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munson-blurbs · 15 days

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Summary: Your lab partner, Eddie Munson, might be the most irritating person in your life. But when he unexpectedly comes to your rescue at a party, his chivalry is too hard to resist.

A collaboration with the absurdly talented @corroded-hellfire 🥰

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fem!Reader, enemies-to-lovers, drinking, Billy Hargrove being a douche, fighting, blood, praise, fingering, accidental voyeurism if you squint, unprotected p in v, fluff because Red & I are some corny motherfuckers

Thank you @blueywrites for your idea that upped the spice 🌶️🌶️ Divider credit to @saradika

“Okay, so we need to mix the magnesium with hydrochloric acid,” you start, carefully measuring each substance and pouring them into a test tube, “and then we light the splint and see if it creates a squeaking noise.”

“Right,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “And, uh, why are we doing this, exactly?”

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. Eddie getting under your skin is bad enough, but if he knew how much he annoyed you, he’d likely double down.

“We’re testing for the presence of oxygen,” you say with as much patience as you can muster. “And you need to wear safety goggles.”

He rolls his eyes and mimics you in a high-pitched and highly unflattering tone. “You need to wear safety goggles.”

He reaches for the matches, but you pull them away before he can grab them.

“I’m serious.”

Eddie scoffs. “Please. We’re not even blowing shit up. Besides, I have a gig tonight, and I’m not getting on stage with goggle marks on my face.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the difference between your shitty band getting a record deal or not.”

“Whatever.” But he begrudgingly snaps on the protective gear, and you hand over the matchbox and the splint.

“So just li—seriously?” You watch, dumbfounded, as Eddie strikes a match and uses it to light the cigarette perched between his lips. Where had he kept it this whole time?

“What?” He asks with a smirk. “There’s, like, a million of these left. I’ll use the next one for the experiment thingy.”

He doesn’t get that far; Ms. O’Donnell marches over and yanks out the cigarette, snuffs it in the tray, and orders him to the principal’s office.

Leaving you to complete your work alone. Again.

Last week, it was because he’d kicked his feet up on the table and took a swig of Mountain Dew from a beaker. The week before, he’d blown up a rubber glove like a balloon and popped it right in Jason Carver’s ear, causing him to shatter a test tube on the ground.

You often felt more like a babysitter than a lab partner.

What you needed was a night out, so the party Steve Harrington was throwing tonight could not come any sooner. It wasn’t your usual scene, but all of your friends were going, and it certainly beat raiding your parents’ liquor cabinet alone.

Music blasts from an overpriced stereo system as you pull up to Steve’s house. Barely audible over the reverberating bass is the sound of drunken cheering as someone does a kegstand. You sigh, plaster a smile on your face, and make a beeline for the punch bowl.

Heather Holloway ladles jungle juice into an already pink-stained cup; you’re grateful for at least one kind face in a sea of Hawkins High students and recent graduates.

“Heather, hi!” You smile at her, plucking a new cup from the stack and filling it nearly to the brim. “How’s college?”

Heather takes a sip, wrinkling her nose at the vodka’s pungency. “Way better than high school,” she says with a laugh. “I’m taking an intro to biochem, and my lab partner actually shows up.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast. “Maybe you could take mine. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

She laughs. “Can’t be worse than when I was stuck with The Freak last year. He never showed up to class.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And Ginny Anderson was his lab partner during his first senior year, and he pulled the same shit.”

Lucky them, you think wryly. Guess he decided to be a star student for his third go-around.

Frat boy-style cheering echoes from behind you and when you spin around you see Billy Hargrove strutting through the crowd, towards the kitchen. He throws a wink to a few girls and slaps five to one of the guys on the basketball team. If he’s coming into the kitchen, it’s the last place you want to be.

The living room is smoky and loud, but it beats getting stuck next to the booze with a jackass like Hargrove. Every thump of the bass has the little sips of alcohol you’ve taken sloshing around in your stomach. It’s hard to tell where you’re going or even what direction you’re going with so many people, so you just keep wading through groups until finally you come upon some space to breathe.

Unfortunately, this space brings you right back to where you began: in front of the kitchen. Just in time for Billy to sidle up next to you, the scent of whiskey and tangy cologne wafting off of him in waves.

“Where have you been all my life?” he asks, as if it’s supposed to be charming instead of nausea-inducing.

“Was better a second ago,” you mumble, not caring if he hears you or not. But when you move to step away from the blonde, the smarmy look slips from his too-pretty face and is replaced with a mask of set determination.

Strong fingers curl around your wrist, just tight enough to cause the barest amount of pain. The audacity and possessiveness are what piss you off the most, though.

A gentle tug of your arm does nothing to free it from his grip, so you try a little harder. Still nothing.

“Let go,” you seethe. The words are biting, but you’re a chihuahua up against a doberman.

Somehow, above your pulse pounding in your ears and the music thumping throughout the large house, you hear the distinct clang of a metal lunchbox snap shut and heavy boots on polished wood floors headed in your direction.

You sense Eddie over your shoulder before he appears in your peripheral vision. A moment hangs in the air where he and Billy stare at one another, and you watch them both, unsure of what is about to happen.

Eddie steels his jaw, unmoving. “Let her go,” he says, a slight rasp in his tone.

The jock remains unfazed, unthreatened. “Shouldn’t you be worshiping Satan’s asshole, Freak?”

“Shouldn’t you be worshiping Tommy’s? Or does he only worship yours?”

A cacophony of laughter stirs up an anger inside of Billy. He grabs Eddie by the jacket collar and slams him against the counter. “If you don’t fuck off in the next three seconds, I’ll kick you ass so hard that your uncle won’t even be able to identify your body.”

Eddie smirks. “One…two—”

Billy’s fist crashes into Eddie’s cheek with a sickening crack. Eddie returns with a punch to Billy’s abdomen, but not before his face sustains a few more hits.

Shock loosens its grasp on you and you call out for help, knowing it’s no use getting in the middle of their brawl. Someone—Tommy H, maybe—is chanting “fight!” and it takes all of your willpower not to clock him yourself.

Billy finally lets up when Eddie falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony. “Maybe next time, you’ll mind your fucking business,” he spits through his split lip—one of the few punches Eddie managed to land.

His smarminess is enough to provoke a reflexive response in you. As he gloats, you deliver a swift kick square to his crotch. A choked whine slips from Billy’s parted lips as he doubles over. You snort a laugh to yourself thinking about how the dumbbell is probably going to spin this story so he doesn’t seem like any less than the King of Hawkins High in front of his fellow party-goers. He’ll never be able to take away your satisfaction at using a pair of your nicest shoes to crush Billy’s balls though.

Eddie is still on the ground, wiping blood that’s trickled out of his right nostril onto the back of his sleeve. Turning your back to Billy, you bend down and offer your hand to Eddie. He accepts it with a weak smile and you help him to his feet.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eddie says with a shrug and a sad smile that knots your stomach. He’s been hurt worse than this?

Unable to follow that train of thought, you reach out and slip your hand into Eddie’s. You give a small tug and he readily follows you down the hall of the Harrington home, the thumping beat of the bass becoming softer the further you walk.

In the back corner of the house you manage to find a bathroom that’s not occupied by someone puking the mixture of alcohol they’ve consumed or a couple hooking up, going at it like wild animals. This one looks like it’s been hardly touched all night and you click the lock into place once you and Eddie are inside.

Eddie takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, his calloused fingers coming up to gently touch the gash right across his chin. He winces at the tenderness of the wound while you crouch down and look in the cabinets underneath the sink for a first aid kit.

“Ah, here we are,” you announce as you pull out the small white box with the red cross on it. On your knees, you shuffle over towards Eddie and slide the kit along with you. “It’s not so bad,” you tell Eddie as you dab some rubbing alcohol on a small swath of gauze. “The face just bleeds more because—”

“Because the blood vessels in the face are so close to the skin,” Eddie finishes for you.

“Wow,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “I’m impressed.”

“We are in the same science class, you know,” Eddie teases with a playful smirk. It quickly turns to a grimace though as you begin to dab at his wounds.

“I thought I recognized you from the seat next to mine,” you joke back. There’s silence for a few moments while you clean off all the excess blood and bandage up the open cuts. “Why are you suddenly interested in science this year? I mean, I was talking to Heather before and she said you never showed up when you were her lab partner. So, what? Renewed attempt to graduate?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. He avoids your eyes and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

“Got the hots for O’Donnell?”

He belly laughs at that thought, grimacing at the pain it causes. “Fuck, no!” He shakes his head. “She looks like a walrus and a naked mole rat had some sort of freaky baby.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”

“You were the one who suggested I’m into her,” Eddie rebutted, and fairly so.

“I didn’t make you compare her to a—”

A loud crash stops you mid-sentence, followed by someone drunkenly lamenting, “not the punch!”

“We’re probably safer hiding out in here for a bit,” Eddie says softly, “unless you want to volunteer to clean up whatever mess they made.”

“I think cleaning up your mess is more than enough for tonight.” To punctuate your point, you swipe a clean piece of gauze over a small cut you’d previously missed. “Besides, I wanna know what’s suddenly got you showing up to class.”

Eddie’s eyes roam your body far more conspicuously than he’d like, but the attention fills you with a newfound warmth. “You.” He snorts out a little laugh, startling you slightly. “Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought.”

“W-Wait.” You fight off the embarrassment that accompanies your stuttered words. “I’m the reason …?”

He noticed your reaction, mistaking disbelief for discomfort. “Does that make things…does that make you feel weird?” Nerves marr whatever joking tone he was trying to convey.

All you can do is shake your head. “No. It makes things…good.” Good insufficiently describes your reaction, though part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s a prank, his way of getting back at you for—

A hooked finger in the belt loop of your jeans snags your attention, Eddie gently tugging you closer to him. “And now?”

“Still good. Better, actually.” Resting one hand on his sore chest, you lean in and add, “will it hurt if I kiss you?”

“Don’t care.”

Despite him not caring, you certainly care if you’re going to hurt him or not. Your mouth moves slowly towards his, lips just barely brushing against each other as your breaths co-mingle. It’s not enough for Eddie though, and he presses his lips against yours with more force, stealing the air from your lungs as your body melts against his. The back bathroom at the Harrington household is not something you would’ve considered romantic before, but right now it’s the only place you want to be. Tucked away in the corner with Eddie, trading explorative kisses as your hands roam each other's bodies.

Your body buzzes when Eddie’s tongue sweeps against yours, heat immediately pooling between your legs.

Instinctively, gingerly, you press your torso to his, one trembling finger hooking into his belt loop. A moan escapes you, soft but saturated with need. Eddie clocks it immediately.

“Mhm.” His smile threatens to break the kiss. “That’s it.”

You feel the button of your jeans unfasten, the sound of unzipping music to your ears. His hand slips between the denim and the newly exposed lace of your panties, grin widening when it reaches the damp patch.

Eddie’s hardness strains against the confines of his own pants, and you rush to relieve that ache. His exhale when you touch him—over his boxers, but not as gently as he touches you—makes you even wetter.

“Gotta have you.” He toys with your waistband but doesn’t explore further until he hears your ‘yes,’ pathetic and whimpering but consent nonetheless. “Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver coursing through you.

The pads of his fingertips find your clit without struggle, rubbing precise circles over it that have you groaning his name. “Every time you say my name from now on,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna think about this.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” It’s part taunt and part truth; only his name is on your mind. Your back arches against the sink, porcelain digging into your skin, but you barely notice.

One strong hand reaches for the strap of your tank top, pulling it down so harshly that the fabric tears. He mutters a soft swear, tugs the rest of the shirt down until your bra is completely visible.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie kisses your chest, groaning when the sensation of his lips causes you to squeeze his throbbing cock. “Careful, or I’ll—”

He’s interrupted by the door swinging wide open, Billy and Heather wrapped around each other in drunken lust. Billy’s eyes widen, their blueness dulled from the liquor, when he sees that the bathroom is currently occupied—and by whom.

The intrusion startles you as well, but you’re much quicker at recovering than the inebriated asshole gaping at you from the doorway.

“Get the fuck out!” you hiss.

Heather turns her head to look in your direction, as if she hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the bathroom until you’d spoken up. It’s clear she’s had quite a few more drinks since you’d seen her in the kitchen.

Whether it’s the alcohol, the shock, or his own stupidity, Billy doesn’t make a move towards leaving, let alone tug Heather along with him. The blonde shakes a few curls out of his eyes, causing Heather to reach up and twirl one around her finger.

“Jesus Christ, is this douche even capable of hearing a woman if she isn’t moaning his name?” Eddie mutters to you before rounding on the drunken pair and raising his voice. “The lady said out. Now.”

Something finally snaps Billy out of his dazed state and he curls his lip, giving the two of you a half-hearted sneer. He pulls Heather out of the doorway so quickly that it looks like she gets whiplash as he slams the door closed behind them.

Eddie leans over and locks the door, giving the knob a twist for good measure. “Do me a favor, honey?” His voice is a ribbon of silk down your spine. “Turn around so you’re facing the mirror.”

You do as he says, hands planted on the sink ledge. Your shirt is torn, make-up smudged, and you’re out of breath from the impromptu make out session. Ducking your head, you’re determined to avoid your reflection until tobacco-scented words tickle your ear from behind.

“Be a good girl and look at yourself while I fuck you.” Eddie moves your thong over, exposing your pussy, and exhales with a tremble. His middle finger glides over your folds before pushing into you slowly. “You got wetter when I called you a good girl, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” you manage, stifling a moan as his ring finger joins his middle.

A teasing pout graces Eddie’s lips. “Such a good girl. And only for me.”

“Only for you,” you echo.

He taps the head of his cock on your bare ass, leaving drops of pre-cum in his wake. “Gotta be inside you,” he growls. “Gotta fuckin’ feel what a good girl you are.”

The sensation of his cock dragging down along your folds mixed with him knowing just what to say to get you squirming has you dropping your head forward with a soft whimper. A strong, calloused hand quickly finds its way up to your throat though, and presses with just enough pressure to remind you that you’re supposed to be looking at yourself in the mirror.

When you lift your head, you’re greeted by the sight of a smirking Eddie behind you in the mirror.

“Atta girl,” he praises.

At a torturously slow pace, Eddie begins to push inside of you. A guttural groan slips past your gritted teeth as he stretches your walls, the pleasure causing you to curl your toes inside your shoes.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out before pulling his hips back. “Pussy’s even tighter than I imagined.”

The mental image of Eddie laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of you is enough to make your knees weak. They can’t buckle too much; Eddie has one hand gripping you tight and the other trailing down to your clit. Each deliberate circle is punctuated by a thrust, pleasure from every angle.

He kisses your shoulder blade, groaning when you tighten around him. “Look at yourself,” he growls his reminder. “Look how beautiful you are, all fucked out like this.”

You catch another glimpse; this time, you see Eddie’s lust-filled expression along with your own. He’s even further gone than you are, so focused on burying himself within you to care about the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead or the way his teeth dig into his lower lip.

“Say it.” His voice is half-commanding, half-pleading.

“S-Say what?” Each word is a struggle, your orgasm building to a peak you’d never before reached.

“That you’re beautiful.” He tugs you even closer to him, and there’s no mistaking his dominance for anything else. “So—goddamn—beautiful.”

You follow his order without a second thought. “I’m b-beautiful, all fucked out like th-this.”

Eddie’s hips snap against the plush of your ass at a frenetic pace. “That’s it; that’s my good girl.” Not a good girl, you note. His good girl.

One hand atop his, desperate for as much contact as possible, you moan: “your good girl.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything is you—you and him together, and it drives him to the edge. “You…you gotta…’m so close,” he rambles.

“Me, too.” Panting breaths mingle with his groans, your walls tightening around him as you come. It’s so much, so intense, and tears cloud your vision resulting from the overwhelming bliss. “Eddie, oh, Eddie.”

He spills into you with a cry of your name. “H-ohmygod, holy fuckin’ shit.” His thrusts don’t stop until every last drop of his cum is inside you.

Eddie’s chest presses against your back, but he’s careful not to put all his weight on you. The feeling of him so solid and warm behind lulls you from pure ecstasy to warm contentment, not wanting to move out from beneath him.

A few silent moments pass before Eddie pulls out of you, both of you disappointed by the loss of contact. But Eddie’s hands refuse to let you go entirely, gently running over your hips and up your sides. The touch is featherlight and sends a comforting tingle throughout your limbs.

“You with me?” Eddie’s worn-out voice asks you.

“Mhmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. “Don’t wanna move.”

Eddie gives a husky chuckle in reply before he stands up, reluctantly taking a step away from you. Your own muscles whine in protest as you stand straight, the tell-tale signs of a good fucking already settling in.

The two of you begin to clean up, each slipping back into articles of clothing along the way. One question prickles the back of your mind in the quiet room and you know your brain won’t be able to rest until it has an answer.

“Uh, Eddie?” you ask once you’ve cleaned up your smeared lipstick.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still going to come to class? Or, you know, now that you’ve had me you won’t have a reason to anymore?” You try to hide the insecurity in your tone but there was no mistaking the slight edge your words had.

Eddie pauses mid-buckling his belt and gives you a frown.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says and the nickname alone already has your engine revving for a round two. “I wouldn’t sit through O’Donnell’s class for someone I only wanted to fuck. If I’m gonna listen to that hag drone on and on then there’s a damn good reason I’m sitting my ass in that classroom.” With a sigh, Eddie steps closer to you and after a moment’s hesitation, cups your face in his hands. “Can I take you out? Do things, ya know, the right way?”

A little trill of a giggle bursts out of you, which makes Eddie frown. But you’re quick to let him in on what you found amusing.

“You mean having sex in a bathroom at Steve Harrington’s house isn’t the typical way romances start?”

A grin slowly slides across Eddie’s mouth and you swear it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. All you want to do is keep that smile on his handsome face as much as you possibly can.

“A romance, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “If I’d known that’s what this was, I would’ve at least fucked you in a guest room.”

You let your fingers brush over the fly of his jeans, feeling a gentle twitch from behind the zipper. “How about for round two?”

Eddie holds your face in his hands as he kisses you deeply, only breaking it to smile and murmur:

“You read my mind, Beautiful.”

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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macsimagines · 5 months

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Izana, Kisaki + Mikey finding their girlfriend sleeping in one of their shirts, like willingly? 🧡

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR, NEGLECT, MENTION OF KIDNAPPING

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

It started off with him kind of... not letting you leave his place. You came over for a late night booty call, and instead of demanding you get out of his face he wouldn't let you go that night.

Come the next morning and you wake up before him and you decide to dip before he can wake up and tell you to fuck off. Izana has never been overtly affectionate with you and you don't want to push him too far afterall.

But then you get a call later that day and he sounds...off.

"Hello-," "Just where the fuck are you, Y/N?" "O-oh? I woke up and left?" You tell him and you're so caught off guard by the slight annoyance in his voice what could you have done wrong?

"Why?"

And that throws you completely off. "Wasn't I supposed to?"

He doesn't answer. Just hangs up and you're left wondering what the hell happened, but you just shrug it off as maybe him not liking that one of his possessions left without permission...

The next time you two hookup, its the same thing. He's not trying to let you leave, and so you sleep over naked and just plan on wearing the same clothes you came in tomorrow. Except...

"I want you here when I get back, Y/N." He tells you before he leaves the next morning. And for whatever reason that look in his eyes means not to test him so you just sit around and wait for him all day.

But your clothes are kind of uncomfortable and its getting so laaaate. Izana wouldn't mind you borrowing one of his shirts right?

He really doesn't come back until 1am, and he's very happy you listened like a good girl, and even happier to see you dressed in one of his shirts while you sleep.

Izana thinks that he probably won't have to get your clothes from your old place. You could just use his. Ya. That'll be fine. Its his gift to you, for finally moving in with him where you belong.

Yandere!Kisaki Tetta

You're a true fucking brat. No really, you've somehow become the single biggest pain in the ass he's ever had to deal with. You throw out everything he buys you, you scream and demand your freedom at every turn, you're constantly trying to escape him...

But he loves you, really and truly adores you, and you're not going anywhere now that he's got you locked in his penthouse. He won't make the same mistake, he's going to keep this one alive. You'll just have to learn to love him.

Oh but your latest tantrum has him rethinking it all. You set fire to the apartment, burning all the clothes he bought you in the bathtub and almost getting the cops called.

But he was smart, smoothed over the situation and had you sedated before you could throw an even bigger fit. Honestly, some small part of him doesn't think you're worth the trouble but he comes home the next day and those thoughts are all dashed.

You're laying in one of his silk shirts, bundled into the sheets so sweetly he thinks he can feel his heart actually ache at the sight of you.

You're so precious, and perfect to him. "That was expensive," he'll try to say dismissively, he doesn't want you to think he's forgiven you for your little fit just yet, "I burned all the other ugly stuff you got me. At least your clothes are comfortable." "..."

He won't say anything after that, but he does make a mental note that perhaps the Gucci and the Balenciaga are probably not to your tastes. He should just get you things in the same style as him. Couples matching outfits could be nice.

Yandere!Manjiro Sano

Douchebag does not let you wear clothes he does not approve of. You belong to him and every aspect of your life belongs to him too, even what you wear.

And sometimes it's fine. Sometimes he's not around and you don't have to wear the skimpy dresses and designer shoes that hurt, sometimes you get to be comfortable and just chill out in your pajamas.

But you got too comfortable. He'd been gone for weeks again, because Micky comes and goes as he pleases, so you thought your usual fits would be fine.

Then he returns and for some reason he's pissed. It could be because the cops are on his ass, something didn't go his way or maybe his underlings were pissing him off, but for whatever reason for his rage he's decided he's going to take it out on you.

"What, Y/N? All the money I spend on nice clothes not good enough? You don't like the pretty thing I buy you?" "M-Mikey please-," "Too fuckin' good for the shit I give you?"

You're stripped bare and naked. For days. If you won't wear what he so graciously and lovingly gives you then you don't get to wear anything. And you're just shivering cold for a week straight trying to curl in yourself for any kind of warmth and comfort.

But after seven days of this hell you can't take it anymore. He doesn't even let you have sheets or blankets in your room anymore how the hell are you supposed to survive.

Thankfully, you find one of his discarded sweaters near the bed you two share and through it on without a second thought. You're nauseated because it still smells like him, but you can't bring yourself to take it off and be cold again.

You just snuggle into the fabric and finally find enough warmth and comfort to sleep that night. When Mikey comes home and sees you he realizes he's no longer angry. In fact, he's more than pleased.

"You just wanted to wear my clothes this whole time? That's fine. We'll share a wardrobe."

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere manjiro sano #yandere mikey sano #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere izana #yandere tetta kisaki

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mistydeyes · 4 months

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the boys during medical residency

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summary: we've seen the boys on the field but how would they deal on the other side of battle: in the medical field?

pairing: none!

warnings: swearing, medical descriptions

a/n: just a lil something something as i'm working on a few requests, wips, and preparing for my hospital rotation on monday!

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price

specialty: general surgery

the long hours or sudden calls don’t get to him bc this man never sleeps

"Price, sorry it's late but-" "I'll be right in"

no one knows how he does it but rumor has it he can be ready and over at the hospital in 20 minutes tops

maybe he's just the king of multitasking

a great educator for his fellow medical professionals and patients

he can make a procedure sound like a walk in the park with his soft smile and reassuring words

in fact, the new intern mistook him for a senior doctor when they first met him

that boosted his ego and made the early mornings even more worth it

once he's in the operating room, he is fully focused and locked in

regardless of the surgeon's choice of music for that day, price is ready to go and immediately steps in when its time

speaking of which, his stitches are textbook, perfectly aligned, high tensile strength, and with no tissue reaction

always has everything prepared for handoff to the night resident

this man is READY to leave once he sees his co-resident enter the ward

he gives the most essential run down (he's just tired, not sloppy) and he gets the hell out of there

soap

specialty: pediatrics

most people think pediatrics are straight forward but actually you need to have some creativity

that’s where soap comes in

a child needs to take a respiratory test but is having trouble? think of it like you’re blowing birthday candles

a child doesn’t understand why they need to have their operation? time to pull out dolls and teddy bears to show how the doctors are gonna make them better

he always shows up no matter how early or late with a smile on his face

easily the kids’ favorite resident (he’s the first person most ask to sign their cast)

hates pre-rounds, he wants to get right in and see the patient's and families for the day

despite this, the other senior and junior residents (even the interns) have to remind him that it is essential to have a plan

when he's finally let loose is able to round, he has a field day walking down the hall

you just know all the attendings and nurses have to keep it a secret that he's working the night shift

or else they'll have a full floor of excited kids waiting to chat when he comes in during rounds

gaz

specialty: physical medicine and rehabilitation

the absolute king of finding resources

he'll whip out a full pdf study guide on spinal cord injury treatment and leave you questioning if he made this or found it online

also has one of those pocket guides that sums up everything you learn in med school

he's always there to help out those in the same boat

has such a steady hand when it comes to injections for spascicity

always has a terrible joke when he sees someone is receiving botulinum toxin

"You're basically receiving a less cool botox treatment"

despite his corny jokes, the residents, especially the geriatric ones, love him

has a friendly demeanor when collecting a patient's history, they simply feel like its a conversation and they'll tell him everything

he loves when people report sport accidents but still say they'll go back to it when they're better

he appreciates the dedication fr

also great at communicating with patient's and giving them detailed instructions to follow before their next visit

but his favorite part of the job? the diversity of the patient's he sees

PM&R is such a unique speciality that you'll see patients with a variety of injuries from all walks of life

this man truly thrives on his adaptability to educate and treat whatever patient the hospital throws to him

ghost

speciality: emergency medicine

sign-out in the morning is always the most awkward with him

as the nurse gives him a run-down of his patients, he'll just stare and occasionally nod to show he's following

"That all?" is his go-to way to end the conversation and actually begin the day's work

despite his quiet demeanor, he'll go through the motions beautifully for any emergency

easily the attending's favorite because he requires no further instruction and keeps a level head given the hectic nature of the room

since he's the attending's favorite, he's the intern's nightmare with his constant stares and the overwhelming presence he gives

"Am I doing something wrong, Simon?" the intern asks as she preps a central line and he just shakes his head, "Personally not how I would do it but go ahead."

this motherfucker

despite this, everyone admits no one deserves the title of "chief resident" more than him

he's not necessarily the best in the "educating others" department but he's sure to give a good explanation if needed

just know he's not happy about it

but if you survive the infamous ghost of the emergency department, you're on the path to success

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krashlite · 2 months

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I think that c!Jimmy liked being a Bad Boy and a Big Dog because for once in this series a role let him be reckless without being mocked/put down by his allies and without truly harming anyone through the risks he took. In this essay I will explore his character through this lens

Jimmy is an extremely optimistic character, almost always seen smiling and laughing about whatever’s going on. Not in the sense that he laughs when he’s nervous, but in the sense that he makes light of whatever scenario he’s in. On a deeper level, this also translates into overconfidence in a glass-half-full type of way. If there’s a chance a plan could go south, he only focuses on the potential benefit. If there’s a chance he loses a fight, he only focuses on winning

This isn’t to say he’s unaware of negative outcomes, he just chooses to ignore them. The result is him making poor decisions over, and over, and over again. Jimmy knows exactly why he did that but from an outside perspective he’s regarded as stupid

This is seen as early as 3rd life, with Scott practically putting him on a leash to stop him from fighting Ren and his army. Specifically when they manage to chase Dogwarts away from Joel’s base, Jimmy goes to give chase and Scott immediately stops him. They’ve won, and he doesn’t understand why Jimmy would push it further. Jimmy, on the other hand, is thinking about how they’ve been chased across the map like rabbits and knows DW will be back unless they establish themselves as a threat. Now’s the perfect time, since they have the upper hand

But again, Scott doesn’t see this. In his mind, the battle is won and they shouldn’t expend more time, energy, or resources on it. Ultimately he doesn’t want to see Jimmy hurt and believes that restricting what Jimmy does will protect him from harm

I think this shows a fundamental difference in how they interact with the world. Scott’s more practical- he only does what he feels is necessary and is humble enough to know when the risk isn’t worth the reward. Jimmy, on the other hand, wants to test the limits and see what he’s able to accomplish through, once again, taking unnecessary risks.

But this is where things get messy

Again, there is a fundamental difference in their thought processes. This causes them to clash, and since Scott is the one who held more “power” in the relationship (being the one to decide many aspects of their base and being the one to make most deals and plans for the both of them), resulted in Scott putting Jimmy down A Lot. This started with Jimmy returning from the desert without several of the armor pieces he left with and continued throughout the war.

Jimmy, in response to this treatment, started acting More reckless as a means to prove himself. He wanted to be seen as just as strong, smart, and capable as the people around him. Ultimately, he wanted to be respected in his own right, and that didn’t really happen this season!

Nor did it happen in LL,

LL was an entire mess for so many reasons and most of it was due to the game mechanic itself. Lives being treated as currency caused rifts in many alliances, especially the Southlands

This coupled with the fact that Jimmy is already back in 3L habits, trying to prove himself constantly, makes an incredibly messy situation. His efforts in monopolizing sugar cane are downplayed and mocked, he spends so much time getting spyglasses just for Mumbo to lose them. These are meant to be harmless jokes (and really, they are) but Jimmy’s coming off of an unbalanced power dynamic and a tiny bit of it eats away at him and he can’t figure out Why.

Jimmy doesn’t understand why he doesn’t feel valued in the team, so he starts looking at arbitrary reasons Why. The reason he settles on is the life count, with Grian’s death making it known that Yellow-Names are on the brink of being exiled.

This comes back to the game mechanic. Jimmy sees Martyn with four lives, with the ability to either a) bring Grian back to Yellow or b) offer a Yellow-Name in the alliance a life to keep them safe, and Martyn Doesn’t. This tells Jimmy that Martyn either doesn’t trust him or doesn’t value him enough to even attempt to protect him

I think this was even voiced a couple of times during LL, with Martyn closely guarding his lives and finding every reason he could to justify it (he was fully in the right for keeping them, even if doing so hurt others). Jimmy backed off, but there was just a small amount of bitterness that lingered

With Martyn, I think Jimmy picked up on the fact that Martyn was more concerned with protecting his Alliance than the people in it. He needed a group around him, but wasn’t terribly concerned with them otherwise

And that’s what fueled his decision to steal the life. If Martyn doesn’t respect him, if he doesn’t trust him, if he doesn’t care enough to protect him, why should Jimmy do the same. Why should he be a human shield for someone who barely looks his way. Impulse and Mumbo could stay if they wanted, but he wasn’t going to

Which makes it hurt so much more when Martyn asks to run away with him, when Martyn says he cares about Jimmy more than anyone else in the alliance. I want to remind you, Jimmy’s an optimist. He looks at the half-full cup. He doesn’t consider Martyn could be lying because he wanted so badly to just be Seen. So Jimmy gives it back

As it turns out, Martyn was lying. He calls him an idiot, and Jimmy is exiled immediately

All the resolve that Jimmy had in stealing the life crumbles then and there. He starts hanging around the Southlands alliance like a lost puppy, basically begging them to take him back. Martyn’s little ruse inadvertently showed Jimmy that, really, all he wanted is to be valued and supported. The life counts stops being an issue because he’s able to recognize the real issue- he feels undervalued and he feels stupid

That’s a factor even after the Southlands reunites, after he’s almost unanimously voted back in but Grian’s insistent on a recount. I think it’s the main reason why he’s so risky when he goes down to red- with him falling for a trap that he easily could have avoided

Again, it’s the same as 3L. He feels disrespected and undervalued so he takes unnecessary risks in order to prove to himself and to others that he’s just as strong, just as smart, and just as capable as they are.

This is later coupled with Mumbo’s extreme bloodlust when he turns Red. On Red, Mumbo was needlessly violent and is basically the only Red to swing at anything that moved. And I do mean Needlessly violent, he got himself and others into several dicey scenarios because he was impulsive and wanted to Stab. He gave the server a reason to be cautious of Mumbo and any other Red-Name. If Mumbo was a loose cannon, how would others be?

Except Mumbo was only aggressive towards Non-Reds (obviously) and was otherwise supportive of those on his side

I think this actually greatly influenced Skizz’s decision to leave BEST behind, with him seeing Mumbo as someone worth defending/standing by. Not only was he a visibly strong ally with a reputation, he genuinely cared for and supported those who were at his side. In Skizz’s case, he offered a source of stability where BEST couldn’t, and I think the same is true for Jimmy.

Jimmy sees this, and sees Mumbo as someone who can both show him how to be dangerous and respect his abilities in this game. Mumbo was respected as a threat and genuinely cared for those in his company. So he’s the perfect ally, right?

Actually, no, and this isn’t where the Skizz comparison ends either. Remember, Mumbo created the reputation that Reds are a worthy threat and that they’re violent without cause (“oh but what about Joel?” Joel was a joke at best and an annoyance at worst. He I think he definitely did influence Mumbo’s actions but that’s another essay entirely). Mumbo influenced Skizz’s aggression this season, with him becoming more bold in who he threatened or even attacked

So how does this compare to Jimmy? Both of them were coming off of alliances where they were unsupported, so they leaned more into Mumbo’s habits- good and bad. Except they didn’t really see it. Good traits were associated with Mumbo, their friend, and bad traits were associated with their shared condition, their Red-Life.

The plan to trap the bunker played on both, but was coupled with Jimmy’s bad habit of shooting for the best possible outcome. Mumbo had previously turned tail and ran whenever a plan went south, but that’s not how Jimmy is. Jimmy only focuses on the possible gain and ignores possible dangers. When the trap didn’t set off, he insisted on pushing Grian into it. And that actually goes back to him trying to chase Ren’s army- he didn’t know when to call it quits

And of course this causes both of their deaths. To Jimmy, his death caused Mumbo’s. He caused the death of the one ally who actually stood by him. I think this is when he fully internalizes criticism from 3L and LL as a whole. He feels weak, he feels stupid, he doesn’t feel nearly as capable as those around him.

And this carries into DL

Except DL was a much different season than the previous two. The soulmate mechanic in DL meant that you and your ally have to rely on each other, you have to support each other because failing to do so will surely spell your doom

Not only that, but Jimmy was finally paired with a supportive ally from the start. They made their base together because they trusted the other to build more than they trusted themself. When Jimmy came back with cows, Tango’s immediate response was to exclaim “you’re amazing!!!” Instead of criticizing him like previous alliances had- even back in 3L!! This is the first time Jimmy got a fully positive response to his efforts. Tango was overwhelmingly supportive towards Jimmy and Jimmy returned the favor. The base didn’t look perfect, but it was theirs. The server didn’t want them to have a horn so they devised a plan to get one.

Tango had also been following a similar arc up until now- with him being undervalued by his alliances. Except in those alliances, he was pushed to the side or physically harmed instead of being an object of ridicule. I think this is part of why it isn’t really out of place for them to meet through dying. Tango was expecting to be harmed and so was Jimmy, so neither of them blame the other

With Tango being pushed to the side, he also shied away from leadership positions, finding it more comfortable to follow. This paired well with how Jimmy typically takes charge of things, with Jimmy making most plans for the both of them (most, not all)

But again, this is where things get messy

Remember, Jimmy uses risks to prove his worth. He wants to see what he can do, but is also still recovering from previous seasons. He still thinks he’s the reason why him and Mumbo died, and doesn’t want to cause the death another ally, especially one who loves him. Instead of staying careful, he devises a plan to steal livestock, to steal Scar’s horse. It’s for the ranch, it’s for Tango

I think Jimmy realizes the problem when the Ranch is burned. He’s forced to confront this when he sees Tango fly into a rage and almost try to fight a group of people he’d surely lose to. Jimmy cannot be reckless here, he has to talk Tango down from the proverbial ledge.

With this, the roles end up reversing, with Tango being the reckless one and Jimmy trying to steer him to be more tactical. And Jimmy is So careful about this too, not wanting to act like Scott or the Southlands. Because of that he never actually tells Tango no on his dangerous plans- ESPECIALLY the plan to release Rancher’s Revenge, the warden- but instead suggests ways to make the plan better

The dilemma here is that Jimmy needs to choose between being risky and being safe. Both would benefit Tango, except Jimmy knows from experience how much it hurts to be bound in bubble-wrap all the time

Jimmy sees no way to avoid risks without hurting Tango. So instead of fighting against that part of himself, Jimmy leans into it. He accepts it as a key tenet of his identity, even as it puts the both of them in harms way. Yes they went down in the end, but they went down together, Always Together.

It didn’t matter if Jimmy was a “worthy” ally, he didn’t need to be Smart, he didn’t need to be Strong, he didn’t even need to be Capable. He learned that he deserved love not in spite of his flaws, but alongside his flaws.

And this is the lesson he carries into the next two Seasons, with both alliances being fully centered on being reckless

The Bad Boys acted dangerously, but they acted as a unit- ESPECIALLY him and Joel. Bad Boys dig straight down, Bad Boys water bucket clutch from the build limit, Bad Boys care about each other not in spite of endangering themselves, but because of it

And this is because Joel had a nearly identical arc. Joel in previous seasons had a habit of acting recklessly in the same way Jimmy did, and was cast aside because of it. In 3L he ended up a Lone Wolf, in LL he was forced into a position where he’s the villain, and in DL he and Etho leaned into the danger in the same way Jimmy and Tango did. Their stories run parallel so it only makes sense that they’re the ones who end up supporting each other in LimL

And Joel was Jimmy’s main source of support that season, with Grian representing the criticism of previous seasons. This gave Jimmy the ability to confront said criticisms through, again, leaning into them. He did something stupid? Yes, but him and Joel were having fun. A plan went south because of unnecessary risks? Yes, but Joel was being risky with him. Joel gave Jimmy the ability to basically cut through the aforementioned “bubble wrap” Grian was trying to put around them

And I think it’s also important to mention Grian did this out of both love and cowardice, not malice. Ultimately he didn’t want to lose either of them and was trying to keep them alive longer. But because Grian never learned the lesson they did- that it’s more important to act together than to survive alone- Grian chooses survival and ends up alone.

Anyways, recklessness being the foundation of Jimmy’s alliances carries into SL as well

Jimmy was on the brink of death for almost the entire season, man was not thriving whatsoever and that was known. Funnily enough, he ends up with Martyn, who again was previously more concerned with his own safety than the people around him

But Martyn is just coming off of a victory, of finally achieving the very thing he’d been working towards and the thing he centered his motivations on. Without that goal, he’s left with his methods- which was mostly having dangerous ideas and seeing them through

With Jimmy, Martyn introduced plans that involved them being risky and in everyone else’s faces. This, to Jimmy, echoed both Joel and Tango’s behavior. He was able to fully settle into the fact that, for him, good things come from being reckless, from shooting for the best possible outcome and refusing to back down

Jimmy maintains his optimism and his recklessness, traits that had previously been challenged but traits he stubbornly holds onto and values in his Life

#someone pointed out that the only psychoanalyses of this man are abt the curse #and I might be making an amv specifically About The Curse but goddamnit I can’t let him be done dirty like this #will actually write the essay so if you come back to this and there’s a wall of text that’s why #edit essay is written #trafficblr #jimmy solidarity #traffic smp #grian #scott smajor #mumbo jumbo #skizzleman #martyn inthelittlewood #tango tek #if you want the canary curse tie in-#it greatly factors into the image of him being weak and lacking value #that’s why he fights so hard against it #he needs to prove that he has value and he needs to prove that he isn’t worthless because of his shortcomings #long post

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bwabys-scenarios · 12 days

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warning: pregnancy, Kurapika won’t let you give the baby up for adoption, obsessive and possessive behavior, reader is kidnapped

Imagine having a one night stand with Yandere!Kurapika and he ghosts you after… only to come to your door with chocolates and flowers after you tell him you’re pregnant.

It’s not like he didn’t like you, no Kurapika was beyond thrilled to have you in his bed, but he also knew that trying to stay with you would only get in the way of his goals. So, although it hurt, he decided to cut you off. He got to be with you for one amazing night, and he’d cherish that forever.

Well… his life changed when you sent him a picture of a positive pregnancy test. You sent it in desperation, crying because you feared that one of the people you cherished had only been in it for sex. It hurt so much, and it was only made worse when your period didn’t come.

So you sent that picture, asking him to please help you, to tell you what to do.

And he didn’t respond, leaving you on read.

It was devastating, to say the least. You spent the entire day crying, stressed out of your mind. Were you really going to have to deal with this all on your own?

That’s what you thought, until your doorbell rang near midnight. You weren’t woken up, in fact you had been pacing your apartment for the past few hours trying to think of what you should do about your predicament.

So you walked to the door, eyes puffy and red from crying. “K-Kurapika?”

Behind the door stood the man that had been causing you so much heartache, your best friend of 4 years, Kurapika. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and in his arms were a box of expensive chocolates and a bouquet of elegant flowers.

“(Name), oh my angel…”

He stepped in, setting the flowers and chocolates aside before pulling you into his arms to kiss your forehead. Kurapika’s hand instantly settled on your belly, as if already checking for any changes in your body with his soft, warm palm.

“I’m here, and I’m ready to be a father. When I got your message I was ecstatic, I’ve always wanted to rebuild my clan-“

You pulled away, pushing his hands off of you. “Kurapika, where the hell have you been and why haven’t you been answering my calls? You can’t just waltz in here and expect me to be fine with you ghosting me!”

“(Name), love, I-“

“Love? I’m not your love, Kurapika. You pushed me away and left me all alone when I needed you most… how can I trust you to be a father when I can’t trust you to be here for me?”

Kurapika was silent, his expression unreadable as he let you continue your rant.

“You just… you left me after we had sex, Kurapika! You left me all alone… it made me feel like I was nothing, like you only wanted one thing from me.”

You teared up from embarrassment and frustration. It had been humiliating to wake up to an empty bed with not so much as a note or text from him saying where he had gone. And then he wouldn’t answer your calls…

“I’m… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You rubbed your teary eyes. “Whatever. I’ll carry this baby, but it’s going up for adoption. I can’t raise it alone.”

This made Kurapika freeze, his eyes going wide with shock and terror. “(Name)… no, you can’t be serious. It’s my baby too, we should raise it together. I want to be a father!”

“You gave up any chances of that happening when you abandoned me. I hope your mission is truly worth it Kurapika, because I want nothing else to do with you.”

You pointed to the door, your lip wobbling and your brows furrowed. “Now leave! I n-never want to see you again!”

Kurapika was oddly quiet, his now scarlet eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look this way before… he seemed… deranged.

“I’m not leaving, (Name).”

He grabbed your wrist with enough strength to scare you. Kurapika wasn’t hurting you, but it was obvious that he easily could if he wanted to. “L-let go of me, what the h-“

Kurapika tightened his grip on your wrist when you struggled, his face neutral. “(Name), this baby is mine, and so are you. Calm down, or I’ll make you calm down.”

Your heart started to race. Who was this person? You maybe have been mad at Kurapika, but you would have never thought in a million years that he would do something like this!

You were scared now, trembling. “Let me go… please, just let me go.”

He softened slightly, his grip easing up a little. “I can’t, (Name). You’re coming with me, it’s obvious to me now that I can’t bear to be without you. And now that I know you’re pregnant…”

His eyes darted to your belly, and he reached out a hand to gently caress it again. “I can’t let you out if my sight. You’re under my care now.”

Before you could protest, you felt yourself growing tired, your limbs heavy. He caught you in his arms and lifted you up, cooing softly as he caressed your cheek. “There, there, my angel. Everything will be okay. I’ll prove to you how devoted I am, and you’ll never want to leave my side. Just sleep, when you wake up everything will be better.”

And as you drifted off, unable to stay awake, you could barely make out the sight of his car… and two suitcases in the backseat.

‘He planned this… planned to… take me away…’

That was the last thing you thought before passing out. As you slept, Kurapika bucked you up, using a pillow to cushion your head. He still couldn’t help but place his palm on your belly.

“I promise… from now on, I’ll never let you out of my sight. You’re both my responsibility…”

From that day forward, you would never know true freedom again. Kurapika had you now, and he would never let you go. Not you, the mother of his child, the love of his life.

Together forever, that’s how you would stay. He was sure of that.

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sunlightmurdock · 2 months

Text

The Odyssey | 1.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

the pain of not knowing is weighing heavily on you as you arrive to your next destination. The people around you prove themselves.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, the italics at the very beginning indicate a scene involving brief attempt at sexual assault. The chapter deals heavily with themes of SA, and its aftermath. Pls take your own triggers into account while reading and feel free to message me for further info 🫶

…

“C‘mon, man, not so much as a test drive?”

Malcolm’s not in his right mind. Finals week pushed him to the brink and beyond. He’s been killing himself proving to his father that he’s worth being taken on at the firm. College is coming to an end and it’s almost time to be a man — as it grows closer, there seem to be more and more voices in his ear telling him what that entails.

Sex. Money. Power. Everything in the world is about sex, but sex is about power. Or whatever Oscar Wilde had said — he had only enrolled in that class for the credits and the added study time with you.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He brushes the comment off with a wrinkle of his nose, bringing the bottle of whiskey to his mouth, tipping his head and pouring it back.

You’re not a possession — he’s in good enough mind to know that much. His buddy’s test drive metaphor leaves more than a sour taste in his mouth. It also leaves a sickness in his stomach and a venom twisting through his nerves.

The mention of this is already grinding at him, his blood growing hot and his feet growing restless, tapping against the aged wood below them.

“Because she’s such an angel that she won’t even let you lay a finger on her? — Yeah, she sounds like a real prize, Ashworth.” Another guy snorts. Malcolm’s head whips around to face him, his eyes narrowed.

“Has she even let you get to second base or are her tits off limits too?”

“Damn shame that she’s got that pretty mouth and you don’t have a clue what to do with it.”

“She scared that it’s going to hurt or something? — You packing a big one, Mac?”

He pushes himself swiftly up from that stiff leather armchair despite its creaks of complaint. Damn thing is older than he is. The dark liquid swishes in the bottle as he staggers away from his so-called friends. He’s heard enough.

He knows where to find you, pushing through the sea of already drunk co-eds and wrapping an arm securely around your waist, slotting himself into your gossip session with a friend.

You’re so excited to see him, greeting him with a polite kiss to the cheek and leaning into his touch. You’re always so kind to him. He has to lean in close to whisper in your ear, his voice sullen and serious, “Could I talk to you for a minute? — In private.”

It isn’t until he closes the door to one of the guys’ rooms, that he notices exactly how drunk you are. You gasp and wobble and drop down onto the bed, bursting out laughing.

He doesn’t laugh with you. Instead, he brings the bottle of whiskey to his lips and takes a long drink. Lurking in the doorway, watching you.

As the bottle drops back to his side, Malcolm just remembers watching you. He doesn’t remember walking any closer until he’s sat beside you and holding your face in his hands.

“God, Mac — how much have,” You have to pause to hiccup, covering your mouth with your hand, unaware that you’re slurring your words too. “How much have you had to drink? — You reek!”

“Just a bit.” He mumbles, the bottle heavy in his hand as he leans forwards and kisses you. You comply happily at first. Well, you seem happy enough to him, even if he does smell kind of like a distillery.

Maybe the two of you talk more, maybe you don’t. The only thing Malcolm knows is that he has securely rounded the corner into second base before you start to fuss at him. You’ve let him get this far before, what’s the big deal now?

The dress you’re wearing is a flimsy blue satin thing, not particularly festive for the holiday party, patterned with expensive looking shimmering detailing. One of them has slipped off of your shoulder to make room for his hand to slip under the velvet fabric and cup at your breast.

“Stop it — what if someone comes in?” But you’re still kind of giggling with him, grabbing at his shoulders. If you wanted him off of you, you’d say so. You have before.

You’re not that kind of girl. Malcolm scoffs to himself at the idea. Your neck is soft against his lips and your perfume drives him crazy.

“It’s just sex, it’s not a big deal.” He mutters into the crook of your jaw, and the mood flips. He feels you pushing weakly at him, all it does is bunch his sport coat and make it fall back off of his shoulders.

“Sex? — Here?” You’re not making much sense, losing your composure and your ability to form a real sentence at once. Not so classy now.

As Malcolm sits back to shrug his jacket off and looks down at you, your chest halfway exposed and your eyes struggling to track him, he feels a pang of guilt strike him. Slowing himself, his heartbeat is in his ears as he fixes your dress to cover you once more and leans down to kiss at your lips.

“I’ll marry you,” He whispers against your mouth, pleading. “I have a ring. I was going to ask you anyway. Your father loves me, you know he does. You believe me, right, honey?”

You had said yes once before. You were going to let him. After prom night, your senior year; you were going to the same college and your families liked each other. He’d gotten too drunk and screwed it. Couldn’t even get it hard. It seemed to freak you out, after that you’ve barely let him close. Now, you’re seniors again. He just needs you to say yes once more.

“Not here.” Your face wrinkles and turns away from him, maybe it’s just the smell of whiskey but the rejection damn near makes him see white. He remembers how uncoordinated your efforts to shove at his hands were.

The next thing he remembers is Catherine stumbling in looking for you, and you trying to bolt. He had caught you the first time.

You were screaming at him, shoving him, calling him a pig. He was arguing right back at you. He’s always known exactly what to say to make your argument feel paper-thin.

The second time you had run, he had let you go, picking up his half-finished whiskey and pouring it into his mouth. He knew you wouldn’t say a word to your parents, you would be too ashamed.

The last thing that you remember from that night is being downstairs, laughing with your friends, with his arm around your waist.

The drive down to the farmhouse is a little over an hour from Florence, one of the shorter journeys of your trip. No need for stops or bathroom breaks. You had settled into your seat, covered your ears, and turned the volume on the Walkman as loud as it would go.

When you were packing tapes for the trip, you hadn’t once considered to bring Christmas music. Now, you’re wracking your brain trying to remember the song that had been playing. Remember any part of that night at all.

Once she had realized what she had said, Catherine had grown defensive and apologetic. She wouldn’t tell you much. Like she was covering something.

You’ve been staring unseeingly at the Tuscan countryside as it passes you by, Kate Bush as your soundtrack. I should be crying but I just can't let it show.

He wouldn’t hurt you. This is the same man who took you out to his mother’s rose garden and gave you the most stunning Tiffany necklace you’ve ever seen as a gift. The man who hugs you so close against him, and sits through your chick-flicks with you.

Your parents adore him, and it’s their job to protect you. Your father is a wonderful judge of character, and Malcolm won his seal of approval years ago.

All these miles of land whizzing by, outside of this ugly little minivan, are starting to make you sick. You close your eyes and listen to Kate.

Oh, darling, make it go

Make it go away

Your eyes burn under your eyelids, prickling with tears. Even worse, it makes your face burn with furious heat to think of any one of these people seeing you cry. Your stomach is trembling with unease, a static feeling in your fingers and toes is the only thing reminding you that you can feel them at all.

Breathing in shakily, you squeeze your eyes more tightly closed, gritting your teeth to will the tears away.

You just need to remember. You can’t go accusing him of something awful. He’s always been so good to you. He’s your future. You just need to get your bearings, and figure it out. Maybe you had led him on. Given him the wrong idea.

It’s such a short drive, and for once, there doesn’t seem to be any drama that requires his attention. Bradley has let himself get so behind on his work that he spends the duration of the drive with his papers sprawled out across the bench, making annotations and edits.

“Whoa, look at this place!” Zoe gasps, leaning over the seats to get a look at the sprawling driveway, lined with green trees and shrubs, marking the way toward the farmhouse. It’s an incredible building, sprawling and stone, dotted with climbing plants along the walls and planted flowers in the window boxes.

Bradley closes his notebook and looks up finally, then looks across at Pasquale with a small smile.

“Did I ever tell you guys that this is where Pasquale and I met?” Bradley announces to the group, turning around in his seat to face them.

“All the way out here?”

“Yeah. We worked here together one fall.”

Bradley had heard of Alessandro’s work early into his studies. It was Natasha who got him the job here. He arrived in September and left in December, this place gets cold as the months go on. Now, it’s warm and everything is in bloom. It smells sweet and citrusy. Sandro had always sworn that the apricots grown here were the best in the country.

“Then, when Mr. Bradshaw had been accepted for his summer work here with the university, I was the first person he called to be your tour guide.” Pasquale adds with a grin as he pulls up in front of the old house. Bradley hums. Pasquale has always been a good friend to him.

As soon as the engine stops, the heavy wooden front door is thrown open and a tall man with long, dark curls comes jogging out, grinning.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” His accent is thick, but mixed. Not entirely Italian. His cheeks dimple as his grin stretches across his olive toned skin, watching Bradley tear out of the minivan and head for him.

“Sandro,” Bradley grins, grabbing hold of the slightly shorter man by his shoulders and dragging him in for a hug before leaning in close and shaking the man a bit as he chuckles out something in Italian that makes them both laugh. You miss it, barely pulling your headphones off of your ears as you step out of the van.

“I don’t know what that means but I know it was a swear word.” Abigail announces, making Bradley laugh as he turns to her again. She’s not wrong, he had happily just called Alessandro something not too dissimilar to a son of a bitch. Endearingly.

He hooks an arm around Alessandro’s shoulders and turns him coolly towards the group. “Guys, this is Alessandro Gabris. Not quite the man of the house but a hell of a storyteller.”

Alessandro turns his head and whispers something back that can only be as filthy as whatever Bradley had said to him, because it makes them both double over laughing. Their inside joke makes Pasquale laugh along with them. That autumn had been such good fun, the three of them.

Alessandro glances behind him as an older man walks out of the building, wheeling an elderly woman in a wheelchair. He smiles as he gestures to her.

“And this is my mother, Teodora Gabris.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bradley’s lips stretch into a warm grin as he breaks the haphazard formation of the group, unwraps himself from Sandro and steps towards her, crouching in front of her wheelchair, slipping his sunglasses off. The woman’s face changes, brightening with recognition. “Don’t break my heart, Dorie, you remember me too, huh?”

The crinkles beside her eyes deepen as she lifts her hand and rests it against his cheek, tilting her head to examine his face.

“The artist.” She remembers, making Bradley laugh fondly. He’s familiar with her in a way that makes both of their grins broaden as he leans in. He’s far from an artist, and she knows it. But, he has a way with words and a way with women, and that had amused her all of those years ago.

In her youth, Teodora traveled from the Kefalonian countryside to the centre of Paris, where she had trained with oil paints. She’s the real artist.

“How have you been?” He asks.

She just looks around her, gesturing to her little slice of Tuscany, blooming into the July heat, and back to him finally. Bradley nods his head, unable to shake that smile from his face. She has her little slice of heaven already, how could she not be happy?

“You haven’t aged a day.” He tells her, his large hand resting softly against her now frail wrist.

You stare between the two of them. The affection they have for each other, and the joy on her face as she remembers the boy he was. His hand sitting so gently on her skin.

“You have.” She teases, pinching his sunwarmed red cheeks. He laughs, sharing her gaze for a beat before he stands upright once again.

Of the six places that you have visited so far on this trip, Bradley has been greeted warmly by someone who once knew him in every single one of them. Even Natasha, who hates him for his betrayal, finds it in herself to revel in the safety of still being near him.

You don’t remember your interaction with him that night either. He could have done anything. He could have left you there. You can only imagine the look your mother would have given him when he took you home. You weren’t ever even particularly nice to him, you’d talked through his class all through first semester. He took you home and made sure you were safe anyway.

“Hey, are you okay?” Suddenly there’s a hand on your wrist and it feels like scalding water. You pull swiftly away from it and whip your head around to find Abigail leaning towards you, her features creased with concern.

Your cheeks are hot, and wet. Fuck, they’re wet. Quickly, you bring both hands to your face and start wiping hurriedly at your tears. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but blink dumbly at her, your shoes dragging across the dirt below you as you stumble a step back.

As he hears the question, Bradley turns and shoots a glance over his shoulder. His face falls, turning completely to do a double take as he notices your teary face.

“Hey, hey — what’s the matter?” Bradley’s size thirteen converse tennis blancs trample across the dirt and stones, long strides and heavy footfalls. Your stomach churns at the thought of those heavy hands on your skin, of his frame up close and looming over you, of getting stuck between him and the minivan behind you.

He slows as your foot slips back and fumbles for purchase in the dirt, muddying your white sneakers.

Everyone behind him is looking at you now. You’re painfully aware of the twisted up look on your face but it’s the only thing keeping you from sobbing.

Humiliation stings. All of them looking at you like you’re ridiculous. Not being able to remember. Simultaneously wanting to throw yourself into Bradley’s chest and beg him not to touch you.

Bradley lowers his voice just slightly, also well-aware of all of the eyes on you suddenly. “Look at me. What’s the matter?”

Your lip trembles, trying not to look at anyone around you. Your eyes steady on his, your throat thick and your heartbeat thundering.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You croak out.

There’s a study downstairs, just off of the living room. Bradley clicks the door shut behind him, his brows drawing together as your pace away from him.

“Honey…” He says softly, like he’s trying to soothe a cornered animal. You round on him like one, eyes wide. He’s never seen you so spooked. “Talk to me. What happened? — I can’t fix it if—“

“You can’t fix it.” Your voice cracks and gravity grows stronger, forcing you to the ground. Crumpling like a piece of paper, you curl your knees up to your chest, a sob wracking your body.

“Okay, alright,” Bradley breathes out, clicking the lock on the door and following you to the ground. You flinch as his heavy hand comes to rest against the back of your neck, stroking softly over the top of your styled hair. “Let me hear it, it’s no good keeping it to yourself.”

“Please don’t touch me,” You whisper into your knees, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Your skin crawls, trying to picture Malcolm on top of you, wondering how you couldn’t remember. “Could you… could you just please not.” You decide finally, wiping hurriedly at the damp spots under your eyes.

He doesn’t follow. It was just last night that you were so comfortable in his arms, staring up at him with that electric, trusting look on your face. But he gently takes his hand off of you anyway.

“Is this about that phone call?” Bradley asks gently, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands. His instinct is to hold you.

Light pours in from the tall, wide window to your side. It’s far too warm, and too sunny in here for you to be feeling this awful. It feels like the ground is going to swallow you whole, if the weight in your chest doesn’t take you out first.

“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what happened.” Bradley encourages, bracing his elbows on his knees and lowering his head to try to meet your gaze.

“I think Malcolm — that night that you found me in December, I think— I think that he—“

Bradley’s eyes go round, the concerned frown on his face falling all of a sudden. He stares at you as you sob into your hands. He remembers that night so clearly. From waking up face down in a textbook chapter about Pre-raphaelite attitudes towards monogamy, to squinting to figure out what that figure in the snow was. Seeing you there, barely conscious. Practically deadweight in his arms as he had lifted you.

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You lift your head to look at him, the colour drained from your skin, eyes pleading.

“Did he tell you this?” Bradley asks you softly.

“No. Catherine said — she said something about finding— fuck, she said something about finding him… on top of me.” Your throat is hoarse and your words are barely coming out as you try to hold back floods of tears. If you let yourself keep crying, it feels like you might not ever stop.

Bradley lifts his hand and pinches at the bridge of his nose. He inhales for six, exhales for seven. Then, he reaches out slowly and rests the tips of his fingers against the outside of your ankle.

“I don’t remember.” You choke out. He looks across at you, thinking of how proudly you had been showing off your engagement ring. No clue what an animal your fiancé was. Your lip trembles. “I don’t remember it.”

His gaze flickers immediately to your hands covering your face as the midday sun catches the rock on your ring finger, glistening in the light. You never would have said yes if you had known.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, curling his fingers softly around your ankle. It takes everything not to wrap himself around you and shield you from everything outside of these four walls. This dusty old office, sunlight shining across ever single chip and dent in these old floor boards, just you and him.

“If I wasn’t such a mess, then—“

“Hey,” His fingers squeeze softly at your ankle, prompting you to look up at him, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. He gives a soft shake of your head. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass between the two of you. His fingers don’t dare inch from the safety of your ankle, if that’s as much of you as he is allowed to touch, then that’s what he’ll take.

He can’t imagine the fear in not knowing.

You swallow softly and push onto your knees, crawling closer and pushing yourself into his chest. Bradley tucks one arm around your waist, doing his best not to cage you against him as you bury your face into his neck. You can feel him giving you room to retreat.

It’s such a strange thing, not wanting him to touch you but at the same time wanting to be held by him until the rest of the world stops. The thought of his hands on your skin makes you sick, but you want nothing more than to bury your face in the crook of his neck and pretend that none of this is happening. Like he’s not a separate man, not something to fear — just an extension of self, almost.

“It’s not your fault.” He tells you again, running his hand along your back, finally letting his eyes fall shut. Your breathing is jagged and gasping with the sobs, coming out quickly against the skin of his neck. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I should remember. I — I thought I’d know, or… feel… and I don’t remember any of it.”

His stomach knots, his palm resting between your shoulder blades as he cradles you against him.

It wasn’t that long ago that he couldn’t stand the thought of you. He had taken what he had seen of you in his classroom and come to the decision that you were selfish, and spoiled, lazy. He had no idea.

Since then, he has grown to know that you’re none of those things. You’re defensive, sure, he can be too. You’re a product of your upbringing, to an extent. But you’re witty, and smart, and you’re far from selfish. Bradley has seen your curiosity up close for weeks now. Your potential weighs on his mind, it keeps him up at night thinking of the future you’d have if you just had someone tell you that you could.

He hugs you against his chest and turns his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He promises. There’s no way around it, or over it. He couldn’t have stopped it from happening. This isn’t about him or the way that he feels for you. He holds you close, rubbing firm circles across the length of your back for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, your face buried into the warmth and familiarity of his neck. “You — You should be out there with everyone. I just need a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bradley whispers.

And he doesn’t. He sits there and holds you until he feels your breathing start to get slower and longer against him. Then, he strokes a strand of hair gently off of your face. “You feeling tired?”

“Exhausted.” You whisper.

He nods softly and kisses the top of your head. If he could, he would happily have carried you upstairs and put you to bed himself. Instead, under the watchful eye of the rest of your class, he has to point your directions from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll be upstairs to check on you in a bit. Get some rest.”

And he does come up a bit later. You’re not sure exactly how much later, but it’s dark when the first knock wakes you up.

See, the first knock doesn’t warrant pulling yourself out of this unfamiliar bed. The pillowcase is damp but for now, you seem to have run out of tears. The second knock is more tempting, if only to make the sound stop.

Bradley doesn’t knock a third time. Instead, he takes a quick glance at the empty hall around him and leans in close, “It’s me. Can I come in?”

You already knew it was him, there’s no real need for him to announce himself. Still, you grace him with a tired sound of acknowledgment and force yourself out of the fetal position. The old doorknob creaks and clicks, then the door itself creaks as it opens. It would be pretty difficult to sneak around in a big old house like this one.

“Hey.” Bradley greets you softly, cautiously. You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He brings a hand from behind his back and shows you a plate with roasted potatoes and vegetables — something else that you can’t quite see, a starchy baked dish.

Through no fault of his own, he doesn’t get much of a reaction from you at all. You make no effort to reach for the plate. He crosses the room and sets it down on top of the dresser.

“Brought you some dinner, and uh…” Bradley hasn’t felt sheepish since his second day of basic training, and yet, his eyes are on the floor as he pulls his other hand from behind his back. “I brought you this.”

You watch as he sets the blue fabric in front of you, folded neatly.

“Your shirt?”

He scratches at the back of his neck, walking right on by you to sit against the window ledge. Cool air bristles his nape and makes him sit up a little straighter, letting you catch his eye.

“I don’t know, I thought…” He stares at the blue fabric in your hands and gives his head a soft shake. “I don’t know what I thought, but keep it for tonight.”

He knows what his thought process was, he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. It sounds selfish now. I thought that since I can’t be with you, maybe a piece of me might help. How ridiculous of him to make himself so important in all of this.

“Here,” He remembers, pushing himself away from the window and taking the plate in his hand again, “Come on, you should eat something, while it’s still hot. It’s good.”

You pull your knees to your chest as he perches himself on the bed beside you, setting the plate down. You settle down, crossing your legs and lifting the plate into your lap, picking up the fork.

He watches, chewing at the inside of his lip as you push the vegetables around the plate.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Stupid for bawling my eyes out like that.” You answer him meekly, spearing the fork through a grilled red pepper, pushing it through some of the juice from the baked dish.

His eyes search across your features.

Neither one of you says anything for a moment as you shake the pepper from your fork and stab it instead through a piece of eggplant.

“You’re not stupid.” He tells you, his brows drawing together as he watches you periodically wound the food on the plate.

“He was clearly unhappy, and I didn’t even notice. My own boyfriend and I didn’t have a clue,” You jam the fork into a particularly stubborn chunk of zucchini and letting the fork clatter to the plate. Bradley stares back at you. “If he was happy then—“

”Don’t defend him to me.” Bradley interrupts you, his voice calm but grave. In a roundabout way, he understands how your thought process has led you here, but he can’t listen.

”No, I’m — I’m not. But it’s my responsibility as his partner—“

”Stop it.” Bradley deadpans. He lowers his head and meets your gaze. His tone suggests that he is growing frustrated but his eyes are another story, soft and warm, honeyed as they search across your face. “You were blacked out drunk. Whatever you think you owe him, it wasn’t his in that moment. You get that, right?”

He’s trying to help. You know that he’s trying to make it better, but it isn’t. Your nape feels hot and your throat feels sore. If he’s right, if that’s really true — if it was never your fault — then where do you go from here?

Your wedding is eighteen days after you fly home. The dress, the centre-pieces, the bridesmaids and the venue — everything is already all set up.

You suck in a soft breath and bury your face in your hands. Bradley lifts his palm and smooths a hand softly over the nape of your neck.

“Look, I just—“

“Can you go?” You breathe out shakily, dropping your hands from your face and meeting his gaze. His mouth hangs open, and you just know that he’s going to keep on talking. “Just go. Please. I want to be alone.”

Finally, he closes his mouth and gives a solemn nod.

“Okay,” He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before standing up from the bed. “I’ll come see you tomorrow morning.”

With him gone, the quiet is worse this time. Out here in the country, there’s nothing but you wracking your brain for answers that just won’t come. At some point, you make yourself eat some of the now cold food Bradley had brought you just to settle the rumbling in your stomach.

Then, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It’s a tall thing with a wooden frame, angled to face the bed. Your fingers reach down and curl into the hem of your nightgown, thinking of the blue Dior dress sitting in your closet at home now. It’s around this length, one of your shorter articles of clothing. You had been so excited to find that dress.

Standing in it that day in the floor, you had felt like Cinderella, right out of the pages of a storybook. Ridiculous.

Quickly, you grab at the hem and tear it off of your body. Almost naked, you examine yourself in the reflection. Something makes you walk forwards and your eyes squint, scrutinizing the flesh before you. Wondering how much of it Malcolm has seen, really.

You wonder which parts of it come to mind, when the two men who have seen your body think about it. The softness of your stomach? The way your breasts sit? — Something different entirely, maybe. Your self-examination is short-lived and exhausting all at once.

Turning back around, you spot Bradley’s shirt sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s a soft, heavy cotton, and it smells wholly of him. It slips easily over your shoulders, your fingers working nimbly to fasten the buttons.

You tilt your head, observing the way you look wrapped in his clothes. Then, you look around the room. Without Bradley to occupy your evening, the sudden lack of television or alternate entertainment strikes you.

Stuck with little other option, you grab your walkman from the dresser and head over to your suitcase. Armed with the cassette, wrapped in Bradley’s shirt, you cross the room and settle back into this unfamiliar bed, setting the headphones over your ears. You click open the cartridge and look down at the new tape in your hand.

Written across the front of the plastic in red marker, calligraphy: Our Wedding Tape 1986. It was a parting gift. Something from your future husband to lift your spirits when you were feeling low over here.

You lay back against the pillows, closing your eyes and hitting play. Slowly, the opening chords of The Commodores’ Three Times a Lady start to play in your ears. Your stomach flips, but you inhale, squeeze your eyes tighter and it’s almost better.

It’s soft, and slow — almost like a lullaby. But, your blood is coursing so hot and fast through your veins, it feels more like you’re running a marathon. Hot tears burn behind your eyes once again, reminding you that you haven’t actually run out of them. That they might never really stop.

To touch you, to hold you, to feel you, to need you.

There’s nothing to keep us apart.

You’re once, twice, three times a lady, and I love you. I love you.

As the lyrics pause and piano chords once again fill your ears, you realize that you’re gritting your teeth. You inhale sharply and snatch the headset off of your head, tossing it harshly onto the floor and causing the walkman to bust open. The cassette falls to the floor, but at least the music stops.

You’re breathing like you’re being chased. You wipe hurriedly, wanting the tears off of you, kicking back the covers, wanting everything off of you. As you wipe the salty tears from your jaw, you remember the metal on your finger.

As with the Walkman, you tear it off and throw it. It lands atop the dresser, the light catching the diamond, it sparkles back at you like a wink.

You had been so ridiculously happy on the day that Malcolm had proposed. Surrounded by your friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, the centre of attention. Ridiculous.

You sink back down and turn onto your side, facing away from the dresser and the winking reminder that sits atop it. Sleep comes for you quickly, taking place of the crying-induced headache and drowning out the faint Commodores chorus lurking in your mind.

You’re awoken by a soft knock on the heavy wooden door. Sunlight is already pouring in through the curtains and something tells you that you missed breakfast. This will be Bradley. You let him knock again. Then, a third time. Eyes still closed, you groan softly and press your face into the pillow as a fourth and fifth knock ring out.

Stubborn asshole. You tear the covers the rest of the way back and push up from the bed, padding across the hardwood floor and pulling the door swiftly open.

Abigail and Zoe stand outside, dressed in tank tops and shorts with bathing suit strings peaking out. Your mouth falls slack as you try to close the door to cover yourself a bit.

“Oh—“ Your eyes widen, lips parting. It’s obvious to the both of them instantly that they aren’t who you were expecting to see. “Sorry, I thought you were Bradley.”

Zoe glances at Abigail, Abigail glances at Zoe, they both look down at the slightly wrinkled blue button up that falls down to your mid thighs. Bradley wore something really similar in Venice.

“We, uh — well, we’re just heading down to the lake. We were going to swim, and get some work done. Sandro gave us some snacks and some lemonade,” Zoe has a real talent for cramming as much information into as short a breath as she can, showing you the contents of the little cotton bag on her shoulder at the same time. She stops finally, allowing herself to smile in her pause. “If you… maybe wanted to come with us.”

You neither retreat or reply. For a second too long, you just look between the two of them, completely wordless.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Abigail answers quickly, she looks at Zoe and they both quickly offer you nods of agreement. “Don’t feel like you have to—“

“No— I-I— yeah. Thanks. That would be cool.” You shift your weight from foot to foot, balancing one one, toeing at the aged floorboards under you. It feels strange, wanting so badly to go with them.

Up until you reached this threshold, you were so certain that you didn’t give a damn about the way they felt about you. Maybe you don’t, really. You sure wouldn’t if you were back home. But here, the feeling of finally being invited is something weightless.

“Cool.” Zoe smiles awkwardly back at you. You wonder if your smile looks half as apologetic as hers does.

Abigail bristles to attention, shrugging her tote closer to her body and reaching down to take Zoe’s hand. “Well, we’ll wait for you downstairs? We can all head out there together.”

They’re wearing swimsuits. You should dig your swimsuit out of your case. Maybe they’ll be upset if you make them wait too long.

“Thanks, I’ll be quick.”

And then you’re walking around the left side of the house and heading across the fields, they’re explaining how wonderful Teodora is, how she told them about a wild swimming spot just over the hill.

They’re curious about you. You were so angry in the beginning, so restless and unhappy. That seems to have faded away now. They still don’t know a single thing about you really, not as much as they would like to.

“Are you feeling better? — Bradley said you weren’t feeling well.” Abigail is tall and dark-skinned, with round glasses and her curly hair usually in two French braids. Today, she’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that belonged to her father, and a pair of denim cut-offs.

“It’s not contagious, right?” Zoe adds as she trails alongside you. She’s shorter than Abigail, with dark hair and green eyes. She’s the only sophomore on the trip — you wonder what she had done to impress Bradley enough to let her come.

You shrug your shoulder bag closer to your body and make yourself smile. “Much better. I think I just didn’t drink enough water and I was tired. Just… out of sorts, I guess.”

“It’s good that Bradley was so kind to you about it,” Zoe hums absently, adjusting her thick-rimmed sunglasses. Red runner shorts and complimentary red and white striped adidas sneakers, and long tanned legs. She looks right out of a commercial — but one of the well done ones. Not cheesy or anything. “Called his office once to tell him that I couldn’t take an exam because I was super sick, that fucker didn’t believe me until I dragged myself in there and puked on those old Nikes he used to wear.”

You hum out an amused sound. That makes two of you who have puked on his shoes.

“He feels bad for me because my fiancé’s a jackass.” Maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s the truth. You believe both sides of it, in part. Bradley does feel bad for you. But he would have held you in his arms yesterday even if he didn’t.

To them, it makes sense. There has been plenty of gossip about you over the last five weeks. Some of it, admittedly, they had engaged in. Everyone is pretty curious about why you’re getting married so young, and equally curious about all the time you’ve been spending with their cool, cocky professor.

Watching you stumble away from the group sobbing yesterday, there had been a few whispered rumours about the cause. Maybe Bradley dumped her because she wouldn’t put out. That one was especially cruel.

To Abigail, someone that heartbroken didn’t deserve to be made fun of. It had looked like your heart had been clean ripped out of your chest. She had whispered to Zoe about it last night in the darkness of their room, from the top bunk, and the two of them had decided to approach you today.

”How long have you two been together?” Abigail toes the line between prying and learning enough about you to potentially calling herself your friend. You probably should mind, but this is standard practice back home — girls who don’t care wanting information they don’t deserve. Something tells you she’s not like that.

”Since high school.” You tell her.

She slows slightly and turns her head to look back at you over her shoulder. You’re looking down at the dirt and grass and wildflowers, setting one white shoe in front of the other, denim shorts and a green blouse, that sad look on your face again. It’s different than the kind of sadness she saw in you yesterday — but it’s a look she has seen on you before.

A kind of acceptance to it, like you’re at peace with the sadness you’ve known.

”People grow a lot after high school.” It’s wonderful that you have managed to stay together. It’s probably time to call it quits. Her sentence seems unfinished and leaves you guessing, but it doesn’t condemn you to her own decision on the matter the way that Bradley’s black and white had.

You look up from the ground and meet her gaze. You smile and nod. People sure do.

Bradley gets caught up in the kitchen with Teodora as he is fixing you a plate of breakfast, guessing at your favourite morning foods. He only really dines with you in the evening.

“Is that for the girl?”

Bradley hums and nods, frowning at the cooked mushrooms. He can’t remember if you love them or hate them. After five dates, he should probably know that. He shouldn’t have been on any dates with you. They’re just mushrooms—

“She left already.” Dorie shrugs without looking up from the morning paper. Bradley’s fingers curl tighter around the plate. He turns slowly, to face her.

“She what?”

”Yes, the girl with the tattoo and the girl with the long legs,” Dorie tells him, glancing up and taking note of the panicked expression on his face. Abi and Zoe. He swallows a bit. They’ll be good to you. “They all went out by the lake to work. They’ll be back in the afternoon.”

The last time he had been here, Bradley had been hopelessly in love with another. He kept a picture of her in his wallet. Pretty little thing with her middle finger pointed right at the lense as she sunbathed topless on a beach in the south.

Teodora won’t pry, but she suspects there might be a new picture in Bradley’s wallet now.

“Oh. Right,” He sets the plate down and stares at it, unsure of what to do with the extra food now. “I… I guess I’ll get started with some work. I’ll be in the sitting room.”

She nods politely at him, he sets the plate in the fridge and leaves to gather his work things. God, he hopes they’ll be good to you. He had been so afraid that Dorie was going to tell him you had jumped on a flight back to the States. He has more time.

He was up practically all night, thinking of that loser’s hands on you. It makes him sick to remember how limp you had been in his arms when he had first picked you up from the snow.

The sitting room in the Gabris estate is sprawling — it’s a real space to entertain. There were a lot of parties here back in the day. Now, there’s a dust sheet over the piano and the nude portrait of Teodora’s lover is gone from above the mantle.

Bradley settles down into an armchair and pulls together his notes, sun pouring through the windows, a fog settling across his thoughts. 3pm. Three PM. That’s when he hears the eruption of laughter, bubbling up and spilling through the house. After that, comes the sound of wet shoes squeaking on the hardwood.

His chin propped against his fist, he cranes his neck as Zoe appears first in the hallway. She spots him and stops like a caught kid, her mouth falling open. Then, you. Then, Abi. All three of you are soaked head to toe, dripping water onto the floors.

You stare back at him dwarfing the patterned armchair, surrounded by papers, peering at you over the top of his reading glasses. He doesn’t say a thing, taking his time in looking the three of you over. Finally, his lips twitch.

”We went swimming.” Zoe breathes out, laughing.

Bradley hums against his hand, his eyes visibly flicker from your bare feet to the soaked clothes clinging to your body, and finally at your face. From behind his fist, a smirk toys at his lips.

He’s so grateful to see you look so mischievous. Anything but the way you were looking at him yesterday.

”I can see that,” He agrees, amusement dripping from his voice. Your smile turns sheepish as you cross your arms in front of your hips and shift your weight from left to right, and back again. “Did you get those pages that I asked you for all done.

”Most of ‘em.” Zoe nods. Eighty-percent still counts as most. Besides, you know that Bradley will listen if you plead your case. He hums again, a sound of understanding this time, and inches his knees further apart as he sits upright.

”Well, I take it that you’ll be a bit late to our study session.” He’s looking right at you with that devilishly handsome smile on his face, and a softness to his eyes that makes you want to pour yourself right into his lap.

“Shit,” You snap out of it, whipping your head around to look for a clock. Bradley glances down at his watch, already fully aware that you’re forty minutes late. He looks back to you, smiling. “I’ll get changed.”

”I’ll be here.” He tells you, looking back down to his work.

You glance down at the puddle you’re leaving on the floor, and then back up at the girls. They watch you blink like you’re remembering that they’re there.

“We’ll come up with you.” Abigail nods for you to go ahead and Zoe slips her palms into yours.

Bradley glances at the exchange over the top of his workbook, her hand in yours. The smile on your face as you peer back at them and head for the stairs. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally exhales.

His next breath in feels a little bit easier.

“So, how long do you usually have to spend with Bradley every afternoon?” Zoe asks, padding up the wooden stairs behind you. They creak with every step, but not enough for you to pretend not to have heard her question.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to at cool about it. Bradley would at cool about it. He doesn’t seem ashamed at all.

“It depends. He gives me different tasks to do. Sometimes we get through them quickly, other times he decides to be an ass about it.” That feels about right.

“Like class work?”

“Yeah,” You glance back over your shoulder as you reach the landing. “I’m not much use to him as a research assistant if I still don’t understand the class material. You know?”

“Right.” Abigail nods along with you.

“Well, I’d better go get dry…” You remember, gesturing to your door. They both nod along, but you don’t move. You hug your shoes and your bag to your chest and try to smile. “Thanks for inviting me today. I appreciate it.”

“Any time. You’re a good time.” Zoe grins, lifting her arm and draping it casually around Abigail’s shoulders.

Your goodbye is a brief nod and a pleased smile, before you turn and head back to your room. You strip out of your clothes and leave them to dry against the open window, then throw on something dry.

Bradley hears your shoes racing down the stairs and closes his book. You grab the archway and swing around the corner into the sitting room.

“Okay — ready.”

He braces his elbows against his knees and gives a small shake of his head, lips quirked. “Not here.”

The two of you walk along the dirt path in the opposite direction to the lake. Up ahead of you is a mile long stretch of trees, behind you is the Gabris’ courtyard. Bradley’s two paces in front with a cigarette dangling from his lips and his books tucked under his arm.

His shorts make his legs look even longer, up high on his thighs and stretched around the muscle. His sneakers still aren’t something a college professor would wear, but you’ve grown to like them. They’re very… him.

His oversized shirts and his white sneakers, and the gold pendant that sits between his collarbones are all parts of him that you have grown to adore. The curls at the nape of his neck and the way his broad shoulders slope down into his waist.

There are plenty of things that you could name.

The smell of tobacco that follows him isn’t one of those things.

“That’s a filthy habit.” You call ahead to him.

Bradley turns his head and looks at you over the top of his gold-rimmed sunglasses, grinning amusedly, “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of those. You might be familiar with a few.”

Your mouth twitches. You almost smile at him, briefly considering that downright awful habit he’s got of delving between your thighs. Then, your face twists into a strictly unamused scowl.

“Did you pick it up when you were in the Navy?” You ask, jogging to keep up with him.

“Kinda.” He answers you, looking down at you briefly before he checks ahead again. It’s not important to mention the cigarettes behind the science building in high school; that was more an act of defiance than an addiction.

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Is this you asking me to?” He replies, crossing over into the tree line, shade pouring over the two of you. You watch as he takes the cigarette between his fingers and flicks ash onto the floor, branches crunching under his feet.

You follow alongside him. “Would you, if I asked you to?”

“Would you put up with me being a lot grumpier?” He asks in return.

“Probably not.”

He huffs out a dry chuckle. Finally, he stubs the cigarette out. You follow him through the woods like his shadow until you reach a clearing. It’s a pleasant mix of sun and shade, a nice place to wait out the glaring afternoon heat. This is routine by now, you sit down beside each other and he tells you what you’re doing, then you each get to it.

He’s working on his book. His face gets real serious when he’s working on his book. Makes him look older, more mature. Almost makes you forget how deviously handsome he looks when he’s grinning at you, when he looks so handsome like this.

You’re translating prose. Poetry about lust and temptation. He would have switched out the curriculum but resources are limited out here, and you don’t say a word about disliking the work he has given you. He’s afraid to ask.

To burst this bubble of blissful ignorance you’ve got going, like yesterday never happened.

”So, Zoe and Abi — did you guys have fun today?” He asks without looking up from his work. That feels like a safe enough question. You’re laying on your stomach and don’t bother to stop working to look at him either.

”Mhm. Zoe’s clothes fell off the branch and got soaked, so we figured we’d all just jump in dressed. Cooled us off on the way home.”

He glances up, smiling softly. “Look at you — walking on the wild side.”

”I know, right?” You scoff.

He looks back down to his work, examining the artwork on the left page.

“So… how are you feeling today?” He asks cautiously. About Malcolm, of course. Bradley has noticed that you aren’t wearing your ring. You’d barely remembered taking it off. It doesn’t feel any different without it. It’s not exactly life-altering. It’s just jewellery.

”Mixed up,” You owe him honesty at least, considering your complicated relationship. You shrug your shoulders weakly and frown at the page. “Confused. Angry.”

He just nods.

She turns her head to look at him. Laying on his side, pretending to organise his notes, his sunglasses masking his expression.

”I don’t want it to change things.”

”How?” Bradley answers a little too quickly for a man pretending to be otherwise occupied. His brows draw together as he meets your gaze through those darkened lenses.

“Between us,” You tell him, resting your cheek against your hand and tilting your head just slightly. Laying in the grass, about a foot away from him. Close enough for him to reach out and trail his fingers from the centre of your back to the nape of your neck, and back again. You smile softly. “I like you, you know?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27@ahoyyharrington @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

#could be fixed???#will be running into the void if it isn’t #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #professor bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x you

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kakiastro · 3 months

Text

Which area in your life will Pluto Aquarius transform? Through the houses

The houses in your birth chart represents the area in your life.

Pluto is the planet that rules over massive transformations, it tears everything down to rebuild it into something better than what you had before.

Aquarius is considered the “freedom sign” the house that Aquarius rules is the place where you will feel free. It’s also the area where you don’t follow the rules and do your own thing.

You as a person is going to be going through a massive change. Considering this is a 20 year transit, it make sense. How you view yourself now won’t be nowhere near the same in 20 years. Matter of fact, as you read this, you won’t remember this version of because it’s going to be so different. Your overall outlook is going to change, how you see those around will be different. Your physical appearance may change and I’m not talking about the natural body changes; no, I’m talking about you getting tattoos when didn’t have them before, dyeing your hair all sorts of colors, there’s a rebellious attitude towards your appearance. You’ll learn to stand up for yourself during this time as well! The 1h is the house of Aries so you’ll have ppl testing you, talk to a Pluto 1h native, they’ll know what I’m talking about LoL, but you’ll learn to stick up for yourself.

How you view and take care of your finances will be different! This can play out multiple ways; maybe you’ll learn some harsh lessons on not overspending and learning how to save. You may have struggled with your finances, and start to see a mass improvement as time go on with this transit. Are you worthy? Is the question you’ll ask your self a lot. Your self worth and how you deal with that will be a big theme for you. Pluto rules over our deepest fears, it’ll force you to look within on where did you get these insecure fears from and you’ll do lots of shadow work. Let me tell you though, once you get past your fears and know your worth!! Chile, you’ll be a bad bitch haha. This is also the physical home, you may move to a new house, or redecorating your current place.

You better speak your truth! The way you process your thoughts and communicate will go through a huge transformation! The 3h is how we talk to people, the things we constantly think about and love to discuss. With Pluto being in this house, you may take a deep dive in learning about whatever topic you’re interested in. 3h also rules over education, you’ll be wanting learn a lot of new things but you want to learn it in depth! You will get to know the depths of your mind. 3h also rules our siblings, teachers and co-workers so expect them to go through lots of changes from your point of view. You may move into a new type of neighborhood that you would’ve never expected to live in.

Chile, your whole private life is about to change. The 4h is the home but it’s the part of our life that we don’t share with others unless they’re close to you. Your home (inside) will drastically change, you may start a family (if you wish), have a family member move in with you. You may move altogether and start fresh. Your family dynamic will change as well, this isn’t always a bad thing either! Aquarius is known as a chain breaker, you may break lots of generational traumas during this time especially if you have the mother wound. The 4h represents our emotional state, Pluto is going to make you feel those emotions hunny, it’s going to a lot of deep emotions as well.

🎵Oh sweet child of mine🎵 it’s time to start healing your inner child wounds. The next 20 years, you’ll will remember what I’ll be like to be a kid and fun again! You may have been ostracized or called the weirdo kid growing up which left you some unhealed wounds. No more hiding, it’s time to express your authentic self to the world my friends! What were some of the things you liked as child? Revisit that. If you’re a creative, the world needs to see your talent, your ideas and projects can help others whether physically or through inspiration. If you have children or want too in the they can help you bring out that inner child again, hell it don’t have to be your child, it can be your niece, nephew or local neighborhood kids that can teach you to lighten up!

🎵now get this work in, working on my sh!&t!🎵 is the theme for you the next 20 years. Now let me be clear, working doesn’t always have to mean your job but just being a busy body in your everyday life! The 6h rules over our daily routines. Pluto is about to disrupt all that lol but maybe the routine you’ve been practicing isn’t healthy for you? You’ll learn what routine works for and you’ll probably have several ones throughout the years because it is a 20 years transit lol. Also your health! Pluto is about to get a lot of people with this placement a reality check when it comes to health, please take care of yourselves. Aquarius rules the nerves and ankles so stretch them and try not to let stress take you out either. I have a Pluto 6h (different sign)natally so I know this placement well. Pets! You may feel inclined to get pets that’s known as guard animals for the home. You may have co-workers(supervisors and managers)that may grow envious or jealous of you. Until you trust them then stay private.

7ħ

I just went through this transit myself and whew! It’s been a doozy! You’re going to meet people who’s going to test you, your transformation is through other people. The 7h is all close relationships so that means your family, your partner, since it’s in Aquarius, that means even strangers in person and online. You may end up with a few partners who’s going to change your whole outlook on relationships and what you want in them. You’ll meet people who’s going to want to work/collaborate with you and some may work out, some not but you’ll learn valuable lessons, Can I trust you? Is the question you’ll be asking several times. If you’re a business owner or if you want to be, you may pursue that during this transit. I started my astrology journey with this page while Pluto was in this house.

The good news is that Pluto is home here so really Pluto is just redecorating his own house lol. Your views on sex and what sex means to you may change. You may have ppl be more open when it comes to sex. Trust! Trusting others in a deep vulnerable way will be a huge theme for you. Vulnerability maybe a tough thing for you to show to people. You may have been shunned emotionally growing up. With Pluto coming back home, you will learn that not everyone is your enemy, it’s okay to open yourself up to those closest to you. Aquarius is the people sign so you’ll about to meet all sorts of people who will challenge you to trust. Your intuition, psychic gifts will also increase as well! You may have futuristic visions and dreams about the collective.

Whatever your personal beliefs or philosophies are, yeah… they’re about to go through a huge rebuild. You will go through things that’s going to change what and who you believe in. You can also still have these beliefs but will have a different view on it due to whatever situations you will be put in. You may start traveling abroad to “taboo” or “non popular” destinations. Maybe you visit a certain country where their culture is known for their funeral/death practices and you want to experience seeing one, something taboo like that. This also ties in to gaining higher knowledge about the world. You’ll want to study the underline or hidden from society parts. Maybe you’ll study a religion but from an occult lenses if that makes sense.

10h

Change in career! You may gain some power in whatever field you’re in. That power could be higher position, having stronger connections or just having the power to stand up to the higher up. People may start to feel intimidated by you even if you don’t feel intimidating. You will start to take yourself seriously and what I mean by that is you’ll start realize you will recognize you are a powerful person. You will feel empowered, people will feel empowered by you. You’re transforming into the Boss. How you manage your life will be more private, which will give you a mysterious aura.

11h

The era of networking! You will meet people who you will you can collaborate with. You may meet ppl during random times in your life. 11h is Uranus energy so you may have few new friend circles over the years. Ppl will come and go in your life. They will make you want to level up, however that may be. This is the house of wish fulfillments. You will have an intense focus on building and working on your dreams and wishes. It may come off as obsessive to a point. The 11h is also the house of collective wealth, things you’ve earned over the years finally building. How you view society as a whole especially online will be different, I think being more private online will be beneficial to you.

12h

Buy you a dream journal or get a notebook to track your dreams! Anytime a planet enters the house of the subconscious mind, expect some crazy dreams. With Pluto being the planet, expect heavy dreams. You may have prophetic dreams about the collective (people). This is a time where you explore the depths of your whole being. The 12h rules over our subconscious mind, things buried and hidden will boil to the surface. This is also the spiritual house, you may be going through lots of spiritual awakening or the new age phrase “dark night of soul” you will do lots of healing and become empowered if you do the work. 12h also rules over past lives, so Pluto will bubble up those past life traumas, karmic patterns. Your psychic gifts will strengthen, you may unlock gifts you didn’t know you had. Powerful time for you!

#astrology #astrology community #knowledge #love astrology #astro observations #advanced astrology #kakiastro #tropical astrology #pluto in aquarius #pluto astrology #Pluto Aquarius in the houses #birth chart

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happysadyoyo · 6 months

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Oh! Oh! Can you do the human diguise? Just anything really.

But if you want ideas I'm thinking maybe...

Sun wants to read some books but he himself doesn't know where to even start because outside of a few picture books for abolute toddlers DCA never even held a one in their hands!

maybe about knitting? or general survival tricks? or maybe just some novels?

So Sun asks librarian for recomendations but in his excitment he goes thourght books far faster that should be humaly possible and then he catches himself and is seriously afraid but

the librarian just worry the books they recomend must be not what Sun needed because this guy CLEARLY doesn't read them at all.

Ahh you've unlocked a core memory of mine. I might've gone off the rails and put a little too much of me into y/n but here we are.

As always, Human Disguise AU belongs to @pillowspace. She just lets me play in her sandbox.

"You haven't even used your library card yet?" You're almost offended for the library honestly. A building full of worlds and your new friend hasn't even touched them.

"It's been a bit hard to find the time, buuut I want to!" Sun's quick to reassure you when you frown (pout really) at him. "I do, I promise. Maybe you can give me some recommendations on where to start?"

The magic words. Every job has that One Task that makes it worth it. When you had been a cashier it'd been your uncanny ability to pack bags perfectly. As a janitor, it was leaving a floor sparkling clean after a night pushing the waxer. And here?

Here it was finding the perfect book for someone to read.

"Okay let me think," you say, grabbing a cart of returns to push. "I don't know if you're more of a nonfiction or fiction reader. I need some clues."

Sun's chuckle is just a little on the shy side. Cute. "I'm not entirely sure I know either. Sorry." At your exaggerated sigh, you catch a glimpse of his gloved hands raising in mock surrender. "I really will enjoy whatever you decide!"

"Okay well, you've given me a challenge. Let's find a few things and see what you like the most." You shove the cart a little too hard around the corner, catching a misplaced stool. The cart jerks and Sun grabs it before you can tip it over and lose all your books. "Oh sorry! Are you okay?" This is what you get for being too excited.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Are you?" Sun rests his hand on you for just a moment, jerking away just as if he's been burned. It hurts, just a little, but he just seems to be adverse to touch. So you bite your tongue and deal.

"I'm fine. You're my hero, saving the cart," you say, watching Sun's face. He turns away, and you can only guess he's being shy. "Anyway, I have an idea for your first book."

"Oh?" He trails after you as you abandon your cart, far too excited. You duck into the crafts section, finding the colorful spine of a well worn book. "Knitting?"

"You're always so bundled up. I think you'll enjoy making your own mittens and things. Oh and! Arthurian legends. That'll be a good litmus test for what sort of stories you like."

Sun takes the knitting book and follows you as you go from shelf to shelf, creating a precarious pile in his arms. Your cart has been lost to the stacks, and you find yourself babbling about the different people you've helped find books for over the years.

"You love books," Sun says as you make it back it back to the reference desk to check him out.

"I do," you agree, smiling to yourself. "I read a lot as a kid. It was like... I don't know. Having friends? It sounds silly, I know."

"I don't think so." Sun brushes against your hand again on a cover decorated with embossed ivy and a golden sword. You freeze, and his hand lingers, close enough you can feel the tickle of his glove's fuzzy thread. "I think it's wonderful you were able to find friends in these stories. I can't wait to meet them myself."

You sort of stumble through the rest of the conversation, face hot. Usually it's easy enough to laugh off your own excitement sharing books, but with Sun responding so earnestly...

It's nearly dark out when you finally get off, yawning and stretching. You had to relocate your cart and spent the rest of the day putting things away and trying not to seek out your friend as he read. You'd noticed the one book, the Arthurian one, already back in the return bin.

Sun is waiting for you at the door, as he has been doing the past week and change. "I take it King Arthur wasn't up to your taste?" You ask by way of greeting.

"What? Oh, no! I loved it. The knights are so gallant. But it's so melancholic as well, reading their adventures. I feel bad for Lady Morgan the most."

"You do?" Sun is a reassuring presence in the evening light. "But you've already returned it."

"Oh, um." There's a heavy pause. "I think I just got so invested in the story I forgot to put it down."

You knew fast readers, and that seemed nearly plausible. Nearly. You still give a doubtful squint at him. But maybe you're being too judgemental. "I'll see if I can't find any happier stories with Morgan in them. She used to be a healer, you know. In the early stories."

"Really? Tell me about them."

You're more than happy to, tracing the memories of the old stories in the air as you speak. You nearly miss your road, stumbling to a stop when you hit an unfamiliar crack in the sidewalk. And it's there you say goodnight, leaving Sun to go home himself with thoughts of gallant knights and magic swords to keep himself occupied until you saw him again.

#human disguise au #dca #fnaf daycare au #fnaf daycare attendant #eh this ksnt my best work

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year

Text

Lavender - Ch. 7

You realize something major just as the world ends. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-6, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 6k

Warnings: TLOU Canon-typical violence, attempted suicide, mention of sex. No use of Y/N. Overall fic is 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Y'all, this is the outbreak chapter. Apologies in advance.

Tuesday, September 2, 2003

You’d been throwing up enough the last few days that you knew the signs. When your stomach started turning on your drive to work, you groaned.

“Goddammit,” you muttered, spotting a Walgreens on the corner. They’d have a bathroom. And maybe something you could use to kick this stupid stomach bug. You parked and all but sprinted for the bathroom, knocking once on the door before yanking it open. You barely made it to the toilet, throwing up everything you’d managed to eat that morning. Not that much sounded good. It had been a struggle finding anything worth trying to eat every day since you either got food poisoning or caught the stomach flu or whatever the hell was going on.

Once you were sure it had passed, you sat back on your heels, groaning. This was getting so old. You rinsed your mouth out in the sink and ventured down the aisles of the store, grabbing a travel container of Listerine before going to the pharmacy counter.

“Can I help you?” The cheery woman in a white coat said.

“I hope so,” you smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me but I either got some crazy food poisoning or caught some stomach bug, I’ve been doing nothing but throw up for three days. I’ve tried Pepto, I’ve tried Dramamine, I’m hoping you have another idea��”

“Could you be pregnant?” She asked, her eyebrows drawing together in a slight frown.

“No,” you laughed and then paused, doing the math.

You hadn’t had your period since June. That wasn’t super odd for you, you’d never been particularly regular. Some months it just didn’t show up. But it’s not like you’d been having tons of crazy sex since you got dumped last month… You’d just had lots of crazy sex when you’d last seen Joel seven weeks ago. Like the time in the pool the morning you flew home, where he came so deep inside you it felt almost impossible. Your hand drifted to your lower stomach.

“Pregnancy tests are on aisle eight,” she pointed, giving you a sad half smile. You just nodded, leaving the Listerine on the counter and walking in a daze for the tests. You almost blindly grabbed a pack. There was a smiling woman on the package, like that positive test was the best thing had ever happened to her. You carried it back to the pharmacy counter.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still dazed. “Can I buy these here? Even though I’m not getting a prescription?”

“No problem,” she scanned the tests and the Listerine and you paid before walking to the bathroom. You weren’t sure when you’d last blinked.

You peed on the stick, washed your hands and paced, checking your watch every few seconds as if that would make time go faster. But when the time was up, you didn’t want to pick up the test and see the result. Didn’t want to know what the answer was, like you’d rather not know a damn thing and then deal with whatever comes when it comes.

You picked up the test.

Two pink lines.

“Oh God.”

You didn’t remember driving to work. You didn’t really remember walking in, either. The first thing you were aware of was stopping at Louisa’s classroom door, poking your head in as she set up for her first class of the year.

“When’s your planning period?” You asked.

“Third,” she said. “Same as last year.”

“Good,” you said. “I’m coming by.”

“Not a great day for it,” she said absently. “I’ve got so much crap to do…”

“Louisa,” you said, pleading. She looked up at you and frowned.

“Yeah, OK,” she nodded. “See you third period.”

You were on autopilot the first two periods. You doubted you’d be able to pick any of your students out of a lineup your mind was so full of other things.

Pregnant. You were pregnant. In 15 years you’d have a kid this age. Oh God, you were going to have a kid. Were you going to have a kid? Were you going to do this alone?

You didn’t even knock on Louisa’s door at the start of third period, just letting yourself in and closing it behind you.

“So what’s so urgent?” She said, sitting at a lab table and cracking open a Diet Coke. “You look like death.”

You wordlessly pulled the Walgreens bag from your purse, getting the test out and setting it on the plastic.

“Oh fuck,” Louisa stared at it for a second, her mouth hanging open.

“Yeah.”

“Oh Honey,” she leaned forward and hugged you. It took you a moment to hug her back. She sat back down. You still felt numb. “When did you find out?”

“This morning,” you said, staring straight ahead. “I kept getting sick, went to a pharmacy to see what I could get, they asked if I was pregnant and…”

“It didn’t occur to you otherwise?” She asked, brows raised. “Hon, you teach bio. You’re getting ready to go to med school.”

“I know, I’m a fucking idiot,” you groaned. “I don’t know how this happened…”

“Please tell me this is the product of some fling you had that you never told me about and not the guy who broke your heart so bad you were basically catatonic for a week,” she said.

“Cute that you think I’m capable of having a fling,” you muttered. She groaned. “I know. This is the worst case scenario, I don’t know what the hell to do…”

“Do you know if you want to keep it or not yet?” She asked gently.

“I don’t know,” your hand drifted to your lower stomach again. “You’re a single parent, what do you think I should do?”

“I can’t answer that for you, Hon,” she covered the hand that was resting on the table with hers. “First of all, I was 29 when I got pregnant and happily married - or so I thought. Yeah, my husband was screwing around on me but I was none the wiser then. You’re, what, 23?”

“I’m 24,” you stared at her hand on yours.

“You’re basically a kid yourself,” she said. You snorted. Kid. Joel’d always seen you as a kid, even after years together. “And you’d be on your own from the get go. That’s a lot to consider.”

You just nodded slowly.

“Have you told the asshole?” She asked.

“Can you not call him that?” You frowned.

“He broke my friend’s heart, I should call him a lot worse,” she said. “But fine. Because of your delicate condition…” you smiled and she smiled back. “Have you told Joel?”

“No,” you said. “And I don’t know that I should. Ever. Even if I decide to keep it.”

“You’d really keep his child a secret from him?” She frowned. “Honey…”

“He’s just…” you felt like you were about to cry. “He’s the most dedicated father on the planet. The second I told him he’d uproot his whole life. All for something he doesn’t want. He already gave up everything once for a kid he didn’t plan for, I’m not going to make him do that again. He doesn’t want me, I’m not going to force it on him. I live far enough away now, I could never see him again. It’d be easy to never see him again, he’d never have to know.”

You looked down to the hand against your stomach, covering the place where part of him was growing inside you.

Part of you loved the idea of having a piece of him with you forever. But it seemed cruel, putting that on a child. And bringing a child into the world without their father’s knowledge.

“Fuck,” you sighed.

“I’ll support you, whatever you decide to do,” she said. “Want a clinic ride? I’ve got your back. Want tips on getting a crying baby to quiet down? I’ve got those. It’ll be OK. Whatever route you choose, it’ll be OK.”

Thursday, September 25, 2003

“That’s really still all you can eat,” Jessica, Louisa’s 13-year-old daughter was leaning across her mother’s kitchen counter at you. You broke off another piece of Clif bar and popped it in your mouth.

“Unfortunately yes,” you said. “Don’t get knocked up, it’s no fun.”

She cocked her head. “Can I try one?” She asked. You made a face.

“Why.”

She shrugged.

“It looks good,” she said. You looked at her skeptically. “You make it look like it would be good. Because you’re so pretty.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“What do you want.”

“Can you get my mom to let me go to a party tomorrow?” She asked quickly. “Everyone’s going…”

“You can’t go,” Louisa cut her daughter off. “Stop trying to get your aunt to help butter me up, it won’t work.”

“Mom,” she groaned, dragging the word out. “Please! I’ll clean the house for a month!”

“Gotta put in that work beforehand,” she shook her head. “Not happening.”

“Ugh!” Jessica stomped off to her room and slammed the door. Louisa sighed.

“See what you’ve got to look forward to?” She muttered.

“Counting the days,” you broke off another piece of Clif bar.

“Know if you’re telling him or not?” She asked, sitting next to you at the breakfast bar. You sighed.

“I’m leaning towards telling him,” you said. “It doesn’t feel right to have his kid and have him not know about it.”

“It would be a rough situation,” she nodded. “I think telling him is right. He should know there’s a little human that’s half his wandering around out in the world.”

“Did I tell you my friend Cassie from college got engaged?” You asked. She shook her head. “Well, she did. To the guy she’s been dating for less than a year. I probably should have figured this wasn’t going to stick when we were still just dating after three years… Anyway. Her engagement party is in October in Austin. I was thinking I could fly down, I shouldn’t be showing much yet. Could always just wear a flowy dress or something. See if he’ll talk to me and decide then.”

“That will give you a bit more time to think,” she said.

“I’ll have time to come up with a plan,” you nodded slowly. “That’s what I really need before I have this conversation. A plan for him to not need to be involved. We can play pass the baby once they’re old enough if he wants, ship them across the country to visit Dad for the summer. Alternate Christmases. But I’ll have a plan so that he doesn’t need to do anything. No child support, no obligation to me, nothing.”

You sighed, taking a sip of water.

“You know what really sucks about all this?” You asked.

“What?” She said.

“I really fucking need a glass of wine.”

Louisa barked a laugh.

“Yeah,” she said. “You really do.”

“His birthday’s tomorrow,” you said, staring at the wall. “Think I’ll text him. See if he’d be OK seeing me in October.”

“Have you talked to him since…”

“Nope,” you ate the last of the Clif bar. “Not a word.”

“Fucker,” she muttered.

“It’s a clean break,” you shrugged. “He wanted out. I don’t blame him.”

Louisa sighed.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this but I think you’ll be happy this way,” she said eventually. “You’re going to be the fucking best mom. And for all the asshole’s…”

“Joel’s,” you interrupted her.

“For all Joel’s faults,” she corrected herself. “He will be a devoted dad. Even from afar.”

You leaned your head on her shoulder.

“I know you’re right,” you sighed.

“You’ll get there, Kid,” she said. You smiled a little. You’d never told her what Joel used to call you. It still made you happy to hear it. “You’ll get there.”

Friday, September 26, 2003

It was a nice night. The air was cool, crisp. Cool enough that you’d thrown on a sweatshirt before going to lay in the grass in your grandmother’s back yard.

You couldn’t be happier that the week was over. Pregnancy was exhausting, you were tired all the time and the steady diet of nothing but Clif bars had gotten old really fast - though it was better than the constant vomiting. The cashier at the camping store in town had looked at you like you were crazy when you’d ordered several hundred of the damn things but, at a certain point, you were tired of going to the store for the same stupid thing every week when they had the half life of plutonium. You’d just picked up your stash earlier in the week and you’d been rotating through the flavors, pretending that made it so you were eating something different.

When you’d had lunch with Louisa that day, she told you she’d caved and told Jessica she could go to the party. Jessica was giddy. But Louisa had texted you just after you got outside, asking if you could watch for a text from Jessica if she needed anything later. She wasn’t feeling well, needed to lie down.

Something was probably going around. Nan had gone to bed early herself, complaining of a headache and just generally not feeling well. You were giving it until Monday, then you would call her oncologist. See if the cancer was back. Fuck, you hoped it wasn’t back. But you’d just have to cross that bridge…

You’d managed to text Joel earlier, too. It had gone better than you’d expected. You wrote and deleted the text four times before you sent it. “Happy birthday! Hope you’re doing well, old man.” You just hoped he’d respond, give you an in to see if he’d meet you in October. He replied almost instantly.

“Thanks, Kid. Hanging in there. How’s life up north?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to look too eager.

“Not bad. Already ready for the school year to be done. How’s Sarah?”

He replied quickly again.

“Good. Loves her classes so far. Made me eggs with shells for breakfast.”

You laughed.

“Crunchy. Cassie got engaged. I was thinking of coming down for the party in October. Would you want to get coffee?”

There was a longer pause this time, but he eventually replied.

“How about dinner?”

You smiled. You doubted you’d be able to eat much but dinner with Joel sounded like heaven.

“Dinner works! I’ll let you know when I know details. Try not to break a hip, old man.”

“Take care of yourself, Kid.”

The sky was clear and wide and you wished you knew more about the constellations. You knew the big dipper and the north star, but otherwise were at a loss. You tried to invent new ones when the soft sounds of crickets and the breeze was broken by the roar of jet engines. Two small planes streaked overhead, flying low. You frowned, sitting up and turning to watch them.

They looked… military? Like something out of “Top Gun.” Which didn’t make any sense, you’d never seen planes like that near you. They disappeared from view and you were about to lie back down when the scream of engines returned. This time, there was a huge plane, flying lower than you were used to seeing. You could see the red, white and blue paint on the side. The smaller jets flew alongside it for a moment before falling back and you saw something launch from one of the smaller planes, streaking across the sky until it collided with the bigger plane, exploding on impact and sending the bigger plane crashing to the Earth.

“Oh my God!”

You didn’t remember standing up but you were on your feet, running toward where the plane would come down. The smaller jets tore off, engines roaring, and you felt as the larger plane hit the ground, the force of the impact shaking the Earth and knocking you down. The plane landed in the field of the lavender farm, an orange fireball casting the farmhouse in a ghoulish silhouette.

You just stared for a second. It didn’t make sense. Why would fighter jets shoot down a fucking passenger plane? Would anyone have survived? Was there anything you could do? Was there another terrorist attack, were people crashing planes into buildings again, was that why?

Your hands shook as you went for your phone, just staring. You were fumbling with it, trying to open it to call 911 when the screen lit up. It was Joel. You managed to answer.

“Joel?” Your voice shook.

“Baby,” he sounded frantic. “Thank fuck, are you OK?”

How did he know? It couldn’t be on the news yet, how could he know?

“I’m OK,” you said. You were in a daze. There was so much fire… “What’s happening? I was outside, there were jets… they shot down a fucking plane, Joel, are we under attack?”

“Has anyone tried to hurt you?”

You tried to make sense of the question. Aside from almost having a plane shot down on your head?

“No,” you said. “Joel, what’s happening, why are you asking me that?”

“Somethin’s happening,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what the fuck it is but people are going crazy, one of the Adlers just tried to kill Sarah…”

“What!” You screamed it. “Is she…”

“She’s OK. But they’re not the only ones, there’s somethin’ happening,” he said. “Baby, I need you to listen to me, do exactly what I tell you, OK?”

“Joel…”

“Remember all the gear we got for our hiking trip last year?” He asked. You just nodded for a moment before you remembered that you’d need to talk.

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Good,” he said. “Go get that. All of it, pack your backpack and only take what you need to survive. Get food you can live off of for a bit. Your grandma still have that shotgun?”

“Yes,” you were still watching the plane burn.

“Good,” he said again. “Get that, too. And all the ammunition. Car have gas?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Try to make sure you can carry everything you need and have it ready to go but load your car. Try to get to Martha’s Vineyard, OK?” “Martha’s… why?”

“Sounds like it might just be the cities,” he said quickly. “Get there. Far enough from the cities but enough rich people that they’ll keep it safe. I’ll come get you, OK? I’m coming to get you.”

“Joel,” your voice broke.

“You kill anyone who comes near you, you hear me?” He said. “It’s going to come down to you livin’ or them, make sure it’s you.”

“I can’t just kill people, Joel…”

“Yes you can, Baby,” he sounded so desperate. “Yes you can. Protect yourself, keep yourself safe, that’s all that matters. I’ve got Sarah and Tommy, we’re coming to get you. I love you. I love you so much, don’t let anyone take you from me, do you understand?”

“I love you too,” you breathed.

“I’m coming to get you, Baby,” he said. “Stay safe. Please, please, Baby, stay safe.”

“Dad!” You could barely hear Sarah’s shriek before the call dropped.

“Joel?” You knew it was useless but you yelled into the phone anyway. “Joel!”

You tried to call again but just got the dissonant sound of a call failing to connect.

“Martha’s Vineyard,” you said to yourself, forcing yourself to run for your house. “Martha’s Vineyard.”

You went to the basement and found all the gear from your hiking trip, packing it as quickly as you could while keeping things somewhat organized. You still had a fair bit of room left in the large hiking pack when you lugged it up to the kitchen. You grabbed all the Clif bars plus some of the protein drinks your grandmother’s doctors had told her to drink. You grabbed water, too.

“Nan!” You yelled, tucking the shotgun below your arm as you headed upstairs. “You awake?”

You were sure she was, there’s no way she slept through the plane crash.

“We have to go, Nan,” you called as you went to your room, grabbing a few pairs of clean underwear, socks and a waterproof jacket. There was still a bit of room in your pack, so you grabbed your quilt off your bed. You could always ditch it if you absolutely needed to later, but for now you had the space and you wanted it with you. You pulled the pictures you had of you, Joel and Sarah from their frames and stashed them in a pocket on the pack. You grabbed your favorites of you and your grandmother, too, and the one you had of you and Becca. You grabbed your phone charger.

“Nan?” You took one last look around your room, hoping you’d see it again. You weren’t so sure you would. There was a scraping sound behind you and you turned. Your grandmother stood in the doorway but she didn’t look quite right. Her head was cocked, her arms dangling. Her eyes looked dead.

“Nan?” You frowned, walking over to her. “Are you feeling OK? We have to go…”

You never had the chance to offer to pack her a bag. A horrific snarl ripped from her throat and she lunged for you, fingers reaching and grasping.

“Nan!” You caught her by the shoulders, her teeth bared. “Nan, stop it’s me!”

Her nails dragged down your neck, ripping through skin. She pulled back from you just enough to launch herself at you again, knocking you prone. “Nan!”

It was like something else had taken over her body, her clawing hands and gnashing teeth straining to reach you. “Nan, please!”

You shoved her as hard as you could, sending her slamming into your dresser. She hit her head, blood splattering on the flowers you’d painted on the drawer fronts. You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the pack and slinging it on your back before picking up the gun. You tried to back out of the room, not wanting to turn your back on your grandmother. She snarled and rose onto all fours, pulling herself toward you.

Time slowed and you heard Joel’s voice in your head. “Don’t let anyone take you from me.” His child was inside you. He was coming for you. You had to live to get to him.

You raised the gun and fired, the recoil sending you stumbling back as your grandmother’s body flew away from you with the force of the blast. She lay sprawled on the ground, a horrible screaming sound all but deafening you. It took you a moment to realize that it was you making the sound, a choking sob cutting it off. You aimed the gun at the ground, cautiously approaching her, hoping that the blast had somehow killed whatever has possessed her but left her intact. Your shot had caught her in the chest, a gaping hole in her rib cage. You dropped to your knees beside her body, her eyes staring emptily up at the ceiling.

“I’m so sorry Nan,” you choked out, smoothing her hair back. “I’m so sorry, I love you, I’m so sorry…”

You almost didn’t see it through your tears, the creeping, fibrous tentacle sliding through her lips. You scrambled back, gasping for breath through rasping sobs as it reached and groped. You forced yourself to your feet and staggered from the room, feeling almost drunk.

It almost didn’t feel like you were safe to drive but you had to keep moving. You grabbed your keys, leaning on the counter in the kitchen for support, and stumbled into your driveway. Another fighter jet shrieked overhead and you instinctively ducked, but no other planes fell out of the sky. The horizon still burned, the air smelling like smoke. You put your bag in the back seat and the shotgun in the passenger seat, some extra ammo tucked in your pockets. You took a second and reloaded the gun, holding the wheel for a moment. You had no fucking clue how to get to Martha’s Vineyard and the only maps in your car were for New York State and NYC. Just as you were trying to come up with a plan, your phone rang.

“Joel?” You said quickly.

“It’s Jessica,” she was sobbing. “My mom, there’s something wrong with my mom, I don’t know…”

“Get out of the house,” you said quickly. “I’ll come get you, don’t touch her don’t try to help her, just run! I’m coming to get you, just run Jessica, do you hear me?”

“OK,” she said, breathless. “Don’t leave me…”

“Not leaving you,” you said. “Just hanging up for now. Avoid people, avoid anyone who isn’t me. I’m coming for you.”

You were almost thankful for a direction to go in. You had to get away from your house, from your grandmother’s body and the thing inside it, from what you’d done there. Jessica was a place to go, a purpose. You drove fast.

Louisa and Jessica’s place was a townhouse and the area around it was chaos. Several cars had crashed near the entrance to the neighborhood and one was burning. People were scrambling to load cars. One man was boarding up his windows with a rifle strapped to his back. As you got closer to Louisa and Jessica’s unit, there were bodies, splayed on the ground in unnatural positions. You parked haphazardly in front of their place, grabbing the shotgun and locking the doors as you left the car.

“Jessica!” You yelled, gun up and ready to fire. “It’s me, where are you?”

There was an inhuman shriek from behind you and you spun, gun up. A woman who looked vaguely familiar - you were pretty sure you’d seen her walking her dog when you sat on Louisa’s porch with a beer in your hand - was running for you, her arms outstretched. You didn’t hesitate this time, aiming for her stomach, the shot knocking you off balance and sending you stumbling back over a body on the ground behind you. You fell but the woman did too, her going immediately still. You shook, breathless, staring at her. You’d killed her. Your hand went to your lower stomach. You’d killed her. She might have been gone before you shot her but you’d killed her.

You leaned over and threw up, what little you’d eaten that day coming up.

“What’s happening?”

You looked behind you. Jessica was shaking. There were scratches and blood on her knees and it looked like Louisa had gotten her the same way your grandmother had gotten you, long scratches that looked like they were from a human hand down her arm.

“Hey,” you tried to smile reassuringly and then remembered that you’d tripped over a dead body. You scrambled back.

“My mom…” her eyes were wide, wild.

“I’m sorry, Jessica,” you said softly as you got to your feet. You brushed her hair back, holding her face in your hands. “I’m so sorry but she’s gone, whatever is inside your house isn’t your mom anymore.”

“What?” Her eyes went wider, she started hyperventilating.

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “I know. But I have a plan, OK? And part of the plan is getting out of here. You and me. We’re going to get through this.”

She just nodded, still gasping for breath. You put an arm around her, the gun in your other hand, watching for whatever might come running for you. But nothing did. You made it back to the car without an issue, putting Jessica in the passenger seat. You reloaded the gun and grabbed the compass from the side pocket of the backpack, giving both to Jessica.

“Just keep the gun handy, OK?” You said. “Don’t shoot anyone, just give it to me when I ask you for it, OK?”

“OK,” she nodded quickly.

“The compass is going to be what I need you for most,” you said, driving slowly back the way you came through the neighborhood. “I don’t have a map for where we’re headed. I can get us there but I’ll need some help navigating.”

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“An island,” you said. “Where there’s hopefully less of… whatever this is. We’re meeting Joel there.”

“Joel?” She looked at you. “The guy my mom says is a douchebag?”

You laughed a little even though there was nothing funny about this situation. But Jessica reminded you of her mom and it was what you needed.

“He’s not. Well, he’s not all the time,” you said. You passed the burning cars, pulling slowly onto the main road. “What matters is, I’m going to keep you safe. OK?”

“OK,” she nodded, swallowing hard.

You immediately went for the back country roads, hoping there would be fewer burning cars and possessed people. And there were, for about an hour. It was almost eerily quiet, you driving slow with just the running lights, wanting to avoid drawing attention to yourselves. But as you got closer to another town, you heard the faint sound of a helicopter. You pulled off the road and shut off the car.

“Stay put,” you ordered Jessica.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

“I don’t know what that helicopter is doing here and I don’t want to find out,” you said. “So we’re just going to lay low.”

“But what if they could help?”

You shook your head.

“We can’t afford to trust them,” you said. “We don’t know who they are or what their job here is…”

As if on cue, there was a spray of gunfire down the middle of the road, the chopper flying overhead. You ducked down low, grabbing Jessica and tucking her head down, too. You heard bullets hit your trunk and glass break behind you. Jessica sobbed. You held her down until the helicopter left, trying to not hyperventilate. “Don’t let anyone take you from me.”

You tried to start the car again but the engine wouldn’t turn over. You realized it must have been shot. It was sheer luck that you’d been missed. You pulled your sweatshirt over your head and handed it to Jessica. She just looked at it.

“It’s chilly,” you said. “You dressed for a party tonight, not to go traipsing through the country side. We’ll find something that fits you tomorrow but for now, you’ll need this.”

She took it, holding it in her hands for a moment, staring down at it.

“Whose blood is it?” She asked. “I saw it, earlier, when you picked me up. Whose blood is it?”

You hadn’t even realized there’d been blood on it.

“Probably my grandmother’s,” you said softly. “She… She was like your mom.”

She nodded, pulling it on. While she did, you tried calling Joel one more time. It wouldn’t connect.

You got your backpack out of the car and clung to the gun.

“We’re going to get through this,” you said, as much to convince yourself as it was to convince her. “We’ve got this.”

She nodded at you. You took a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

***

Saturday, September 27, 2003

The sun was up. It didn’t feel right that the sun was up. How could the sun be up.

“Joel.”

Tommy’s voice felt very far away. Everything felt very far way.

“Joel, we have to keep moving,” he said. “C’mon. If we stay here much longer, trouble’s gonna find us, we have to go.”

He got up. Part of him was aware that his body hurt but it was hard to actually feel it. Any pain in his body was a relief. It was better than burning, stabbing, gaping wound at the center of him. Anything, anything to take away from that was a blessing.

They’d already passed dozens of bodies. They kept off the highway, sticking to tree lines where they could, Tommy’s head on a swivel when they couldn’t.

Joel couldn’t bring himself to care enough to watch for anything. Every body they passed was a reminder. Sarah was gone. He’d held her body, she was gone, he’d never hear her or see her or touch her again. He’d been right there, right there and he couldn’t save her. She was gone.

The dead made him think of you, too. There were so many bodies. He hadn’t been able to save Sarah. There had been no one there to save you.

You were a lot of things. Brilliant. Funny. Beautiful. You weren’t a killer. You were too kind, too sweet to survive something like this. You’d have taken pity on someone who turned on you, someone who slit your throat for your pack or shot you to take your car. Or you wouldn’t be able to hurt someone who came at you in that foreign, inhuman way. You’d wait a second too long and they’d rip you to pieces. God, he hoped it had been quick for you. He hoped that they’d just killed you and hadn’t done worse to you first, just because they could. Whatever had gotten you, he hoped you hadn’t felt it. That it hadn’t been like Sarah, gasping and choking and in pain.

“Joel.”

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking. The sun was low in the sky again.

“We should stop here,” Tommy said. “Good vantage points…”

Joel didn’t say anything. He just stood there.

“You hear me?” Tommy said.

“What?” Joel asked.

“I said stay here,” he said. “Saw something down that hill, looked like a truck for a grocery store. I’m going to see if I can grab some food for us.”

“Yeah.”

“Joel.”

He looked up. Tommy looked like he was in pain.

“Just sit tight, OK?” He said. “Just sit tight.”

Joel watched him leave, standing and staring at nothing.

There was nothing left for him here. Nothing. Without Sarah, without you, it wasn’t worth it. Life before whatever was happening wasn’t worth it without Sarah, without you. Now? How could it be.

He sniffed and pulled out his gun.

He thought, for a moment, about the last time the three of you had been all together. It was the day you flew back to New York. The two of you had woken up early, decided to have coffee by the pool, go for a swim before Sarah woke up for the day. She was a teenager, she slept late. He made love to you in the water. You tasted like coffee and cherry chapstick. You smelled like lavender, even with the chlorine. You were soft and warm and felt like home.

When Sarah got up, you and Joel had already dressed for the day. Your bags were by the door. Sarah asked if you’d make French Toast and you’d agreed, as long as she helped. He watched the two of you in the kitchen, Sarah picking egg shells out from the batter because she’d never quite gotten the hang of cracking eggs. She was singing some pop song that grated on Joel whenever it came on the radio but he liked it when Sarah sang it. You bobbed your head along to it, using the spatula as a drumstick on the stove top. The coffee was hot and smooth. The world felt right.

He held onto the moment in his mind, pressing the gun against his head. He wasn’t sure he believed in an afterlife but he hoped it would be like that. Just that one morning, on loop, over and over and over again. Just him and Sarah and you, until the end of all things.

He started pulling the trigger when he heard your voice, so clear it was like you were standing next to him.

“I’ll always love you, Joel. Til the day I die.”

He flinched.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #tlou hbo #tlou fic #joel miller x original character

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bellarkeselection · 1 year

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Yellowstone 3

Kayce Dutton

There's Another Girl For Him pt 2 - Monica confronts the reader and asks her about Kayce. The reader doesn't know what she is talking about but starts to be conflicted with what her heart is saying

There's Another Girl For Him pt 3 - Kayce and Y/n go up the summer camp and feelings become too hard to ignore. Some interesting news also comes along

I'm Worth a Shot - request from @timbradfordsboot Kayce Dutton request: reader has a crush on Kayce but won’t act on it due to who his dad & sister are. She’s also heard rumors about bad things happening at the Yellowstone. Kayce convinces her to give him a chance

Two Dutton’s in the Family - Request from mackleann on Wattpad. Kayce and the reader get married and on that same day Jaime tells John he has a son.

Awkward Conversation at 6am - John catches Kayce and the reader kissing in the kitchen in the early morning

Burning Desire for a Dutton - Request from Wattpad VOIDRANBOO - Reader is Rip’s best friend and is a secret relationship with Kayce. Beth helps get them together but they are both worried of how Rip will react

Is This You Asking Me Out - anonymous ask Reader is trying to sneak off to met her Stalker of a ex to tell him to stop calling her. Kayce shows up at the place where she's meeting the ex she's relief to see him.

When War Follows You Home - Navy reader x war time. Kayce and reader service together reader shoots a kid is having trouble dealing with it. Years later they run into eachother in the states.

The Sheriff’s Daughter - Kayce gets arrested and his girlfriend bails him out where he learns who her father actually is.

It’sAbout Time - Request from Wattpad mackleann Kayce or Lee ( you pick ) where the reader is a family friend who comes to help with the cattle branding. The pair confese their feelings and get teased by the bunkhouse gang

Breathe With Me - Request from @val2557 imagine of Kayce Dutton and he is helping the reader when she has a an anxiety attack when there is a lot of people at a dinner they are attending?

Two Baby Daddy’s - anonymous request where reader is pregnant after she slept with both Rip and Kayce which now makes her wonder who is the baby’s father

When She Comes Home Tonight - Request from Tumblr @child-of-of-the-sunshine How about a Kacey fic based off the song When She Comes Home Tonight by Riley Green

John Dutton

- requests open

We Got Nerves For Nothing - Readers a waitress john meets her while having coffee with the sheriff donnie haskell they hit it off immediately reader gets nervous about John meeting her child ( whatever you prefer ) only to find out John's nervous about her meeting his family and they laugh about it

Seven Morming Wake Up Call - anonymous ask John dutton and reader in bed after shes taken a pregnancy test " im too damn old for kids " John says " not old " reader says

Opinions of our Horse Trainer - your the new horse trainer and slowly reader and John fall for each other maybe Beth doesn’t trust her but Kacey likes her

Noisy Kids Can’t Ruin This - anonymous ask John and Reader have been dating for a year or longer now and they’ve been keeping it a secret from his kids, they sneak around like teenagers running through the house after hours sort of dynamic and sneaking through the ranch after hours. I’m thinking maybe they stayed up late and took two of the hours on a little “trip” and get caught by Rip and Beth and Kayce who come looking for the horses ?

Rip Wheeler

You Make Everything Better - Wattpad request Rebelmicheleamidala - Rip and the reader spend the evening at home on the couch just enjoying the night together cuddling

Wheeler's as Tough as a Beer - can u do a piece with rip x f! dutton reader when she's pregos with rips bby girl and she either have a little accident with a horse or in danger bc of one of the shows villains like beth

Don’t you have anything better to do - Wattpad request mackleann Rip and reader get married and they get teased by the bunkhouse guys

Giving second chances - Wattpad request from Silverose365 Reader is a trouble teen the state is having trouble with so after multiple failed foster families the state calls John. The reader accidentally messed up on a job and gets called out until Rip makes a different choice than her previous foster family's.

The rules of fighting…especially my wife - season 1 where jimmy got beaten up by Fred but instead of Jimmy could it be the reader is rips wife and she’s secretly pregnant with their second child and she protects her stomach and then revel to rip she’s pregnant again

He’ll go to the Train Station - anonymous ask Reader has a Stalker one night when the ranch is out doing something reader is alone at the ranch and the Stalker comes attacks her and rip gets a call from kayce after finding her

We’re All Family Here - Reader is Carter’s younger sister and she has a prosthetic leg and the reader is worried that Rip and Beth will kick her off the ranch if they found out. Wattpad request from - @Quackity_bwead

Lee Dutton

Wedding rings and a baby - Wattpad request from halidaehler2015 Lee and the reader get married because they have a baby on the way

Regardless They’ll Always Be Dutton’s - I just had an idea about a story that I think would be great. It would be a Lee Dutton x reader with alittle kayce x reader - request from @cookiez56-blog

Dutton Boys Got My Back - Anonymous ask Reader is drunk and she calls her friend jamie to come pick her up jamie tells his dad and brother reader calls and needs to be pick up at a bar so lee and jamie go when they gets there some guy was hitting on her and Lee saves her and jamie being a lawyer threatens him

Ryan

- requests open

He ain’t anything like you- anonymous ask where the reader is talking to them and she sees her ex over their shoulder and they notice her state maybe he hears them call her darling and think they are together.

Anonymous ask - How would Ryan react if you told him you were pregnant??

The Ranch Brought Us Together - @child-of-of-the-sunshine Okay so Ryan and Dutton!reader are engaged and she finds out he got branded after the whole Colby and Teter thing. That kinda the basis of what I was thinking 🤔

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astroprompts · 5 months

Text

✧ —𝐁𝐎𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 [𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝟸]

“Why do we even have saucers? We don't drink tea!”

“Do you have a thousand dollars? Because each minute I spend talking to you, that's how much money I'm wasting.”

“You're the only one in this building who isn't a total snooze-cooze.”

“No one watches this show to feel feelings. Life is depressing enough already!”

“All this time, I assumed there was more to me than everyone thought. But maybe there isn't.”

“I don't care if you are happy or not. You have a job to do.”

“Look who finally decided to pick up the phone.”

“You must think I'm a real monster.”

“You were born broken, that's your birthright.”

“Can't say I'll miss it, but we did have some crazy adventures together these last few weeks.”

“Sometimes you wanna go where no one knows your name.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“I want to do things with you. Fully clothed, sober, in daylight hours.”

“Look, you obviously really care about this girl and that scares you, so you sabotage yourself.”

“How about you just stop sulking and go win her back, dummy?”

“I'm cynical, and I'm possessive, and I can sometimes fly off the handle. I'm not always the best at being not terrible. But I want to be better, I'm trying to be better.”

“Why do I always do this? I push away everyone I care about.”

“No matter what, we're going to stick together.”

“I'm no good with funerals. When I cry, it messes up my makeup and then I get really bummed out.”

“Okay, you're clearly in one of your moods.”

“Why serve dates and not have a place to put the pits? You know, some people just have no class.”

“There's so much to hate about what you just said.”

“Shove it up your ass with a spoonful of sugar, you supercalifragilisticexpiali-bitch!”

“You know, maybe it's for the best we don't get together that often. We'd most likely drive each other mad.”

“No one knows how to get under your skin like family.”

“You wanna check out this cool new game I got?”

“I know there's no accounting for taste, but come on.”

“There is no shame in dying for nothing. That's why most people die.”

“Quick, jump out the window, shimmy down the drainpipe and wait in the car.”

“When you don't regret the tattoo in the morning, that's how you know it's love.”

“I guess I was just foolish enough to believe this dumb world still had a little spark of romance in it.”

“Look, what happened back there is not your fault.”

“If you wanna go for a walk in the woods at night, go crazy, but I'm not going anywhere.”

“Look, pal, I'll pay the bill, just-- Just let us get you to a damn hospital.”

“Um, do you wanna talk about what happened?”

“Any time someone tries to love you, you shove them away.”

“I was this badass overachiever that had these big plans to change the world.”

“So, now you're just gonna do whatever a teenage girl says?”

“I don't need you to like me. It would be fun if you liked me, because I'd prove my parents were wrong to never support me, because I earned the admiration of an authority figure, proving I have intrinsic worth, but it's not a big deal or anything. Jeez.”

“You know, sometimes I feel like my whole life is just a series of loosely-related wacky misadventures.”

“When you think something isn't about you, you find a way to save the day and realize that it was, all along, all about you.”

“Oh, is that that thing where you strangle yourself in an attempt to heighten sexual arousal?”

“So, noose-wise, what are we talking? You use a standard sailor's knot or more like your average birthday-present bow?”

“I don't know if I want your jack-off kit at my house.”

“This is the part of the movie where you get your heart broken. Where the world tests you, and people treat you like shit. But it has to happen this way. Otherwise, the end of the movie, when you get everything you want, won't feel as rewarding.”

“Jesus, why does cantaloupe think every time it gets invited to a party, it can bring along its dumb friend honeydew?”

“When we know what we know about a monster like that and we still put him on TV every week, we're teaching a generation of young boys and girls that a man's reputation is more important than the lives of the women he's ruined.”

“I don't understand why you can't be on my side about this.”

“I asked you, really nicely, not to make a big thing out of this.”

“Why does it suddenly matter what I want?”

“All I ever wanted was to be your friend.”

“Stop kidding yourself. If you really wanted the simple life, you'd have a simple life.”

“Love is an illusion, and happiness is fleeting, no such thing as God, and all your favorite musicians beat their wives.”

“Well, I'm sorry that things have been so hard for you, but that doesn't give you the right to be shitty to me.”

“I can't be around someone who's just fueled by bitterness and negativity.”

“You know, it's funny. When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.”

“I wish I could just go home right now and crawl into bed and not have to talk about anything or explain anything.”

“I'm sorry I'm not the person I thought I was.”

“Hey, you wanna climb up on the water tower?”

“I'm really glad we left that stupid prom, but I'm kind of bummed we didn't get to dance.”

“Look, sometimes when you're an adult, the right thing isn't always the best thing.”

“You're the first grown-up I've ever met who actually treats me like... You know, a person.”

“I said so many things when I was young. I thought I was so deep.”

“It doesn't matter where you are, it's who you are.”

“So many times in my life I've done the wrong thing, but this is the right thing, and I have never been more sure of anything.”

“I've wasted so much time sitting on my hands and imagining what could have been.”

“If you are not out of my driveway in 30 minutes, I will call the police.”

“If you ever try to contact me or my family again, I will fucking kill you.”

“Wake up, captain dumbshit.”

“Now let's get out there and tell all those garbage rat bastard sons of bastards what we really think of them, once and for all.”

“If you're holding out for something better, well, I hate to break it to you, but you're gonna be alone for a long time.”

“Every day, it gets a little easier. But you gotta do it every day, that's the hard part.”

#rp meme #ask meme #dialogue prompt #sentence starters #bojack horseman

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greyskyflowers · 3 months

Text

Finally caught up on Bleach TYBW (anime) and a need to discuss a potential idea.

~ More Ichigo and the Visored ~

⚠️ Please scroll past this if you're worried about spoilers for the anime ⚠️

So because the idea that some of the visored die so soon after they've finally gotten back to normal devastates me in ways I can't fully put into words, and because I will never get enough visored and Ichigo interactions/relationships, I think a canon divergent/AU type fic idea towards the end of the 2nd season would be so fun to explore.

As always I'm gonna add in some more instinctive traits that I like to imagine the visored have.

So, I'm really into the idea that Mayuri can save Rose and Kensei but he's not going to do it out of the good of his heart. He's got the thing he's doing with the zombie type stuff already so let's imagine he's can save them still somehow. Or that they're going to be fine and everything's fine, totally fine. They're all good

However, Ichigo would be a prize that would make saving them worth the trouble. This would be perfect opportunity. He'll heal Rose and Kensei if Ichigo agrees to go with him, they negotiate x amount of time. Maybe a week or whatever.

Even better, Ichigo agrees to this. No one can even say that Mayuri had taken him against his will or done something worth being stripped of captain because when Ichigo agreed. And Mayuri is even going to honor the time frame agreed upon. He knows that he's already pushing it with the deal tbh.

I personally can't believe there aren't more fics about Mayuri trying everything he can to get Ichigo in his labs for testing and observation.

But I want to focus on the visored and Ichigo with this.

Rose and Kensei wake up to the others and they all have a little time for themselves as a group because the idea of losing any of them is devastating and they almost did.

And maybe people still aren't panicking about Ichigo yet, everyone assuming he's with someone else, but that quickly changes. Because Ichigo isn't with Chad and Orihime, or Rukia and Renji, or Urahara, Ganju, etc. And people start to panic because where the fuck is Ichigo?

I like the idea that Mayuri just tells people when they get smart enough to side eye him after he's been strangely quiet about wasting resources on searching for someone like Ichigo.

He didn't do anything wrong, after all. He and Ichigo had made a deal. They will get Ichigo back after the allotted time is up.

So everyone is stuck waiting for the time to be up, hovering outside the 12 division in shifts, trying to keep Kisuke from destroying his old division in a breathtaking rage and attempting to convince Kenpachi to wait until they have Ichigo before killing the clown.

No one quite gets what happened though. What could Mayuri had offered that Ichigo wanted so bad?

And maybe only a few people figure it out, or maybe everyone does, but somehow the visored put together that Ichigo saved Rose and Kensei specifically.

What would that mean to people who were used to betrayal? Who probably only truly trusted or loved each other?

Sure, Ichigo is one of their. And I wish we got to see more interactions with them. Bleach has so many great relationships and dynamics that we never really dig into as much as I'd like. But he was so young and there was a slight disconnect between them because Ichigo hadn't been betrayed like they had, he hadn't been left to simmer in his anger for years like they had.

They're fond of him, more so than they are about most people, but they would never had asked this of him. Or ever have even expected it. And that makes it even worse because Ichigo didn't need them to ask, he just did it.

There are certain people are Ichigo's, his to protect and love and sacrifice for. His sisters, Chad, Orihime, Uryu, Rukia, Kisuke, the Visored, and more.

So Mayuri had the ability to save people that Ichigo considers his and he didn't even have to think about it.

Of course he'd let Mayuri do his experiments on him, as long as Rose and Kensei would be okay. Because Ichigo also knows that it's going to destroy the other visored to hear that they're gone.

When the time period is up, Ichigo comes stumbling out of the 12th like he's drunk, clearly hurt, and starting to fall only to immediately be swept up and away by one or more of the visored.

There are many people who want to see Ichigo, to check on him and make sure he's okay but they all step back and allow the visored a chance to have him first.

They have a wildness to their eyes that doesn't have anything to do the gold in them and they seem darker, right on the edge of being cruel if they deem it necessary.

No one is going to touch Ichigo when he's hurt and vulnerable because of them.

So everyone steps back and lets them be the ones to get him first.

They have a room they consider safe and comfortable, far enough away to have some privacy but close enough that no one was going to throw a fit about Ichigo being too far away.

They hover when someone from the 4th comes in to check Ichigo and they make their intentions of being alone with him known to anyone who's brave enough to check on them.

They settle around the room with lips curled back to show teeth and eyes glowing, looking like the monsters they try so hard to not be. Their bodies sink into the shadows of the room and golden eyes focus on their youngest, hurt and passed out on a little futon in the middle of the room.

And to add to it, I think something about not being able to heal everything because they don't know what Mayuri gave him and how it will react to kaido, so he's just bandaged up for the time being.

Chad, Orihime, Rukia, Kisuke, and others keep everyone away and guard the room. Even though they would love to see Ichigo and make sure he's okay, they know that the visored need him more right now.

They make sure food and water is regularly provided and try to not look when the door opens enough for a hand to reach out and grab the supplies.

They looked once when the door cracked open and they just saw darkness and gold, a growled warning that went all the way down to their bones and had them snapping back around and pretending they hadn't seen anything.

Ichigo smells like blood and salt and hurt. It burns their noses because he's supposed to smell like warmth and power and Ichigo. Like pack.

He eventually wakes up and, because it's Ichigo, the first thing he focuses on is how happy he is to see Rose and Kensei are okay. How happy he is to see that they're all okay.

He smiles but it doesn't sit quite right on his face because he's still bruised and hurt. They yell at him, calling him everything they can think of and trying to make sure it's drilled into his head that he should never do something like that again.

He knows they've been staying there with him though, can tell by the state of the room that they haven't left him. They look rough, exhausted but with a fresh burst of energy from him waking up.

He can hear the thank yous in-between their lectures and complaining. He can feel the affection in the way they keep looking him over, all of them close enough to jump into action if he needed them. He knows they say don't ever do that again but they mean we will never put you in that position again, and god you're a fucking idiot but they mean god you're our fucking idiot.

There's still a small smile on his face, and he says he'd do it all over again.

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

1.) I'm fucking obsessed with Senjumaru. She's perfect. Her character design is beautiful, her bankai is incredible, and she could stab me with needles and I'd say thank you.

2.) I'm also enjoying Askin a lot? I've honestly found most of the quincy characters annoying as fuck but I'm enjoying him so far.

#bleach #ichigo kurosaki #bleach tybw #rose otoribashi #kensei muguruma #kisuke urahara #shinji hirako #visoreds #visored #au ideas #canon divergent au #my babies deserve better let them have a happy ending please #i know the manga is further and i need to catch up but this idea wouldn't leave my head #idk i just want Ichigo to be loved on #reaping souls with greyskyflowers

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specialagentlokitty · 10 months

Text

Mr Evershed x Daughter!reader - it takes a toll

Hi I think I have a idea for a Mr. Evershed x Student or daughter Reader. There is a very rude teacher who loves to insult the students. So the teacher also has high demands on his teaching, which the students do not meet. The teacher gives too much Homework, or something like that. Anyway, the teacher has a very special hatred for Reader. And somehow Mr. Evershed is notice it. Thanks. - Anon💜

You dreaded going to this lesson, every day before you were supposed to go in you debated just ditching, but with your dad as the headteacher you knew you couldn’t.

So with reluctance you trudged into the room and sat at your seat in front of the class with a few others.

“Ah, (Y/N), do you have your homework today?” Mr Jonas asked.

“Yes sir.”

You got it out of your bag and showed it to him and he looked at it briefly before ripping it up making you sigh heavily.

“Not good enough.”

“I literally answered all the questions.”

“Detention for talking back. Anything else to say?”

You clenched your jaw and shook your head, slumping back in your chair a little as you glared at the table.

There was nothing you could do.

You couldn’t talk, no matter what you did your work was never good enough, he was failing you on every single test you sat for no reason.

For some reason this man hated you.

And you couldn’t understand why.

So you just sat quietly like you did every lesson, and as the final bell went you stayed sat in your chair as all the other students finished.

“You know what to do.”

“Yea sir.” You sneered.

Getting up, you walked around the table and took the whiteboard pen from him.

“What am I writing today?”

“I will never amount to anything.”

You clenched your jaw even more, and you began to write what he wanted you to write, using a chair in order to reach the top of bored.

You knew this routine like the back of your hand now, and when you finished you slammed the pen on to the desk and glared at him.

“Now you’re going to redo all of the last two weeks worth of homework before our lesson tomorrow morning.”

“That’ll take all night!”

“Well that’s such a shame isn’t it? Keep it up and I’ll tell your father that you’ve been rather destructive and you threatened me.”

You snatched your workbook from him and stuffed it into your bag.

“I hope you burn in hell you bastard.”

“I’ll see you down there.”

You walked out of the classroom and slammed the door shut.

You walked to the front of the school and looked at your dad as he left his office.

“Hey, so you want to get something to eat?” He asked.

“Busy.” You snapped.

You stormed away from him and he looked at you confused, and looked at the few other teachers who were in reception as well.

“She’s been rather snappy all afternoon Martin, got quite rude to me and told me to burn in hell.” Mr Jonas said.

“Is there a reason?” Mr Evershed asked.

“No, just came right out with it.”

Mr Evershed frowned and walked to his car, trying to figure out what was going on with you.

He got home before you, and when you came in he called for you to come through to the kitchen where he was making dinner.

“Did you tell Mr Jonas to burn in hell?”

“Whatever I’ll take the detention, I’ve got homework.”

You went to walk away and he stopped you.

“Hey, hey stay there. What’s going on?”

“Nothing in busy can I go now?”

“Not until we talk and you tell me what’s going on. I know you, and I know this isn’t you.”

“Well maybe it is!” You snapped.

You marched away to your room and sat at your desk to begin on your homework.

You felt horrible for how you had been treating your dad, but you were frustrated, overworked and tired.

You couldn’t exactly go accusing the teacher of picking on you, and even if you could, who would you go to?

Sure your dad would investigate the matter, but he was busy as it was, so you didn’t want to add anymore to the long list of things he had to deal with.

So you had to deal with this alone.

And that’s what you did.

You worked for maybe an hour, ignoring your dad as he called for you to come eat, and he came up not long after.

“Homework can wait, come get something to eat.”

“I’m fine I’ll come down later.”

“No, you’ll come down now, take a break from your homework and eat.”

You got up and walked over to the door.

You flipped the sign on it to say stay out and you slammed the door closed and Mr Evershed sighed, knocking on the door.

“(Y/N) come on, talk to me. I’m worried about you.”

“Worry about someone else then.”

“Is it trouble at school? With your friends? Have I don’t something to make you angry?”

You sighed a little bit and glanced at the door before turning to your homework.

“Nothing to do with you.”

He nodded to himself and walked back down the hall and he grabbed your plate, bringing it upstairs.

“Can you at least eat your dinner, please?”

Getting up, you opened to door and took the plate, setting it on the desk.

“If I have time.”

With that, you closed the door again and went back to your work.

You worked all throughout the night, even as your body screamed for you to sleep, or eat something you just couldn’t take a break.

By the time you finished the last sentence you hardly had time to shower and get dressed, and you rushed out of the door to get to school at your usual time.

Mr Evershed walked upstairs to bring your plate down and he frowned when he saw your food still sitting there untouched and he binned it, setting your plate in the sink as he left as well.

He did try to find you before lessons started but you were nowhere to be found.

And as you sat in the dreaded lesson while Mr Jonas looked through your workbook you had to fight to stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Detention today.”

“What? Why?!”

“This is only half attempted, really a primary school student could have done better.”

And in your tired state, you flipped.

Standing up, you grabbed your bag and shoved your chair away.

“You know what yeah? You can go fuck yourself and this stupid class. Give me a detention, tell me dad on me I don’t give a fuck. I’m tired of how you treat us, especially me.”

A few students nodded in agreement and stood up with you.

“Walk out and I’ll have you suspend you idiots!”

“Gonna suspend a whole class?” Someone called.

The entire class stood up, and you watched them leave.

“Get fucked asshat.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him and left, slamming the door behind you and a few teachers came to see what the commotion was about.

While the students mingled about in the hallway, you made your way to the front of the school and you passed your dad.

“Uh no, turn around.”

“Leave me alone.”

You barged past him and left the school, heading back home you didn’t even bother to change as you fell into bed and to sleep.

Mr Evershed had to diffuse the situation, and he heard Mr Jonas’ side first before he slowly began to talk to the students one by one who all had the exact same story.

And after some time, and speaking to some teachers, and finally a meeting with the trust, Mr Jonas was fired immediately and after a string of curses and insults about the students and shouting how useless you were Mr Evershed had enough.

“How dare you talk about my students that way! My daughter!” He snapped.

“These kids are pathetic!”

“This kids are trying their best! You have been overloading them with so much work they’re not looking after themselves and they’re failing lessons! You’ve knocked their confidence down!”

Mr Jonas scoffed a bit.

“Break them down build them back up.”

“This isn’t the military! This is a school full of young people who needed guided not to be berated! And treating my daughter the way you have? She’s barely been sleeping, hardly eating because of you!”

“So what?”

“She’s my daughter that’s what! You can’t be treating students like this and I will make Damn sure this will be your last teaching job, now get out before I call the police.”

Mr Jonas scoffed, made another insult and left.

And it all made sense to your dad now what was going on.

And when school ended that day, he went straight home, and he walked up to your room and knocked on the door.

You hadn’t bothered to close your door, so he picked up a small in your doorway and lightly tossed it at you, watching as it bounced off you and back to the floor.

He didn’t like to come in without being invited in, but this time he sighed and walked in, sitting at the top of your bed next to your head.

“Hey..” he whispered.

He gently shook your and you swatted his hand away.

“Give me detention.. suspend me.. I don’t care…”

“Hey, hey come on, look at me sweetheart..” he said gently.

You refused and he sighed a little bit.

“I’m not suspending you, or any of you.”

You looked up at him and sat up, turning around to face him.

“I know what’s been going on, and he has been fired.”

“Thank god..”

Mr Evershed looked at you and turned to face you, taking your hand on his.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? How long as this been happening (Y/N)?”

“Since the beginning of the year… but you’ve been so busy I didn’t want to bother you..”

“Come here, come here.”

He pulled you in for a hug and he held you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you okay? And nothing, I mean nothing is ever more important than you are to me. You’re my little girl, if someone is every treating you like that you tell me.”

“I’m sorry..”

“Hey, don’t apologise you’re alright. You did absolutely nothing wrong, okay? Nothing.”

You sniffled a little bit and pulled away.

“I’m so sorry for how I treated you..”

“You’re alright, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it, okay? It’s okay.”

You sniffled a little bit and nodded your head.

“Come here sweetheart don’t cry.”

He hugged you again and sighed softly.

“I’ve given your whole class the next few days off if they want it to get some rest, to eat and take some time. That goes for you as well.”

“Thank you…”

He kissed to top of your head and he pulled away from the hug.

“Now, get changed, bringing your blanket downstairs, and I’ll order some food alright?”

“My favourite?”

“Of course.”

You smiled softly and nodded and he left, closing the door behind him and you came padding downstairs a few minutes later and tucked yourself into his side.

“I love you dad, thank you..”

“I’ve got you sweetheart okay?”

You nodded and he placed his hand on your head, smiling softly at you as he handed you Tv remote.

He was making sure you weren’t going back to school for the rest of the week at least, you were going to be getting as much rest as you needed

And tomorrow he was going to sit down with you and get you to tell him everything that had been happening in that lesson

#ackley bridge #ackley bridge imagine #ackley bridge x reader #ackley bridge x you #mr evershed x you #mr evershed #mr evershed imagine #mr evershed x reader

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