He was on the losing end now, Scott and Kevin having exchanged places a few times by now. Curt was far from the ‘fresh man’ in.

“CURT, COME ON!” Brinkley yelled, reaching her arm dramatically out over the rope as far as she could manage. The crowd was behind her, the chant now changing to “Tag her! Tag her!”

Curt took a clothesline and stumbled backwards, his hand falling into hers as she took the tag and he rolled out to the floor. She jumped into the ring, a disheveled Scott staring her down from the middle of the ring. He held up both hands, beckoning her to try him. He looked back at Kevin, both pointing at her and laughing. She took the chance to leg sweep him to the canvas, standing again quickly while looking down at his stunned face.

“Oh you got tricks?” He looked threatening at her, “Let’s do this then,”

He locked up with her, reminding her quietly to keep breathing through every move and that he was swinging her into the ropes. She followed the direction, sliding between his legs and grabbing his ankles, again leaving him on his back on the canvas. He cursed, slapping the ring in frustration as she ‘outsmarted’ him again.

She walked too close to the opponents corner and Kevin grabbed her, holding her against the turnbuckle. Scott lined up a punch, but right before he corrected, she slipped out of the grip downward, Scott connecting with Kevin instead and knocking him off the ring apron.

Scott looked over the rope at Kevin laying on the mats below, Brinkley threw herself into the opposite rope and toward Scott, hitting him with an arm bar that sent him over the top rope as well, landing on top of Kevin.

The thunderous pop from the crowd was deafening. She tried to not wince as the noise overwhelmed her ears. But she held up a hand above her head, calling for more.

The referee started counting out Scott who took nearly 8 of the count to roll back in. She had to use every ounce of her acting to not react to the dark ‘anger’ in Scott's eyes. He locked up with her again, once more slinging her into the ropes and hooking her into an arm bar takedown. She landed flat with a loud thud on the mat. She sold the fall, rolling to her side and moaning into the mat.

She looked toward her home corner and Curt was leaning over the rope, barking a demand that she tag him, she ‘drug’ herself towards him, but Scott grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her backwards to his corners, now tagging Kevin.

Kevin held her in the corner and she braced herself for the chops she knew was coming. He left them high to avoid a tit-shot, but there was careless padding higher and the slap stung, redding her skin. She sold it well, slipping downward again, only for Kevin to grab her by the hair.

She went for the easy low blow, Kevin selling like a champ as he went down into a fetal position. She knew Curt wanted back in and she should tag him, but she was having fun. And being with Scott and Kevin moving forward, who knew when she'd have a chance to fight them again?

But she was getting winded for real at this point and made a dramatic crawl that the crowd reacted to with supportive cheers; yelling louder and louder as she drew closer. She'd gotten at least 6-7 minutes in.

Just as Kev tagged Scott and he quickly stepped in, she slapped Curt's outstretched fingers and he came flying in with fresh energy, pummeling Scott. She rolled out under the ropes, “recovering”.

She caught her breath, hearing the bumps in the ring as she reached under it. The folding chair was exactly where it was supposed to be as she slid it out and slowly made her way to her feet. She held up her finger to her lips to the fans at the barricade as she played out her secret “cheat”.

She wondered how much heat she might actually pull as “ooooo's” filtered through the nearby crowd. She waited several minutes until her opportune moment presented itself, watching as Scott got the upperhand, and Curt was trying to mount a comeback.

She slid in the ring with the chair as Kevin had the attention of the ref, trying to enter the ring. The crowd popped when she picked up the chair, her knuckles white as she gripped the legs tightly. A thousand thoughts spun through her mind, but she ignored any objections of her own - knowing this was the best thing for the story line.

She landed a loud, safe slap of the metal chair against Curt’s back and stood for a moment while the crowd hushed for a second before reacting in surprise. Scott fell forward over Curt as Kevin pointed the ref to the cover. 1, 2, 3.

The heat from the crowd was instant and it bled over to Kevin who came over and celebrated with her. Scott was up moments later, each man holding a wrist of her’s in victory.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

She waited in the wings of the gorilla as they exited for Curt as he came back through the curtain. She couldn’t tell if he was mad or just exhausted. Maybe both. But as he looked up at her, trying to smooth back his hair, he grinned a little and smirked as he shook his head.

“Wasn’t expecting that…” He admitted, “But…it was by far the best way to do it.” He didn’t like feeling like he was left out of the conversation, but he also knew she owed him a couple of receipts for a couple of different reasons, “Are we even now? Or do I still gotta watch my back around you?” He joked.

“I feel like I should be able to still get in one rib before we call it even,” She postured, “but I GUESS we can call a truce,” She held out her hand to him. He looked at it and after a brief pause, shook her hand. They both smiled, but he could see tears creeping into the corner of her eyes.

“Thank you for everything, Curt,” She said through the ache in her throat. She felt silly for getting emotional. She would see him every night for the foreseeable future. They would likely be feeding in the ring, too. He would be trying to convince her to come back only for her to set him up for a Scott and Kevin melee.

But regardless, it felt like the end of an era for her. She finished shaking his hand, pulling away as they walked down the hall to wear Scott waited for her, slinging his arms across her shoulders.

“You guys headed out tonight?” Curt asked, “Got room in the back unless you wanna fight Steiner for the front,” he joked.

“Nope, in the morning, heading back to Scott's tonight,” Brinkley said, looking forward to that big house with just the two of them, “Kev's gonna swing by and get us,”

“We've still got a follow up interview to do for the next tv,” Scott reminded her as she started to untie her boots. She groaned, starting to lace them back up.

“I forgot about that, I'll be there in just a sec,” she told Scott, waving him on. He kissed her temple, making her giggle as he tickled her cheek with his stubble.

Sweaty coworkers filtered in and out, interrupting her lacing to compliment her on the match, almost always giving Curt his due credit, though he shrugged it off, humbly. He gave her all the accolades. Some even talked about possibly working together with Scott and Kevin.

When Russo came in with a compliment through his gritted teeth, Brinkley had to bite back her I told you so's, she took a page from Curt's book of humility and simply thanked him.

She looked at Curt who was finishing buttoning his shirt, “Guess we'll see you in Atlanta, then,” she said as he zipped his bag closed.

“See you in Atlanta, Brink. Keep those boys in line, now,” he teased, slapping her lightly on the shoulder as he walked out of the locker room. He walked alone to the car, knowing Ricky would be out soon. He tossed his bag into the trunk, laughing to himself as he imagined what mouthy, genius promo Brinkley was probably cutting against him. He looked forward to being as surprised as everyone else tomorrow when he saw it on a backstage monitor.

He had a few ideas of what she might say, each one making him laugh more than the last.

As he drove down the dark highway once again, he thought of how she would do great things. Her name would be in the marquee long after he'd retire. Who knows? Maybe in a strange twist he'd end up her valet.

“Everybody's jealous of your match,” Rick said, slouched down in the passenger seat with a baseball cap pulled over his eyes, “No one's gonna want to follow that kid,” he said.

Curt felt a genuine pride and some relief. But the credit for winning over everyone else was squarely with Brinkley. That was her gift, her natural talent. If only everyone had that, the locker room would be a far better place.

But as the night wore on and the yellow dotted lines passed by in the headlights, he felt content. He felt peace.

He'd done his job, he'd taught her well.

And though he hadn't expected it, he was thankful for all the things she'd taught him along the way, too.

#wrestling fan fic #wrestling fic #wrestling fanfiction #curt hennig #wcw #wwe #wrestling #fanfiction #pro wrestling #1999 #Scott hall #kevin nash #The Mentorship #wrestling smut #cameos by a lot of wrestlers

14 notes · View notes