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redhairedfiend-blog · 6 years

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#musings

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redhairedfiend-blog · 6 years

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Emerson promised herself that she would drive as safely, and as quickly, as possible. Putting Jesse’s life at risk was something she never planned to have on her agenda. Pushing on the gas, she sped away, rather too quickly, but nonetheless, held the steering wheel tight. Between her last sip of whiskey and now, she had surprisingly sobered up quite a bit; or maybe that was her adrenaline kicking in and forcing her to focus.

“It’s gonna be okay, Jesse,” she panted. “I promise, I’m gonna keep you safe.”

Emerson silently prayed that she was right.

redhairedfiend:

“First: hospital. Second: waffles,” Emerson spoke in such a strict tone that she sounded like a mother. “Plus, if we go now you’ll get blood all over your food. Waffles aren’t as appetizing if they taste like iron.”

She reached out and brushed his shoulder, as if the wound was a piece of dust you could simply wipe off. “Not gonna lie, I’m still drunk as fuck, but you ask me, it’s better to drink drunk than to drive when you’re bleeding out.”

Jesse would argue if he hadn’t lost so much blood while listening to her. As the world teetered left and right, he crawled into the backseat, collapsing onto his back with a sigh. “Alright. Never eat soggy waffles,” or bloody ones. Whatever. He was getting a little too woozy to figure out what he meant. For now, he placed his pride and joy in the hands of his… other pride and joy.

“Please just don’t crash her,” he whined, referring to the car that had been to hell and back as many times as the two of them. “She’s sensitive.”

With that, he threw his jacket over his face, ignored the sound of incoming sirens, and resolved to enjoy the ride, however bumpy it may be.

#BABY EM WANTS TO KEEP HER BOYFRIEND SAFE

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redhairedfiend-blog · 6 years

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“Well, I’m glad I managed to make an impression.” Emerson laughed, grabbing a handful of fries and stuffing her face. “Most guys by now would have up and left; you’re stupid enough to stay with me.”

There was no guarantee that Jesse had any intention of remaining in contact with her after tonight, but the thought of him being an individual Emerson could see on a regular basis was comforting. Normally she was consoled by the truth rather than lies, in spite of how much anguish it caused her, but at this moment, she wanted nothing more than to be pleasured by her ignorance. If this were to be the last time she saw him, she would savor it. It was better to cherish the memory of tonight with him than to leave empty-handed.

“I want you to tell me another story,” she stated, taking a bite out of the greasy bacon cheeseburger, letting the juices remain on her lips. “What other bitches have you tried to kill?”

redhairedfiend:

Emerson couldn’t help but smile at just how ridiculous Jesse’s reaction was. She could feel her jealousy begin to die down with each moment that passed, gazing into his playful eyes that soothed her wrath. Giving the waiter an apologetic grin, she ushered him away without a word, turning back to Jesse, anxious to engage with him.

“You’re different, you know that?” she smiled, “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

Reaching across the table—and over the plate of hash browns—Emerson touched the top of Jesse’s hand, gently, so he knew that she didn’t have cruel intentions. Brushing her thumb across his, a sheepish grin manifested across her lips once more, continuing, “Jesse, you may be violent, and vulgar, and batshit crazy, but you treat me the way I deserve to be treated; you praise me.”

A dark blush began to spread across her cheeks, and she quickly retracted her hand, slumping down in her seat. “I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Feeling his eyes pierce into her caused the beat inside of her chest to run rampant, her hands clamming up as she shook her head. “I was too bold. I’m sorry; I’m really, really sorry.”

‘Violent, vulgar, and batshit crazy’ could very well be their movie’s tagline. ‘Bonnie and Clyde: More violent, vulgar, and batshit crazy than ever before’.

“Why are you sorry?” Jesse scrunched up his features, popping a french fry in his mouth and washing it down with a swig of coke. “It was funny; I think you made her pee her pants.” It wouldn’t be hard to tell through the pinstripes, if she dared return to the scene of the crime. Besides watching the lady crumble, he liked seeing her get so possessive. It was hard to tell whether or not a person liked him. With Emmy, there was no question.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side, lifting a fry off the plate and holding under her nose. Jesse was always better with dogs than people.

As soon as he was sure she had been fed, he shuffled the plates into the order he thought they should be, places his on his side and hers on the other. He placed the drink to the right and organized the hashbrowns, burger, and pancakes into a vertical line, in order of size.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before, either.” No one else came close to how possessive, chaotic, and wild she was. He could be wrong, but he was pretty sure they were soulmates.

#you're fucking disgusting WIPE your mouth you pig #redhairedfiend

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redhairedfiend-blog · 6 years

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Emerson couldn’t help but smile at just how ridiculous Jesse’s reaction was. She could feel her jealousy begin to die down with each moment that passed, gazing into his playful eyes that soothed her wrath. Giving the waiter an apologetic grin, she ushered him away without a word, turning back to Jesse, anxious to engage with him.

“You’re different, you know that?” she smiled, “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

Reaching across the table—and over the plate of hash browns—Emerson touched the top of Jesse’s hand, gently, so he knew that she didn’t have cruel intentions. Brushing her thumb across his, a sheepish grin manifested across her lips once more, continuing, “Jesse, you may be violent, and vulgar, and batshit crazy, but you treat me the way I deserve to be treated; you praise me.”

A dark blush began to spread across her cheeks, and she quickly retracted her hand, slumping down in her seat. “I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Feeling his eyes pierce into her caused the beat inside of her chest to run rampant, her hands clamming up as she shook her head. “I was too bold. I’m sorry; I’m really, really sorry.”

redhairedfiend:

The longer she observed the interaction, the more anger inside of her boiled. It wasn’t just an exchange of glances, smiles and paper thin words; it meant something. It had been a long while since Emerson had experienced this kind of jealousy, purposely not growing attached to anyone—last time she did, she got arrested for another “attempted kidnapping” or whatever bullshit excuse the police called it. The sudden appearance of these emotions inspired her, to yet again, do something impulsive that she would later regret.

“Excuse me.” Slamming her hand against the table—hard—she glared up at the waitress, slowly rising from her seat in the process. “You can keep your tits in your cute little button up shirt, princess. He isn’t interested in you, or what that gaping hole in between your legs has to offer.” She hadn’t even realized that she was now just inches away from the waitresses, practically leaving her spit all over her makeup burdened face from the aggressive manner in which she spoke. “I’ve already had to deal with one slut tonight, and I don’t have the energy or the proper weapon to do so again.”

The look of pure agony on the woman’s face was enough to satisfy Emerson. Her eyes were nearly bulging out of her head, hands trembling as she shakily held the notepad to her chest. She glanced at Jesse, then to Emerson, then to Jesse, then to Emerson, before subtly nodding her head and scurrying away like a meek mouse.

Slumping back in her seat, she crossed her arms and glanced at Jesse, who was just as shocked as the waitress was. Moments passed, when soon she spat, “That goes for you, too. If you do so much as to look at her again you’re getting a knife to the throat.”

He watched in awe as she interrupted his quietly rude interation with the waitress. The loud sound of her hands against laminate had startled him, and he pulled his arms into his chest to keep them safe.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Jesse said, as if surprised. “Really, fucking, crazy.” He carefully crawled out of the booth, walked to her side of the table, and he sat down where she once was, patting the seat so she’d sit next to him. “Like, Fatal Attraction crazy.”

By now, he was grinning wildly.

“Also,” he said, accustomed to the outbursts of a possessive girl, “you look like a sunrise, and she looks like a dumster fire.” If Jesse were a little more articulate, he’d say that Emmy looked like cabinets set ablaze, like twirling sirens and puddles of blood. She looked like chaos in its purest, most beautiful form. The ��second slut’ looked like Ulta had a blowout sale.

“If you want,” he said, while management scuffled about, trying to find someone willing to serve their table. They had just ordered forty dollars worth of food at this overpriced shithole, and the owner needed to make rent. “We can follow her back home after work, just to scare her. See how many times we have to follow her around before she leaves the city.”

The gentle sound of cautious footsteps came creeping towards their table: the sound of a nervous Indian man with a plate of rushed, bacon cheeseburgers and half-done hashbrowns. Partially in jest, partially out of respect, Jesse shielded his eyes like a horse.

“Am I safe to look?” he asked, giggling like a kid.

#GOD BLESS YOU FOR BEING PATIENT #redhairedfiend

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redhairedfiend-blog · 6 years

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