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lighteez · 2 months

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Comforting Sanji

Hello, hello! This one shot is based after the straw hats saved sanji. (it was ep 796 i believe where sanji's sis cuffed his hands) It'll be based on him finally getting his shackles away and it left a terrible scar on his wrists, so once the crew left whole cake island, you got worried over sanji and decided to take care of him after finding out about his past. You comfort him, cook for him, and tend to his wounds while cursing his entire family and the big mom family. (im on ep810 and i just saw the sanji x luffy fight, i was crying an ocean omg, i cant… it broke me seeing luffy and sanji cry) (p.s. IT HAS SPOILERS!! AND READER IS FEMALE!!!)

“SANJI!” You screamed when you saw the crew members return back with Sanji. When he saw you, he looked at you differently, his smile was still warm, but his eyes screamed a different story. He was hurt, he was in pain.

You gripped the railing of the ship angrily, jumping out of the ship and ran towards him and the crew. Hugging them all, you told them that you took care of the ship well and made sure nothing happened to the Thousand Sunny.

Luffy laughed and nodded, “Thanks for ya help, now let's go back and have a feast! This time with our cook’s dishes!” He screamed like always, running back to the ship with Chopper. They were both happy to get their crew mate and friend back on board, the most exciting part? Sanji's delicious food! You on the other hand felt worried that he might be mentally tired, so being the caring person that you are towards your crew members, you tapped Sanji on his shoulder.

He turned his attention towards you and stopped walking, a curious expression on his face. “What is it? Is something wrong?” He smiled brightly. Taking in a deep breath, you relaxed yourself and spoke up.

“I’m glad you’re back, Sanji. Are you feeling okay now?” You asked, looking into his eyes to make sure he wasn’t lying to you. Seeing him take a deep breath as well, he relaxed his shoulders, or at least tried to relax. He simply nodded, faking another smile. “I know you’re lying to me… You’re mentally exhausted, am I right?” I asked, looking over to the ship as I saw the crew happily waving at us to hurry back so we can leave this weird island.

Sanji’s smile fell and he looked down at the ground with no facial expression playing on his face. All those horrible memories of the vinsmoke family came back to him, and he knew it was going to take more time to forget them again. “We really can’t lie to ya, huh? You see right through us.” He whispered, taking out his packet of cigarettes only to see that he was done with them. A thought came to mind, that he must’ve chain smoked a lot while being trapped with them.

“Sanji… I’m sorry all this happened to you. Let’s go back on the ship, I apologize I wasn’t much help.” I frowned, looking at the floor as well. This entire crew are always in their own world, having fun with another, but when their past or traumas come back, they are actually exhausted and worn out. You hadn’t noticed that these wonderful people suffered so much before they all met. It somehow felt like it should be your job to help these people who took you in when you had nowhere to go.

“It wasn’t your fault, and you always help us.” He smiled and ruffled your hair. You sighed in defeat, even though they say these things, you still feel useless, so you try your best to help around in the ship. Sometimes you would even train with Zoro and try to learn some fighting techniques. “Come on, let’s get out of here now. I don’t like Whole Cake Island.” He physically shivered and walked towards the ship with you following him.

Once on the ship, you all finally set sail to meet up with the other crew members who stayed on Zou Island. The crew was back to being cheerful, loud, funny and completely normal as if nothing ever happened these last couple of days. You ended up hearing all the news from Carrot about Sanji being a Vinsmoke, almost marrying that daughter from Big Mom, and his past. The more she talked about what happened, you became worried and angry. Nami chimed in on the conversation and said that Luffy and Sanji had a big fight.

Looking over to Sanji and Luffy, they seemed perfectly fine dancing and laughing with the others, as if nothing ever happened between them. Letting out a small smile towards Nami you told her to stop bringing up the past, it would only stay in her mind if she keeps remembering and repeating everything that happened. Nami agreed and just began to drink all the booze to lighten up. Carrot followed Luffy and ate all that she could.

Hours went by in a flash and you excused yourself to freshen up. The only ones still up was Brook and Pedro playing songs while Carrot danced with Chopper. Luffy and Nami were knocked out asleep, and of course Luffy was still eating Sanji’s dishes while sleeping. Everything felt good, and right in its place, however; Sanji was stuck in the Kitchen, cooking and cooking away. You already knew that sometimes he cooks whenever his mind is full of thoughts, and considering all that went down, you were sure he was recalling back old memories.

Instead of going to the bathroom, you headed towards the stairs and walked to the kitchen. Peeping into the window you saw him there cooking multiple different dishes and keeping himself occupied. “Sanji, do you need help? Please rest up, I’ll take care of the cooking.” You came inside and walked up to him, but he didn’t seem to hear you at all as he had a painful expression on his face. Immediately, you turned the stove off and grabbed his hands, pulling him to sit down on the stool.

“Sanji, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you in pain?” You put the back of your hand on his forehead, but he wasn’t running a fever. Sanji snapped out of it and his expression melted. Looking up at you, he had those same eyes from when you saw him coming back to the ship.

“I’m fine, I was just thinking about things like always. Don’t worry, okay?” He said, taking a deep breath, but you knew he was broken. As you looked down at his wrists you saw scars of some handcuffs and you let out a loud gasp quickly grabbing his hands to scan the injury.

“How can I not worry?! Your wrists are hurt! Let me go get Cho-” Before you could turn around to get Chopper, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

“Don’t… I’m fine, really. These will go away at some point.” He said, referring to the scars.

“Sanji, these will leave a horrible scar. Please, at least let me treat them.” Sanji looked up at you and locked his gaze on you before agreeing with you. “Okay, I’ll go get the first aid kit. Wait here and don’t you dare move a finger.” You warned him before jogging towards the infirmary room to get the first aid kit. Chopper taught you the basics of tending a wound so you knew how to handle this situation.

Once you gathered the things, you headed back into the kitchen. Sanji was staring at his wrists that were resting on his lap. He looked tired and worn out, how could you comfort him? What can make him feel better and forget all those horrible memories? You want to help him forget and comfort him. Sanji seems so fragile right now, and you wanted to care for him right now, even if it’s just for a night.

“I’m back, put your wrist on the counter there.” You laid the first aid kit on the counter nearby his extended wrist. Taking out things one by one, you suddenly blurted out, “The Vinsmokes are all assholes. They don’t deserve you at all. May they all get a slow painful death and regret everything!” Anger was building up inside of you as you could only imagine all the shit he has been through since he was a child.

Surprisingly, Sanji let out a laugh which surprised you. After cleaning his wound he was just looking at you with a smile again, “Thanks for this. I’ll be fine, I swear.” He whispered, but that didn’t calm your anger down one bit as you started wrapping the bandages around his left wrist first.

“I know you’ll be fine, Sanji, but I can’t help it. If I was there with you, I would’ve killed them with my bare hands, they don’t deserve to live at all. Fuck them all and I will pray for their down fall everyday.” Your words flew out of your mouth, saying the most horrendous things about the Vinsmokes. If only he could read your mind, he would hear all the ways you would be torturing them right this moment. Sometimes, horrible people who don’t redeem themselves at all deserve the worst kind of death.

His right hand grabbed your wrist and gave it a squeeze, “Hey, a lady shouldn't stress her pretty mind out over the past.” He chuckled, as you looked at him, softening your gaze when you guys met each other's gazes. “And you’re kind of squeezing my wrist there.” A small wince came out his lip as you gasped and stopped gripping his injured wrist.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize I was hurting you!” Without thinking you grabbed his left hand with caution rubbing his arm gently. “You’re okay, right?” You looked at him with gentleness as he stared at you, clearly surprised that you’re being so careful with him. It was the first time he’s seen you this caring towards him, as if he would break with a gentle touch.

He snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, “Yeah. I’m fine, don’t worry.” He looked back at the stove where the food he was cooking probably got cold now. “I should get back to cooking, I’m sure they’re all waiting for my food now.” He chuckled, getting up from the stool, but you pushed him back down to sit down.

“You’re not going to cook with injured wrists, and plus you need to rest, everyone has to rest.” You sighed, frustrated at him because he didn’t want to rest up and listen to you. “Once I’m done bandaging your right wrist, I’m going to get everyone to sleep. I’ll stay awake to make sure there’s nothing over the horizon, and tomorrow morning I’ll cook breakfast, okay?” You went over your list to him as you grabbed his other hand and cleaned his wound, applying ointment as Sanji said nothing.

The silence dragged on between you two as you cleaned up his wound. You broke the silence first to say this, “Nami told me what happened with Luffy and you. I didn’t expect that to happen honestly.” A small groan escaped his lips as you took your hands away from his wrist, “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you again?” You asked him as he shakes his head in response.

“No, you didn’t. I just-” He stopped mid sentence and sighed deeply, “I feel so horrible for doing that to Luffy. I know he forgives me for what I’ve done, but- I should’ve been stronger. Instead I hurt my captain after he took me in as part of his crew. I’m such a horrible fucking-” You quickly covered his mouth with your hand, being worried about him. You didn’t want him to finish that sentence at all.

“Don’t say that, Sanji. You’re not a bad crew mate. I know that you had your reasons, okay? We all know that you would never intentionally hurt Luffy.” You finished talking before removing your hand away from his mouth as he looked at you again, but this time he showed you a sad face. He really does regret what he did.

“I-I know, but Nami slapped me. She actually thought I would turn my back to them. I feel so bad, I want to take back everything I did and said. I just feel so-” His voice choked up, looking away from you as he bit his lip. Sanji was crying. “So guilty and weak.” His last words hit you like a train, you haven’t seen him cry before and your heart swelled with pain. You don’t like seeing him so hurt or cry.

Again, without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. A tear rolled down your eye, crying with him. The pain and guilt he must be going through right now made you want to protect him and the rest of the crew from any kind of harm. You stroked his messy hair, calming him down as he clinged to your shirt like a little kid who had gotten a small paper cut. “There, there… Don’t cry, Sanji dear. I’m here. You’re not a horrible person, okay?” You whispered as your chin rested on top of his head as he hugged you tighter, crying into your shirt.

“I’m sorry for causing everyone harm. I was- I was trapped with that old man and those so-called brothers. They threatened me so many times by saying they will kill people who are important to me and blow my hands away. I felt horrible that I said those words to Luffy and Nami. I didn’t mean them at all, I swear. I almost made a mistake by marrying someone for political reasons and not because I truly loved them.” He cried out loudly, his tears running down his face and staining your shirt.

Your heart broke into millions of pieces as you held him tighter, probably squeezing the air out of him. You planted kisses on top of his head, reassuring him that he will be safe now, and nothing bad will happen to him ever again. Tears fell down your eyes as well, feeling sympathy towards him as you tried your best to understand how he felt right now in the moment. “It’s okay, Sanji. You had very good reasons, that only proves that you were thinking about us before thinking of yourself. You’re a great guy, I’m sure you’ll find the love of your life out there, so please forget about that. You’re safe now, with us, with your friends.”

In the process of comforting him, your anger rose inside of you, wishing hell upon everyone who harmed Sanji and your crew. Your breathing picked up as you grabbed his cheeks and pulled his head up to make him look at you, your thumbs clearing his tears. “Sanji, dear. I’ll make sure to protect you and the crew. I will do anything in my power to kill all those assholes who made you all feel pain. I swear on my life.” His eyes widened as he tried to not cry again.

“Don’t swear on your life. Everything passed now, we’re all okay now. I’ll be okay.” He leaned into your touch on his cheeks as he held you closer to him. “After a few naps, I will forget all that happened to us. It won’t haunt us again.” Sanji whispered, closing his eyes as he enjoyed your hands on his cheeks, they were warm and tender. You sighed, your gaze falling softly as you saw him enjoying your comfort.

“Okay, but still. I won’t let this go. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you all safe.” You whispered softly, a small smile creeping up your lips as you stared at him warmly. “Let’s get your wrist wrapped up and you can go to sleep, okay? I’ll clean up the mess and get everyone to sleep in their rooms.” He opened his eyes and looked at you, his eyes were glistening and red from crying so much. You wouldn’t trade this moment between you two for nothing, you knew right there and then that it’ll be your official job to make sure they’re all mentally and physically okay.

Sanji gulped and looked away from you, “You’re being too kind to me. I should be a man here and help you out.” He chuckled softly as you followed his lead.

“No, just for right now… Just for tonight, let me take care of you, is that fine?” You asked him as he looked back at you, his stare sent your heart racing. He looked at you so gratefully and tenderly as your heart melted with warmth.

He didn’t respond at all, he just kept staring at your eyes with a smile. The warmth from his gaze sent your stomach doing flips, you liked this side of him. “Sanij… I should really bandage your wrist now.” Clearing your throat, you went back to his wrist, placing it on the counter as you grabbed the bandages and began wrapping his wrists gently.

Once you were done, you put the things back into the first aid box, closing it when suddenly Sanji pulled you into a back hug, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry, but please let me hug you… You’re an angel, y’know that, right?” He whispered against your neck, his arms tightening around your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. A small blush crept up your cheeks as he held you so close.

“I’m not an angel, Sanji. I don’t mind your hugs.” You whispered back, looking down at the counter as he breathed gently against your neck. The atmosphere around you two seemed warm and sweet, you wanted to hug him, but you knew yourself, you would start pampering him and treating him like a lover would.

The biggest secret you ever kept from the crew is that you started falling in love with Sanji, you didn’t know when, but all you remember is that Sanji showed you his real self. Not his weird perverted self, but the most intimate parts of his life. His eyes shine whenever he talks about the all blue, or whenever you help him out in the kitchen, he gets so excited to teach you new recipes. His interests are rather adorable and you find yourself wanting to learn more about him over time.

“Sanji… Go rest up. You need it.” A small whisper left your lips as he groaned in protest.

“I’m sorry… I can’t help myself after you comforted me this way.” He whispered as well. “I remembered something, the girl I was going to marry… she sympathized with me like this, but she wasn’t like you. You’re assertive and more- demanding. I just- I apologize if I’m comparing you two” Sanji let out a small grunt, probably regretting what he said.

Something in you felt angry again and almost snapped at him, “Don’t… Just- Stay like this, don’t think about anything or that girl who caused you harm as well. She’s Big Mom’s daughter, I will hate her too for life.” The last sentence left your lips as you shut your mouth and slapped a hand over your lips, realizing what you just said.

You heard Sanji laugh against your neck, squeezing you softly. “Alright, I get it.” He responded, “You’re gonna fight her too, huh? Two beautiful women fighting over me? That sounds nice.” You became angry again and twisted your body to look straight at him, grabbing his tie and pulling him down towards you.

“Don’t talk about that bitch, I hate her. Understand?” His face was shocked when you did that suddenly. “I’m just protecting my crew mate from harm.” A low grumble left your mouth as he stared at you with wide eyes.

Sanji visibly gulped nervously as he nodded, biting his lip as you pulled him closer to you, “Sanji… I really do care about you and want to keep you safe from here on out. Can I do that?” You asked him, your gaze traveling down to look at his lips as he started blushing. Your head was wrapped around him, but you didn’t want to tell him that you had feelings for him at all.

“S-Sure… I don’t- I don’t mind.” He mumbled, his hands went back to your waist, holding you closer again. The air around you both became stronger and thicker with anticipation. Silence came over you again as your gazes kept wandering around in each other's faces. Your grip tightened around his tie, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. “We… We should clean up.” He said softly, licking his lips.

You didn’t respond at all, not wanting to break this moment between the two of you. All these thoughts that ran through your mind made you wonder what would happen if you really did kiss him right here and then. Would he return the kiss back to you or not? Will he regret it? Does he only think of you as a friend and crew mate only? Is it too soon? You hadn’t moved from the spot at all and neither had him.

The urge to kiss him was too strong, the urge in general to just confess your feelings to him was unbearable in this moment. “Sanji, go rest up… Uhm- I’ll go now.” You told him, letting him go easily and grabbed the first aid kit, going back to the infirmary to put it away, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you into him again.

“I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not, but… May I kiss you? If you let me of course.” He was holding you so close to him, his breath fanning near your face as you tried your best to resist kissing him without saying anything. He’s too good to be true. A simple nod came out of you as he sighed, “I need to hear your words, not just a nod. Please.” He begged you, gripping your waist with one hand as the right one came up to caress your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair as he looked at you with- adoration?

“Yes, please… Just kiss me, Sanji.” Without warning, you leaned in to kiss his lips, wanting to feel his lips on yours now. The second you pressed a kiss to his lips, he held you so close, grabbing the first aid kit and throwing it to the counter, bringing you closer to his body as he kissed you passionately. In that moment, nothing else mattered besides your lips on his, kissing him desperately and filling the kiss with so much love and adoration.

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tacticaldiary · 9 months

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Where One Goes, The Other Follows

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Angst.

Note: Mentions of attempted suicide. Death on a mission

"You said we'd get out of this, remember? You promised."

She feels him shake his head minutely, a movement she might have missed if not for how close she was pressed against him. "Promised you'd...get out."

A/N: I don't feel great, so you get to not feel great with me! You're welcome!

Masterlist

It hurts.

Everything aches, a deep-seated anguish pulsing through her entire body. Like a shot to heart...no, a shot to the heart would have been quicker than this. Painless. Instant.

Merciful.

She chokes on shallow breaths as blood pools between the shaky hands pressed to the middle of her abdomen. Crimson gurgles up in her throat, so metallic she can almost make herself relax with the familiarity of it.

A simple mission, they had told her. A simple in and out, no clearance to engage. Keep it clean and quiet. When Price had handed her the packet of information, Ghost already flipping through a similar one, she'd joked about it being a vacation from the gruelling environments the team is usually forced to tough out.

It was supposed to be easy.

So why does she have a bullet lodged in her stomach? Why did they pick up the intel in a suspiciously empty warehouse, only to be ambushed by a few dozen Russian soldiers laying in wait? Their intel was rotten, she grits her teeth at the thought.

Pinned behind a metal container, the roar of gunfire crescendos over her ears. Pressed thigh to thigh, she feels hopelessness claw at her when Ghost makes a frustrated sound at the empty clicking of his last pistol.

Nothing. They had nothing but the slowing beat of their hearts and the uncertainty of their lives.

Despite the situation, she laughs. A tortured, humourless, choked sound as her head hits the metal behind her. One soldier injured, the other soon to be ripped apart by dozen. What a way to go out.

Ghost glances at her, eyes a little too wide under his mask.

It was funny. Everything was a little funny under the prospect of dying right now.

"Keep pressure on that." He orders when her hands slip. "They don't know we're out of ammo." Patting down his vest for a second, he unclips a grenade. The last one there, a last resort. You didn't throw a grenade like that in a close quartered environment unless it was a last resort.

"We'll make a run for the shutter on the left once this goes off, yeah?" He says, eyebrows knitting together in what's blatant concern when she doesn't respond. "Copy, Sergeant?" He says sharply, moving to shake her shoulder.

"I can't move, Simon." Comes a soft reply, the resigned tone sends chills down his spine. "I'll stay here and distract them. You take the shutter. Gotta get this intel to Price."

"Negative." he barks, shifting into position. "We move as I planned. Evac is just beyond those doors in the field. They won't follow us there, not enough cover against heavy fire."

For a moment she comes back to herself. Did he not hear her? "I can't...Simon I can't move-"

"Heard you the first time, love." That's all he says before pulling the pin out and tossing the object. There are a couple of clinks as it rolls, then the shouts and yells of their enemies as they recognise the threat. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

Hope dwindles, like the last rays of light before the sunset. There was no getting her out of here. She knows that. Dead weight is tough to deal with, useless in their line of work.

"Promise?" She breathes out roughly, a joke for a dying soldier.

The conviction he meets her eyes with, fierce and determined makes even her dark thoughts halt in their tracks. "I promise."

She closes her eyes, braces for the loud noise and flying shrapnel, only to be yanked to her feet and thrown over a broad shoulder. The movement makes pain wash across her body, enough to make black dot her vision, but she gets her bearings and clutches onto the back of his vest anyway, letting him do as he pleases.

The explosion sounds, ringing in their ears and Simon takes off instantly. Ducking behind containers, he almost makes it to the exit before shots start firing again.

He grunts, jolts more than a few times before he reaches the shutters, slipping out and slamming them shut behind him.

The metal and concrete is scraped from her vision, replaced with a green field and the sound of a chopper's blades whirring. Wind blows against her hair and for a moment it seems surreal.

She thought she was going to die. A shuddering gasp makes its way through her as they stop midway through the field. Simon moves to set her down gently-

And sways.

"Simon-?" She starts to ask, halfway to the ground. Eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration, she can't help but notice the way his mask is damp from sweat...his clothes too, and surely that much of a run wouldn't have been enough to wear him out. She's so making fun of him the moment she can suck in a full breath if that's the case, and-

Simon buckles to the ground, taking her with him. She lands on top of him, pulling a strangled groan out of the man. "Shit, are you...you okay?" She pants, clutching a hand to her wound before sitting up on her knees next to him.

Her entire front is covered in more blood that it had been before, and that's odd because...oh.

His front is stained with enough blood to make his previously green vest the colour of wine.

The sight stuns her, knocks the breath out of her because...what?

"Hey, you-Simon you're bleeding." She gasps, abandoning her own woes to take a better look at him. Blinking away the sluggish dizziness from her own blood loss, she carefully tears off his vest and-

His torso is riddled with bullet holes.

Too many to count. All of them bubbling and bleeding, pouring out liquid that should be inside him because he needs that, it's important and he's going to bleed out if this keeps going...

Hands hovering over his chest, they move from injury to injury, not knowing which one to press down on. For each one there were three more, and the fight against the rising panic and bile rising in her is getting tougher and tougher by the second.

"Made it out, at least." He breathes, shallow and raspy.

"You-you're bleeding." Is all she can manage to say, voice shaky.

In shock.

"I noticed." His humour isn't appreciated.

"I'm sorry." She chokes out. "I didn't...you got shot because I-"

"Oi." He grits out. A shaky, trembling hand moves to cup her jaw and despite the state he's in the touch is grounding and as rough as ever. "None of...that."

"You can't die." She encases his palm with her own, keeps it pressed there uncaring of the blood slicking her face. "You can't. Simon, you-it's okay. It's going to be okay." A sob rips its way out of her, though she tries to choke the rest back.

"Can't...can't kill someone who's already dead...love." He mumbles into her hair, blooding it with blood that he's coughing up way too fast to not be concerned about.

"Don't leave," She begs, hunched over him, clutching onto his gear. She wants it off, wants to rip it all off and feel his skin, press her hand against his chest, and make sure his heart never stops beating. "Don't leave me, Simon. I can't- I need you." With a scratchy voice, she pleads and begs, trying to keep him talking. "You promised, remember? You promised we'd get out."

She feels him shake his head minutely, a movement she might have missed if not for how close she was pressed against him. "Promised you'd...get out." He croaks, bleeding out but nevertheless the same strong, still presence as always.

Still...still?

Her breath chokes her, her entire body trembling as her grip on his shirt tightens. "Simon...?" She whispers. No answer.

A sob rips out of her, raw and painful because this wasn't real. It was a dream. There was no other explanation.

She'd wake up in her room, head pillowed on his chest and pretending to still be asleep just to have a few more minutes of his warmth. Simon would chuckle, she'd feel the motion under her skin, and he'd prod at her side, line kisses against her forehead until a smile broke free and her ruse was up.

They'd be happy.

She'd be happy.

Her face stays pressed against him, her grip iron. She doesn't pull away, letting the primal fear and grief mix with the senseless hope that maybe he was still alive. She hadn't confirmed it. Hadn't peeked up to see it, so maybe he was still there, waiting for her. Like he said he always would.

Hours, days, maybe minutes? A period of time later footsteps thunder behind her. Shrouded in delirium and grief, she's still a soldier, and her instincts kick in.

Protect, protect, protect.

It's a mantra in her head as she curls over him, unwilling to let them take him away from her.

People surround them but her grip does not falter. Hands grab at her shoulder and someone's speaking, saying words, what...

"-go, you have to let go." The voice is...shaky?

Gaz?

Confused, she tilts her head up a centimeter to catch a glimpse of the person who has her. Gaz. It was Gaz. Looking exhausted, shaken but determined. His eyes flitter away from Ghost on the ground repeatedly.

"Gaz?" She asks, voice cracking. He nods, taking her confusion to his advantage and pulling her to her feet. When she makes a strangled sound and hunched over, he finally notes the wound on her abdomen and curses.

"We need a medic." He calls over his shoulder, pulling to sling her arm over his shoulder. "We've got you, exfil's here. You're gonna be alright now, yeah?"

"N-no." She shakes her head, fuzzy and full. "Not me, I-...Simon...Ghost, you have to help him he's..." A hacking cough cuts her off, sending sharp flares of pain all across her body. Gaz firmly keeps her head towards the front when she tries to look back. "What-...no, not me." A weak attempt at pulling away is made, "Simon, Gaz I need to help...Ghost." Mumbling to herself half incoherent, she finally bats his hand away and turns to cast a glance back.

Her steps falter into nothing when she sees her boyfriend.

The sliver of skin beneath his mask is a sickly pale, blood dripping out from under it. His balaclava is soaked in blood, a strange waterboarding technique to chart for the future, her delirious mind unhelpfully supplies.

It's the stillness that jarrs her, makes the reality finally sink in.

Simon was quiet, he was purposeful, he could lay looking through a sniper scope in one place for hours but he was never still.

This kind of stillness was one brought by the absence of the warmth of light.

Gaz is talking...is he? His mouth is moving that much she can see out of the corner of her eyes, but all she can hear is static as her mind clicks together a devastating picture, a scene that would haunt her for as long as she lives.

Dead.

She thinks she might throw up.

Simon. Ghost. Simon was dead.

They were supposed to be a pair. Unbreakable. Where one went, the other followed offering the silent reassurance that neither of them would ever be alone.

Where one went, the other followed.

She lunges against Gaz's hold, the strength in her battered form surprising the soldier enough to allow her to rip free and stumble over to her lover.

Shaky hands fumble around Simon's body, one of them grips his gloved one in her own tightly, God he was cold, how was he already cold? until cool metal meets her fingertips, slicked with their blood.

People call her name. One person...maybe five? It doesn't matter, nothing matters right now but the press of the barrel against her forehead.

There's no hesitation when she pulls the trigger.

But there's a distinct lack of blinding pain.

A stunned, heavy silence takes hold of the field. Slowly, guilt and dread and hate and self-loathing curling up in her gut, she peels her eyes open to see her team. Her family.

And if the cold corpse of her lover beside her wasn't already punishment enough, the devastated, broken, confused looks on theirs' definitely does.

Soap makes a strangled noise when she pulls the trigger again, her head full of cotton.

Click.

Oh.

That's right.

The chamber was empty, wasn't it?

Staring numbly at the gun, at the pistol that Simon had carried with him throughout his entire career, she doesn't fight the hands that grip at her, that pull her up.

Doesn't fight the way Simon's cold hand slips from hers. When the gun is gently pried from her iron grip.

Words fall upon deaf ears, a buzzing sound accompanying her glazed over expression as she stares at two soldiers dragging over a body bag towards him over Price's shoulder.

"It's alright, lass." Soap mumbles in her ear, and distinctly she notes the sheer of tears in his eyes out of the corner of his own. "We've got ya."

"He's..." She says faintly. Simon's head is zipped into the bag out of view. "Gone..."

And then she cries. No, crying is too lenient a word, for what leaves her is a sound reserved for a wounded animal, a sound that not even the most experienced interrogators could ever hope to coax out of her. She wails and cries, hoarse and raw because nothing about this was okay. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

Because she was alive.

And her other half was dead.

And she was still alive.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(1/08/2023)

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

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as much as I adore the widely accepted meta analysis that Robin is Like That in season 4 because she's flustered by Nancy because so true girlie Nancy Wheeler is awe inspiring, sometimes I think about it based on what we're actually given in text and get. so mad.

Robin's introduction in season 3 was as a cool-headed, cutting, self-possessed, polyglot genius who was queen of the deadpanned snark and genuinely cool no matter what various characters may have said about her being geeky. On screen she was highly intelligent and knew it.

But then the Duffers let Maya Hawke convince them to make her a lesbian (oh hell yeah! her coming out scene is one of the best on the whole damn show!!) but you know what that means? When season 4 rolls around they are no longer writing her as Cool Love Interest For Steve, they are writing her as Quirky Best Friend Comedy Hour.

Are there still scenes where we get to see her be smart or snarky? Yeah, sure, of course, but there's this clear delineation between seasons 3 and 4 Robin that makes me crazy because she has so clearly been relegated to filling the role of Awkward And Rambling And Easily Distracted; she has been given the blandest love interest of all time in a character we know nothing about, who exists offscreen and almost exclusively through word of mouth to the point where Robin spends more time entrenched in Steve's love life than her own; and she has lost that "just because everyone else thinks I'm an uncool band geek doesn't mean that I do" edge that made her so interesting in season 3.

We can (and will!) come up with whatever fun meta we want to explain the changes to her character in season 4 but. like.

It just sucks that the minute they decided to let Robin be a lesbian out loud on screen, they stopped being able to write her as anything other than the useless in love, kind of airheaded but still funny, bff.

give my girl her edge back, that's all I'm saying.

#they were like oh if steve's not gonna kiss her I guess she doesn't have to have layers now #dot post #robin buckley #stranger things #the number of character arcs massacred in season 4.....

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byunpum · 11 months

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Hiiiiiiiiii! Can I make a funny T'su'tey request?

Im sure you know the lilo and stitch meme?

the idea is after neytiri and jake mate and become the Tashik and Olo'eyktan, tsu'tey has the freedom to pick a mate, but struggles to find genuine love. So he pleads to ewya for a mate who is "calm, sweet, kind, gentle, soft". But instead ewya gives him the exact opposite XD.

Pair: Tsu'tey x Human reader (why not <3)

Warning: None, tsu'tey being cute. Reader being a brat.

AVATAR MASTERLIST

"Eywa…it is me again" says tsu'tey as he sits in the spirit tree. Sitting praying with all his heart. "I know I have asked this many times…but could you send me a being who loves me, someone who is kind. The best person you have…someone who will stay with me and not run away from me" says tsu'tey. After all this time, he was pretty sure he was ready to find his ideal partner. When he was younger, he used to be more relaxed about it, even falling in love with sylwanin. After that terrible event at grace's school, tsu'tey's whole life changed. He had now lost the love of his life and had to marry the younger sister of his now deceased beloved.

When jake came to the clan, it was also a big change for him. His whole world changed, and many bad things happened, but also some good things happened in that period. He no longer had to be with neytiri, not that he didn't like her…but they were like siblings. He felt more comfortable now that he knew she had her mate, and he was free. A year had passed since the confrontations with the people in the sky, and he felt it was time to start again. But everything seems to be going against him. No na'vi woman is fulfilling her standards…they're all wonderful. Amazing to be honest…but with none of them he feels that connection that he is supposed to feel when he sees her and knows that she is the one. He used to go pray to eywa to help him and light the way. He knew he was fooling himself, because she didn't work that way…but he had to try. Jake Sully had told him that Eywa had helped him and listened to him that time, why wouldn't she help a member of pure sage like him?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes in surrender, he felt stupid. Very stupid… sitting down for the fourth time this week. "this is useless" tsu'tey thinks to himself, as he gets up from the ground. And disconnects himself from one of the tree's tentacles. Wiping his knees a little with his hands, he suppers and grunts with disapproval. Maybe he had to resign himself to the fact that he would never find his ideal mate…he would be alone for eternity. Tsu'tey didn't usually show his sensitive side with anyone, but this was affecting him a lot. Seeing the couples together….damn it, was mating season and he was alone. He starts to leave the tree and begin his walk home, again he was going alone to his hut. Walking slowly, lost in his thoughts. He was so immersed in his own being, that he barely heard the strange noises coming from above him.

It wasn't until he heard a loud noise that he stopped in his tracks and looked up. Out of nowhere and as if it was something sent from the sky. He saw a girl fall from a branch. How the hell did she get there? He doesn't know. And why is she here? He was going to find out. The girl fell very hard to the ground, and started moaning. "Shit…that!!! That hurt!!!" you speak, as you get up from the ground sitting on the wet jungle floor. You hadn't noticed tsu'tey's presence, so you were no stranger to being surrounded by tall blue men. So you are still very distracted by your punch, while the man is looking at you with wide eyes. This had taken him by surprise, he just stayed still watching you settle in and moan. You look up, making eye contact with him. "And you don't plan to help?" you speak, sounding rather haughty, how could you be so spoiled if you didn't even know each other. Tsu'tey says nothing and continues to stare at you quietly. "Aren't you going to talk? Ashhh hey YOU BLUE MONKEY HELP ME GET UP, I CAN'T FEEL MY BUTT" You yell, making gestures with your hands. Tsu'tey was in a state of shock, he knew humans were nasty, but you were on another level. No one in his entire life had ever spoken to him like that.

"Did you just call me blue monkey?" tsu'tey repeats what you just said, making sure he heard right. "Yes…blue monkey, are you deaf? With those big ears I doubt it" you speak, as you get up from the ground. You looked sore, your legs were shaking, the fall had been very hard and high. So your body wobbles a little, just as you were about to fall back to the ground. You feel a big hand holding you by your forearm. Tsu'tey holds you in place, observing you and analyzing the figure in front of him. You were a woman, you seemed to be almost his age. But you did not look like the other women he had seen in the human camp. Your hair was messy, your clothes were light, revealing more skin. And you had a few scratches across your face and arms. Where had you gone? "My name is Tsu'tey…nice to meet you" speaks tsu'tey, he had manners..so he was going to introduce himself properly. You feel him slowly let go of you as you regain your balance. "mmm your name is ugly" you speak, looking at him again as you had a cheeky grin on your face.

"Have you no manners or what?" tsu'tey sounds annoyed, moving a little away from you. You laugh, you knew you were teasing him and you really didn't care. "Yes…yes I do. But it's boring" you speak, as you start looking for something on the floor. "My name is Y/N" you speak, ignoring as tsu'tey approaches you again. I was analyzing you carefully, I had never seen you before, and if you were one of those bad humans? They were all supposed to be gone, so who were you. Tsu'tey kneels down to get closer, while he sees you still looking for whatever it is on the ground. He was getting so close, he's barely 1 foot away from you. "could you give me space… you strange thing" you speak, nudging him by his shoulder causing tsu'tey to come down from the clouds. And he will be back to his senses. "Who are you? I have never seen you before?" he speaks, you turn to look at him. He had his face to one side and his ears twitched with curiosity.

"You're not one of the bad guys, are you?" you look at tsu'tey, and laugh out loud. This one looks somewhat confused, and waits for you to respond. "No silly…" you speak up, ignoring him again. "But I've never seen you in that thing that calls it a lab" tsu'tey had to know who you were.

"I am the systems manager…I am not a scientist" you speak. Tsu'tey only understands half of what you just said, so she waits for you to explain more clearly. "Systems?" tsu'tey asks.

"Yeah…systems, these things (you touch the oxygen mask) and computers. Nothing special, I'm just trapped on this planet" you speak, now looking at the man in front of you. "Trapped? You wanted to go back to your homeland?" tsu'tey looked like a little boy, he didn't know why he was so curious about you. You were a damn home destroying human, why did he have to ask you all these things.

You sit on the floor, exhausted. You couldn't find your monitor, your back hurt and you were tired. "I can't go back…so I stayed here" you say, while trying to give yourself a self-massage on your back. "You are bad…and that's why you can't go back?" tsu'tey now copies your previous movements and sits on the floor. A few feet away from you. " Well if stealing 3 Walmart gift cards is being bad..well yes" you speak up. … … … "What is Walm?" tsu'tey was about to start talking, but you make a signal for silence. "Forgotten… I don't say anything. I have no one to wait for me back on earth. So I decided to stay here to help the team" you speak. "But you don't like the na'vi?" speaks tsu'tey.

"My area is technology…not wildlife" you speak, tsu'tey stands up straight. Aouch that had hurt him. He can see that you are still in some discomfort, because you begin to make a few pained noises." And what were you doing up there?" asks tsu'tey, as he sees your eyes move upwards. "I wanted to look for a signal…I wanted to see some videos of me…of my brothers" you speak, he can notice the sadness in your voice. He had no idea what the 'videos' were but he guessed it was something important. "I'm sorry" tsu'tey says, causing you to look up and look into his eyes. You had very pretty eyes, he sees you chuckle a little. And you look down again, now looking at the ground.

There was something about you that attracted his attention, if he felt lost. You looked, and he could sense that you were lost. Like you weren't quite right, for some reason he was worrying about you. And only 15 minutes ago he had met you. The silence was noticeable, you both just lay there…keeping each other company. It wasn't until a seed from the spirit tree slowly approached your body. Tsu'tey noticed their presence and followed the seed with his eyes. Watching as the creature moved from side to side, slowly falling towards your bare knee. It stares at you as you look at it, somewhat surprised but calm. He was about to speak until …..

slaps

"Are you crazy?" shouts tsu'tey lifting your hand from the seed. You had crushed it, you almost broke it. "that was going to sting me!!!" you shout too, watching as he takes your hand and lifts it carefully. Watching as the seed floats back up and flies towards your nose. Tapping it, you bring your free hand to your nose to touch it. "What is that?" you are still surprised. You've never seen anything like this before…you never used to leave the areas you were allowed to. "It is a seed from the spirit tree…they are part of eywa" says tsu'tey seriously. You had heard something about this tree and this eywa. "And it was going to sting me? Those things itch" you begin to speak, tsu'tey still holding your hand. "It won't sting you…eywa doesn't hurt. She wants to communicate" says tsu'tey.

"Well I don't want anything from her…besides I think I was going to get itched" you speak, crossing your arms. Tsu'tey snorts a little, ahhh you were unbearable. "Well…help me get back to the human zone. I have no idea where I am" you speak. Tsu'tey takes a deep breath and gets up from the ground. "Come…I will guide you" he speaks. Watching as you quickly get up jumping up and down in happiness. But you stop, and hold your back. You seemed to be in pain. You both set off to where the village was, the human area was not far from the village. So the direction was the same. Tsu'tey couldn't help but notice how your posture changed every 2 minutes the more you kept walking. "Are you in pain?" speaks tsu'tey. "A little…well a lot" you speak while touching your back.

"I know someone who might be able to help with that. Sure, if you want?" tsu'tey gives you a look, hoping for an answer. He hears you sigh. "It's okay" you speak, you had no choice…in the lab there wasn't much equipment to soothe the pain you were feeling. And you had heard that Navi medicine was very good, so you accepted the help. It wasn't long before you arrived at the navi village, and as you entered you noticed how everyone started to look at you. You were not a familiar face, to be honest it was the first time you were in the village. You had never been there before.

You had come to pandora 2 years before the altercations, and you were from grace's technical support team. You were basically grace's baby, and she loved you so much. You became close friends with Jake and supported your team's cause. You had stayed at the base with max, providing support from the inside. When the humans were returned to earth, you stayed. You had no one to wait for you at home…you were alone. And now you only had your team left, because you had also lost grace. You were never interested in what the Navi were doing, you knew some things. But you weren't aware of everything, like max, norm and jake. But now…everything was new to you. You see how several Navi kids come up to you and touch your clothes. And they laugh. "Hello" you speak, in a low voice. As you followed the annoying navi man who was going to help you. "There it is" says tsu'tey. Pointing to a hut, you could see it was quite crowded.

You both approach the hut, and enter. It was dark, but cozy. And it had a great aroma of medicinal herbs. It wasn't annoying, it was calming. Mo'at looks up as she sees tsu'tey enter, she was going to greet him but is surprised to see who accompanied him. A human with tsu'tey? Something was going on. "Mo'at…we need your help" tsu'tey speaks. Making a sign to you to come closer, you had been standing in the door frame waiting. You were a little scared, everything was new to you. You approach, and feel tsu'tey's hand holding your head. "She fell out of a tree, now her back hurts a lot" says the man, moving you a little to get closer to the woman. You laugh widely, while mo'at grabs your arm to get closer to her. "And what were you doing in a tree….girl what's wrong with you" says mo'at turning you over to examine what you had, pulling up your shirt. "My whole back hurts" you speak, but let out a groan. When mo'at touches the large bruise on your back. "Here it is…look" mo'at says, as you watch tsu'tey reach over to look at your back.

You move and pull down your shirt. "You pervert!!!" you yell a little, mo'at had pulled your shirt way up. You were dying of embarrassment and now he was going to see you up close. Or not…not that. "What's wrong with you…come HERE" mo'at says, grabbing your arm making you sit up. You were small, so it was easy to handle you. Tsu'tey sits in one of the corners of the hut, watching mo'at heal you and take care of you. He laughs a little, watching you fidget and complain about everything. He even watches as mo'at taps you on the head. You were chaos, but chaos that captivated him. After a while, mo'at ordered you to lie down, on one of the mats she had. You had to wait for the paste to dry, plus it wouldn't hurt to relax a little. So she lays you on your stomach, and you close your eyes.

Mo'at approaches tsu'tey, who is still staring at everything with fascination. "That girl…that's a mess" says mo'at in a mocking tone. "eywa…she touched that girl" says tsu'tey while still looking at your figure. Mo'at falls down for a moment, and turns to talk to the boy. "I know…I could feel it. And it has to do with you" says the woman, tsu'tey looks at mo'at in surprise. "With me?" asks tsu'tey, what did he have to do with you, he was just helping you. "mmmm yes….eywa gave you what you were asking for, that's what I could interpret" says mo'at, as he sees tsu'tey's eyes widen. "What's wrong with you?" mo'at is getting worried, tsu'tey was in a state of shock. What did mo'at just say? Eywa sent him…no no no no.

"Mo'at…I asked for a mate" says tsu'tey. Mo'at is surprised and gives him a look at the lying figure of Y/N. "I don't know what to tell you son…I don't know" mo'at doesn't know what to tell him or do, this is very strange. Even for her.

Night came quickly, and tsu'tey decided to stay and watch over you. He could not ignore what mo'at had told him. How could it be possible? Was it possible? He sees you start to get up, sitting up a little on the mat. You were going to touch your eyes, but you bump into the oxygen mask. "shit" you speak softly, as you listen and watch as tsu'tey sits down next to you. "That word I've heard so much these past few years" tsu'tey says in a mocking tone of voice. You roll your eyes, and decide to ignore him. "Feeling better?" asks the man, you turn so you can answer. And you can see how he was sitting. His feet were crossed, his hands were holding his feet nervously, and his tail was wagging from side to side. He looked adorable. "Yes…thank you" you speak, shifting your gaze quickly.

There was a small silence, until he began to speak. "Mo'at… she told me that the seeds of the spititus tree had chosen you" Tsutey says.

"To sting me? Yes" you speak, Tsu'tey sighs, laughs a little. "No…she chose you to" tsu'tey pauses, waiting for you to make a move. He can see, as you look at him slowly. "For what?" you ask. He takes your hand, and gives it a squeeze. You stiffen slightly, and look straight into his eyes. They were bright yellow. "For me." You move your hand, so that tsu'tey releases it. And you move away a little, moving hurts your back a little. So you stop, and tsu'tey tries to help me. "Easy…I" tsu'tey starts to speak, but he feels you push him away. "Don't touch me…you weird blue monkey" you yell a little.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you" tsu'tey says, moving a little away from you. Leaving you more room. He wasn't going to give up. Tsu'tey knew that eywa had chosen you for a reason, maybe you were the one who was going to help him find your ideal mate. "Yes…well you did, you idiot. And if you touch me again I'm going to poke your eye out with my own teeth" you threaten him a little, lying on your side with your back to him. He laughs a little, maybe it was you he had to find.

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nnight-dances · 1 year

Text

SOME GUY!

pairings: mark lee x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, heated moments tropes: close friends to lovers?, mark avoids u because he's stupid, taeyong as your perfect ex who's still in love w u, u kiss mark's face to shut him up. warnings: mint ice-cream slander, mark is some guy, skinship, college frat party, not proofread.

author's note: haha guess who's in their mark phase hhhhh... sorry he's just such an interesting guy i could write him all day long. either way!!! more mark appreciation, less depression <3

—

at the end of the day, mark really was just some guy.

that’s what he thought to himself everytime he sat down to really consider the reality of all things. he doesn’t mean to get all self-deprecating and emo like that, but it was just a neutral truth thing that kinda hurts the first time you realize it but then it’s just the obvious thing in your daily life. but of course, if he ever did tell someone that he always felt like some guy among a bunch of cool guys, regardless of their gender, he would have to sit through one of those ultimately useless and pitiful speeches about how talented he really was.

— “you know what? you’re right!”

mark’s thoughts zap off their route when he hears you agree with his remark a few seconds ago. honestly, he hadn’t been completely sure if you’d heard him because of the lack of reaction you’d given him. but when you suddenly chuckle and agree with him, mark chokes over the stream of dr pepper in his throat.

he coughs desperately, “wait, what?”

your smile widens, “you’re just some guy. that’s like the perfect description of you.”

under normal circumstances, mark thinnks he would’ve been offended by how certain you sound. but the way you say it? it’s not like you’re trying to be mean or condescending… more like you’re just saying the truth. the neutral truth thing…

“i can’t believe you,” mark mutters, face splitting in a laugh, “i can’t believe you’re agreeing with me!” you look slightly confused but continue, “don’t tell me you’re hurt? you were the one who brought it up!”

mark shakes his head, controlling his laughter, still slightly losing his mind. “you’re really something, bro. i just didn’t expect you to actually be honest.” he laughs again, taking a sip of his drink again, becoming aware that he was being too loud for a bookstore. thankfully though, on a brief glance around, nobody seemed to care.

you fiddle with the zipper of your pencil pouch in thought. then, a shrug as you look back at mark, “hmm, isn’t that funny. i’m some thing, you’re some guy.”

mark falls into another fit of laughter before he knows it, disbelieving more than anything over your badly disguised shamelessness. you hold in a laugh as you land the last punch to his gut, “the perfect pair, isn’t it?” — the punch that sends him right into an oblivion of a world where nothing except you makes sense.

(ok perhaps, mark was being a tad dramatic. you know what he means though: he’s smitten.)

—

if someone were to kidnap you for the purposes of interrogating your honesty behind your claims that you thought mark was some guy, you’d probably get shot in the head instead, because there was no way you were letting anyone in on the information that you did not actually consider mark some guy.

maybe, a little, yes, but at this point, the phrase ‘some guy’ needs some more definiton. some guy as in boring and bland and dry and overdone? absolutely not. if that was what mark was, you wouldn’t have been committing every last one of your wednesday evenings, aka the only free evenings you ever get, to sitting in a crowded bookstore to pretend to do homework with him. you never did homework with mark around.

mark was the kind of some guy that was just being himself. yeah, that’s all you got. mark was mark. good explanation.

“bro? y/n, you good?”

you blink, finding mark swaying in front of you. you were currently sat on a bench near the building where your next class was.

“uhh, sorry,” you take off your headphones to look up at mark, “what are you doing on this part of campus?”

mark shrugs with a playful smile, “why can’t i be here?”

“because you literally don’t take any classes in the econ department?”

he shrugs again, “what if i’ve changed my ways? we’re still young and free, y/n, think a little outside the box, won’t you?”

“you’re taking econ? how- how did you-?”

“oh, look at that,” mark cuts you off, holding up his phone in front of your face. the time reads 11:05 am. “it’s time for our class. let’s go.” you’re busy processing his words (our class???) when he pulls you by the arm and toward the hall behind you.

and that’s the story of how you go from knowing absolutely nobody in your econ class, to sitting next mark in the extremely damp and cramped chairs of your econ class which means your arm is constantly touching his which you, for some reason, don’t hate. probably because the chilly fall wind coming through the window next to mark always makes you glad for the warmth.

mark, on the other hand, smiles a small smile whenever you shuffle closer because even though, the guy (doyoung is his name?) in front of him is always asking him to close the window, he would rather not.

—

“you’re kidding? ice-cream? in this fucking weather?” you question mark, coughing a fake cough to make your point.

“what are you, a coward?”

when you give mark an unimpressed look, he breaks a laugh, grabbing hold of you by your elbow. cheekily, he says, “please. for me?”

you frown, feeling your resolve crumble under his stupid gaze, “i hate you,” you say but let mark pull you after him into the tiny corner shop.

the two of you huddle over the menu of the ice-cream shop, and you exclaim quietly, “oh! i’ve been wanting to try their raspberry choco flavor for a while!” mark looks between you and menu, “ah, really? that sounds kinda good.”

then, he shifts to look at the girl behind the counter, “uhh, we’ll have one mint chocolate and one raspberry choco, please.” you gasp at mark’s choice, “m-mint chocolate?! mark. i think i might break up with you.”

mark is too busy reddening at your joke that hits too close to home to notice the worker chuckling at you. she processes your orders and mark has time to recover.

when he looks back at you, you’re still grimacing. “i didn’t think you could get any worse.”

“are you sure you should be saying that to someone who’s treating you to icecream?”

“huh?” your eyes widen and then you smile, “ahhh, i see. i wasn’t aware you were bribing me into have a favorable opinion of you.” before mark can retort though, you continue with a smirk, “i’m not complaining though.”

your smirk both flusters and scares mark because it’s evidence you’re upto no good in your head but before he can air his suspicion, you’re reaching out for the two cones of icecream that the girl is handing out.

“you guys are really cute together,” the worker remarks shyly, giving you a thumbs up of approval.

mark chokes on the first bite of his mint choco icecream. you look at mark and he expects you to shut down the worker swiftly, but then you reach for his hand, pulling him closer with a bashful smile and say, “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“uh-?” you cut mark’s question off by pulling him out of the store after you.

when you’re outside, you burst into laughter at the perplexed look on mark’s look, looking absolutely adorable next to his already melting green blob of an abomination.

—

the next morning, mark is still suffering through it, unable to come to terms with your actions yesterday. they were honestly not out of character for you. you were always one to do shit just because you knew it would get a reaction out of someone else. like, that time you didn’t tell mark he had spinach in his teeth the whole time he was speaking in econ and only told him at the end. yeah, sure, but surely that was different from you pretending that you and mark were together. right?

mark’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes next to his pillow. he stirs to his side, opening his phone only to find a text from you.

y/n: fuck u

mark’s heart skips a beat, no matter the fact that you’re swearing at him the first thing in the morning.

mark: what did i do now…

y/n: it’s ur fault

mark: ???

y/n: i’m fuckin sick

“oh, fuck,” mark swears, sitting up with a frown, fingers quickly shooting a flurry of concerned texts back.

mark: oh shit really?

mark: im so sorry

mark: how bad is it?

y/n: it’s just a cold, dw not that bad

mark: what does that mean?

you, however, don’t bother to elaborate any more on your condition, going silent.

he groans, guilt settling in the slouch of his shoulder as he stares at his screen for a solid 10 minutes before giving up on your response. as he gets ready for the day, at the top of mark’s to do list is to visit your dorm room with medicine and snacks.

but by the time 3 pm rolls around, mark finds himself constantly distracted by classes and homeowork. he looks at the time and sighs. you hadn’t managed to get back to him. but considering how he hadn’t seen you in econ or lunch, your cold was more than ‘not bad’.

sitting outside the library to collect his thoughts, he spots chaewon, your roommate. the two of you had run into mark on a grocery shopping errand and mark had had a decent enough conversation to make him run up to chaewon.

“oh!” chaewon is surprised at first when mark blocks her way with a quick hey. “oh hey, mark!”

“um,” mark looks at the take-out box in her hands, “um, is that for y/n?”

“oh, yeah. did you hear? she woke up this morning with a fever.”

“a fever?”

“yeah, it was pretty high too. i had to force her to stay in bed or i think she would’ve just gone to class like the dumbass she is.”

mark frowns, “oh, no. has she eaten all day?”

chaewon hums in thought, “she told me she was fine for breakfast. i’m not sure if she had lunch though so i was just going to take some pizza and salad in case she’s been starving.”

mark’s frown deepens as she adds, “oh i better hurry though! i have to get back here in time for my dance practice.”

“ah…” he scratches his head, “uhh, if you’re busy, i wouldn’t mind dropping it off to y/n.”

chaewon raises an eyebrow, “wait, really? you’d do that?”

“um, yeah. it’s my fault she got sick anyway. i made her eat icecream last night.”

she laughs, “a little icecream wouldn’t have done that. but sure! it’d be a great help, if you did that. thanks, mark.”

mark hadn’t thought this through, he realizes when he reaches the door that reads y/n on the door, right next to chaewon. he takes a deep breath, clearing his throat, before knocking on the door. “y/n?” his voice breaks mid-sentence and he wants to hide in a hole somewhere, but you’re quick to throw your door open.

your hair is up in a bun which bobs in rhythm with your head, when you find mark outside your room, “mark? what the fuck are you doing here?”

“you weren’t responding to my texts,” he mumbles, and then holds up chaewon’s takeout box in one hand and in the other, the bag of medicine and snacks he’d packed. “i come bearing gifts though.”

you cough hoarsely into your elbow, pulling at the hem of your green hoodie as you consider mark in front of you. “you could’ve told me you were coming,” you sound… shy? mark thinks as he follows into your room after you gesture him to enter.

he looks at your bed and chuckles at the mess that is your bed. then, he smiles as he looks at the eccentric yet coherent collage of pictures and letters on your wall. “this is so you,” he comments and places the food and medicine on your table.

you pout, “a room that looks like all hell broke lose… is me? wow, thanks, mark.”

mark wants to refute your comment, he does, but then he gets distracted by how the way you say his name in your hoarse inside voice and he coughs a little. “i got you medicine though?” he sounds squeaky to his own ears.

you smile though at that, looking inside the bag he’s kept. “ahhh, ramen! i knew i could count on you, mark lee.”

mark almost wants to beg you to stop saying his name so much. but instead he shoots you a thumbs up, “how are you holding up?”

you nod in thought, still unpacking everything mark bought, “hmm, i’m alive. you should’ve seen me in the morning though i felt like something was trying to crawl out my skin.”

you laugh at the imagery, pausing when you catch the guilty look on mark. you already know he’s about to apologize when he opens his mouth. you hold up a finger threateningly, “i know i said that in the morning, but it’s not actually your fault. i always get sick like this every time fall rolls around.”

“no, for real though, i did force you to come eat icecream with me, didn’t i? i’m sorry.”

“ugh, mark, trust me, i wouldn’t have eaten the icecream if i really didn’t want to,” you say, too kindly for your usual snarkiness as if you can sense how genuine mark’s apology was, “for real, my body’s just weird like that.”

when mark remains silent for another minute, you groan, “i know! you can repay me. stay and we can watch a movie or something. all the sleeping’s making me feel gross. plus, i couldn’t eat all this food myself.”

and that’s how mark finds himself settled next to you on your bed, blanket covering half his body, watching gilmore girls (your fall preference of entertainment, it seems). the first half hour went by fine, with one of you commenting ocassionally at something the characters did, but then you shifted closer to mark with a cough.

he was shocked at first but then he wonders if the medicine you’d taken before were starting to take effect. (he’d questioned how wise it was for you to be taking them before watching something, but he also didn’t want to make your condition worse.)

“you good, y/n?” he mumbles under his breath when he feels your head come to rest against his shoulder. he sounds surprisingly calm for the turmoil that is bursting within his veins at the contact.

you hum in acknowledgement, sniffing a little, “yeah, just a little sleepy.”

“oh, you should probably rest then,” mark reaches for the spacebar to pause the episode but your cold hand pulls his finger away. except you don’t let go of his finger, instead seeming to crave warmth, you’re suddenly holding his hand, icy fingertips coming to rest against the back of his palm.

mark’s hearbeat is in his ears by now but he lets you hold his hand as you protest, “mm, don’t wanna sleep. just keep watching.”

you don’t sound promising but he doesn’t argue, letting you having the final say in this situation.

five minutes later though, you stir against mark’s side, arm now in his lap and… yeah, you’re falling asleep.

mark freezes at the realization when he sees your eyelashes fluttering shut. oh god. oh no… this wasn’t good for his well-being. or his obsession with you. or anything.

he clears his throat, hating himself, “um, y/n?”

you don’t respond except for a short grunt that indicates you don’t intend to wake up. he doesn’t have the heart to move you but also, this wasn’t right, was it?

there wasn’t anything wrong with it per se, except of course the fact that it did not help mark’s big fat ugly crush on you or the fact that he spent the whole day thinking about how you were sick and it was his fault.

you move slightly in your sleep, suddenly seeming to come to. your eyes open a little, “mark?” your voice is dangerously low.

“yeah?” mark can hear the nerves in his voice.

you’re pulling him now, without a warning, onto your bed. “you’re warm. stay.”

mark’s eyes widen when you turn to hug him around the waist.

fuck. fuck. fuck. FUCK. this was… THIS IS…. UTREJKLSGIURKEJU?????YGSAELRIAY

mark brain malfunctions for a good minute before he remembers how to think. first, he thinks he has to leave or you’ll hate him forever. but when he tries to budge, you groan an annoyed groan making him scared to leave..

??? what is one supposed to do in these circumstances?

he stills, deciding it was better if he let you doze off comfortably. he slowly places an arm around your shoulder, patting a reassuring back rub into your skin. you nuzzle closer into him, clueless of the way mark is short-circuiting.

before he knows it though, mark finds himself dozing off, chin pressed up against the bone of your shoulder. the sleep isn’t chaotic like his thoughts usually are, but it’s a peaceful sleep, the kind that you only get when you share a bed with someone.

—

ever since that eventful… nap, mark has found himself growing closer to you, in all senses of the phrase. you’d seemed to start trusting mark more, your bookstore evenings turning into whole days spent in each other’s company. sometimes you’d be at each other’s room, more often yours, but otherwise, you’d end up in some new corner of campus, giggling over half-completed essays and collectively complaining about econ.

you’d also grown closer… physically. something about spending a sick evening in someone’s arms, you’d like to say. whatever the reason was, one way or another, you’d find a way to be next to each other.

you’d made a habit of holding mark’s hand, especially on colder days when your fingers lost all feeling till you pressed them into the knuckles of mark’s warm ones. other times, mark’s hand would be on your shoulder or back, casually doodling into your skin, a lazy smile on his face while you dramatically narrate some event from your life.

mark could tell something was different, though he dared not investigate what it was, too afraid to mess up what he had right now.

but then, he does the stupid thing of asking you the question.

it’s on a late night hangout in your room when chaewon’s out for the weekend to visit home, and y’all are sprawled on your bed, exhausted from a movie marathon.

something about the dim lights and the way you lean against his shoulder, makes him speak. “do you like someone right now?”

for a good while, mark thinks he mustn’t have asked the question out loud because of how quiet you are. but then, “what about you?”

“not fair! i asked you first,” mark complains with a chuckle. you shrug, “not telling if you don’t.”

he rolls his eyes, “two can play this game, y’know. i’m not giving.”

“ugh, fine. i’ll tell you about my ex for now.”

mark’s ear perks up at the mention and he waits for you to continue.

“ah, this is so embarassing to talk about. but.. last semester i was with taeyong.”

“wait. lee taeyong?”

“mhm-hm. you know him? he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off. we broke up right before new year’s eve so that was fun.”

mark falls silent as he recalls everything he can about lee taeyong. so far he has: perfect face and killer charm. oh yeah, wasn’t he a student athlete?

“you dated an athelete?” mark can’t help but ask.

“see! i know you’d make fun,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“no- no, i’m not making fun. that’s insane. taeyong is, like, famous.”

you groan, “and you’re listing all the reasons i broke up with him.”

mark isn’t sure what he can do with this information so he releases a strained chuckle, suddenly ready to head back to his room. he can’t be too obvious though, so he waits a bit.

“what about you?” you ask him, poking his arm. “any embarassing boyfriends?”

mark laughs despite it all, “i wish. i was in a silly little relationship but it was so long ago that i hardly remember.” with that, he sits up, a little abruptly.

you frown as he clears his throat, “um, anyway, i should get back soon. i’ve got to sleep.”

“the fuck?” you question, “it’s like 11 pm?”

“well, yeah, i have an early morning tomorrow.”

“on a sunday?”

“yeah, uhm, i forgot to tell you about this new job i have. anyways, i should really sleep soon. i’ll see you later, yeah?”

and just like that, mark leaves your room, with you gaping at how fast he’d made his exit, not even bothering to make real excuses. new job? halfway through the semester? yeah, sure. you feel your mood dampening at mark’s sudden cold shoulder, wondering if you’d upset him. but no matter how many times you thought about it, you weren’t sure what had made him act like that.

mark, on the other hand, can’t get the conversation out of his head, even as he walks to the library at 8 am on a sunday, ready to finish all traces of homework in existence. it doesn’t matter though because sitting in the silence of the study room, his mind repeats your words.

he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off.

boy, did mark feel stupid as shit. for everything? for thinking you were into him. somewhere along the way, your hands on his had him confused. for a minute there, he had stopped thinking about how he was actually just some guy. some guy who you chose to hang out with now and then, some guy who was your friend. mark was nowhere close to being taeyong, and even taeyong didn’t cut it for you. really, though, he couldn’t blame you. you really did deserve the best anyone could imagine.

a text from you interrupts his self-loathing spiralling.

y/n: heyoo!! u alive?

y/n: u left kinda abruptly last night. is everything ok?

mark clenches his fist as if to obliterate the hopeful smile that threatens his face. he thinks of how he might respond: sorry cant talk i’ve to make sure i’m not in love with u before i see u again or maybe: sorry i’m just trying not to cry in broad daylight bc i love u too much hjbykyvkvyf

“fuck! sorry!” a voice pulls mark back from his head. he looks up to see who’s broken into his study room… only to see lee taeyong standing there in confusion. of course this happens to mark.

“uhh, can i help you?” mark barely controls the snap that tries to escape him at the sight of taeyong.

“um, sorry,” taeyong looks down at his phone then back at mark, “i could’ve sworn i booked this room for the next hour…”

mark frowns, certain he’d booked this room for the next two hours. usually, he would’ve just told taeyong he’s booked it wrong, but instead he just says, “oh? i guess you can take this room then. i’ll go somewhere else.”

mark starts packing up but the other boy protests quickly, “no, no! it’s okay. i- um, i’d feel bad if you did that. what if… what if we shared? it’ll be nice to have someone else in the room, no?” taeyong smiles brightly at mark and the latter wants his eyes to stop working already.

call it the law of inertia, but something in mark doesn’t let him just leave the room, almost intrigued by how this might turn out. “alright, then.”

taeyong, as much as mark hates to admit it, is really nice. he hadn’t ever heard anything to refute that, but sitting silently in a room with someone really tells you all you need to know about someone. either way, the study sessions somehow seems to provide mark some sense of peace.

or so he thinks.

what he doesn’t expect is that two hours later, as the two of them are packing up to empty the room for the next occupant, for the next occupant to be… you. yes, of course, that’s gonna happen in this story.

for a moment, mark doesn’t find it particularly shocking to see you but when he notices the stiff look you share with taeyong, he realizes what’s happening.

you’d just entered the room with a knock when you’d noticed who was inside. your eyes travel between mark and taeyong, your mind unable to make sense of this.

your first thought is… is this why mark was weird last night? because he was close to taeyong and got offended by your remarks?

that would be the easy alternate, wouldn’t it? but even you can tell there’s a dryness in the way mark looks at the two of you, a look that unsettles you. of course, the sight of taeyong also unsettles you.

he speaks up before you, “y/n?”

you awkwardly wave at the two of them, “hi mark. hey taeyong. didn’t expect to see the two of you together.”

you look at mark pointedly but he’s not giving you much to work with. he just laughs as taeyong rushes to explain, “ah, i made a mistake in booking this room at the same time as mark, and he was kind enough to let me stay.”

marks want to leave right now. because of the way taeyong’s eyes are sparkling at the sight of you, hands nervously fidgeting. but he decides against it, when he sees you uneasy you seem, tight grip around the strap of your tote bag.

“what are you doing here?” mark asks and a part of you is relieved that he’s talking to you.

“um, homework. i didn’t really know what else to do ever since my friend started ghosting me.”

mark flinches at your attack, but persists in looking as indifferent as he can. “sorry about that, i got caught up finishing this essay.”

taeyong awkwardly coughs, “um, i should probably leave now. i have practice to get to.”

mark is quick to follow after taeyong, scared to death of being alone in a room with you. he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. “uhh, yeah, i’ll leave you to do homework, then! see ya!”

and just like that, it’s a repeat of last night. mark’s back receding except this time you watch him wave at you with a half-hearted smile as he leaves. you barely manage to close the door behind you before you feel yourself tear up.

this is stupid, you realize through tears, to be crying over something like this. but something like this? it meant a lot to you. you sit where mark sat minutes ago, the same disappointment in your eyes and a similar weight in your heart.

mark is not having the time of his life either though, as he walks out the library with taeyong, who starts asking questions about you as soon as he can.

“so you’re friends with y/n?” mark simply nods at that, having seen this coming.

“that’s cool. she’s really cool, isn’t she?”

“yeah, i suppose. she’s fun.”

“how close are you to her?”

mark laughs dismissively, “haha, i feel like i’ve done something wrong. calm down, bro.”

taeyong flushes at that, rubbing his neck, “oh, sorry. i didn’t mean to interrogate you like that. it’s just… you probably know about us, right?”

that words leaves taeyong’s mouth and buries itself deep into mark’s heart. us.

taeyong continues, “it’s just that i really miss her, man. i don’t think i’ve had as much fun with anyone else since her. or maybe, it’s just because i’m always comparing everyone to her.”

mark really doesn’t know what to say, feeling himself stuck in a similar situation. “hmm, it’ll get better.”

“i hope you’re right,” taeyong says, cheerfully patting mark’s back, “well, i have to go that way. see you around, bro. take care of her.”

take care of her? marks smiles remorsefully as he watches taeyong leave. and he wonders what was going on in your mind when you broke up with someone that perfect? what went on in your head when you befriended mark, just some guy?

—

on saturday, it’s been a whole week since you’ve talked to mark. you’d actually stayed up all night yesterday hoping he’d have a change of heart on friday night, and he’d text you with a can we talk? or come knocking on your door with an apologetic smile with some silly excuse. and you would’ve accepted it all because you were not familar with a mark-less existence. the past week was.. not good for you.

but on saturday night, you decide it’s enough. or rather, chaewon decides it’s enough when she sees you ready to spend the night in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry but i can’t respect your stupid decisions anymore,” she bursts into the room with a concerned look.

you frown, “ouch? you just called me stupid.”

“because that’s what you’re being. i don’t care if you’re going through it, i’m not letting you woe over some guy on the weekend.”

you grimace at the phrase some guy, remembering your conversation with mark. “hey! i’m talking to you, miss,” chaewon’s hands pull off your bed. “let’s go out tonight. i don’t care.”

“chaewon…” you complain, voice low.

“y/n, my dear friend, stop giving up on life because mark lee is ghosting you. if i know anything about the two of you, y’all will be back to cuddling each other next week.”

you want to say you’re afraid that’s not gonna happen but chaewon is moving too fast for you. she throws a dress at you and then, a coat. “wear those and come to yunjin’s room. we’re pre-gaming.”

an hour later, you’re not feeling so bad after all. you’d forgotten how fun getting wasted really was. you giggle hopelessly when yunjin cracks another “slayyy~” at chaewon’s empty glass. as sakura pours her another shot, you nudge her with your own empty cup.

your roommate frowns a little, “you sure you’re not going too fast?”

you roll your eyes, “chaewon! you’re the one who wanted to slut me out tonight. how am i gonna do that sober?” that makes everyone double up in laughter and you down the vodka with a triumphant sigh.

another hour later, you’re really feeling yourself. the pre-game finally ended with all of you walking to the frat that was throwing tonight. the first step you take into the crowded room has you regretting your decision, but your worries go to waste once you’re hearing the music blast through your veins.

you stay within chaewon’s group for most of the night. the girls are fun, yunjin being one of the best people you’ve partied with. it’s halfway through a doja cat song when you feel your bladder getting full from all the beer. you groan at all the effort it’s gonna take to go upstairs to where the bathroom was, but you could use a break.

you quickly tell chaewon you’ll be back, pointing in the direction of the bathroom and reassure her you’re fine when she asks to come with. the world is definitely spinning as you go up the stairs but you do make it to the top without falling over.

but as soon as you reach for the door of the bathroom, you lose balance as the person inside emerges. “fuck,” you groan, falling over into the person ahead, “’m sorry,” you mumble, supporting yourself against the sink.

you’re ready to push whoever it is out of the bathroom when you heard a familar voice. “y/n?”

you look up and actually gasp when you see mark in front of you. “mark?!” you sound incredulous but honestly, you’re just ecstatic. “i miss you,” you say your thoughts shamelessly.

mark reddens or so your vision tells you. “y/n, are you drunk?”

you frown and shake your head, about to explain yourself when a loud voice outside tells you to hurry up with your business, the door still open. mark shouts a, “find somewhere else, buddy!” and shuts the door, locking it behind him.

your drunk brain isn’t doing well with the concept of you in a locked room with mark. “are you drunk, mark?”

mark laughs at your question, “a little, yeah.”

“okay, good, then can you just-” you lose your balance again and mark steadies you instantly, warm hand on your elbow. you lose your train of thoughts at the feel of him, looking into his eyes wordlessly.

you think you stay there for a minute like that, the two of you just catching up on all the looks you’ve missed out on in the last week.

“why are you mad at me?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for ages. wanting mark to understand how hurt you’ve been, you pull at the sleeve of shirt, “i’ve been so sad. why are you avoiding me?”

mark takes your hand in his, “no! it’s not like that. i’m… not mad at you.”

“really?” you question him through a pout, “really?”

he doesn’t know what to do when pinned with that gaze of yours in that moment. and then his eyes land up on your lips, your little pout.

he knew the alcohol was a bad idea because now he can’t think straight, knowing he has to explain everything to you or he might lose it all. but somehow, instead of words, he feels another ugre crawl up his skin.

just as you open your mouth to speak, you feel mark’s lips on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls away just as soon as he leaned in. he drops your hand, falling to his knees.

it takes you a moment to re-orient yourself after the taste of mark in your mouth, but you hear mark sniffle and instantly join him on the ground, hands on his face.

“are you crying?”

mark tries to stop himself but he can’t. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry.”

“hey,” you find yourself sobering up. how could you not when mark lee is in front of you, tears staining his ever-smiling face? “hey, mark, look at me.” he wipes at his face shakily, looking up at you through a fresh flood of tears.

“i’m sorry,” his voice breaks, “i’ve been acting so selfish with you. i shouldn’t have avoided you. i shouldn’t have kissed you. i’m.. it’s all because…” he trails off conveniently at the part of his sentence you most need to hear.

your fingers trail down to his chin, bringing his face back up, “it’s all because of what, mark? talk to me, baby.”

something in mark uncoils when you coo at him lovingly like that, his name as breathy as the nickname you suddenly throw at him. his lip quivers but his words are clear as day, “fuck, i’m into you, y/n. i know i’m just some guy really but i think i like you. i- like romantically, i’m dying to be with you.” he sighs when you don’t say anything, stunned into silence.

your hand stays put on his face though which mark thinks of as a good sign. gingerly, he takes your hand, gaze pointed at your interlocked fingers. “i know it’s awkward because you’re not into me like that. it’s all good, i understand.”

“mark, you’re drunk,” you finally mumble out, hand twitching in disbelief. “you’re just saying things.”

mark stiffens, “w-what? no! i’m serious, y/n. i’m not even that drunk anymore. how could i be, when you’re right here?” but then, he stirs, hands leaving yours, “oh, but if you’d rather forget that this happened—”

it’s a replay of five minutes ago, except this time your lips come crashing into mark’s, with so much force that you topple him over. he takes you with him, hand finding purchase at your waist as he pulls you on top of him, his back hitting the door of the bathroom.

your kiss is fierce, almost angry because you did not deserve to be kept in the dark about mark’s feelings. you push closer to him, making him groan into your lips at the intensity. you pull away then, hand at mark’s chest, “i hate you for avoiding me like that, mark. i can’t believe you.”

mark tries to explain himself but you’re kissing him again, swallowing his words whole, unforgiving in the way your hands grip his arms. again, you pull away, “what did you think? that i’d stop talking to you because you like me? you’re so stupid sometimes, mark.”

“i don’t—”

“no, you don’t understand. do you see me right now?” mark nods, eyes trailing at your disheveled state. mark couldn’t forget this sight if he wanted to: your hair wet with sweat, panting in between mark’s legs, lips a breath away.

“do i look like i hate you?”

“i mean, you do look annoyed,” mark remarks and you slap his arm with a snarl.

“that’s because you’re being unfair. what about my feelings for you, huh?” you challenge with a glare. “what about how much i suffered just because you decided to not show up to the bookstore? all because you came to some stupid conclusion by yourself?”

“wait,” mark starts, but you’re not letting him talk.

“no, listen, if i could, i’d seriously slap you. because i’m that down bad for you, mark! i’ve been thinking about doing this with you ever since you fell asleep in my bed that day. so fuck you, for hurting me like that.”

you’re breathless, eyes still trained on mark with that look of betrayal mixed with desire. you can’t help yourself though, mark looks absolutely breath-taking in front of you, mouth ajar in shock, lips red from your relentless kisses.

mark takes too long to process your words just then, long enough that you’re coming down from your high, embarassment flooding your veins. you go cold, standing up with a grunt. “i’m just gonna go back,” you mutter in disappointment, leaving before you can see mark’s response.

he’s coming back to his senses now, realizing that maybe you were right about how stupid he’d been. “fuck,” he breathes out, regaining his footing as he chases after you.

this chase proves to be difficult, given that the party only seems to have gotten more crowded since mark left. he struggles through the throngs of people, shouldering through, when he spots a silhouette of you in his peripheral vision. you were outside, apparently talking to another taller figure.

mark follows your shadow to the door, quickly making his way out. his breath hitches when he finds taeyong next to you. his arm is around your shoulder and you’re speaking to him in a low voice.

“y/n,” mark calls out, not hesitating to break taeyong’s hold on you, replacing it with his own embrace. he pulls you close. your eyes are teary and you sniff when you see mark, “what-”

“i’m sorry, can we talk?” he mumbles into your side, still aware of taeyong’s presence.

“oh, hey, mark. i was just,” taeyong moves to stand in front of the two of you, “taking care of y/n. she looked sick.”

“i’m fine, taeyong,” you reassure him, pressing yourself into mark’s side. “i’ll let mark walk me home. good night.” mark is impressed at how easily you dismiss taeyong, pulling mark after you.

“what do you want?”

mark stops you from walking, pulling you into a hug instead. “you’re right, i’m really stupid. let me ask you this instead: would you let me be your boyfriend?”

you release a soft laugh against his neck at his question, arms still for a moment for dramatic effect. then, you wrap yourself around him, kissing your answer into his ear, “of course, you idiot.”

—

2K notes · View notes

twst-drabbles · 5 months

Text

Octavinelle 16

Summary: You’re in bed. The sun was highest in the sky, bound to dip but you’re still in bed. You get up eventually, knowing there are seafolk pets relying on you to feed them.

(Decided to say fuck it to the funnies and write the mental state that’s been plaguing me. But yeah, just wanted to put emphasis on the fact that I'm not in a state of sadness. I just feel so tired with this constant fog over my own feelings. Oh and this is just over a 1000 words.)

You felt like a low existence, sinking into your bed sheets that haven’t been washed in over three months. There was nothing to mourn about yourself, felt useless to indulge in any sort of sadness really. A bother, basically, to try and feel anything beyond just mild annoyance at your own smells and the too loud and too bright things of the outside.

You look over to your phone, long since overcharged with sticky notifications of habits you’ve broken and missed. You haven’t swiped them away, telling yourself that you’ll get to them eventually but you don’t. You miss a day and tell yourself that it’s fine. That you need a break. Then another break. Another day of rest, another day of being still.

Day after day, day after day. You haven’t been on walk for half a year. You stopped during the winter because your shoes were torn to pieces by a teething Floyd and never had the energy to just buy new ones.

It’s not that bad, really. You’re still alive. You’re not rotting and waiting around to die. You still drink water, you still get a bite to eat, even if it is only enough to make your stomach shut up for an hour. It’s just…

It’s a bother, to wash yourself, to clean your teeth, to go outside and be blinded by the sun, to do the same things you do every day. And it’s a bother to try and do any changes. You just don’t have the energy.

You’re running on empty, and the empty have to rest, because it aches to try and do anything more.

You snuggled deeper into your sheets, piles of blankets on top of you, weighing heavily upon your entire body. And just so you can get more on top of you, you made your room even colder than it ever should be. Just made snuggling into the blankets all the more nicer.

You missed the seafolks’ first feeding in the morning. This was the first time you’ve done this, but you know them to have enough fat to survive missing one feeding. Will they be grumpy? Probably. Pissed at you, most likely. But you also know them to store away any leftovers in their little hiding places. They’ll be fine. They can let you rest for a bit.

The left side of yourself has gotten a little pinched, a bit numb. You closed your eyes for just a little bit and woke up to suddenly three in the afternoon. You’ve laid on your side for too long again. You felt annoyed and when you felt a pulse in your head and a tightening of your stomach, only then did you bother to push yourself up.

You’re tired, you’re hungry and you’re thirsty. The nap did nothing but made breathing harder and your eyes drier than anything. But it was enough. It was enough to get you annoyed with laying in bed. So you reached over and drank your water. You didn’t want to brush your teeth, so you just used your gulp of water to wash around your mouth before swallowing it. Then you drank water again to refresh.

You finished the bottle and tossed it in the overflowing trashcan filled with other empty bottles. You got out of bed and walked out your room. You didn’t bother with shoes or getting into different clothes. You’re tired as is.

The blood has finally reached your head and the pulsing came back, this time behind your eyes. You had to squint as you opened the door to seafolks tank.

You heard three distinct chirps, all much closer than you expected.

You looked to the back, seeing the tank popped open once more, then you looked down just as Jade and Floyd were bodied by Azul right before they could munch on your big toe. Ah, you haven’t clipped your nails in a while. You just noticed that.

Floyd’s little claws clicked against the floor as he struggled to Azul off of him. Jade’s usually behaved self was replaced with a growling little eel, his jaws clicking and gritting as he whipped his tail about.

“…alright,” you rasped out, putting a hand to the wall as you guided yourself to the food you stored away, “yeah, probably should’ve expected this…”

Azul finally knocked their heads together and made the eels behave. You almost wanted to laugh, but the feeling was too vague to make physical. It was only a twitch of a smile you gave out as you dragged out a bag of cold whole fish. You had a fridge stored in here since you didn’t want your regular fridge to smell like their foods.

You closed the fridge and carefully slid yourself down to the floor. Even that task was tiring. You can feel your heart pumping beneath your ribs. You had to lean against the fridge just to cool yourself down for a bit.

Azul, evidently proud of his defending of you, basically strutted towards you with a grumpy and limp Floyd and an equally grumpy Jade who was huffy, but behaving.

Azul finally looked at you, at your eyes and your greasy skin and unwashed clothes. He tiled his head. You ignored that.

“Hey,” you greeted as you ripped open the bag and watched them all perk up, “Sorry about that. Here.”

You pulled out the fattiest fish into the air. Floyd shot out of Azul’s grasp, but was grasped by Jade’s own claw. Jade pushed his brother behind him and shot after the fish. He clamped his jaws right into its belly and now you have both a fish and an eel hanging from your hand.

You gently set it down so he can rip it up in peace. Floyd, not to be defeated, sunk his teeth into the head and immediately started to pull it apart. Messy eaters. All of them.

You shivered as Azul pulled himself onto your lap. He gave a low whistle at you and opened his mouth wide.

“Ah,” hand-feeding, huh? He’s feeling rather spoiled today doesn’t he? “Here.”

You gave him something small just so he doesn’t make a mess on your lap. Fish smell isn’t exactly nice.

“Oh,” you jumped just as Jade and Floyd coordinated together to bring their meal onto your lap behind the munching Azul, “Oh, gross.”

Well, so much for that. Cold, slimy, your sense really hate you right now. Well, you suppose this is fine. They’re having fun and it’s not like showering is that bad. You needed one anyway. Well, no not a shower. A bath. A bath isn’t bad. You don’t think you’ll be able to stand that long anyway.

Well, you’ll get one right after you have something to eat. You’re kind of tired of snacks, so you might heat up some hearty leftovers. After everyone has finished eating. You don’t feel like leaving right now.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #octavinelle #azul #azul ashengrotto #jade #jade leech #floyd #floyd leech #house pet au #reader insert

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somerandomassguy · 2 months

Text

Warmth

The water was warm, Steve recognized. The hands touching him, running through his hair, gently stroking his skin were warm too. It was weird, in a way, to be surrounded by such warmth; such love, as he remembered it to be. Normally the water felt cold as it pooled around his feet, running off his shoulders in fat droplets. Even with the shower knob turned to be almost as hot as the water heater allowed for, it still chilled his bones and sent shivers down his spine in graceless waves.

The hands pressed firm into his flesh, allowing for him to process the feeling before tapping softly, as though asking a question. Steve quickly caught onto the fact that it wasn’t a question but a statement; a little informative gesture telling him that the soapy washcloth would be scrubbed over that part of his body when he deemed it so.

He leaned back against the edge of the tub, screwing his eyes shut to block the light. He felt a thumb rub over his thigh in vague circles. That’s how he knew it was safe. That it was safe to keep his eyes closed; to render himself useless with only the sense of touch left. He couldn’t hear worth a damn, anyways; just gentle throbs and thumps when someone made a loud enough noise. It was like he was deep underwater in the beginning; before he took one too many hits to the head. Now it was just silence.

When Steve finally drew his eyelids up, a soft, incredibly lovestruck smile met his eyes. Eddie half chucked half properly set the washcloth on the edge of the tub, leaning himself over to grab Steve’s face in his hands and press a kiss to his lips. Just a simple one, lust abandoned and in its place; love.

‘You feel safe’ Eddie signed, although his fingers moved in that clunky, unpracticed way and his sign language was distinctly lacking. But Steve understood it nonetheless; and brought himself to nod slowly. Eddie’s smile only seemed to brighten, eyes shining and teeth showing.

‘Always, with you.’ Steve attempted to mumble, very unsure of how it actually came out. He was positive he got the point across anyway, if the way Eddie practically melted and fell back onto the floor was any indication. Steve felt a soft smile paint his lips.

He was loved, content, warm. But most importantly; he was safe. He couldn’t even put a date on the last time he could close his eyes and relax. Eddie was here now, though; he’d keep Steve safe from the echoing horrors brought by the Upside Down, even if only for a little while.

To be quite honest; that brought a funny feeling deep within Steve’s chest, a feeling though not unwelcome, but strange nonetheless.

He later recognized it as a graceful dance between gratitude and devotion; his utter love for the man before him and how much he adored having Eddie in his life. His heart swelled with tender emotion at that; a little truth whispered in his head.

Slowly, slowly, slowly; the water drained away, dripping down his chest and off his legs. Stark cold wrapped around him like a thick, unforgiving blanket. The feeling didn’t last long before Eddie helped hoist Steve to his feet, one knee wobbling without the support from the brace. A towel fell around his shoulders, courtesy of one Eddie Munson; the very ratty fabric doing just about absolutely nothing to warm the chill of his flesh and to soak up the water still gliding off his wet hair.

He threw a faux scowl at Eddie, the man only shrugging with a sheepish smile and saying something probably along the lines of ‘It’s the best I could find.’ Still though, Steve tugged it tighter and scraped the water off his skin until the towel felt like it took a long dip in the ocean.

With barely a moment to spare, Eddie put his hand on the small of Steve’s back and swooped them both away to rummage through his closet (Mostly consisting of still unwashed items from thrift stores and clothing articles so worn through it would only take a single touch for them to fall apart at the seams.)

Steve could almost see when Eddie had a lightbulb moment, pulling out a pair of sweatpants in arguably good condition and a hoodie Steve had literally never laid eyes on in his life; no doubt because of the lack of holes, stains and shittily sewn patches. He eyed them both hesitantly, but Eddie had already practically flung them at him; leaving Steve just about zero choice in the matter.

He put them on with a sigh; after locating.. a halfway decent pair of boxers. Eddie had scampered away to retrieve something he didn’t bother to tell Steve about. He returned triumphant, it seemed, when he held something out in the palm of his hand; confidently proclaiming “For you, my liege.”

Steve eyed his hand first; before taking the hearing aids and slipping them onto his ears. He turned them on, a whiny mechanical groan emitting from the shitty electronics. He winced, scrunching his nose up as he managed to adjust it properly.

As he finished, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him in a fond hug. “You did great.” He beamed proudly.

“At what; sitting on my ass as you do all the work?” Steve snarked.

“You got it in one, Harrington.” Steve could feel the ‘Soon to be Munson.’ On the tip of Eddie’s tongue. (Even though one of them worked a shitty retail job and the other didn’t at all, therefore making the purchase of a ring basically irrelevant and homosexual marriage was very illegal.)

“Thanks.” Steve laughed, smacking his boyfriend on the back jokingly.

“You’re very welcome, my liege.”

Steve smiled, eyes crinkling shut as he stood there, holding Eddie as Eddie held him back.

Their life, the one they carved out from the stone blocks of text the Fates had written; was nearly perfect, in that moment. And he was quite glad for that.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #fanfic #stranger things #writing #my writing #yippee

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blingblong55 · 1 year

Note

Hello! I hope you've had a good day or night, I have a request. Been having a bad week thanks to anxiety (fuck you) and was wondering what the 141 boys + könig's reaction would be if a member of the team, named SunBun, who has social anxiety but is usually very chatty and full of energy stopped being themselves, was closed off, didn't talk as much, wasn't constantly showing everyone funny videos, etc. After a bit they find out the new member of the team was a complete Asshole to SunBun and told them to shut and that he didn't wanna talk to the "most useless member of the team". If this makes you uncomfortable you don't have to do it. Have a good day/night

Fourth of July- 141+ König

First of all, I hope you are doing great now, so here's so a little something to help ease ya.

A/N: please ignore the title...I might change it but for now its..well..that.

R/n is the human embodiment of golden retriever energy. She is everywhere, always spreading their kindness around the base. By now everyone has gotten used to this. She is always there when you feel low she's there. She has social anxiety, making friends back home wasn't easy. But here, she tries her best to as social as possible. Always talking the ears off of her team and any soldier that's near her. She has an amazing memory, and everyday she lets her tongue roll, filling her boys with useless information. "A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out" she says while sitting on the counter top of the bases small kitchen. "read it in a book back in 4th grade."

After training and meetings you'd show the boys videos that you would find funny. They adored how you laughed so loud it made your stomach hurt, your smile and laughter was contagious, and in their line of work this was the one escape they had.

SunBun had become your new name around base, but only your boys were allowed to call you that. The name started when you had told the team how back home you have a farm, all day you could show pictures of your bunnies, and quite frankly you reminded them of a bunny, so soft to touch, tiny and fast as one too. You had quickly become their ray of sunshine on missions. That was the origin of SunBun.

However the pasty 2 weeks were different. No one had heard you tell your jokes or useless facts, or random bursts of giggles. All day today you sat and stayed quiet. Only talked when needed, no jokes or a single smile. Soap even missed his daily bear hugs from you. Ghost needed your random bursts of energy. You went from your room to the kitchen and to the meeting room, and when no one needed your help you'd be back in your room. Even some rookies missed how you'd teach the about different flowers and how they can be preserved.

Price knew you always recharged your social battery at night, you'd go to bed at 9 and he knew you needed to be alone. But a week? That was too much. When asking around Gaz found out the new team member had treated you so horribly. His nickname was Steel, he was a good soldier and a recommendation from some of Price's old buddies.

Gaz had heard from some rookies that he had called you "the useless member of 141". They had reported seeing you greet him with a handshake and your classical smile. But after you explained your roll in the team he said "SunBun? what a shit name," he chuckled "oh. um" you went silent immediately. "And your role here is useless...you give us nothing to use...you just run around like a child...seriously grow up." his voice sounded so cocky. You just stared at the ground, tears threatening leave your eyes. "I better get going" you said and walked away. Ever since that encounter you have completely shut down.

This is how each one of them reacted:

Cpt. Price:

He looked for you everywhere, all your favorite spots, but soon found you in your room, reading some book

"Steel called you useless?" "yes. and maybe he is right"

He walked up to you and cupped your face in his hands.

"You my dear are not useless, think of how much you have helped us at base and in missions. How much your kind heart has made ours feel warm."

You started to cry and he wiped every tear, he would sometimes kiss your eyes and pretend your tears were very salty and make funny faces.

You giggled and hugged him.

He caressed your hair and whispered sweet nothings.

"I will always protect you from assholes like him, because nobody hurts my SunBun."

He kisses your forehead multiple times. As well as your hands and cheeks.

Once you have calmed down he lays you in your bed.

He lays with you and tells you stories of his past and lets you fall asleep in his arms.

The next day, steel is called to his office. where price lets him know he has been reassigned to a new team.

But before he left, Price wanted to spar with him.

Safe to say he let out all of his anger on him. Nobody stopped him.

He missed his ray of sun, your random noises while trying to do an activity on the field.

His way of love is like “Since we’re alone” by Niall Horan (if you don’t like Niall…we can’t be friends tbh he’s my Irish lover)

Sgt. Gaz:

the moment he found out why you had been acting so different he walked up to Steel, he confronted him.

with help of soap, steel received what I call "military discipline" (a lot of punching and a lot of bleeding (from steel ofc)).

He then ran to your room, covered in some blood he poorly tried to wipe off.

There he found you, laying in your bed reading a book.

"SunBun?" his voiced softened once his eyes met yours.

You knew why he was there and soon your eyes watered

you told him everything he had said.

He held you in his arms as you cried a little.

He took his phone out and showed you videos of ducks in ponds, or highland cows.

He saw how your frown had disappeared.

"I will always keep you safe from this cruel world my sweet darlin'" he whispered as he kissed your forehead.

He spent all day making paper flowers with you!

"you aren't what he said you were...to me you're the most intelligent, kind, brave, generous, funniest, loyal and most sincere person I've met."

"if you only knew how much I admire your happiness"

God did he miss you. Although you were around base he missed the feeling of excitement you brought him.

That night he let you talk his ears off!

I want to srsly hug Gaz…i just know he gives the most warmest of hugs

He gives me “Lover” by Taylor swift vibes

Sgt. Soap:

You can't convince me this man wouldn't try to unlike steel

he would punch the living shit out of him and then guilt trip him to think he got that from an enemy at a mission

he'd make sure he would never hurt you again

"say it..and y'better mean it"

Steel *: "I'm sorry r/n, I'm sorry that I called you useless...I'm the one who is useless"

Soap would then take you to the kitchen and cook your favorite meal.

"Only for my sweet SunBun" he'd said as he serves your food

After you'd finish your food he'd take you to your room and read a book to ya.

You'd be cuddled against his chest, when he would feel your tears fall on his shirt.

He'd stop reading and just rub your back while giving you constant forehead kisses.

"Y'are smart. Y'are kind and y'are beautiful"

You'd cry even more

"Don't cry my angel...please don't cry"

He would tell you all about his family back in Scotland, how much they'd love you if they would meet you.

He would pull a blanket over you and make sure you stay warm and comfortable.

"If another person calls you 'useless' you tell me and I'll take care of it...because liars deserve punishment"

That night he stayed up with you, listening to you and those fascinating stories

I know for a fact this man would play Hozier’s “would that i” just to set a calm mood.

L.t. Ghost:

this man would have to be stopped before he kills steel.

he leaves him with cuts on his face, a bloody nose and so much more

he'd go and look for you, his anger would leave the moment he saw you. Like no joke he’d go soft the second his eyes found you.

His voice would go from harsh and loud to sweet and soft, as if he spoke any louder he’d hurt you

I know people say he is like emotionless but you’re the exception. You have him wrapped around your finger

He gives me cottage core vibes when he’s with you, (please tell me you get this)

When he approaches you he is slow, as if you’re a ticking bomb

Once he wrapped his arms around you, you lost it. Your tears fell on his shirt and he’d make remarks like: “such a shame..i liked this shirt” “can always buy a new one…so wipe that runny nose of yours”

God this man would be such a softie, he’d hold you close to him, and would wait for you to calm down,

He would listen to you all night and would say: “SunBun, you are the starts to my night sky, never underestimate your power, useless is the one who can’t be kind…and you my love are more than kind.”

When in his arms he’d rock you two, until you fell asleep.

He knows you are comfortable in his arms so he wouldn’t move all night.

While asleep, he’d also tell you sweet nothings.

He would probably cry a little, because how can human, as kind, beautiful, and so goddamn annoying (sarcasm babes), think they are useless?

Often while looking at you sleep, he would probably thank anything for bring you in his life.

Because of you this man knows what an angel looks like. He gives me “Take me to church” vibes yk?

König:

This man is already feared by everyone because of his height, so when he heard who was the reason for you acting so ‘off’ he immediately thought of two things

1. He had to find you, he knows how bad your social anxiety can get, he knows from first hand how that feels like, so when steel made you feel so little, he had to hug it out of your system

2. Had to find Steel, he wanted that man to pay for what they did to his “liebling”,

Price had to intervine and had steel taken to the infirmary for major damage

Gosh, the power you have over this man is insane, one second he is so close to killing another soldier and the next one he is on his knees, looking up at you

“König, get up, the floors cold” you said, still staring at some random book.

“I know what happened r/n,” his hands met your knees

“You are more than enough for this team…you aren’t childish liebling”

You started to cry, your sniffles filled the room.

”Please don’t cry” he cupped your face in his much bigger hands. He wiped your tears and proceeded to plant soft kisses on your face

You giggled a little, his heart stopped for a little. That giggle of yours drove this man crazy.

He for sure laid you down on your bed and after much hesitation laid on top of you.

He is like the best weighted blanket one could ask for.

He has always given me gentle giant vibes. Like everyone is afraid of him because of his height but not you, because you know all this man needs is a hug at the end of the day and of course a social battery recharge.

He for sure waited ‘til you feel asleep so he could get up and help you clean your room.

I know for a fact he brought some snacks and waited to you woke up.

He softly whispered “morning SunBun. I brought us your favorite” with his cute little Austrian-German accent poking through.

He make my heart melt because since he knows how bully and social anxiety do to one person, he makes sure for months on end to always be near you, always assuring you, you’re his best person (he can’t put his love for you into words…clearly)

He gives me “Fire away” By Niall horan…if you disagree..fight me babes bc i know for sure he is just..the sweetest.

I sure hope you enjoyed this!!

Tags: @g4y-gr3ml1n

Requests are open!!

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wackapedia · 10 months

Text

The Lady Of Devon

Sihtric x Reader, Finan x Reader Summary: You are a daughter of the ealdorman of Devon, you bothered Uhtred to let you join his band of merry fighters, and you live the best months of your life. Warnings: none, sad times Wordcount: 1,382

“Think about it, Sihtric, you don’t have to pay a girl if she truly loves you, eh?” You gave the Dane a raised eyebrow when he asked to borrow a few coins from you. He looks down at his ale and sighs, not wanting to hear your reprimands. “If you’re refusing me, then just say it! I don’t need to hear your sermon.” He slams his tankard against the table, startling you and Finan, sitting side by side. It is clear to the both of you that Sihtric has had enough drinks for tonight, evident in his slurred tone and rude approach.

“Maybe we should sober up a bit…” Finan reaches over to retrieve the Dane’s ale, swapping it with a mug of water, “.. before we say something we regret, aye?” “No!” Sihtric keeps his ale close to his chest. “What is she even doing here?” He glares at you, tucked in a corner of the booth. “Daughter of an ealdorman who’s done nothing significant, so now you’re pretending to be a warrior so you could be lady of Devon, when all you do is flirt with me and give me unsolicited advice?!” Sihtric raises his voice, loud enough to silence half the alehouse and turn their eyes on your booth. Finan clamps the dane’s mouth under his palm, but the damage has been done. He has said what he wanted to say. “Excuse me…” You mutter under your breath as you make your way out of the crowded room while Uhtred walks in with a couple more drinks in his hand. “Check your manners, boy.” Finan points an accusing finger at the younger Dane before leaving him with his lord as the Irishman follows you out. “I’m sorry about Sihtric, he’s just drunk and frustrated…” Finan knocks at your door, hoping to comfort you. “It’s not your doing.” You try to keep your voice stable, hiding the fact that you are crying. “What he said was true anyway…” The door creaks open, and you see the Irishman’s kind eyes searching your watery ones. “Oh, y/n..” His heart breaks as he steps in, taking in your appearance. No man should ever let you cry. “What he said was mean..” “But it’s true.” You sob into his broad chest, allowing yourself to drown in his warmth. “I’ve proven myself useless to my people; I ran away from my responsibilities; and I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him!” Everything Sihtric has accused you of is true. When your younger brother was named heir, Uhtred and his men happened to be passing by your hometown. The morning after the witan, you ran away and followed (more like bothered) Uthred until he accepted. Over the course of eight months, the exiled lord of Bebbanburg and his men treated you like family. In those months, between battles, shield walls, and Coccham, you found yourself gravitating toward Sihtric, that kind and mysterious Dane who was so fierce in battle, yet so nice, gentle, and funny when he was hanging out. You were certain he has noticed how often you prefer to sit next to him, set your bed roll next to his when you’re camping, and check on him during battles. Finan thinks Sihtric should be grateful to have your attention. It’s not everyday you have a beautiful, young, and gentle lady care for you. Unfortunately, the young Dane sets his sights on that one woman from the brothel who was very obviously ripping him off all his coin, even getting into bar fights because of her. You cry yourself to sleep that night, and Finan ever so kindly stays with you, sitting on the floor and resting his head at the edge of the bed. In the morning, Finan groans at the pain shooting up his neck from sleeping in an awkward position. Sunlight beams through the open windows of the lodge, brightly illuminating the room and the empty bed. His eyes immediately darted through where your belongings were supposed to be, only to find them void of your riding boots and your bag. The Irishman rushes out of the lodge, clocking Sihtric, who was on the way up to your room. “Is she awake?” He asks, bringing a bunch of flowers, probably for you. Finan was still too angry to give him an answer, and he was in a hurry to check the stables. This time he comes across his lord Uhtred, hastily marching back to the inn. “Where is y/n?” He bellows as Finan approaches. “Her horse is gone!” Finan snaps into action and mounts his horse, beckoning it to ride fast to catch you on your way back home. The sound of distant hoofbeats startles you on your way home. You prayed that whoever was on the way would not bring danger. “Y/n!” Finan yells as soon as he sees you miles ahead in an open field. You pull your horse to a stop as the Irishman catches up. “Y/n, If I have offended you, I apologize…” Finan sighs, still catching his breath. “You have not offended me, dear Finan.” You gave him a sad smile. “I have wasted enough of my time rebelling against my family. "It’s time for me to go home.” Finan is at a loss for words. “Please extend my gratitude to Lord Uhtred,” You begin to tear up. “And to every man and woman in Coccham. I’ve never felt so at home during my brief stay there,” You try to hold down a sob. Finan wishes to unmount his horse and take you in his arms, to tell you how loved you are, and to express all the love he’s ready to give you. “I thank you, Finan. For everything.” There was pain in your eyes as you said your thanks. You forced a smile for him, and somehow it felt like a goodbye. The Irishman watches you fade east, toward your home. Maybe your father would reconsider and appoint you as heir to Devon, or maybe he’ll arrange an advantageous marriage for you, and you’ll live the rest of your days learning to love someone. He hopes you find the happiness you deserve. The happiness he was ready to give, if only you felt the same way for him. A year has passed since your departure from Coccham. Things have become awkward between two of Uhtred’s best fighters. Finan and Sihtric would often have a random lull in their conversation, as if stopping themselves from mentioning a certain ealdorman’s daughter whenever something reminded them of her. Nonetheless, both still treat each other with respect, having each other’s backs on the battlefield and looking after each other as if they were blood brothers. Uhtred watches them and figures he should just avoid asking about her in fear of sparking something distasteful in their mending relationship. The lord of Bebbanburg now feels anxious to deliver the news to his men of King Alfred’s instruction for them to visit Devon and see how the new ealdorman is managing the land. “Where ‘east’, lord?” Sihtric asks as they journey on the road. Uhtred figures he’ll wait until one of them figures out on the way, “East.” He answers. Finan already suspects where they are headed as they move closer to Devon. The gates of the stronghold creak open as their band of ten men arrive. “Welcome to Devon, Lord!” A young man descends the stairs and greets Uhtred. The young man’s eyes shift, looking into every single man’s eyes as if looking for something or someone. Uhtred dismounts from his horse and gives the young ealdorman a firm handshake. And for the first time in almost a year, someone directly refers to you. “Did my sister choose not to come with you?” Your younger brother, now the ealdorman, inquires. Uhtred, in his surprise, twists around his band of men, carefully making eye contact with Finan and then Sihtric, who were both equally giving him an unreadable look. “Isn’t she here, lord?” Sihtric questions, remembering to show respect. “Why would she be? She left to join you a year ago…” The young ealdorman raises a curious eyebrow at the king’s men. “She left us a year ago; we thought she came home!” Finan exclaims, forgetting to show respect. There was an uneasy silence in Devon’s courtyard.

#sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x reader #finan x reader #Sihtric of Dunholm #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #finan #finan the agile #uhtred #Uhtred Ragnarsson #uhtred of bebbanburg #the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom x reader

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beanghostprincess · 4 months

Note

Bughawk is soooo underrated and it makes me so sad. Please tell me you see how grand this vision is

I am personally more of a Shuggy/Crocobug shipper but that's mainly because Mihawk isn't doing it for me much?? I love him and his gold autistic eyes staring into my soul and his classy attitude and vampiric looking aesthetic, but I wish he had more screentime to figure out his personality better and enjoy him more. But I do like him! I swear! And tbh one of my favorite ships is Cross Guild, like, the three of them together, even if I have a bit of a preference inside of the trio. I do love them and tbh I think Mihawk and Buggy's relationship would be really funny to explore. Especially within the fanon portrayals of the characters because god forbid Oda gives the cool edgy swordsman more than three minutes of screentime and more than five words per episode.

Okay, so doing a mix between fanon and canon and "whatever the fuck I want to see these characters as because I am the princess of this blog and I can do whatever I want": I think their relationship is fucking hilarious.

Unlike with Crocodile, Buggy doesn't really know what to do with Mihawk. Crocodile at least is easy to read and he's usually the one to make the first move, but what the fuck is Buggy supposed to do with the swordsman sitting in front of him, legs crossed and staring into his soul like he's about to bite his neck and suck him dry. Scary. And also very hot. But mostly scary. But turns out Mihawk is like, way more peaceful than what he thought. He likes reading. And classical music. And swords in a very weird obsessive way that the clown should not speak about. And not much, honestly. Cooking, too, apparently. Buggy keeps learning new things about him every day and the guy opens up little by little, because even if he's quiet, the very few words he says speak a lot for himself. He's also a fucking sadist and loves teasing Buggy all the time to the point of making him cry of frustration, but, well, when he's good he's really nice to be around <3

They both have history with Shanks. You know the movie "The other woman"? The one about this girl who discovers her boyfriend is married and then becomes besties with the wife and start hating him together? That's the energy I'm getting from this triangle. Stop making Mihawk cry over Shanks not loving him and a past love!! Make him go "Oh. Yes. Red Hair and I had something. Pretty sure he still felt something for you, clown, so I am not happy about that" / "What?! Why would you be angry at me for Shanks' shitty feelings that have absolutely nothing to do with me, by the way, our thing ended years ago when his stupid-" / "No, no. I am referring to him. Moron. I like you" / "You do???'' / "Sometimes. Sort of. Maybe. Your existence confuses me". And then they start dating because nobody can tell me Cross Guild isn't just a poly relationship doing business together.

I think Mihawk likes Buggy because it gives excitement to his boring life and also he's fun to bully. Besides, he's more than what he looks like and he actually has a dream and pirate spirit, so maybe he's not as useless as he used to think. He's still annoying, yes, but oddly comforting. Mihawk can't quite figure out what he wants with this clown, so he just sticks around with him. Buggy is like a chihuahua. A very loud chihuahua. Mihawk is definitely a black cat. They don't match. At all. Not in the slightest. And yet, Mihawk likes his company. And Buggy actually loves seeing all the soft and interesting sides of Mihawk and realize that he's not as scary as he looks like. I mean, he could slice him in half if he wanted to and he's still scary and hot but, y'know, he has a very domestic side that Buggy likes.

Thinking about them being established is pretty sweet because I think Mihawk would like reading out loud to him and Buggy would make the funniest comments about the story. And they would cuddle. And it would be so uncharacteristically soft of them and it's something they only do in private. Crocodile stares at them from the corner of the room and,,, He likes having them there. He's not alone and it's kind of sweet.

Also overprotective Mihawk with Buggy my beloved. In the sense of: He cooks for him because his eating habits suck. He makes him go on walks and do a bit of exercise. He makes him read, too. Listen to music that it's not only commercial pop or circus music or musical/Broadway tunes. He takes care of the clown when he's not bullying him. I think Mihawk treats Buggy like Sharpay Evans treats her dog.

And following the Shanks thing to end this post: Bughawk is really cool because I think it would break Shanks' heart and I love angst.

#yayyy cross guild asks make my day #i love them i love them i love them #sorry for saying mihawk wasn't doing it for me i realized while writing that i absolutely love him too #i just wish he had more content #one piece #dracule mihawk #buggy the clown #bughawk #cross guild

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disasterofastory · 30 days

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A new adventure (Halfdan x Reader)

A new adventure modern!Halfdan x Reader Warnings: none

Summary: You spend the nigth with your ex-husband.

The house is quiet and calm as you reach the bottom of the stairs. Your baby's screams still echo in your head. You are not even sure if he is crying again or if you just imagine things by now. Your head throbs with the pain you tried to keep at bay the whole night while you keep telling yourself that your son is alright and you don't have to go back to check on him.

He is asleep. He is fine.

One step creaks under your weight. It's loud and sharp. A heavy, tired sigh leaves your lips. Turning your head to the side, you listen.

It's okay, you think, relieved. Your baby boy is still asleep. It's fine.

"I will fix it tomorrow." Halfdan's smooth voice breaks the silence, drawing your attention to the couch where he sits, leaning on his knees with his elbows. The worried, stressful frown is still deep between his brows. "Thank you," you nod. "A drink?" "Do you have a beer?" "I have wine. Two bottles," you reply from the kitchen, holding the door of the fridge as your gaze falls on the bottles with the familiar logos. "I will take it," he sighs. "I thought so."

The lights coming from the kitchen cover the living room in a soft, orange hue. Your muscles melt against the couch as you sit down and hold up one of the bottles to the man next to you. "No glass?" He smirks, accepting your offer, though. "It's a glass-free household," you joke between two sips. The taste of the wine spreads over your tongue, and you have to close your eyes for long seconds to enjoy this momentary peace. "I'm sorry," Halfdan says after a while, making you jump when he grabs your legs to put them over his lap. His long fingers start to massage your sore muscles. His touch is warm and familiar. It's like a reflex that didn't die out of you even after one year. His every movement lights a fire in your lower belly. You almost laugh at it. "It's fine," you tell him. "Were you on a date?" He asks. "Yeah," you grunt. "To be honest, I should be grateful." "Why?" "It was horrible." He laughs. The man can't help but feel some satisfaction at your words. "Our baby knows when he has to get sick to save his mama." "He sure does," you hum, holding the bottle to your lips. "But I'm really sorry, you know? I should know what to do when my son is sick." Reaching out to squeeze his arm, you smile at your ex-husband comfortingly. You can see how devastated he is because of tonight, even though you know he did everything he could. "It's fine, Halfdan," you tell him. "Sometimes sick little boys need their mamas. You did everything well. Don't punish yourself because of nothing."

Not long after your boy's first birthday, you and Halfdan decided to end your marriages after months of struggling. It was quick and peaceful. Both of you wanted only the best for your child, and this kept your relationship away from useless battles and fights.

And here you are, after a year of your divorce, sitting with your ex-husband while your boy sleeps in his room. And you don't remember the last time you felt so content and calm, even though you are tired and still worried about your son's health.

"And what about your date?" He asks, turning his head to look at you. His fingers still work their magic on your muscles. "Do I know him?" "No," you reply. "I don't think so. I met him online." "First date?" "And the last." "So horrible?" You shrug. If you want to be fair, there was nothing wrong with the guy. He was nice, polite, and funny. "Boring." He hums. "Can I tell you something?" "I see the wine is starting to work," he smirks. He sees it in your eyes and the slight curve of your lips. You looked familiar when he first met you and asked you out on a date after two minutes of introducing himself. You giggled and said yes. "Everyone seems boring compared to you," you confess. "I have no idea how to enjoy a story if you are not the one who is telling it." Halfdan shooke up your whole world. He forced you to leave your comfort zone and live a little. He inspired you to start your own business, and even after all those years, he is still your biggest supporter.

Halfdan's chest stretches with a new wave of satisfaction when he hears your words. He remembers your first date. If he wants to be honest, he fucked it up. He talked and talked about his upcoming travel overseas. He was so excited. And you, instead of being annoyed with him or thinking him rude, listened and asked, and before he knew it, he was even more excited to come home to you. "We were good together, huh?" He asks but doesn't want your answer. He knows you were good together. Two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly... At least for a while. "Where did it go wrong?" "It was me," you reply immediately. Halfdan wants to argue, but you don't let him. "After our son was born I... I forgot how to be... me, you know? I became a mother and didn't know how to be anything else." You thought about it a lot, especially after your relationship got better and better after your breakup. He squeezes your leg and drinks from his bottle. "I should have reminded you." "Everybody should have reminded me," you grunt with the thorn still in you. Of course, you can't blame the others. Reminding you of yourself was not their job, but everyone made it so easy to forget that you are still Y/N, a woman, a wife, and not just a mother. "I'm sorry," he says anyway. "I didn't know it was so hard for you." "It wasn't," you reply. "I mean... I didn't notice until we broke up."

Halfdan opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. He can't do that, can he? Would it be too risky? Would he cross a line? Did those things ever stop him? "Let me take you out on a date." The wine burns your throat as you cough. A small drop of red liquid runs down your jaw until you soak it with the sleeve of your shirt. "What?" You croak out. "Do you love me?" He asks. Halfdan is not the type who beats around the bush. "I still do. I still love you, and you know our son is my whole world. You two are my whole world." "Why do you think it would work now?" You ask him uncertainly, even though you can't help but smile at his words. "Because we know what went wrong the first time," Halfdan replies. He is so sure of himself. "I wouldn't let you forget who you are besides being a mother, Y/N. What more? We could go and travel somewhere. Our son could stay with Harald, he is old enough, and Harald will spoil him. Maybe we could go somewhere new? Or I could book the place where we were on our honeymoon?" Your laugh shuts him up. Your eyes shine with tears. "And here you are, already planning for a new adventure." "Please tell me you will come with me."

He holds up his hand for you to take it, and when you do, he kisses the back of your hand.

#halfdan imagine #halfdan the black x reader #halfdan x reader #vikings imagine #vikings x reader

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nterini · 1 year

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In Defense of Hira - A textbook case of C-PTSD caused by Childhood Abuse and Neglect

In a lot of the shows that I watch, especially with teens or young adults relating to trauma, or any genre really, there’s always a playful question on my mind: where are their parents? However, at this point in show, it’s becoming so much more apparent that the lack of support Hira received growing up, is fundamental to the way that he sees himself and his position in the world around him. So much so that as much as I want to joke about Hira being as dense as a stone wall, I find myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable in how much my own trauma and reactions to isolation mirror Hira’s.

Symptoms of complex PTSD

Feelings of worthlessness, shame and guilt.

Problems controlling your emotions.

Finding it hard to feel connected with other people.

Relationship problems, like having trouble keeping friends and partners. (Source: NHS)

How was Hira Traumatized?

He was left to his own defenses at an early age and had to fend for himself. Just because they provided him with a house and money for food doesn’t mean they took care of him. He was also bullied for a speech impediment and isolated by his peers as a result. He’s probably never had anyone listen to him closely or had close emotional or physical relationships in his life. Extended periods of neglect in childhood and then more intense isolation later on is extremely damaging.

Trauma manifests differently. Before therapy, it was really difficult for me to wrap my head around the fact that I wasn’t actually invisible to friends and family. It took a quite aggressive and embarrassing event, (now funny and touching really) for me to understand that if I deviated from my own patterns or if I disappeared or didn’t contact people for hours that people would actually miss me or think about me. I went out and watched a movie after an event, and told one person through text. After the two hour movie, I turned my phone back on and found 30 missed calls. My mother had informed me that she had called the police and that the principal had formed a search party for me. My face was plastered all over Snapchat by my classmates. I was mortified by what I believed to be a waste of resources and time on my behalf. Such a loud display of love and even then all I could think about was hiding away and making myself smaller. I wasn’t even decent enough to acknowledge the pain, worry, and fear they felt at the thought that someone they loved went missing. It took multiple years later: a very a tentative mother and aunt, very involved teachers, mentors and friends plus therapy for me to stop feeling like a ghost. To get out of my own head and stop trying to fade in the background as a coping mechanism. After being abandoned by his mother to live alone in a house so she could be with the family she wants, after being isolated by his classmates for having a stutter all throughout high school, only one person knocked loudly enough at the door attached to the fortress Hira built in his mind to cope with his trauma. Kiyoi.

That mental fortress is why Hira is alive today. It kept him safe when he had to sleep in the dark alone as a young boy when he had to cook his own meals. His social ineptitude is due to years of isolation and degradation by those around him. He wasn’t deemed worthy enough by his own mother to be taken care of. Yet Kiyoi loves and sees him. Kiyoi says his name and holds his hand and kisses him and suddenly Hira is solid mass. Not a shadow on the wall or the useless child not worth keeping. He becomes slightly more than nothing. In Hira’s mind he becomes a pebble. Sigh. Well it’s a start. But it’s not enough. It’s gonna take a real miracle for Hira to overcome years of trauma and see himself as a human being. I believe in him though. He’s so brave. No like really though, some of the shit he says is so cringey it takes real guts. Kiyoi is not going to give up on Hira anytime soon he’s too much of an exhibitionist for Hira and a freak (endearingly). Also, Hira is obsessive and intense, so they’re a perfect match.

He just needs proper counseling and a bit of time. I’m rooting for them.

#My Beautiful Man #my beautiful man 2 #utsukushii kare #utsukushii kare 2 #hira x kiyoi #kiyoi sou #Hira #show analysis #review #childhood truama #tw cptsd

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tnt-kokoo · 1 month

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Kiwis

pairings: Shidou Ryusei x ()reader

summary: kiwis are sour but you'll grow to like it. (I saw it on a tt, I forgot the user and didn't save the vid so if you'll find the person please tell me 😭😭)

warning: takes place before blue lock; there will be a creep; swearing

masterlist

Being new to a school has always been hard for everyone, especially if you're nowhere near as social as the people in your new class. One guy is especially 'social' as you may call it.

Shidou Ryusei.

He manages to not only anger every teacher by not doing his stuff but also pisses of the school director by disrespecting the school uniform code. His messily dyed hair and his not fully buttoned shirt, aswell as his rude (non-existenting) manners, annoys every elder.

Even you have been questioning his ways but never voiced it. Why should you? He is a violent guy after what you've heard. Classmates and people from other classes say they like him but also fear him, they just try to not say it.

Two weeks after you've started to attend this school some girls tried to befriend you but even though they seem nice and funny, all of you know you won't be actual friends. They may talk and help you with small work problems but you wouldn't really call them friends if you were honest. So that's why, waiting for your train after school was boring.

Waiting in the cold train station with the only light being from the exit and the cold and neutral lamps, you've grown to hate, you stand there next to your 'friends' who were in their own world and excluding you completely. But apart from them you've also noticed a few other people from your school, whether they were older or younger or even the same age as you in the same train station. One of them being Shidou Ryusei.

As the next train arrived and drove further and further, the wagon got less and less crowded. You've managed to now sit down infront of the one and only guy who stays himself even with with many people not liking it. All of his friends got off the train a few stations ago so it was only him and you sitting there now.

He wasn't bad looking and apart from his looks, his way of talking and acting got you kinda interested in him even if you would never talk to him. Looking at him while he was looking boredly out of the window felt like stalking and made you sigh as your gaze parted from him.

As your stop got announced you stood up and walked to the door not looking back. It, again felt like a boring and useless day. Like there was nothing you could be happy or proud about.

Days passed and you're still using the same train, going out of the same stops and sitting infront of Shidou Ryusei. At this point he even acknowledged you but didn't care that much to start a conversation.

As the electronic voice said the next station you got up a bit early to just be save, considering today was a rather full day. What you didn't notice in the other hand, was that behind you was an older guy who seemed to be in his own world. With his phone in his hand he went closer to you and while not noticing it yourself, Shidou did. Because then, he pushed the guy away.

"Fucking freak" He said in a loud way not enough to yell but enough for everyone to hear him.

"Taking pictures of girls half of your age, disgusting." He explained in a rude and disgusting way. Before the man could say or do anything, the doors opened and the boy took your arm in his hand and pulled you out with him.

After getting out he nodded at you and left to go his own way.

Standing there looking at his back was like remembering an important core memory. You were so thankfull for him that day, and maybe you miss-charactized him a bit too much.

___________________________________________

As the next chilly day approaches, you had to thank the blond-pink-ish haired classmate of yours. And ehat could be better than a home-cooked lunch? Considering he never seemed to have one of his own, you'd hoped he would appreciate it.

Soon you were on your way to school next to your 'friends' All of them in their own conversations to notice how your hands were shaking. Was it okay? Would he like it? Questions liked these made you more and more anxious as you walked further into school ground.

Never in your life would you have thought you would be searching for the brute first when entering thr classroom. And seeing him there laughing with some other guys made you even more nervous to walk up to him, so you didn't. You waited until lunch break.

As lunch time hits, people stood up fast to go to either the cafeteria or to just go out of the room. So ypu took your chance and walked up behind him while hebwas talking to two other guys who you still didn't learn the names of.

Tipping him on his shoulder felt dreading and even more when whispering, because your voice seemed to got lost, "This is as a thnak you for yesterday." With a small smile you gave it to him (or more like pressed the box in his hand) and walked fast away. That was until he put his hand on your shoulder and answered in a calm and seemingly boring way a simple thanks.

____________________________________________

After that day you noticed the two of you grow closer and closer to eachother, you realized he was your first real friend in your new school now that your'friends' left you. He had his own humor and way to talk but it didn't change much in your relationship, it was really refreshing to be honest.

____________________________________________

ᯓᝰ: Idk why but at the end I lost ideas to write something, it's so bad 😭😭

#blue lock #shidou ryusei #first post #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock x you #bllk x y/n #help idk what to tag #bllk shidou #shidou ryuusei x reader #ryuusei shidou #shidou ryuusei

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ashlingiswriting · 8 months

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do i know you? chapter four

[ 5k words ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three ] [ masterlist ] "he's actually asking you the question—you, of all people. it’s so funny, it could break your heart." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn warning: vague conversation about assault (no actual assault happened against any canon character), organized crime activities, mild claustrophobia

when you push open the door, you expect to find richie tucked away safe from the harsh wind, leaning against the wall in his usual spot. instead, he’s sitting on the sidewalk in front of your building, his ass on the curb and his feet on the asphalt, like he’s daring the cars to run over his toes. he doesn’t look like he’s waiting for somebody, he looks abandoned.

you tuck away your latest story—egyptian history is clearly not meant for tonight—and walk over to him. what’s up?

he says nothing.

all right, then. you sigh and you drop into a squat beside him, both feet flat, knees under your upper arms, and arms loosely crossed.

i can do this all night, you say.

his eyes don’t so much as flicker. his big black leather jacket has always looked ridiculous, oversized, like he’s playing dress up in his dad’s clothes, but there’s a touch of pathos to the slouch of it now. there’s a weariness that has soaked into him because he’s been marinating in it over the months. there’s pain, too, so much that you can’t help but think of michael.

it’s eva, he finally says.

the richie bad news thing? you say. it’s a wild guess but better than nothing. you have to say something, anchor him before he drifts off again.

he shakes his head. she said this man at school, he, uh. he really freaked her out today. i don’t know.

your stomach drops. nausea sets in immediately, but you push past it. step one is to protect her, and everything else can be dealt with later. you’re horrified to discover that after all that painstaking care you spent making sure he’s never cross-contaminated with your business, now there’s no choice. now there’s a threat. whatever the cost of the method, the threat has to end.

uncrossing your arms, you reach out and put your hand on richie’s arm, grip him firm through the leather jacket, and look at him squarely.

he blinks, looks down at your hand—you’ve never touched him before—and then up at your face.

slow, steady, marshaling every word of your command to pierce through the fog he’s in, you say: don’t do anything. i know a guy.

at that, his eyes sharpen and narrow, baffled. what are you talking about? he says. ow, jesus.

you search his face hard and clutch his arm even harder, like you can wring the truth out of him by the strength of your fingers alone.

she’s okay? you say.

she’s okay.

oh. pause. when the relief hits, it hits so hard, it’s nearly grief and it’s far too late. your mouth has gone bitter and your heartbeat is like a jackhammer to cement, reverberating through your body loud and fast and unstoppable. you let go of him.

richie’s face wrinkles with confusion, and he figures it out entire minutes too late. why would you think—

because it’s always some dirty old man, there’s always—you have to stop. your voice has gone transparent and you’re helpless to fix it. swallowing hard doesn’t help. standing up so fast that you’re lightheaded, that helps a little, though you don’t like the useless swing of your arms at your sides.

finally, you manage to say, i’m not crazy, these things fucking happen.

these things happen, but eva’s okay. nothing’s happened to her. richie says it with a terrible gentleness you can imagine him bestowing on a car crash survivor or a starved stray dog. his hand closes over your ankle through your jeans, the touch a shockwave that goes right through you. hey, i’m sorry, he says.

between leftover nausea and fresh embarrassment, you can’t even look at him, so stare far over his head and say, don’t.

he lets go. you wish he didn’t.

after a while, he says, you’ve never even met her.

she’s yours, though.

and there it is. the truth. you don’t know when this happened, but somewhere along the way, your care has stopped being richie’s inheritance from michael. now you care simply because it’s richie. it’s a surprise to find that there is someone left alive you’d kill for, but it also feels completely natural. if you’re dropped in water, you will swim. if you’re hit, you’ll hit back. if eva ever does get in trouble, you’ll do what you have to do. and that’s it.

the thought becomes so real you could touch it like a photograph in your back pocket. there’s someone left that you’d kill for. good to know.

you turn away from him, using the wind as an excuse, sheltering your cigarette and lighting it up again. richie stays sitting right where he is, as though you haven’t confessed anything. there really is a merciful streak in him about five miles wide.

the nausea abates, after a little while. the thought occurs to you that you can’t just get lost in your head again. he’s still sitting there, he still needs you.

so what’d this guy say. you keep your voice as casual as you can. the man at the school. what freaked her out so bad?

never mind, richie says. it’s okay.

i swear to god, richie, after all that, you better tell me about it.

okay, he says, every bit as exhausted and miserable as before, but at least no longer fully bogged down in his own head. you wanna sit down?

no.

he nods. into the fraught silence, his words come slower now. he speaks like he’s groping in the dark for the shape of his thoughts, fitting his hand to each individual word, mindful of sharp edges.

a poet visited her school today. he’d written something for them about the class caterpillar that died last week. i don’t know whose genius idea that was, but anyway. he pauses. now she’s asking me about things dying. people dying, you know. her mom. me.

after a second, you say, fucking poets, with real sympathy.

he nods wearily. somebody shot at the beef today too. we’re fine, nobody got hurt, it’s nothing, it’s. he rubs his forehead with his hand. it was a nice poem.

yeah? you say.

whole city’s just fucking…

he gestures once, gives up, and lets his hand dangle from his knee.

after a second, you sit down next to him, cross-legged and companionable.

what was it like? you say. the poem.

i can’t remember the words, he says. the general idea was, like. all a caterpillar needs to do is be what it is. eat everything, dream of flying. that’s what it’s meant to do. he looks over. you know what we’re meant to do?

he's actually asking you the question—you, of all people. it’s so funny, it could break your heart. you shake your head.

me neither. when he looks back out at the street, his eyes rest on the shadows in a way that makes the shadows seem that much more desolate. i mean, i’ve done things, but not. he doesn’t finish the thought aloud.

finally, he says, what would a poet even do with me?

a dark suspicion tries to grab onto, but it’s so ludicrous and so extreme that you bat it away. you just made the mistake of falling prey to a baseless, sick fear once. twice in one night, that’s too much.

what would a poet do with either of us? you say. but you’re not gonna die.

i might.

the worst thing about it is how quiet richie says it. it's not an argument. it's just a fact.

you’re not, you say fiercely.

richie turns his head and looks at you, his blue eyes fraught and unwavering.

how do you know?

ping!

fuck. your phone shouldn’t go off now, of all times. you haven’t had to deal with so much as a simple flesh wound since little caruso got shipped to the hospital, and now is the moment you get called in? if you ignore this text while you’re supposed to be on call, you could get fired or worse.

you ignore the text. back to the question: how do you know richie’s not gonna die? because he can’t. because you won’t allow it.

you say, if you’re not around, who’s gonna explain to your daughter that poets are all a bunch of shitheads?

ping! ping! ping!

fuck me, you mutter, putting your phone on vibrate.

it’s all right, never mind, richie says. he looks faintly sick, or maybe that’s just the cold and the time of night.

it’s not all right, but you open your phone anyway. as you start reading the texts, your heart rate goes into overdrive and the eerie calm of crisis descends on you.

i’m sorry, you say, meaning it. i’m really sorry. but you gotta get out of here.

as if to drive home your point, your phone vibrates in your hand with two more texts.

at first richie doesn’t move, and you’re afraid he’ll argue, or protest, or do anything that will force your hand to choose cruelty so you can get rid of him fast. but instead, he finally hauls himself to his feet.

you know a guy, huh, he says.

you don’t want to acknowledge the insinuation with any kind of an answer, which as it turns out is a mistake.

it’s all right, he says. i’m kind of a diy guy myself.

you look up. don’t be.

the wind is tearing at your hair, and at that angle, in shadow, his eyes look unusually dark, not one hint of blue.

i can’t track the fucking joke with you sometimes, richie says.

i’m not joking.

your phone vibrates once again.

fuck. you have no choice. you stand up, look at him as kindly as you know how, and say, get out of here. please.

and he does.

the texts come from an anonymous number, just like always.

> 28 ppl carbon monoxide poisoning

> 2 dead already

> no hospital

> beth can’t come

> 3 dead

> be there soon

the answer is obvious. if the poisoning has gotten so advanced that some of the victims are already dying, then only in-hospital treatment can save them. even a quick google could’ve come up with this answer, and yet it feels like it’s taking you twice as long to reason it out when half your brain is helplessly looping over and over on you’re not gonna die and i might.

when a black corolla pulls up next to you only a minute later, you yank open the passenger’s side door only to find the seat already occupied.

holy shit.

jack? you say, stunned. i thought you were in prison.

he’s big, round-shouldered and full-bearded, and he looks even bigger squashed into this small car. he’s also sweating like a motherfucker.

i was. get in.

you hurl yourself into the backseat and the driver takes off before you’ve even managed to get your hand on the seatbelt. the sudden violence sets you back on track. who cares how the oldest caruso kid got free? what matters are your patients.

listen, if we don’t do a hospital drop, these people are all dead, you say.

why?

you’re so grateful it’s jack. he’s brutally competent and efficient, not a word or a breath wasted, and he’s the only caruso kid who ever actually listens to you.

if carbon monoxide poisoning is this bad, we can’t just slap a bunch of oxygen masks on them and call it a day. that’s not enough, it won’t work fast enough. not with three dead already.

what do we need?

your skin is practically humming. hyperbaric chamber. lay them in an airtight container built specially for the purpose, fill it with pure oxygen, crank up the pressure. this is the kind of equipment that costs hundreds of thousands of dollars, so they probably don’t even have them at a place like saint anthony’s. these people need a level care of care that only northwestern-level money can buy, okay? or maybe uic. i don’t even think they’ll have enough chambers for all of them in one building, we might have to do two separate dumps, or—

no hospitals, jack says. we have orders.

now you remember why he’s the worst of the caruso kids too. he’s the smartest, which means he should fucking know better.

how much do these people know? you say. when that gets you nowhere, you drop subtlety and go straight for the jugular. are you really willing to kill twenty-five people just to please your fucking dad?

i’d kill you if i got orders, he says. don’t waste time.

it’s a breathtaking thing to hear, and yet, on some level, you were expecting it. after a second, you say, they’re dead, then. but tell me what we got.

no hospital raids, not around here. dad says it might fuck things up for little if a theft cranks up hospital security. but you’ve got as many oxygen canisters as you want down at the blackbird processing plant.

and that’s where we’re headed?

yeah.

okay, you say, and it sounds like a question. but then, five minutes later, you say okay like it’s the answer too.

jack fully turns around in his seat to look at you. he’s going prematurely gray at the temples, and in the dark, his eyes look bottomless.

what do you need? he says.

and for once, you know. what you need, what you are, and what you’re meant to do. so you tell him.

when you arrive, there are only a few lights on inside the factory. you and jack get on an indoor vehicle, a little white golf cart, and speed through a looming, shadowy forest of metallic machinery.

your patients are waiting for you, all of them unconscious and laid out neatly like logs in two rows on the ground. their faces and clothes look sickeningly similar to each other, so you glance at jack and mentally add human trafficking to the long list of his family’s crimes.

there’s also around two dozen men who all came to attention when jack stepped off the golf cart, standing silent and expectant. one of them is different from the others, a short man with the distinctive, overwhelmed expression of a civilian who just got drafted. that must be roberto, the floor manager that you talked to earlier on the phone.

sedatives? you say, and one of the men hands you a big plastic bin full of smaller boxes. you pick one up and squint at the tiny print on the white and orange label. fuck me.

the sedative they managed to get on short notice? it’s dormosedan. which is mean to be used on fucking horses. horses. jesus christ. yeah no, you’re not giving that to your patients.

we’ve got ahold of ten oxygen masks, says jack. eta twenty minutes.

you shake your head. you can see everything in viciously crisp color, time has slowed to syrup, and you can clock even the far-off horn of a distant train. oxygen masks aren’t enough.

turning to roberto, you gesture at the massive section of piping in front of you. is that it?

i don’t think it’ll work, he says, this close to shaking.

you speak past him to the assembled men. load them.

beside you, jack nods. with that, the men begin picking up your patients and carrying them to the wide-open hatch in the huge pipe, getting down on hands and knees, crawling, and pulling the unconscious people after them.

you can’t do this, roberto says. we have to call the cops, we can’t just—

jack reaches for the gun tucked into his jeans and you close your hand over his wrist just in time to stop him from pulling it out. if he gives this guy a heart attack, that’s just one more casualty for you to deal with.

roberto, this is fucking happening, you say. you let go of jack’s wrist, go over, and lean in close to him, ignoring his flinch. you lower your voice. please don’t make me deal with another casualty, we’ve got enough of those already.

after a second, roberto walks away and put his password into the control pad.

when the hatch closes, there are two bodies left lying on the floor, people who are already dead and thus not worth loading. how many patients left living does that make? twenty-four? twenty-three? you’ve lost count.

flood it with oxygen and then increase the pressure, you say to roberto.

how high do you want the pressure?

double whatever the psi is right now.

you can actually see the movement of roberto’s adam’s apple as he swallows.

hey, you say warningly.

after a second, he types in the command. you can hear the humming of the machine as the pressure increases.

you want me to pause it in intervals so the pressure doesn’t increase too fast? he says.

you have no fucking idea. no, you say. just do it.

you take out your phone and start a timer. you don’t even know how long these people should be in for, or how long the canisters will last, but you sit there with your pencil and paper, gather what you know, and get to work.

they can’t stay in for too long, because you’re terrified of one of them improving enough to wake up trapped in the dark. they’d die of a fucking heart attack, breaking into the list of the world’s top ten most miserable deaths. on the other hand, they have to stay in as long as it takes to oxygenate them, or they’ll be dead for certain. and a third consideration? if they’re in for too long, there is such a thing as oxygen poisoning. which. fucking hell.

you write out your calculations so hurriedly that you can barely read your own figures. god only knows if they’re correct. you finally come up with a number of minutes, and once that time has passed, you tell roberto to lower the pressure. in intervals this time, with pauses in between. after all this maniac effort, you’re not gonna lose anyone to the bends like they’re fucking scuba divers. no, no. you’ve entered the stage when everything is hopeful with zero basis in fact. they’re all gonna make it. every last one of them.

this is the worst part. the part when all the decisions have been made, and all you can do is stand there and wait. you abandon your paper and pencil on the floor and begin to pace like a maniac, not caring who sees you.

jack is texting to somebody on his phone, mountainous and intent, but when you pass by him, he says, homemade hyperbaric chamber.

are you supposed to feel fucking encouraged by that?

if they all die, you’re gonna have to kill me too, you mutter in a venomous undertone.

don’t make threats.

the oxygen masks arrive. turns out that only eight of them work, but at least they come with appropriately sized canisters. you instruct jack’s men on how to use the masks on the patients once they emerge from the pipe. if more than eight patients end up making it, they’ll have to rotate the masks between the patients in fifteen-minute intervals. somehow, you don’t think that will be a problem.

you can hear roberto praying quietly in the background.

time disappears, and the one thing you want most in the world is a smoke, though you can’t have it, not with all these gas canisters around. just one cigarette, that would save you. not a menthol, a sapphire. or maybe just standing partly sheltered from the wind in a spot that smells of those cigarettes, drinking half a smile over a stupid joke, you want it to be over already, you want to go home—

finally, the pipe has been completely depressurized and the patients are taken out one by one and laid out once again in their two rows. you dart forward, accidentally bashing your shoulder against an unexpected bit of machinery in the dark, and kneel beside the first one you see.

the woman is weathered and broad shouldered, somewhere in her forties, and looking as peaceful as if she’s just taking a nap. there are strands of gray in her dark hair and laugh lines in the corners of her eyes. you don’t want to check her pulse, but you do.

she’s alive.

all around you, there are footsteps padding by you, quiet words being exchanged. survivors are being laid out, men are fixing the oxygen masks on them, and somewhere in the background, roberto is trying to argue with jack, his voice pitching ever higher with every denial he’s dealt. some of the machines are being turned on in preparation for the morning’s work, great dark monsters humming and growling at each other in the dark.

this is not over. there is so much left to do. and yet, for a moment, you close your eyes and feel her pulse murmuring it into your fingertips: still here, still here.

when you were first charged with the care of these people, twenty-five of them were alive. by the time they’re carried away from the factory and you’re forced to go home, only nineteen of them are still breathing.

it’s nineteen more than you thought you could save. it’s still not enough.

when the car drops you off at your building, your eyes go to the spot where richie should be standing, but of course he’s not there. it’s morning, not his hour. why you were expecting him, you don’t know.

you want to tell him about this night more than anything, but you know you never can and you never will.

you find him laid out neatly like a log, gone cold and facing up. no blood, no wound, nobody else. at least this time they let you come and see him.

the sun comes up over the bridge and stains the cityscape as gold as good. oh, michael.

you kneel without a prayer, run your fingertips across his sweater, soft and slow as though you could still wake him up. your knuckles knock against metal, so you stop short, look down, and there it is: the gun, your gun, the ready death you try to pull from out of his fingers.

baby, let it go.

his grip goes tight, his blue eyes open slow.

the sound of your evening alarm tears you out of your dreams. you find yourself clutching at empty air so tightly that your nails leave red half-moons in your palms, and at first, you remember nothing but the feeling.

it all comes back in bits and pieces jumbled together: the little white golf cart speeding through the factory floor, the sunrise over the bridge, closed eyes above oxygen masks, the rows of bodies, richie’s eyes. you’re not gonna die and i might.

you sit up fast, fully awake. a chest-crushing certainty takes hold. all the old excuses are carried away from you like paper in the wind.

he says shit that would scare anyone into wondering if he’s okay, but then he turns around and jokes like nothing’s wrong. he has people he loves dearly, but he still comes to you for comfort that you are hardly able to provide. he has access to a gun. this time, it’ll be his own. other than that, it’s all the same as last time.

the fact that you’ve noticed the pattern is no comfort to you at all. by now, you know richie right down to the ground, from his peculiar little habits to his pet baseball peeves to his customary jewelry to the shape his mouth makes when he doesn’t want to admit that you’re funny. you know him so well.

and you’ve only ever been able to save people if they’re total strangers.

by the time richie strolls up to your building, it’s occurred to you that somewhere in the haze of grief and touch starvation and whatever words a shrink would use to describe the feeling of twenty-five lives depending on you, maybe, just maybe, you’ve gone a little fucking crazy yourself.

jack won’t return your texts or calls, so you have no idea how your patients are doing, and that is so deeply fucking upsetting that you swerve right back to richie.

maybe richie’s not deeply depressed. maybe it’s like the time—literally yesterday—when you assumed eva got hurt and psyched yourself up to request permission from old caruso for a full-on murder.

also, and this cannot be emphasized enough: you only slept for two hours.

so, mustering the last bit of mental strength left at your disposal, you head downstairs early and decide not to bring up your batshit theory unless you’ve got actual evidence that you’re right.

richie seems a surprised to find you waiting for him, and he approaches a little awkwardly, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. the sight of him alone is enough to calm you a little, the reality of his stained shirt and haggard face.

hey, you say, in your very best imitation of a normal person.

yo, he says. last night was.

yeah, you say. then, as casual as you can, you good?

he shrugs. i am if you are?

you nod. in the silence, you can feel the awkwardness draining away, so you give it a little while before you finally say say, so what’s the story, morning glory?

his nose is running a little and he’s as tired as ever, but the smile is real. you wanna see something crazy?

always.

he gets his phone out of his pocket and flips through a blur of emoji-studded texts to find the thing he’s looking for.

my buddy tim got video of this crazy fight on the l this morning. looks exactly like that one with the nerd. like, same fucking thing, i swear to god.

he turns to you and catches you watching him close, soaking him up. he’s stubble-cheeked and grinning, he’s standing solid, he’s completely fucking fine. he has to be.

what one with the nerd, you say, a little too late. noticeably too late, so you add an explanation. i didn’t get much sleep last night.

yeah, i wasn’t gonna say, but. he raises his eyebrows, tilts the words playful enough so they’re not a threat. secret agent?

you hum a bit of the james bond theme song, then point at his phone. you’re gonna have to show me the nerd one first, cause i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

you’re gonna love this, he says.

you shake your head as you get out your pack and your lighter. you have no idea what it’s gonna be, but you’re smiling already. am i actually gonna love this, or is—

no, you’re actually gonna love it, he says.

cause you remember the one with the fuckin poacher trying—

well, maybe my tastes are a little too eclectic for you, a little too avant fucking garde, but—

avant—you burst out laughing. you bruce springsteen motherfucker, don’t talk to me about avant garde.

bruce springsteen is the man, was that supposed to be an insult? before you can say a thing in your defense, he interrupts. shh, it’s starting.

you lean against the wall and watch. you’re not gonna cry, but there’s something in the way his body protects you a little extra from the wind. he’s okay. he’s okay, so you must be too.

the video turns out to be exactly the opposite of what you expected, because the nerd wins. in detail, a meathead picks a fight with a skinny little twentysomething redhead, and the redhead retaliates so fast and dirty that even the meathead’s friends seem impressed when they arrive on the scene drag the redhead off him.

right? richie says, when the video ends, supremely satisfied. it’s so funny to you that he loves that video, because between meathead and nerd, you wouldn’t have guessed him as identifying with the nerd. rather than ask him about it, you settle for a childish little poke. you’re too exhausted to do anything else.

that’s a nerd to you? you say.

he’s wearing fucking glasses, what else do you want.

everyone wears glasses, numbskull. you flick the screen with a finger. that’s not a nerd.

richie splutters. and he’s short!

everyone’s short to you.

richie half turns to you and leans a little into your personal space, looming in a way that makes him occupy your whole field of vision. you stand your ground on instinct.

yeah, you’re short to me all right, he says.

well, you’re fucking…

he’s so tall, and that’s terrible, and yet you kind of wish he was even taller so his face wouldn’t be so close to your face. there’s really nothing you can think of to say. you’ve well and truly lost the plot.

richie bursts out laughing.

…a pain in my ass, is what you are, you say. rick.

so you got no sleep last night, he says, still laughing but moving back a fraction, letting up.

you shake your head ruefully. like none.

then what are you doing vertical?

good question. technically, it’s against the rules for you to sleep while you’re on call, but at this point you’re pretty done with the carusos and their fucking rules and you really only got out of bed this morning so you could see richie.

you shrug and raise your cigarette, half hoping he gets it and half hoping he doesn’t.

he does, of course. you can tell by the way he says, go, then. go take a nap.

you should be grateful that you’ve gotten through the conversation without making an utter fool of yourself with your little conspiracy theory, but being with him right now feels so easy, you don’t want to leave it behind.

you good? you say.

i’m fucking golden, baby.

so you leave. as you wait for the elevator to come down and get you, you look back at him one last time through the glass of the apartment building’s doors. he’s standing there watching one of his videos, totally engrossed, totally delighted, his fist pressed to his mouth.

sleep should be safe for you now, right? sleep should be safe for you now.

[ chapter five ] [ masterlist ]

@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #mine #readerfic #do i know you?#the bear imagine #this chapter kicked my ass lmao. but i fought back #thank you everyone who said anything it all really fueled me <333 #diky

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