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idontblushsrry · 3 years

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Itadori Yuuji Boyfriend Headcanons

A/N: Reader is from America and a black female. Idk why i decided to write this but I think that Yuuji would be a fun boyfriend lmao. I don’t entirely know what the reader’s cursed technique should be so lmk if you have any ideas. Until then enjoy Yuuji and reader being 2 idiots in love. Spoilers for all the eps of jujutsu kaisen up to about episode 11, nothing past that though as I want to finish the show first before reading the manga, so please be respectful of spoilers and label them (and tag if necessary) in the comments. Also srry if this cuts off abruptly bcus of the point the show is at. This is also like, all over the place but whatever.

(also sorry this was posted later than usual oops)

Word Count: 1943

This dork-

He is so sweet and kind and considerate

But also a dumbass but also like he’s your dumbass

You and Yuuji are both equally stupid like bless yalls hearts

You and Yuuji met during his time at the Tokyo Academy when you transferred from America

The moment this man saw you walk up with Gojo-sensei he was smitten

Like your skin was glowing??? how???

And you had a slight accent but like he loved it too

And when you came up to greet him and shake hands you smelled so good and your skin was so soft

((He would later come to find out that the root of that was the shea cocoa butter lotion you used))

But yea mans was smitten and he is fully in love with you lmao

Will do literally anything you ask

You hungry? He’s prepared a 5 course, michelin star meal

Want new clothes? He’s been training for the day he could hold your bags for you

Ran out of hair products?? He’s already back with a special box of your products that he had imported from America

To this day you don’t know how he was able to get those products so quickly

He is loves when you tell him things about you from your day, to your times in america, to how your cursed energy works

Yall are the couple that does stupid shit together

Like one time you showed Yuuji one of those life hack videos and he was like

“We should totally do that”

And you were like “Bet”

Needless to say Fushiguro was very confused at the sight of bandaids on both of your fingers the next morning

“???What happened?”

“Well you see, I told Yuuji that I should use the glue gun because he didn’t even know where to put the glue stick. And he said nah, I got it and um yea so I fell and the glue gun was plugged in and then he tripped over me and so now we look like this.”

Gojo and Kugisaki thought that this was hilarious while Fushiguro decided that he’d store your guys’ glue gun in his shadows from now on

How yall manage to get through missions you go on together alive is a miracle

Speaking of missions, you eventually ask Yuuji what’s his deal because you feel a powerful aura coming from him but he never uses cursed energy, always cursed weapons

Cue Sukuna’s mouth popping up on the side of his face like “Hey mamas”

(You can’t tell me that Sukuna isn’t the type of guy to ask where his hug at)

“YUUJI WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“Oh, I guess you haven’t met Sukuna yet, huh?”

So he sits you down and explains how he ate Sukuna’s finger and you're sitting there like ‘mhm mhm mhm, sorry you what?’

For like 3 days after he told you that you couldn’t bring yourself to kiss him just because you were processing the fact that Yuuji ate someone’s nasty old ass finger and would have to eat 19 more

And the fact that he’s the vessel of like the worst curse known to man

During those 3 days, Yuuji’s pouting because he’s like ‘I fucked up, now she doesn’t wanna kiss me let alone talk to me because of this monster inside of me :(’

Meanwhile you’re just like ‘why would anyone eat some random mummified finger?’

Eventually you get wind of Yuuji’s bad mood and immediately, you rush to smooth things over with him.

You knock on his door and hear blankets rustling before he goes, “I’m not in the mood to play fight right now Kugisaki’

“Can I come in baby?��

You immediately hear the most comical almost cartoonish amount of noise ranging from a cup falling over, sheets falling off the bed, and what sounds like Yuuji falling flat on his ass before he opens the door

When he does, you’re laughing and it’s like the sky is no longer grey and the world is filled with color

You smile at each other before your moment is interrupted with Sukuna going “Finally, full offense, his whining was getting annoying”

You step inside his room and apologize for ignoring him, explaining that you just needed time to process things, explaining that you should’ve told him that before dipping

He just grabbed you in a bear hug and lifted you of the ground and spinning you around laughing happily, after all he wasn’t even upset with you, he just missed you

And thus begins the honeymoon phase of your guys’ relationship

Fushiguro is actually really happy for you guys and is the most supportive of your relationship but if anyone asked him to admit that out loud he’d actually apparate to the nearest marooned ship

Nobura doesn’t hate you guys but she thinks all couples are disgusting, so while it’s nothing personal, she does gag when you and Yuuji do so much as make goo goo eyes at each other

Gojo is actually like the main cheerleader of your relationship.

He is the teacher that changes the seating chart to put students he ships together

He was always pairing you and Yuuji up on missions and placing you as sparring partners like ur not slick

If Gojo is the cheerleader, Sukuna is an actual antagonist

Like the man goes out of his way to CHOOSE violence

Like on time you kissed Yuuji’s cheek on a date and when you pulled back, your lip was bleeding and Sukuna’s mouth was smirking at you

Another thing he likes to do is tell you all of Yuuji’s simp^tm thoughts

Like all of them

Now Yuuji isn’t ashamed of how much he loves you and is in fact very open with it, but he doesn’t need Sukuna telling you that the only reason he bought x mouthwash was because it made your breath smell like “sunshine” and he had to see if it would work on him

Speaking of dates, good luck

Now I stand by the fact that Yuuji would never half-ass a date and things with him are certainly never boring

But he’s also like a country boy in the city and his tourist tendencies tend to get the best of him

Like you’ll be trying to find a spot to eat and when you look back Yuuji’s gone

((Prolly to buy another I <3 Tokyo shirt so you can both match))

He always catches up with you ad you eventually learn that but like the first few times be havin you ready to put up a lost child signal on the loudspeaker

He’s very sweet and this is where his thoughtfulness shines through

You and Yuuji plan dates in the same way one plays bingo

Like because you never know where you’re going to be r when exactly you’ll both be free (especially with Gojo-sensei and his bare minimum ass information) you two tend to go ‘ok well if we’re here we’ll go here and if we’re here, we’ll go here’ and so on and so forth

But Yuuji always remembers such little one-off details about you that make your dates.

Like you mention wanting to try a sushi train and he’s already scrolled through multiple yelp reviews and watched every youtube restaurant review like 9 times

But every high has a low and Yuuji and your’s low comes suddenly and it brings you crashing to the ground with no warning and nothing to slow your descent

When your class of first years were sent to exorcise the special grade cursed womb

When Yuuji’s hand got blown off and he told you to run you froze, your mind racing faster than your legs could even start

“(Y/N) RUN!” Yuuji’s voice broke you out of your fear-based trance

“I- I...can’t...I can’t leave you!” you cried out all your rational senses screamed at you to go, run, he had Sukuna and you were barely a grade 2 sorcerer. But your intuition told you if you left him you wouldn’t see him alive again.

You were trapped in a paralysis of indecision but the choice was made for you when a sticky tongue wrapped around your midriff and you were gulped into the mouth of one of Fushiguro’s frogs

“Goddamn it Fushiguro! Let me go! I need to... save... him.” You were outside the building before you could even finish arguing.

You glared up at Fushiguro but your eyes softened some when you saw how beat up Kugisaki looked.

He gave you this look that said he did what he had to do and he didn’t care what you had to say about it

You and him waited in the rain for Yuuji or Sukuna to exit the building

You tried to focus yourself and save your negative emotions for your cursed attack

When Sukuna inevitably appeared, one finger stronger, you were fully prepared to fight him

However, he didn’t seem interested in fighting you and more engaged in fighting with Megumi

You tried to urge Fushiguro to wait it out, eventually Sukuna would lose control, but when Sukuna took Yuuji’s heart hostage, you both knew you’d have to fight

You and Fushiguro gave it your all but when Yuuji came back he still died

It took all your strength to not completely fall apart after his death and the support from the second years as well as Kugisaki and Fushiguro helped

You’d tried to visit him at the morgue but Shoko only told you that she didn’t think it’d be a good idea.

You still slept in his sweaters and the things that smelled like him from time to time, trying to make the idea of him last, but after a month, the smell of him had started to fade

Everything about Yuuji’s memory seemed to become leached away with time, from his smell, to the wear present on things he’d given to you

You couldn’t help but feel resentful towards yourself but also to Sukuna, he’d taken Yuuji from you with the same care that one would throw litter on the ground

The pain in your chest didn’t wane either, it only became ignorable to a degree as training for the exchange with the Kyoto students became more intense

Fushiguro is a comfort to you as well, aside from you, him and Yuuji were the closest to each other and so he gets a lot of what you’re going through and doesn’t push when you become more withdrawn

He also lets you pet his demon dog too but when you ask him why he’s letting you pet it he just says ‘because no one would believe you if you told them’ lies

The bastard really just does it because he knows you’re sad and he doesn’t want you to be sad

Speaking of the Kyoto students, Zenin Mai and Toudou Aoi are permanently on your shit list

You’re relieved that Panda, Maki, and Inumaki came to your guys’ aid but like if you had your way Mai wouldn’t even exist

Anyways Maki has Panda physically restrain you while she tries to calm you down

“(Y/N), you can kick her ass at the exchange!”

When you calm down, Panda puts you down and even though Mai’s long gone with Todou to go get his handshake, you make a promise that carries through the wind

‘Zenin Mai, pray that the next time you run across me I’m feeling kind, because if not-’, the last word is lost as the wind picks up but Mai feels a shiver rack through her body that more than ensures your message.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk x reader #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji #jjk itadori #black reader #x black reader #idontblushsrry

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2-cute-4-school · 4 years

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NCT Dream reaction : you give them a handmade gift

M.list

Genre : fluff fluff fluff

Word count : 2.5K words

Mark Lee

*sigh* my overworked baby, SM pls let him rest

he probably forgets to eat from time to time or just doesn’t time to

which breaks your poor little heart :<

so when Mark stays in the recording room until late in the night once again, you don’t go to him empty handed

you go to him with a handful of homemade cookies!!! ヽ(^◇^*)/

when you enter the studio, Mark’s slumped figure immediately straightens up, tired eyes lighting up at the sight of you

he turns in his chair and stretched out his arms to you with a puppy face and your heart :((( just :((((( melts :(((((((((( wow mark no need to kill us all with your babie culture

but who are you to say no to this angel with somewhat less appropriate thoughts but you didn’t hear this from me so you don’t hesitate to walk into his open arms

he lays his head on your stomach, nuzzling into you and cuddling up to you like a clingy koala bear as you run your fingers comfortingly through his hair, lightly massaging his head

with the serene atmosphere you almost forgot why you came so you pulled away from Mark, your heart clenching at his whine and bring the bag with the cookies out of your backpack and thrust it in his hands

he looks from you to the bag and back with eyes so wide and innocent your brain almost short circuited at the utter cuteness

he digs into it once you prompt him to, a soft ‘woah’ coming out from him once he was hit with the sight of freshly baked cookies

“daaamn these are so good, babe” your eyes shine with pride

as he sticks one in his mouth, munching delighted at it (◠‿◠✿) , he grabs you with an arm, sitting you on his lap like a baby that you are and prodding your lips with another cookie he grabbed out of the bag

“oh no, I made these for you, I don’t-”

he doesn’t let you finish your sentence as he pushes the cookie in your mouth, watching you fondly as you start munching on it and patting your head with a gentle hand

“you’re so much cuter when you’re not nagging”

*GASP*

the Disrespect

Huang Renjun

this baby probably also showers you in his own gifts such as paintings or drawing of you sooo

it’s only proper that you also gist him something made by you (°∀°)

you work your cute ass off to perfect the most adorable Moomin key-chain you can come up with *huff*

the day you finally deem it good enough to be shown to the top artist Huang Renjun you sweat buckets as you approach him

Renjun is busy on his iPad as you paddle over to him and stick the key-chain in his face with a dumb but proud smile “here”

Renjun turns to you with a blank face “what is this?”

●‿●

when I tell you the blood drained from your face and you died 50 times internally, your soul just left your body and you saw your life flash before your eyes ‘well life was good, time to say goodbye eyy’

you manage a loud and definitely not artificial laugh

“HAHAHA JUST AN UGLY THING I made I MEAN FOUND HAha ʰᵃ!!! Hey doesn’t it look like you in the morning?!”

that’s when you knew you gotta bolt the scene

but Renjun of course couldn’t let your embarrassment end there the grumpy little gremlin

he snatched the keychain from you and curled his other hand around you, gluing you to his side and you froze as you looked into his sparkly wide eyes ( Renjun’s eyes are galaxies fite me )

“you made this for me?”

“uh yeah”

warning : you were strangled to death by Renjun who deemed that a simple ‘thank you’ just couldn’t suffice, you had to die asphyxiated by his bear hug

“thank u thank u thank it’s so cute, I love it so much! I love you so much!!!”

“do you love me more than Moomin?”

warning 2 : he threw you away faster than he captured you in his deathly cute hug

“know your place, no. 2″

(¤﹏¤)

Lee Jeno

so Jeno is just a biiiiit upset at you maybe

okay maybe a bit more than just a bit

because you might or might have not broken his favorite cup which, mind you, was also a gift from you, when you were at the dorms

so now this overgrown baby gives you THE stinky eye and makes sarcastic and grumpy remarks with any chance he gets

and honesty as much as you love him, you’re ABSOLUTELY DONE with his pettiness :’)

that’s how you find yourself seated at your desk with a blank cup, acrylic watercolors and brushes spread everywhere as you squeeze every ounce of willpower to finish what you started

so after 2 mental breakdown, painted fingers and a veryyy dirty desk, you finished painting a cute design on Jeno’s new cup

you let it dry and didn’t waste another second to bring it to Jeno who still sulked at the dorms

once you were let inside, you trudged over to Jeno who was sat at the couch, refusing to get up and greet you with kisses as he usually did and slammed the cup on the coffee table in front of him

his frown turned into a confused puppy face so fast his duality amazed you once again, he lifted the cup gently, running the tips of his fingers gently over the paintings you worked so hard to complete for him

“are you still mad, nono?”

his silence was quite unnerving as you started to tire yourself out, your voice weakened by worry, but he lifted his head, looking at you with eyes so soft your heart fluttered wildly in your chest

“mad? you-you did this for me and you think I’m mad?”

he put the cup down much gentler than you and stood up from his seat, engulfing you in his arms, one of his hands squeezing you impossibly close to him and the other one cradling your head to his chest

“I think I just fell in love with you once again”

“if you fall in love just from a painted cup I should be more careful when I leave you alone”

he chuckled at your witty remark, kissing the side of his neck

once you broke apart, he placed his new favorite cup on the highest shelf and turned to you with a shit-eating grin

“i’ll put this here so maybe you won’t break this one too”

“sleep with an eye open tonight, lee” (☉‿☉✿)

Lee Donghyuck

so another overworked baby of mine bless his soul

his schedule is so packed so even though he’d cuddle with you until the end of times you actually didn’t get to do that as often as you’d like

and we all know how whiny lil cutie baby Haechanie can get when he doesn’t get what he wants :’))))

and since unfortunately you can’t be beside him all of the time like he wants you to, you decide the next best thing : you knit him a scarf !! you even stuck a tag made out of a soft material with a drawing of a smiley sun to one end of the scarf

he looks so shocked when you skip into his room and lovingly strangle him with the scarf

and you swear you could see his eyes glisten when you tell him you made it yourself and he remembers the bandaids that seemed to grow in number every day which you always shrugged of when he asked

although the tears may be from the lack of air ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

n e way, he looks so thankful as he wordlessly cradles your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and taking the time to litter kisses over every single one of your small injuries, whispering a soft ‘i love you’ at the end

you swear your heart runs leaps through your rib cage

he just loves you so so much and would appreciate anything you give him

you bring his face back up and press a huge *smooch* on his lips and you both giggle in between your kisses

why so cute you lovebirds?!?

he brings the scarf everywhere he goes, to the dorms, to every show, concert, whenever he travels somewhere, no matter the season

it becomes his lucky charm

once, Renjun sends you a picture of your Hyuckie sleeping cuddled up to the scarf, his nose nuzzled into it

“you know I won’t let him forget about this. EVER” you smirk at Renjun’s text, typing back a reply

“pls do” ( ಠ◡ಠ )

Na Jaemin

this sweet boi hold close to his heart anything you give him

so there’s literally no reason to stress over the bracelet you decided to craft for him

but you being you of course you want to rip your hair out every time something doesn’t go your way ah the levels of patience are definitely soaring through the roof

you even swallowed your pride and asked Jeno for help (read as used him as a puppet) so you were sure you’d get the right size

so after doubting the colors, patterns, material, your entire life choices, you asked Jaemin to close his eyes the next time you met up

with extra shaky fingers, you wrapped the bracelet around his wrist and fumbled to tie it properly

“I’m not getting any younger over here, y/n”

“shut up, mommy jaemie”

he managed to slap the back of your head even with his eyes closed (>‘o’)>

so when you finally tied a sturdy knot with your chicken fingers, you let him open his eyes and beach let me tell you the way his entire face broke into a smile at the sight of the pretty bracelet around your wrist

the sun seemed to pale in comparison with his precious smile, jaemin lights up the world no question, there’s no way you can convince me otherwise

“oh my God, my baby spent time making me such a pretty gift, I must have saved a country in my previous life, come here, let me smooch you into next week (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ “

so that’s how you ended up trapped in Jaemin’s embrace FOREVER

he kept on complimenting you the entire day and made it his mission to boast to every member he could get is hands on about his pretty gift made by his even prettier baby, he’s such a sucker for you no joke whipped culture right here m’am

“Jaemin, the the threads are getting dirty, don’t you think it’s time to take it off-?”

“I’ll die wearing this ʘ‿ʘ“

Zhong Chenle

among all of his ultra expensive things he has, he is dead sure that you’re the most precious in his life

he often told you he’d give up every penny in his bank and all his fame as long as he got to keep you by his side

he regarded you as a ray of warm light when the world left him cold and he swore he’d fight off anything and anyone who dared to hurt you

so this is how he found himself a bit confused and extremely guilty over how he is supposed to fight himself, watch and learn baby

he never meant to upset you, especially over something you poured your blood, sweat and tears into perfecting it just for him

sure, you were aware the Chinese patters you sewed carefully into a pristine white material weren’t perfect, but the way he laughed in you face once you offered it to him toppled your negative emotions over

he wasn’t aware that you sewed it yourself when he made fun of it

“jeez, where did you get this from, Y/N, the clownery fair? even though you should report them for to costumer protection for its ugliness”

“maybe I should report you for being a bitchy prick” ʕ ಡ ﹏ ಡ ʔ

you glare at him and storm away, slamming the door

chenle, the most oblivious and babiest boyfriend : (Θ︹Θ)ს well shit

but of course you couldn’t stay mad at him for long when he sweet talked his way back into your good side basically every minute of the day after finding out from Renjun (this angry angel helped you bless his soul) how hard you worked to sew that

so even though you’re still sulking a lil bit

you accept to come over at his house and as soon as you enter his room you’re shook

where one of his posters once hung above his bed now stood your sewing project proudly

you stared in awe like （’◎’）

“but I though you said it’s ugly”

“that’s before I knew it’s made by you. Anything you did is directly promoted to gorgeous, admirable, incomparable-”

ヾ(＠⌒▽⌒＠)ﾉ

3 weeks later while cuddling

you : *GASP* “I’m so sorry for calling you a bitchy prick, baby”

Park Jisung

he is a giant as much as he is a baby and you agree with me even if you don’t

babies are fascinated by almost anything, especially colorful things

which means Jisung is also fascinated by colorful things ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

so when you met and you pulled out a few origami figures of different, lively colors, Jisung : (✪㉨✪)

“woah, how did you do these?”

“they’re like basic origami figurines”

if he wasn’t amazed enough already

when you picked up a purple frog and pressed on its bottom and it jumped, Jisung jumped up with it

“WOAH, how did you do THAT?”

you didn’t have the heart to break his innocent awe and tell him it didn’t take longer than 5 minutes to make that frog

so you just settled for a shrug and a simple

“magic, Jisung, magic”

at that, he straightens up in his seat, his awestruck expression fading into a serious one as he grips your shoulders tightly （´＿｀）

“you’ve been lying to me, haven’t you?” ~(｡☉︵ ಠ@)>

“what do you mean, sungie?”

“you’re a wizard!!!!!!!!!”

*facepalm* *internal sigh* *whale noises because cuteness levels are just too high*

“uh, yeah sure, baby, whatever floats your boat”

you try to turn away to hide your growing smile, but jisung isn’t having it

“no, you can’t leave me like this!! teach me!!!1!”

he grips your sleeve and looks at you with such wide innocent eyes as if you’re another wonder of the world and you swear you melt on the spot

“well, you know, my services aren’t free” (¬‿¬)

“what do you want?”

“kisses?” ( jisung shutting down )

“k-kisses? kisses??!? i mean *clears throat and buffs up* yeah sure, that’s all? i can do kisses” ( this baby blushed after only mentioning it but okay boss baby go off I guess ) (*~▽~)

he could’t even be disappointed when he found out origami was nowhere near to magic when you spoiled him with kithes all evening *cue a red Jisungie*

#cznnet #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream #nct fluf #nct angst #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct renjun #nct mark #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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basically-i-write-shit · 4 years

Text

You Feel Like Home

I had to write a Danbrey wedding. Takes place in the Mama’s home universe, but could be read as a regular old human AU. Ao3 link

Aubrey fidgets with the hem of her skirt, leg bouncing nervously as Jake drives Mama’s truck out to the small botanical gardens between Kepler and Greenbank that her and Dani’s wedding is set to be. She wonders if she’s under dressed. Dani’s wearing a whole dress, she’s going to look so pretty, what if Dani wants to get a divorce because she can’t even dress nice on her wedding day?

She’d thought her wedding outfit was cute, but maybe it’s not. She didn’t even go with a full suit! Just a black button up and tucked into a black tulle skirt. The most color on her is her tie, which is a nice fiery red, and the sequined cropped jacket that’s definitely way too hot right now, she’s burning alive--

“Aubrey. You’re going to be just fine.”

Aubrey’s head whips up, eyes finding the rear view mirror, and finds Mama looking up at her. Mama’s wearing a suit. Aubrey should’ve worn a suit.

“I-- I feel so stupid, Mama. What if I-- What if I don’t look good? I know it’s stupid to think about when I’m getting married, it’s not important in the long run, but what if--”

“Aubrey Little, are you really scared right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you scared in all the years I’ve known you, even in that first year I had you.”

Mama’s stern voice is enough to calm Aubrey down, or at least get her to stop word vomiting. She takes a deep breath, actually turns in her seat so she can face Mama. Jake makes a distressed noise, and she feels bad a moment because she knows how paranoid he gets while driving, but he doesn’t argue with her any.

“I just love her so much, Mama. I don’t want to mess anything up on the first day of the rest of our lives.” She says, and her voice cracks, and no she can’t start crying now, her makeup is already done--

The car pulls to a stop, and Aubrey lifts her head again, confused. They still have a couple miles to go. Jake places a hand on her shoulder, smiling softly.

“I think you need a bear hug right now. Get in the back, and I’ll start the car up again.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Aubrey kisses his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick stain, and clambers in the back of the car without getting out. Mama doesn’t complain, only hugs her tight and tucks her hair back in place.

“Aubrey, you and Dani are the first I’ve ever been able to see get married. Y’know that?”

“Yeah?”

The car starts to move, and Aubrey takes a few deep breaths. They’ll be there in a couple of minutes.

“You’re the only ones who’ve even made it close. That’s how in love you are. I’ve seen my kids have flings and hookups, but no one -- and I mean no one, not even Barclay -- has stayed together long enough with someone. You and Dani are meant to be, and I mean that with every fiber of my being. Jake and Barclay and I, we all watched you two from the beginning. There ain’t no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna make it through the first day, the next day, and every other day after that.”

And just like that, Aubrey thinks she might cry again. She sniffles, hugging Mama closer and hiding her face against Mama’s shoulder. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do. But this stress ain’t about you lookin’ good, is it?” Mama asks. Aubrey stiffens a bit, before shaking her head. “If you think it’s better for your daddy to walk you down the aisle instead of Ned, that’s fine. I’m sure it won’t cause Ned no hard feelin’s and if it’ll keep your dad from causin’ a fuss...”

“No, I want it to be Ned. Ned’s been more of a dad in the last few years than my dad has. I just...will you be there with me when I tell him, Mama?”

Mama smiles, rubbing her back soothingly. “Of course I will. Then I’ll go check up on Dani, and give her the same talk because I’m sure she’s panicking just as much as you. Mama’s gotta take care of her girls today.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Aubrey laughs a bit, smiling. She sits normally for the last minute of the car ride, and once the car is stopped she hops out and makes a beeline for Ned, who’s standing near the altar talking to the officiant. She knows Jake’ll help Mama out of the car, right now she just needs to talk to Ned.

“You’re going to be just fine, Dani,” Moira’s almost done curling Dani’s hair, so she can’t do much to comfort Dani but make eye contact through the mirror and use her free hand to pat her shoulder. “Aubrey’s been snapping me all day, and she’s so excited she won’t stop asking about you.”

“Yeah?”

“She looks gorgeous, too. Oh, you’re a lucky one.”

“Hey, that’s my wife,” Dani laughs, tilting her head back, and Moira laughs along as the pushes her head gently back in place. She sighs happily as they settle down. “I’m so lucky. How do you think she’s doing?”

“Probably equally as nervous. That’s how I know you guys are going to be the best gay wives.”

“Aubrey!”

Aubrey smiles as her father engulfs her in a hug, hugging back stiffly. “Dad, hi, how are--”

“I waved when you got out of the car, but you must not have seen it, you ran straight to Edmund over there.”

“Right. I must not’ve seen.” Aubrey says. Things are still awkward between them, and they don’t see each other often, so of course Aubrey would run to Ned. Right? It’s not weird.

Aubrey’s father smiles at her, pats her shoulder. “I’m so happy to get to see you get married, baby girl. After-- After everything, I thought you’d never let me back in your life, let alone invite me to your wedding...”

“We’re doing really great, dad. I wanted you here. Dani makes me really happy.”

“Good. Good!” Her father pulls her in for another hug, laughing a bit. When he pulls away he has tears in his eyes. “Gosh, you look beautiful Aubrey. I always thought you’d wear a tux. Your mother wanted you to wear a dress. I guess we both got what we wanted, huh?”

“Yeah, I, uh-- Neither of those felt right, but a little bit of both just...fit.”

“That meant to be a bi joke there, Little?”

Aubrey laughs as Duck’s hand finds the place behind her shoulder blades, the park ranger finding her side as Mama stands off to her other side. “Yeah, just a teeny one. Was it that obvious?”

Aubrey’s father looks a bit uncomfortable-- they never really talked much about Aubrey’s sexuality, let alone joked about it, and so it’s quite odd for him to hear it happen. He smiles nonetheless, offering out a hand to Duck. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Aubrey’s father.”

“Duck Newton, it’s a nickname,” Duck says, and Aubrey snorts. He’s sticking with that introduction, alright. “I was here Aubrey’s first night in Kepler, and I gotta say, she’s grown some even in the last few years. You must be very proud of her.”

“Oh, the proudest. I can’t believe I’m walking my baby down the aisle tonight.”

Aubrey sucks air through her teeth, cringing, and her father looks at her confused.

“Aubrey?..What-- What was that?..”

Aubrey looks at Duck for help. He squeezes her shoulder. She takes a deep breath. Duck’s right there. Mama’s right there. Jake’s nearby. Dani’s nearby. She can do this. Like a-- Like a bandaid.

“Dad, you’re...not walking me down the aisle. Ned is.”

“I’m sorry, wha-- Who’s doing what?”

“...Ned is wa--”

“I heard that. I just-- You-- Aubrey, I am your father!” Her father says sternly, and Aubrey flinches. Almost immediately Mama wraps a protective arm around Aubrey’s shoulder and Aubrey leans into her thankfully, tearing up a bit. Fuck, this is so stupid. Maybe she shouldn’t have invited him. “I am your father, Aubrey, and fathers walk their daughters down the aisle--”

“Now Mr. Little, you ain’t gotta cause a scene.”

“I quite think I do, Miss Cobb. My own daughter has decided that I’m not enough for her!”

“That-- That’s not it at all, dad! I just-- Ned-- he--”

“After everything I’ve done to get you back, Aubrey--”

“That’s enough,” Duck’s deep drawl calls out over the shouting, and silences them all. Jake had come running up, and now leans against his legs panting. He reaches a hand out and Aubrey takes it, squeezing as she tries to figure out the right words to make him not so angry. Luckily, Duck and Mama have their own words ready apparently. “Mama? Got anythin’ to say to Mr. Little here, or should I?”

“Oh, boy do I.” Mama hands off her cane to Jake and steps up to Aubrey’s father and for a moment Aubrey thinks she might punch him. “Mr. Little, I highly advise you don’t use any guilt trippin’ on my kids, and yes she’s my kid. You ain’t earned that right back yet. You say you fought to get her back in your life, well you’re fixin’ to lose her again you keep talkin’ like that. I’ve got four ‘r five big fellows around this venue who’d just love to throw you out, myself included, but Aubrey wanted you here. So be grateful you even got the invite.”

Aubrey and her father both look at Mama in shock, though for two completely different reasons-- Aubrey’s father because no one’s ever spoken to him like that before, and Aubrey because Mama defended her so vehemently. Sure, Mama loves her like her own kid and has said it enough times, but hearing is different than witnessing.

“Aubrey Little is one of the best people out there, and you’ve caused her a helluva lot of pain. I’d suggest apologizing to her and sittin’ pretty until the reception.”

Mama returns to Aubrey’s side as Aubrey’s father processes her threat. He clears his throat and swallows thickly.

“I...I’m sorry, Aubrey. It’s your decision, and I’m sure you have your reasons. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go...find my seat.”

“Knock knock,”

“Aubrey Little, don’t you dare, it’s bad luck!”

“Well I’m sure glad I still sound young to you gals,” Mama teases as she peeks into the storm shelter Dani and Moira have set up shop in. She has a warm smile on her face as she steps all the way in, and she looks like she may cry again. “My, don’t you two look gorgeous. You especially, Dani.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

“Y’know, it seems like just yesterday I was lettin’ this scared little eighteen year old into my home, and now here she is at twenty-three and getting married.”

The look on Mama’s face alone has Dani tearing up, and she fans at her eyes so her mascara doesn’t start to run. “Mama, don’t go making me cry like that! I’m already on an emotional roller coaster right now! How’s Aubrey doing?”

“She’s just fine. A bit shaken up after tellin’ her father he ain’t walkin’ her down the aisle, but she’s just fine. With Jake and Duck and Ned right now.”

“I wish I could’ve been there for her when she did that, I know she’s been worried about it...” Dani sighs. “But she’s alright now?”

“She’s gettin’ taken care of, don’t you worry.” Mama says, moving to sit down, and only then does Dani realize something.

“Mama, where’s your cane? You know the doctor says you need to use it,”

“Must’ve left it with Jake after chattin’ with Mr. Little. I’ll get it in a minute.”

Dani turns to Moira, and she nods, kissing Dani and Mama on the cheek before disappearing to go grab Mama’s cane. That leaves them alone.

“Is Aubrey really alright? If her dad made her cry, I swear I’ll go out there in my dress and--”

“Dani, she’s just fine, sunshine. I promise.” Mama says exasperatedly, reaching over and grabbing Dani’s hand. She has the most fond look on her face, and Dani can’t help but smile. “How you doin’? Really?”

“I’m good. Nervous. But that’s normal for your wedding day, right?”

“Well, I don’t know from experience, but I think so,” Mama laughs.

“I’m so happy, Mama. I love Aubrey so much.”

Mama squeezes Dani’s hand with a soft smile. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual. You two are one of the most well-rounded couple I’ve seen in a while, and it’s clear you’re crazy about each other. You’re gonna go far, and if you ever feel like you don’t like livin’ in your own place, Mama’s always got room for her favorite girls.”

Dani laughs brightly, tossing her head back. “I think we wanna live on our own for at least the first year, but we’re both gonna miss you guys.”

“Well I’m expectin’ you two to come over for dinner at least once a month. It’s gettin’ lonely with Jake spendin’ more time at Hollis and Keith’s.”

Dani hums and nods. “Definitely. No need to worry about that, Mama.”

Moira comes back in with Mama’s cane and Mama stands, taking it.

“I’ll be back in a little while to walk you down the aisle, kiddo. You look gorgeous, you’re gonna do great. Now, I’m off to check on Barclay and make sure he gets here on time.”

Dani stands, follows Mama to the door. “Thank you, Mama. It means a lot that you’re here.”

Mama smiles. He puts a hand on Dani’s shoulder, squeezing.

“You’re gonna do great, kid.”

Oh god. Oh god, oh god. Aubrey’s heart is beating so fast. Dani looks so fucking beautiful. Oh god.

One of Moira’s compositions plays from a speaker, and Aubrey bounces nervously at the altar, Jake on her side and Moira on the side Dani’ll be standing on; Ned, from his seat, gives her a quick thumbs up, but she doesn’t see it, she can’t take her eyes off of Dani.

It looks as if they both decided on nontraditional outfits, because Dani’s dress is a light blush pink and reaches just below her knees, sweetheart neckline, a tasteful amount of sparkle. Her hair is down, long blonde hair pinned away from her face by some sparkly pins that Aubrey is for sure stealing after this, her makeup is impeccable.

It feels like Dani will never reach her-- Aubrey almost runs down the aisle to meet her in the middle, but she does’t, she sits patiently until Dani is in front of her, Mama giving them both a kiss on the cheek before she finds her seat in the front row next to Ned. Aubrey tears up a bit, and she eagerly takes Dani’s hand.

“You look beautiful,” She whispers, and Dani giggles.

“You too, babe. Love the jacket.”

Aubrey grins as the officiant clears his throat and begins the ceremony.

It’s officially the start of the beginning of the rest of their lives.

#the adventure zone: amnesty #taz amnesty #the adventure zone amnesty #danbrey #taz dani #aubrey little #taz aubrey #taz mama #fluff #wedding

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 5 years

Text

Deacon St. John || Guardian Angel with a Sniper

A/n: In many of these stories, you'll have to imagine Sarah doesn't exist. That was difficult to say because I actually enjoy her relationship with Deacon and he has her name tattooed on the side of his neck.

***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

***** Prompt: While annihilating Marauders in an ambush camp in Belknap, Deacon is saved by an unknown sniper. Curious as to who was watching over him, he searches for the mysterious person. *****

~3rd Person POV~

"Bunch of rapists and murderer. Not a single one of you is making it out alive," Deacon mumbled as he concealed his presence in shrubbery near the outskirts of the ambush camp. He held his crossbow tightly as he snuck up to the camp. Trudging up a dirt path, he dove behind a stack of logs before a man on patrol spotted him.

When he turned his back, Deacon emerged from his cover and shot him in the back with a bolt. The marauder groaned as his body collapsed and took a final breath before dying. As he moved deeper into the camp, he killed more men and women. What he failed to to notice was the man with a machete sneaking up behind him. His footsteps went unnoticed as Deacon was solely focused on what was in front of him.

The marauder raised his machete and swung it down. Before the sharp blade made contact with Deacon's head, a bullet whizzed through the air and pierced him in the skull, killing him instantly. The drifter turned around and cursed under his breath as he watched the man's body crumple to the ground, blood oozing from the hole in his head.

Turning his head back to the camp, Deacon witnessed the remainder of the marauders fall one by one. Whoever was killing them was rather skilled and had a silencer attached to their rifle, annihilating the assailants left and right in complete silence.

Deacon followed the line of fire when he witnessed the person kill the last marauder. He was cautious and slightly frightened when he emerged from his hiding place, wondering if he had been saved on purpose or the sniper had missed him by accident. Judging by their accuracy, he leaned more towards the "save" option. Looking up, a glint if silver caught his attention. "There you are." Curiosity took over and Deacon couldn't wait to see who had taken out an entire ambush camp with only a sniper rifle.

On the cliffside overlooking the marauder's encampment, Deacon discovered where the person had been laying in the dirt. "Damn," he groaned, seeing he missed the mysterious sniper. When he turned around, he glanced down and identified an imprint of a boot in the dirt. He kneeled down on one knee and examined the print further. "Which way are you going, huh?"

He followed the trail down the slope and into an old, tattered building. He climbed through a window and crouched beside the door, listening to someone talking to themselves.

"How many more times will those assholes keep returning?" The person huffed in annoyance. "I'm wasting precious ammo here..."

Deacon peered out the bathroom door, spotting a woman with (h/c) locks. He couldn't tell what she was doing because her back was turned to him. Slowly, he crept out of the deteriorating bathroom. His eyes bore into her back and failed to notice the Can by his foot. He kicked the small object, alerting the woman.

The woman spun around with her sniper locked and loaded, aiming the firearm at him. When she recognized Deacon, she lowered her gun. "You're the man who infiltrated the camp."

Deacon gradually stood up fork his crouched position, raising his hands to show he wasn't a threat. "Most people try to avoid marauder camps, but you're clearly not most people."

"Yeah, well," she sighed. "They're a pain in my ass and this is the third time they've returned to this camp. It a little difficult getting around when they're breathing down my neck. Guess seeing all the dead bodies of their fellow members doesn't send a message at all. Either that, or they're dumber than they look."

"Sounds like you're acquainted with them," Deacon remarks, keeping his hands up as he took a single step towards her.

"Was. I left once I found out they were raping and killing people. They still keep tabs on me and I decided to return a favor or two."

"By killing them."

"Exactly. You gonna complain about my morality? Because if you are, I'm calling you a hypocrite right now," she smugly grinned. "I saw you take out some of them. Saved you from one, too."

"Which I am grateful for," Deacon stated.

"You can lower you arms. I'm not gonna shoot you," she chuckled. "By the way, name's (Y/n)."

"Deacon."

"A pleasure to meet you, Deacon. You don't see many nice faces this far from settlements. All you run into are Rippers, Marauders, and Freakers. By your attire," she said, glancing down at his outfit. "You're a drifter."

"You can tell just by my clothes?" Deacon remarked with a scoff.

"No. I knew the moment I saw you through the scope. Normal people don't go out of their way to kill marauders. They just avoid them all in all." (Y/n) flung the rifle across her back.

"How much?" Deacon suddenly asked.

The woman's eyes narrowed in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"If you help me take down another camp, I'll pay you."

(Y/n) hopped up onto a table and crossed her legs as she stared into Deacon's eyes. "I'm no gun for hire, but I'll make you a deal. How 'bout this: we take out the camp and you just pay me back by giving me a ride to wherever I want."

"You've got yourself a deal, (Y/n)," Deacon responded rather cheerfully. "When will you be ready to go?"

She snatched up a small makeup pouch and placed it in her coat pocket. "Right now. Lead the way, Deacon."

<——————————————<<<<<<<<<<

Arriving at Bear Creek Hot Springs, Deacon and (Y/n) dismounted the motorcycle. They spotted a single sniper, which made the woman grin. She placed a hand on the man's back and patted it. "Leave the sniper to me. I'll cover you." She spun on her heels and began searching for a good vantage point.

Deacon hid out of sight, staring up at the enemy sniper. When he saw the woman collapse and drop her rifle, he knew (Y/n) had worked her magic. Moving forward, he made his way through the encampment.

While the marauders were busy in searching for the hidden sniper, Deacon was able to take them out one by one. Among the marauders was a rather large and burly man. He dove behind a large bolder, preventing (Y/n) from getting a good shot. Deacon tried to sneak up behind the man while he was searching for the sniper, but he turned around before he could drive the blade through his skull.

The brute elbowed Deacon in the face, incapacitating him for a few seconds. In the small time frame, he knocked the drifter to the ground and reached for the machete strapped across his back. He shouted as he swung the blade down, but it abruptly stopped a few inches from Deacon's face.

The marauder pinning the drifter down gurgled and coughed up blood before another bullet pierced his skull.

"Holy shit..." (Y/n) breathlessly sighed as she lowered her weapon, watching Deacon kick the corpse off him. "Are you alright?"

"Y'know," he groaned as he got to his feet, placing a hand over his bloodied nose. "This is the second time today you've saved my ass."

The sniper smirked, resting her firearm across her shoulder. "I did say I would have your back."

Deacon winced as he messed with his nose. "Glad to see you stuck to your word."

"Sit," the (e/c)-eyed woman demanded, nodding towards a picnic table. The drifter did as she commanded and sat down. (Y/n) pulled out the makeup pouch from her pocket and unzipped it. Inside were bullets, gauze, a few bandaids, and a small bottomless of rubbing alcohol. Deacon was quite surprised to find what was truly inside the pouch. (Y/n) noticed his gaze and snorted with laughter. "Did you really think I had makeup in there?"

"Not gonna lie—I did," he answers honestly.

"Makeup in the middle of the apocalypse? Even if I did, there's no way in hell I would waste such a luxury while hunting Freakers and Marauders. I wouldn't even spare an ounce of foundation for Rippers." (Y/n) pinched the bridge of his nose and wriggled it. He winced from the small wave of pain. "You're lucky. Your nose isn't broken."

Deacon waited patiently as the woman tended to the cut on his nose and wiped the blood escaping his nostrils. She took a bandaid out of the pouch once she cleaned the cut and placed it over it to prevent anymore germs from attacking the open wound. "There. It's a shame I don't have Hello Kitty bandages. I know you'd wear it proudly," she teased, placing the rubbing alcohol back into the makeup pouch and sealing it.

Deacon rolled his eyes with a groan at her comment. He chose to not acknowledge it and stood up. "A deal's a deal. But..."

(Y/n)'s smirked drooped into a frown. "I don't like the sound of this..."

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm still gonna need your help," he exhaled. "For now, we're headin' to O'Leary Mountain. We've got a safehouse there."

"Uh, "we"?" She questioned.

"Boozer and myself. He's like a brother to me."

This was the first time (Y/n) had heard Deacon's voice rather gentle. He didn't strike her as a man who could speak highly and gently about someone else. Under his gruff exterior was definitely a man who cared deeply for others. She couldn't help but smile warmly. "To O'Leary Mountain, it is."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<

Upon arriving, the duo were greeted by a rather buff man tattoos on his head. "Where the hell have you been, Deek?"

"Making the roads safer to travel," Deacon replies as he hopped off the bike while (Y/n) remained.

The unknown drifter eyed the woman with a wary gaze, unsure of what to think of her. This was the first time Deacon ever brought someone to the safehouse of his own free will. "Who's this?"

"This is (Y/n). She's been helping me take out the ambush camps."

Said woman dismounted the bike with a gentle smile. "You must be Boozer. Nice to meet you."

Boozer wasn't sure how to feel about the mysterious woman and turned to Deacon. "Can I talk to you alone?"

"Jesus, Boozer, fine," Deacon huffed in vexation as he followed his fellow drifter up the steps of the watchtower.

At the top, Boozer looked down upon the woman who respected them by staying by the bike. "You trust her?"

Deacon flung his arms on the metal railing, leaning forward as he watched (Y/n) rummage through her makeup pouch. "Listen, it's thanks to her that I don't have a goddamn machete lodged in my skull. She could've sniped my ass by now, but she hasn't."

"She could be waiting for the perfect opportunity," Boozer retorts vehemently.

"Christ, Boozer! Not every damn person out in the shit is after us! She had my back while I infiltrated the ambush camps. She had plenty of opportunities to put a bullet in my head, but she didn't. Whether you like it or not, she's helping me."

The air between the two drifters became dense with silence. Boozer weakly glared at his partner in crime. "I hope you know what you're doing, Deek."

"I do," the man responded with a hint of anger towards Boozer's doubt in his decision.

Not wishing for the awkward and tense silence to return, Boozer questioned Deacon's plan as he was curious to what he planned on doing next with (Y/n). The bounty hunter told him how they'd take out the ambush camps in the Cascade region in the upcoming days.

Knowing he couldn't change his friend's mind, Boozer sighed in defeat. "Alright. Do what you gotta do, but make sure watch your back. You may trust her, but I don't."

"I always watch my back, Boozeman. You worry too much," Deacon remarks. Boozer rolled his eyes before entering the watchtower and crashing onto his bed with a grunt.

Down in the ground, (Y/n) meandered over to a platform that overlooked the mountainside. The setting sun slowly descended beyond the horizon, the warm and vivid rays still gripping ahold of the forest below before vanishing from sight. She enjoyed the warmth of the beautiful rays until they were replaced with darkness. The sniper didn't realize Deacon had joined her until she heard his boots scuffle against the wooden platform.

Not even sparing him a glance, (Y/n) crossed her arms and kept her eyes glued to the horizon. "Not only do you have an impressive safehouse, you've got a beautiful view. It's almost like the world hasn't been torn to shreds." A cacophony of groans from nearby caused her to sigh in disbelief. "And the moment's ruined..."

Deacon had become quite interested in the woman standing beside him and had questions he wanted to ask her. "So, who is (Y/n)?"

The woman giggled lightly at the sudden question. "I was a marine biologist in Orlando. Now, I'm a woman with an itchy trigger finger."

"You're a little far from home, don't you think?" Deacon chortled.

"I was visiting my parents when the outbreak occurred. I tried to leave and head back to Florida, but those NERO assholes wouldn't let anyone leave. Lo and behold, here I am."

Deacon was a little hesitant to ask his next question when he heard about her parents. "Where're your folks now?"

(Y/n) glanced down, eyes plastered to the splintering wood below her. "Dead."

Taking a few steps back, the drifter rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit, I didn't—"

"You didn't know, Deacon. No need for an apology. They died only a week after the outbreak. We were hunkered down in their house in Marion Forks when a few Swarmers broke into the house while we were sleeping. They ended up breaking through the window in my parents' room and... tore them apart within minutes. I was able to escape while they were occupied with eating my parents." (Y/n) spun around to face the drifter, bring her bottom lip before releasing it. "You're lucky to have Boozer. My parents were all that I had left. And now, they're gone. Gotta admit—I'm kinda jealous of how close you and Boozer are."

Deacon was in disbelief. He couldn't believe (Y/n) had no one else in the world who cared about her or her well-being. He wasn't good at trying to comfort people, but he wanted to try and reassure her. When he opens his mouth and no words came out, he sealed his jaw.

(Y/n) cleared her throat, regretting how she made the atmosphere between her and Deacon tense and awkward. "You should get some rest. We've got quite a busy day tomorrow."

"We've, uh—we've got a spare mattress in the watchtower. You're free to use it," Deacon explained.

(Y/n) offered him a weak, forced smile. "Thanks. I'm gonna stay down here for a little while longer."

Deacon tugged on the rim of his backward facing cap. "Suit yourself."

(Y/n) watched the drifter wall up the two flights of stairs and enter the watchtower before redirecting her gaze to the shadowy scenery before her. Her hand gravitated towards her collarbone, grabbing the chain hung around her neck. She gripped the two rings threaded through the silver chain tightly. One was her father's wedding band and the other was her mother's diamond ring. A tear trailed down her cheek and she immediately wiped it away. "Dammit..."

<—————————————<<<<<<<<<<<

The next morning, Deacon woke up to the sound of Boozer mumbling incoherently to himself. Running a hand across his face, the man sighed. "What's goin' on?"

"(Y/n)'s gone," Boozer plainly states, emotion void from his voice.

"She's probably just wandering around," Deacon said, blowing off Boozer's words as he left the watchtower in search of the woman. "(Y/n)?" He glanced around the safehouse, wondering where she could've run off to. By the state of the spare mattress, he knew she hadn't used it.

Suddenly, the sniper's head popped out from behind the shed. "You need me?"

"Uh, no. Just... wondering where you were. Boozer thought you ran off."

At hearing their conversation, Boozer left the watchtower. He stood beside his only friend in this hellish world, crossing his arms as he eyed the approaching woman. "Guess your guardian angel didn't give up on your crazy ass."

"Last time I checked, guardian angels don't carry around snipers on their back," Deacon stated.

"Yours might."

Deacon glanced at Boozer with a raised brow in silence. He turned his gaze to (Y/n), who seemed more dirty than yesterday. He also noticed the small bags forming under her eyes. "You didn't sleep. Why?"

"Too busy doing some reconnaissance. On the road, you said you were unsure of where the camps were located in this region. Goods news," she smirked, revealing a map of the Cascade region. "I've been able to pinpoint two."

Deacon took the map, analyzing the red circles on the piece of paper. "How'd you—"

"One word: smoke," she grinned triumphantly as she interrupted him. "I had to climb a tree to get a better look of the area. I... may have fallen while I was climbing down and landed in a pile of mud."

A deep chuckle of amusement came from Deacon as he handed the map over. "You're one hell of a strange woman."

"I'll take that as a compliment." (Y/n) snatched the map out of the drifter's hand and gestured to his bike. "Shall we?"

Deacon didn't see a reason in waiting any longer. "Let's get going."

<——————————————<<<<<<<<<<<

A year had passed since Deacon encountered (Y/n) and asked for her help. He never thought their partnership would last this long, but he found himself always asking her to tag along on missions for Copeland, Tucker, and Rikki. They faced Marauders, Rippers, and plenty of Freakers in their journey through Oregon.

Deacon and (Y/n) were currently in Lost Lake Camp. Rikki had dragged the drifter off, needing to talk to him in private. The sniper sat by a gazebo, listening to the guitarist create a melodic tune with his guitar and singing along. She leaned forward and reminisced in He peaceful moment. It had been nearly two years since she heard any form of music or even a simplistic melody. Even the birds stopped singing after the outbreak.

"Hey, you ready to head out?" Deacon's voice sliced through the tranquil atmosphere.

(Y/n) frowned slightly due to the beautiful moment being ruined as she got to her feet. "Yeah. What did Rikki need?"

"Bounty hunt. Seems we'll be hunting down some asshole named Ken Greene. Bastard shot a woman in camp and stole her wedding ring before making a break for it," Deacon explained.

"Stole a wedding ring? Why kill her over something that small?" (Y/n) questioned, a single brow arched in confusion.

"It doesn't matter why. We're gonna find his ass and kill him. Rikki wants us to bring back the ring as proof."

The woman grinned, tugging at the strap across her chest. "Let's hope he runs. I do enjoy a thrilling chase."

The partners departed from Lost Lake Camp and headed to Camp Pioneer. It wasn't a long ride and they arrived ten minutes later. Deacon decided to hide his bike when he heard the jubilant laughter of many men and women close by. (Y/n) separates from the drifter and searched for a vantage point. It was difficult finding a good spot due to there being no cliffs or plateaus that overlooked the camp. "Damn. Guess the bushes will do."

The sniper laid down in a throng of shrubbery beside one of the cabins and peered through the scope atop her rifle. She observed the cackling individuals gathered around a campfire. Dead bodies were scattered throughout the camp, turning the pure, white snow crimson. (Y/n) wasn't sure which man was Ken, but she and Deacon would make sure not a single one of them left Camp Pioneer alive.

Without hesitating, (Y/n) aimed at a woman and pulled the trigger. Her body collapsed, blood pouring from the bullet hole in her chest. The corpse alerted the remaining drifters gathered around the fire. They scurried around in search for cover with their weapons drawn. Through the scope, the sniper spotted Deacon sneaking up behind one of the drifters and slicing her neck. He moved on to two more men while (Y/n) terminated another man and woman poking their heads from cover in front of the restrooms.

Unbeknownst to the woman, a figure snuck up behind her and discovered her hiding spot. The man used his bare fists to punch (Y/n) in the back of the head. She cried out in pain, but the blow wasn't enough to knock her unconscious. She swiftly spun around, dropping her sniper and kicking the enemy in the shin. He grunted and delivered another punch. This time, his fist slammed into her face.

(Y/n) searches for the knife Deacon had given her a few months ago, but before she could grab it, the man grabbed the chain around her neck and yanked her up. The force broke the chain and he grinned when he saw what was once around her neck. "Oh, where'd you get these treasures?"

"Give them back," (Y/n) growled.

"How 'bout this." He pulled out a pistol, aiming at her head as he admired the wedding rings. "I keep the rings and you get to—"

Before he could finish his sentence, (Y/n) kicked the man in between the legs. He whimpered, dropping the rings and the firearm. She pounced on top of him, punching him over and over in the face. Blinded by anger, she hadn't realized he stopped breathing and continued her storm of punches.

"Hey! Hey! (Y/n), stop!" Deacon shouted as he finished off the last man and ran over to her. His yelling fell on deaf ears as she proceeded in beating the enemy. He kneeled beside her and grabbed her hands before she could deliver another punch to the dead man's face. "He's dead, okay? Look at your hands."

(Y/n) glanced down at her bloodied hands, noticing it was a combination of hers and the man's. The adrenaline pumping through her veins blocked the pain in her hands and she didn't even feel the cuts and bruises on her hands until she calmed down. Her eyes widened as she tore her hands out of Deacon's and searched through the thin layer of snow covering the ground. "The rings... Where're the rings?!"

Deacon glanced around and grabbed two rings off the ground by his foot. "You mean these?"

The woman snapped her head in Deacon's direction and peered down into his palm. "Yes! Oh, thank god..."

"Whose are these?" The drifter questioned as he handed the rings over to her.

"They're my parents' wedding rings." (Y/n) held the jewelry close to her chest. "Were you able to kill Ken and grab the ring he stole?"

"You beat me to it." Deacon plucked the diamond ring off the dead man's finger and held it up to show his partner. He glanced down one last time at Ken with a scoff, admiring (Y/n)'s handiwork. The man's nose was shattered and twisted in the wrong direction. His cheeks were sunken in and his eyes were out of alighted. "You really did beat the shit outta him. Never knew you had it in you."

"Neither did I." The moment (Y/n) stretched her fingers, she hissed in pain and regretted moving them. "Ah, shit..."

"Hold on." Deacon fished around in his pockets until he found gauze. "Give me your hands."

(Y/n) held out her trembling, bloodied, and bruised hands. Gingerly, he wrapped the white fabric around her knuckles and fingers. It didn't take long for the white to turn crimson.

"Addy'll have to take a look at your hands when we get back to Lost Lake." Deacon placed the remaining gauze in his pocket and went to grab (Y/n)'s sniper from the bushes.

"Could you hold on to these for me?" She asked, holding out her parents' wedding rings.

"Yeah." Deacon took the jewelry from her and placed them in his pocket.

The woman stood up and followed Deacon to his motorcycle. As she hopped on behind him, she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist. With every little movement of her hands, she could feel immense pain surge through them. "Fuck... I shouldn't have beaten him to death..."

Deacon huffed with laughter. "Lesson learned."

<——————————————<<<<<<<<<<<

"What did you do—punch a rock?" Addy inquired as she inspected (Y/n)'s hands.

"Something like that..." She mumbled in response.

"You should see the other guy," Deacon scoffed.

The doctor didn't question any further and searched around the infirmary for the antibiotics, hydrogen peroxide, and gauze. Finding what she needed, the woman placed them on the bed beside (Y/n). "Not gonna lie," she began, dousing the gauze in hydrogen peroxide. "This is gonna hurts like hell."

(Y/n) gritted her teeth in pain the moment the gauze made contact with her open wounds. She flung her head back, desperately trying not to yell at the top of her lungs. She glanced to whee Deacon stood and saw he was gone. "Where'd he—Ah! Addy!"

"Sorry, but we can't these cuts to get infected. Your lucky you didn't break your hands. It'd be a little difficult to do your job if your fingers were broken." Addy finished wrapping the woman's hands and grabbed the bottle of antibiotics. "Take one of these before you sleep. I didn't any sign of infection, but I just want to be sure. The pills will also help with the pain."

"Thanks, Doc," (Y/n) smiled gently.

"No more punching or shooting until you're completely healed, understood?"

"But what if—!"

"Understood?" Addy's voice held a dark undertone.

(Y/n) sighed. "Fine..." Glancing up, she locked eyes with Addy. "I can at least walk around, right?"

"All I'm telling you to do is avoid anything and everything that will aggravate your injuries, (Y/n). Walking isn't one of those things."

"Then how the hell am I gonna eat?" The sniper groaned.

Addy smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm sure Deacon would be glad to help you."

"Ha ha, very funny, Addy. Nice to know you have a sense of humor." (Y/n) stood up and made her way to the entrance of the infirmary. Before the door closed behind her, she thought she heard the doctor say something under her breath but decided to ignore it.

(Y/n) waltzed to the docks where the kitchen was located. A few men and women greeted her as she walked past them. Reaching the edge of the dock, she gazed out at the still, crystalline water. In the distance, she spotted a few Swarmers wandering along the banks of the lake.

"Wondering where you went."

The woman jumped slightly at hearing Deacon's voice from behind her. She peered over her shoulder at the drifter. "Shit, Deek, you gave me a heart attack..."

"Turn around," he demanded.

(Y/n) did as she was told and spun to face him. Deacon held something in his hand as he wrapped them both around her neck. She felt something cold touch her skin as he latched something behind her neck. He pulled away and the woman glanced down, lifting one of her sore hands and brushing her fingers gently against the metal. "A new chain. Where'd you—?"

"I, uh... I asked Rikki if she knew where I could get a necklace chain."

(Y/n) threaded one of her fingers through both her parents' wedding rings, making sure to not aggravate her impaired hand. "Thank you, Deacon." She flipped her gaze back to the water, silence befalling them. When she remembered what Addy said, she turned back to face the drifter. "There was something—Deacon?" The woman noticed he was staring at her with a scramble of emotions in his eyes. Her brows furrowed in confusion as to why he seemed so out of character at the moment. "You feelin' alright? It's like you're somewhere very far from here."

"Uh, yeah," he cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

By the nervous tone in his voice, (Y/n) knew he was lying. "Yeah, and I'm the Queen of the England. Now tell me what's bothering you. We've been friends for a year now and I can read you like an open book. Somethings bothering you and I won't stop pestering you until you tell me what it is. It'll make you feel better if you get it off your chest." The sniper glanced down for a split second with a sigh. "God, I sound like a therapist..."

"Fine. You wanna know?" Deacon snapped back, which unfazed (Y/n) because she already knew he wasn't fond of people prying. "It's you."

"Me?" (Y/n)'s eyes slightly narrowed at the revelation. "Did I do something to piss you off?"

Deacon paced back and forth while scratching the back of his neck. He remained silent, refusing to answer the woman's question as he wasn't sure how to respond. Suddenly, he came to a stop in front of (Y/n) and sighed. "Fuck it."

(Y/n) wasn't sure what was happening until Deacon placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled her towards him. He placed his lips against hers in a hungry and needy kiss. Due to how much force he put in the kiss, the woman placed her injured hands on his arms to keep herself from falling backwards.

They heard someone walking towards them and Deacon pulled away from (Y/n). Turning around, he saw a smirking Addy watching them. She held up a bottle of antibiotics. "You forgot something in the infirmary, (Y/n)."

"Uh, yeah," the woman sighed. "Thanks, Addy."

She went to snatch the small bottle from her, but the doctor retracted the pills. She leaned forward and whispered to (Y/n), her smirk widening. "What'd I tell ya?"

The sniper grumbled in response. "Just give me the damn pills..."

#days gone #days gone x reader #deacon st john x reader #deacon x reader #reader insert #playstation

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chicgeekgirl89 · 5 years

Text

The Shituation: Chapter 5

Fandom: SEAL Team

Characters: Lisa Davis, Sonny Quinn, Jason Hayes, Clay Spenser, Eric Blackburn, Trent Sawyer, Brock Reynolds, Ray Perry, Cerberus

Read Chapters 1-4 Here

Shituation: A situation that is already very bad and then goes to shit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She felt like shit. Like really, really bad shit. Like she’d never felt this bad in her life, shit. Her mouth was dry, her body was on fire, her head ached, and it felt like her limbs weighed a hundred pounds each. She was also freezing. And tired. God damn it she felt like shit.

She could sense movement around her and felt like she should probably figure out what was going on since her brain had apparently turned to mush. She had no idea what year it was let alone what day it was or where the hell she’d ended up.

Forcing her eyes open she found herself squinting up at a tile ceiling that was probably full of asbestos. Her hair was tickling her face and although that seemed to be the least of her problems she really wanted it to stop. Trying to lift a hand got her nowhere so instead she turned her head to the side and immediately locked eyes with none other than Sonny Quinn.

Her memory came flooding back immediately and with it complete and utter panic. Her heart began to pound and she struggled to sit up. “Clay,” she croaked desperately.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Sonny said, reaching out a hand to grip her arm in reassurance. “You’re safe. We’re all safe. Clay’s fine, okay?”

She swallowed a couple times, trying to get her bearings. Tears sprang to her eyes, which was incredibly embarrassing, but everything hurt so much and she was tired and scared and she never, ever wanted to do something like that again.

Sonny’s hand moved to hold hers and he stroked his thumb back and forth comfortingly, letting her cry. “Is it—“ She couldn’t find the right words to ask what she needed to know. “Am I—?”

“You’re all right,” he said quickly. “Lost a lot of blood, gave us all a scare, but the docs say you’re going to be just fine.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay.”

The world was growing dark, her eyes heavy, but panic flared through her and she gripped Sonny’s hand tightly. “Don’t leave,” she said. She didn’t want to be alone.

“Got nowhere else to be.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

The next couple days were a blur of pain and exhaustion, but every time she woke up, Sonny was there. His steady presence at her bedside kept her grounded when she woke up terrified, her body apparently locked in a permanent state of fight for the time being.

It was three days later that she woke up and actually felt a little more like herself. As usual, Sonny was sitting right beside her, his boots propped up on the edge of her bed while he read a worn paperback. “Devil’s Desire?” she said with a smile. “I kind of figured you for more of a thriller or western guy.”

“Not a lot of choice in the hospital waiting room. So I’m learning about something new,” he said. “For example, there are many more ways to refer to a man’s private parts than I ever knew. Which is saying something. Also I need to work on my wooing. Women like wooing. And swooning.”

“Well that’s true, we do all love a good swoon every now and then.” She wanted to sit up more and struggled against all the tubes and wires that still connected her body to the machines by her bed.

“Here.” Sonny pressed a button and the bed slowly moved into a more upright position. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She shifted until she was comfortable. “You have been like…showering and going to the bathroom right?”

“Are you saying you don’t want my company in here?”

“No! I just feel a little bad that you’ve been sleeping in that chair for the last couple nights.”

“Believe me, this is not even close to the worst place I’ve slept. Sometime I’ll tell you about Bahrain. Now that was a bad night. Although,” he cleared his throat, “honestly, the first couple nights when you were so out of it weren’t that great either.”

Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but there was a knock on the door and Jason poked his head in. “Hey, you’re awake! Feel like having some visitors?”

“Only if you brought beer,” she said with a grin.

Ray came in holding a paper bag. “How does ice cream sound instead?”

She nodded. “I will accept that for now.”

Trent and Brock were there too and her eyes landed on the quietest Bravo man. “I hear I owe you an extra thank you,” she said, her throat going a little tight. Sonny had filled her in on what had happened. She knew Jason had made an impossible choice and Brock had stepped up to make sure they all got out alive.

“Couldn’t go home without the best member of the team,” he said softly.

“Aw, thanks Brock. That’s so nice.” Clay rolled himself through the doorway to much clamor from the team.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Lisa asked.

“Nah,” he said with a grin. “Threw a bandaid on it and I’m good. How are you?”

“Great,” she said. “I might never wear a bikini again, but other than that I’m good.”

That was a partial lie and both she and Sonny knew it, but she ignored his pointed look. Every single one of her boys was looking at her for reassurance that she was going to be okay and she would give it to them. They had saved her life, she owed them that much. Who cared if she still couldn’t stand up without help or that breathing hurt like hell?

They stayed for a bit chatting and ribbing on each other and her until a nurse came and scolded Clay for leaving his room, then broke up the party. “Sonny,” Jason said as the team moved out, “give us a minute?”

Sonny’s eyes slid to hers and she nodded. “I’ll just go get a coffee or…whatever the hospital says is coffee,” he said.

Lisa knew that look on Jason’s face. “If you’re about to apologize you don’t need to,” she said before he could even get a word out. “It was my choice to go.”

“But it’s my responsibility to get my team back in one piece. And I’m sorry I didn’t do that,” Jason said.

“Jason, I’m going to be fine,” she said.

“I know,” he said with a nod. “I know you are. I just want you to understand how important you are to us, Davis. You’re family. Not just our family, you’re my family. We couldn’t do what we do without you. And I was proud of every, single thing you did out there.”

Warmth flooded her chest and she smiled. “Thanks,” she said.

He looked a little hesitant and she waited for what was coming next. “I’m sure Sonny told you about Clay and the reason Brock had to donate to you.”

She was already shaking her head. “It was a terrible choice Jason. You made the right call. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Yeah well, it might have been the right call but that didn’t mean I liked making it.”

“We all got out of there Jason. Whatever happened, it was the way it was meant to be.”

He still looked a little unsettled. It would be a long time before any of them got past this one. “You call if you need anything,” he told her. “I mean it, anything at all.”

“I will. Give the kids a hug for me okay?”

“You got it.”

He left and moments later Sonny came back, two cups of coffee hand. “Is it safe in here?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not if you’re here it’s not.”

“Well I’ll just take this delicious hospital coffee back to the cafeteria then.”

“Nope. Hand it over. I almost died, I deserve coffee.”

“Hell yeah you do.” He settled back into his chair. “You make Jason promise you a raise?”

She snorted. “It’s not his fault Sonny. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“Oh it’s somebody’s fault but they’re mostly dead now so I can live with it,” he grunted.

He sobered a bit. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You did you know. Almost die out there. And it kinda…” he swallowed, “I almost lost my two best friends. Both of you just gone. Guess that doesn’t sit too well with me.”

“Yeah me neither.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You doing all right? Like, mentally I mean?”

“You’re the one who’s sat through three nights of panic attacks so you tell me.”

He looked stricken so she reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. “I’ll be all right Sonny. You’ve already made this shituation a lot less shitty. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here the last couple days. It’s going to take a while. But I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Well I’ll be here,” he said gruffly. “For all of it.”

She looked down at their still entwined hands and felt a little nudge of something in her heart. She replayed the last few days, every touch he’d given her, every time she’d woken up to find him there beside her, the quiet words he’d whispered in the night when she was shaking from nightmare after nightmare. She and Sonny were pretty close, but there were certain lines they’d never crossed. Lines that had seemed to disappear a little bit lately. And she was kind of okay with it.

“Good,” she told him with a smile. “I’d like that a lot.”

#SEAL Team #SEAL Team Fanfiction #Lisa Davis #Sonny Quinn #Savis #The Shituation #Chapter 5 #Clay Spenser #Jason Hayes #Ray Perry #Trent Sawyer #Brock Reynolds #Gunshot wounds #Whump #Lisa Davis Whump #Clay Spenser Whump

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noona-la-la-la · 5 years

Note

(+1+) This is going to be very long. Please bear w/ me. First off, kudos on staying with such a complex story like this. I When I was still active with Tumblr, I already saw this in other fic sites w/ authors singing high praises about the fic. And now I know why. There isn't anything unique nor poetic in how you write and that's what makes it so raw. As a noona myself, I admit that JK being a boytoy or a potential beau is alluring. Anyhow, I love the way you write the perspectives of OC and JK.

+2+) I love how mature OC’s view is while JK’s is so naive (for lack of a better term), which consequently makes it all the more difficult to know who’s at fault in situations they’ve thrust themselves into–not that pointing fingers will solve anything. It’s just the reality of relationships. People have different views and oftentimes, someone has to compromise or something’s gonna give. The smut is A+ and the thing is, I cried during the first real sex they had. Pathetic I know.

(+3+) But honestly, the way JK has been making love to her, it’s just… poignant and sweet and so validating that I wouldn’t blame OC for basking in the attention. As a single woman myself, I’ve often craved for that former affection, validation and adoration that a man can give me. Don’t get me wrong–I’m a strong woman who is at that point of life where I want to be but sometimes you know… there are needs that just won’t be fulfilled by these singular successes. I digress.(+4+) I can see the brokenness in both OC’s and JK’s psyches. Especially OC’s. Having been replaced by a man she was sure she would be with for the rest of her life really did a number on her. And now, she’s just craving for the validation that she’s still beautiful, desirable and “fuckable”. To be honest, if Jin made the first move and she bit the bait, she would have fallen down that rabbit hole just the same.

(+5+) It just so happened that as of now, she needed the childish, innocent love that JK’s showered her. And JK, oh man, that kid is wearing his heart on his sleeve. That kid, even if his intentions are pure, will never be able to catch up with OC’s train of thoughts, nor fix her hangups. Her insecurities are matters she must resolve on her own, and JK is just a bandaid solution. I don’t think this story will end gracefully and it breaks my heart because the default in me wants to see them happy(+6+) However, they both have issues that need resolving on their own. JK will always, always think he’s never good enough for OC; what with the fact that she’s at that juncture in her life where she can readily leave Seoul and find herself somewhere else. OC will always, always look over her back and think she’s never good enough for JK just because he’s younger than her (among other things that he’s an idol).

(+7+) She will always think that she’s “corrupting” his childhood, his chance at a proper love and that’s just… man, it hurts my heart. Also it’s so obvious how toxic their relationship is. I mean, they solve everything with sex and very minimal communication. Based on my experience, that does not achieve anything. Then again, I’m rooting for this story however it may end. I will await for the final chapter(s) and wish you the best on this rocky ride.

(+8+) Finally, as a writer myself, I want to tell you the parts I love. The sexual tension in the first chapter is something that made both my hearts race (my pussy has a heart too haha). In the other chapters, I liked and was very much bothered by the confrontation between JK and the OC after OC left JK all night to himself at her apartment. You can see how JK unraveled then. You can see how fucked up the OC is.

(+9+) And oh my god, if that isn’t enough indication of how fragile their relationship, I don’t know what is. If I were in this relationship, I would woman up and confront JK about how loose the fabrics of our relationship is–even if it meant leaving him with a broken heart. Because that’s the right thing to do. Gah, I can go on and on about your story.

+10+) I want so much to shower you with confetti for writing this intricate plot (for a plot that you’re just writing as the story goes, this is so well thought out). But I also want to choke you for hurting me. In any case, I wish you all the best in writing this story. PS. If you’re up for heart-wrenching stories such as yours, try Tayegi’s Equilibrium (Tumblr) or Fringesofsanity’s Right of Way (ao3). Thank you for reading this novel. Take care~BLESS YOU FOR SENDING ME THIS MESSAGE!!!! My heart skipped a beat and I’m blushing uncontrollably right now!

As many people here will tell you, they have been waiting FOREVERRRRRR for the next chapter of The Fitting. (And for those of you still sticking with me – I love you so very much and promise you will not have waited in vain.)

I think one of the primary reasons I’ve been so slow is because I know the end of the story is near – this will likely be the last chapter or if it’s too long, I might break it into two. Endings are hard to write no matter what but I think this one has been particularly difficult because of how strongly people feel about these characters and their relationship. And I know a lot of readers view them differently than I do and I’m worried that there is no way to make everyone happy with the ending no matter how it turns out.

One of the most surprising responses I got was after the chapter where Jungkook waits for the OC in her apartment and the fight that ensued afterwards. So many readers told me that they saw Jungkook as emotionally abusive and were angry with him. Others told me that the OC was cruel and heartless and didn’t deserve Jungkook’s love.

It was eye opening that so many people didn’t see the characters the same way I saw them. And that’s okay - beacause the story and how people react to it is entirely a personal thing. I won’t tell anyone what the “right” way to view something is. All points of view are welcome. But it did make me worry a bit about how people will view the ultimate ending, which I have had roughly planned out in my mind since I first started writing this story.

But your take on their relationship is so much like my intentions – one person so inexperienced with relationships that he has no point of reference for his feelings and therefore everything seems bigger and more intense than it probably should. And another person who just wanted to feel something good after the overwhelming pain and loss from her broken engagement – and who was naive in her own way by thinking that she could have a relationship with no consequences.

In some ways they are a perfect fit for each other, and in other ways they are the exactly the opposite of what they actually need. Whether they are able to build on what works or whether they allow what doesn’t work to overwhelm them remains to be seen – but the fact that you see the relationship for what it is… that is just a HUGE motivation for me to get back to work writing it.

Thank you!

#The Fitting #😘😘😘#inkkinks

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salamoonder · 6 years

Text

Dark Side | [ch. 5]

Virgil’s mastered the knack of replacing one kind of pain with another.

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: self harm, moderately graphic

A/N: Here we go, kids. Here’s the beginning of the dark stuff. My poor Virgil is...not very good at coping. As always I don’t condone any of his actions and if you’re upset by this chapter and need someone to talk to....my dms are open. But!! Please don’t read this if you’re not in a good place to do so. Love y’all. <3

|| Read on AO3 ||

“I’m not going. You can’t make me.”

“Virgil, please…”

Virgil flops onto his completely unmade bed and screams quietly into the mattress, sits there for a couple extra seconds with his jaw gaping for good measure, then closes his mouth, swallows, and tries again, this time directing the noise into words. “I said NO, Patton. I’m NOT GOING.”

There’s a freshman welcome barbecue on the main lawn and Patton’s been needling him to come for the past twenty minutes, but it feels more like years. It takes a lot of social energy to reject any kind of invitation from Patton, never mind rejecting it angrily, but he’d rather be angry than suppressed right now. He feels like Patton’s forcing his hand.

He can practically feel the hurt and bad emotion emanating from Patton, who is standing in the narrow doorway and making puppy eyes at him. That’s the problem with Patton; he feels everything so damn deep down. He never shoulders a feeling, he sets it squarely on his chest and lets it sink in hard. Virgil gets up and walks to the door.

“I’ll talk to you later, Pat,” he says, and closes it in his face.

He feels awful. It’s really not Patton’s fault, but he suspects Patton isn’t taking him seriously. Virgil doesn’t think he can survive, living with anyone but Patton. And Patton seems to think it’ll be nothing but a new adventure.

Well, it would be for Patton. He’d already cozied up to Remy. Everything was a new adventure to Patton.

The guilt is already sticking to the roof of his mouth, sealing it shut, even as the frustration and anger builds up in his fists. And his new roommate...he doesn’t even want to think about him.

When he walked into the room there had been a boy sprawled out on the second bed, which was completely made. A dozen or so Disney posters covered the wall above it, and a cork board above one of the desks was covered in pictures. Virgil was too far away to see them, but he could tell that they were all group or couple pictures.

Presumably his very social roommate with his many, many friends.

A bluetooth speaker on the desk next to a sleek macbook was playing something from the Hercules soundtrack at top volume. Boxes were splayed across the room, some of them on what Virgil assumed was supposed to be his side.

When he’d pulled the door open the kid had looked up from his phone and scowled. “Ah, rude! You could’ve at least knocked! This is my room, you know!”

He really talked like that, like every statement had an exclamation point at the end. He was long and lanky but solidly built. He looked like the kind of guy who could pick Virgil up and punt him like a football. And he was wearing expensive clothes, all name brand, but he was wearing them so casually they might as well have been Goodwill finds. He had his legs up and his ankles crossed as he lounged across his bed, like those cute pictures that roommates took of each other and posted to their studyblrs with hashtags like “aesthetic” ”dorm life” and “best roomie”.

Virgil immediately disliked him.

“It’s my room, too, jackass,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth, even though what he’d been thinking of in his head was a lot more diplomatic.

The kid on the bed raised an eyebrow and sat up super slowly, as dramatically as though it was the worst thing anyone had ever said to him.

“Well,” he said in a shocked tone, “I can see I’m not welcome here,”

And then he had taken his phone and walked out. Virgil noted with distaste how expensive his shoes looked before slamming the door after him. Being considered a rich snob, it didn’t usually take him too long to spot another one.

“Well,” he said to the empty room, “that went well.”

Since then he’d been wandering his room, debating going out to the car for more boxes, considering leaving all of Patton’s boxes on the sidewalk and just driving back home, or plotting what the best way to survive by locking himself in the bathroom all semester would be.

In the end, none of the options won out, and so he spent a few uncomfortable minutes pacing around the room before finally getting completely sick of the Disney songs pulsing from the bluetooth speaker and slamming the laptop shut. Normally Virgil hated touching other people’s things, but he couldn’t even hear himself think. It was like...roommate kid....thought he was at a rave. A Disney rave.

A few minutes later he was lying face down on the floor hyperventilating into the carpet, and Patton had chosen that exact moment to helpfully pop in and let him know that he was going to the freshman barbecue. And so Virgil had gotten up, walked over to the bed, and done approximately the same thing there.

His roommate still hadn’t come back yet, and he’d lied and said he must’ve just missed him when Patton asked. Virgil seriously hoped he’d gone to the freshman barbecue as well.

Virgil hoped he would make tons and tons of snobby, dramatic friends and spend all of his time outside of his room, taking a ridiculous number of group photos and leaving Virgil firmly out of all of it.

Actually, Virgil hoped he could go straight to the housing office and get them to change his living arrangements back to strictly Patton only as soon as possible. Or better yet get counselling to convince Patton to forget about this whole college thing and go home with him. Live out a nice, boring existence at home.

Virgil’s been lying on the floor thinking all these things when a tiny voice in the back of his head says “you know...you could always just bleed all these feelings away.”

Normally he would fight it, even if it was the smallest, most pathetic fight in the history of humanity. But I’m comfortable here. But I’ll have to actually look at the blood. But...just. Tiny excuses. Tiny little useless excuses. But today he listens to the voice and says, “You know what? You’re right.”

Almost out loud. Almost.

He gets up, slips the keycard into his pocket (he’s been holding it in his fist this entire time) and sneaks out of the hall, looking out for Patton lest he mistake his sudden activity for unexpected enthusiasm for the freshman barbecue. Luckily he makes it to the car with no encounters.

Patton’s left all of Virgil’s boxes stacked neatly on the sidewalk next to the car; all his boxes must be inside already. A peace offering. Or, really, just a nice thing that Patton did because he’s Patton and nice is what he does. Virgil feels another pang of guilt shoot through him, but he pushes all thoughts of the outside, non depressed world out of his head and picks up the first two boxes, balancing them carefully on top of each other.

It doesn’t take him very long to take all the boxes back to his room. The book box had been the heaviest, and going downhill really helped. It only takes a little digging to find the roll of paper towels stuffed with bandaids wrapped carefully in a towel, and a little more careful looking to find the book containing the razor blades he’s taped to the inside flap of the back cover. It’s not particularly subtle, but you’d still really have to be looking to find anything.

He steps into their suite bathroom, locks the doors on both sides (great, he thinks, the neighbors are going to hate me already--hopefully they’re at the stupid freshman barbecue too) and starts his work.

His hands are shaking a bit; it’s been a few days since he’s done this. He understands, he really does, why this is considered an addiction. He feels drunk; feels like the first time he’d taken an edible and all the colors in his eyes had swirled and blurred together and lifted him up in a happy little rainbow bubble; recalls the numb warmth pushing against his hands.

This is like that, with the shaking and the adrenaline, but it feels sharper somehow. Clearer. Weed and alcohol had dulled all his senses; cutting enhances them. Brings everything into needlepoint focus.

He keeps going and going until he feels a little delirious, until the blood splashes on the counter and he lunges forward to dab up the spill with a paper towel. He’s learned the hard way that even on supposedly easily cleanable surfaces blood can leave its mark.

That seems to be his cue that enough is enough. He runs his arms under the cold water, teeth bearing down hard on the front of his hoodie so he doesn’t cry out. This pain is different somehow, worse. He hates this part.

But eventually it’s over and he dabs his arms dry, painstakingly slowly, with a few paper towels. Then he gets to work spreading bandaids over every inch of his arms where he’s left his mark. He would prefer gauze and medical tape but that’s simply not practical right now. Anyway, gauze makes everything look more serious. Someone is more likely to gasp and yelp “oh my gosh what happened?” over gauze than they are over a dozen bandaids. Of course the bandaids look pretty suspicious but they still give Virgil the slimmest of outs-- “had a fight with a cat”-- if someone for any reason catches him without his ever present hoodie.

Ugh, he hadn’t even thought about changing in a room with someone who isn’t Patton.

Patton knows, of course, but he mostly pretends not to. Except when it gets real bad. Then the talk of seeing a therapist comes up.

Virgil grinds the heels of his hands carefully into his eyes, trying not to bend his wrists too much and reopen the cuts.

He’s focusing too hard on that to remember to stop himself from crying, though. He usually cries after he cuts. Somewhat because he feels disgusting, but also because he’s relieved.

He’s always relieved, to some degree or another.

He’s mastered the knack of crying silently. When someone from the other side knocks, he calls “just a minute,” voice practiced and steadied, clears his supplies, and gets out.

He sits on the bed, feeling better and worse and too hot in his hoodie but too nervous to take it off, even with the door closed and locked. After all, roommate kid has a key, too. He peeks his head out of the door for a second just to check his name on the door because it’s bothering him that he doesn’t know it.

Roman. Ugh. Sounds just as pretentious as he seems.

Virgil manages to find the energy to pull out all his bedding but is only halfway through pulling the fitted sheet over his mattress when he collapses and decides he’s not moving another inch until someone makes him.

He falls asleep about five minutes later, and misses the well meaning knock of Remy, who’s come back because Patton asked her to check on him.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil #roman #patton #logan #college au #tw: self harm

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kafziels · 6 years

Text

weird shit i saw freshman year (2016-2017, part two)

again this is late and mildly nsfw

-we were talking about the sexual connotation of 'thrust his maids to the wall' in Romeo and Juliet and Matt asked to give an example sentence but he said 'I thrust my thing into her' needless to say everyone lost it

-English teacher told us he met a guy who said guys get 'periods,' saying he gets moody and anxious around the 28th every month

-same teacher called Leonardo DiCaprio a baby. 'He's just a baby!'

-ok we're currently in a bad omen, the power went out twice, then we saw a black bird in the hallway (IN THE SCHOOL) and then seconds after the fire alarm went off, turns out a generator blew out

-plot twist: we continued school that day

-english teacher was explaining what the nurse meant when she said Juliet has a bump on her head 'as big as a young cock'rel's stone' - a rooster's nut. Which is word for word, he also said a rooster's balls. And when he said 'rooster's nut' someone yelled 'BUST IT' and he said 'no. that's disgusting.' And hE STOOD UP AND GOT HAND SANITIZER AND HE WAS RUBBING IT ALL THE WAY UP TO HIS ELBOWS, NOT BREAKING EYE CONTACT WITH THIS KID THE ENTIRE TIME

-'my mom takes so long to answer her damn phone. I could get a letter back from Africa faster than her. I get a letter from some fuckin African kid named chicken mcboob nugget faster then my mom'

-*watching romeo + juliet in class* 'she's not IN the fish tank, giana'

-guys pointing bananas at each other like guns

-English teacher is giving an example to the class like 'say you go to Panda Express and you get orange chicken. and the you get another plates of orange chicken. and then you get a third plate of orange chicken. what can you infer is gonna happen sooner or later?' and a girl yelled out 'DYSENTERY'

-'what's your favorite chinese food?'

'PANDA'

'no chinese FOOD'

'P A N D A'

-football jocks behind me in study hall telling each other 'bro you look like a teddy bear'

-a girl in the hall yelled out 'DOES ANYONE HAVE A TORTILLA CHIP'

-English teacher: "ok so imagine me cutting annie's head off with a golden axe-"

-someone brought a guinea pig to school, lost it, and now it's roaming the school.

-'mr. randolph I have sss. sensitive scalp syndrome.'

-a girl had a coughing fit and my English teacher said 'if you're gonna die...do it quietly'

-a guy yelled to his friends across the hall 'I didn't touch ANY of his junk'

-there was a security guard in the hallway crying during the daily playing of the national anthem

-they're playing jazz music over the school's PA system???

-the classroom phone rang in choir while we were singing a grease medley and the teacher answered by singing along with us. when he hung up he said 'the principal was not impressed with my song.'

-the other day I saw a kid open a highlighter and put it on his lips like chapstick

-'mr. randolph did you have heelies when you were little'

'no i had friends'

-someone asked my history teacher a question and he responded by fake crying and saying 'I don't care' in the most pained voice I've ever heard

-'anybody got a toothbrush' in the middle of class

-'paris needs a cock ring'

-english teacher has a huge bleeding cut on his hand and all that's on it is a Barbie bandaid

-'I am death's boy toy' *cue mom friend turning around with a disappointed sigh*

-a girl came into history crying about a breakup and saying 'don't date people they just wanna ruin your life' and the teacher said 'is there anyway you can ruin your life more quietly'

-they just called every girl named Abby down to the office. the announcement was a whole minute long

-someone in the back of my study hall is brushing his teeth. the nearest bathroom is across the school. I don't want to turn around

-I was taking notes in english and someone in the hall yelled 'WHUP' and then we all heard a smack. I think someone fell

-*sniff sniff* 'smells like communism'

-'I was choking on some popcorn in German class while we were playing bingo so I'm sitting there like 'ECH' the whole class but I won bingo so it's ok'

-English teacher: 'were talking about salty farts here'

-'do babies fart?'

'YES THEY DO AND ITS DISGUSTING'

-there's a girl in my English class who, every so often, with no regular schedule, brings an entire jar of Nutella to class and eats it

-someone in history farted and a girl said 'that was a fart'

-history teacher was one his phone and a girl (same one from before) was like 'oooo I see you on that phone texting ya girl just HIT SEND' and the teacher said 'actually someone in my family just died but thanks'

-someone compared my English teacher to guy fieri and he said 'are you seriously body shaming me here' he said the same thing upon being compared to homer simpson

-'if I could strangle you with your ponytail I would' -english teacher 2017

-'that guy assisted at jesus' birth he's so old'

-choir teacher was very happy today. He was seriously considering getting neon hair extensions in class

-'is it susan boyle?'

'NO, SHUT YOUR MOUTH'

-someone mentioned the musical 'the book of mormon' and an actual mormon in the classroom got offended and the other guy got written up to the office. this is high school

-'if you're giving human qualities to a bear is it personification?'

'the bear was evading his taxes'

-English teacher: 'I'm gonna throat punch the next person to mention the boss baby movie'

-mid-choir class a dude burst into the room, grabbed the tissue box, and ran out. I have never seen this guy before, I don't even think he goes to school here

-English teacher is wearing a pink polo shirt and black skinny jeans right now (as I type)

-when one of the teachers greeted another, he dabbed

-'let me guess: she can twerk'

-'if tad and annie have a dougie-off....I will add 12 bonus points to everybody's final.'

-someone walking in the halls making the loudest whistle I've heard in ages, then tapping on the walls, why am I scared

-kid putting hemp lotion on: 'if I don't get high in the next 5 minutes I'm slapping you'

-during a shooter drill our choir teacher pulled a softball bat out of a closet in his office to explain he could use it if he had to. The bat said 'big daddy' on the end

-a girl at the end of an empty hallway just screamed out 'OH MY GOD I LOVE CHILI'

-middle of English class, the room got quiet for a moment and we all heard a scream. English teacher shrugged and got back to the lesson as if it was normal???

-during musical rehearsal: 'the shoe does not fit. NO SHIT. SHE ISNT THE PROTAGONIST.'

-'I was gonna grab a calculator but today I found out I'm black.' -friend who has always been black

-'that was such a huge yawn. I thought you were gonna swallow your face.'

-'why would you not want to be called a potato?'

-'WE'LL GET TO THE BUTTHOLE LIPS EVENTUALLY, EASE UP'

-'let's say I had an altercation with a hedgehog'

-my english teacher just threw a yard stick at someone, missed and hit someone else, then justified it with 'I had to use my staff'

-'why are you petting my leg'

'it's...firm'

-a guy in math: *leans over and whispers* 'is it weird that I'm black and I like to cover myself in flour and sometimes I think about putting myself in hot oil' (this is the same guy from the calculator incident)

-my big white english teacher, giggling like a child: 'are you throwing gang signs in my class?'

-the assistant teacher who everyone teases for his clothes? yeah I saw him in the hall on my way to class, he was wearing white pants with rainbow diamonds on them and a red sweater vest. I'm afraid.

-English teacher: 'can you go back to your seat and stop staring at me like someone who had to stop taking a dump early and is just...walking awkwardly cause they had to pinch it off'

-two dudes were talking with their heads out the bus windows so they could hear each other and the one guy said 'dude I had a mayonnaise sandwich for lunch it was awesome'

-English teacher followed through and held a dougie-off and the whole class got 14 bonus points on our big tests as a reward for two people participating

-a girl in the front of the class threw 3 packs of graham crackers to her friend in the back and another girl went 'what is this, the damn food drive?'

-in the middle of english we heard a cackle that I can only describe as purely villainous

-conversation I overheard between two boys at lunch:

'you think you're so cool what do you want a fuckin cookie?'

'yeah actually'

'well go buy one'

'I'm broke!'

'I know'

'What did you do this morning?'

'I dunno, what did YOU do this morning, twizzlers?'

-'that's like three fruit snacks, man. that's not a good deal.'

-there's an outbreak of whooping cough right now and everyone is running through the halls screaming 'WOOT WOOT' and that's the most I've heard that phrase since 2012

-a kid shaking his friend by the shoulders saying 'mr. krabs, you KNOW the secret formula!!'

-in English we needed an APPROPRIATE definition for 'thrust' (see last time) and a girl yelled out 'DO THE MOTION' when the teacher called on someone so he replied with 'DON'T CORRUPT HER'

-during exams someone was doing bird calls (like those exotic birds that go 'OOAAAA OOAAAA')

-in homeroom people were fuckin BARKING

-we're watching Marley and Me in english class and there's like 5 seniors crying, the one girl keeps saying 'he's a good boy...he's a good boy...'

-a girl next to me in math is giving a bj to an off-brand capri sun

#school shit #long post

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dullheadache-blog · 5 years

Text

i am a bird now/but that is me

I'm looking at myself. But not a reflection. There's no mirror or anything like that. It's just me. Sitting there on the couch, staring back at myself in dull bewilderment. I feel that this is real and actually happening. If it were a dream, I don't think it would even phase me. And I would probably be able to see both mes, as my dreams are usually from the point of view of some assumed audience. I'm unable to see the me that's having these thoughts. Just the other me. The one I'm seemingly existing outside of right now. I'm uncertain what to do, so I'm just kind of waiting for him to react. Being that he's me, perhaps he's thinking the same thing. Will we both just remain here in silence, committed to the belief that the other will eventually do something? I don't know. What do you say to yourself? The answer eludes me, but apparently not him.

“What the hell?”

His voice startles me. I wasn't expecting it to be so unfamiliar. Supposedly, you never really hear the way you actually sound. Knowing this doesn't make it any less jarring. It puts me off. I have no idea how to respond, so he continues on without me.

“You're that woman from the Angel Olsen show.”

My confusion now even greater, I slightly crane my neck in an attempt to achieve the slightest of clarity. As I do, I notice some hair slide down across the side of my face. I lift my hand up to investigate and immediately become aware of its curiously delicate appearance. I reposition it, that it is directly before my eyes. But my arm is met with some resistance. I look down to discover that the obstacle appears to be a pair of breasts. Breasts that I'm alarmed to realize are my own. I am no longer without anything to say.

“What the hell!”  

I dart toward the bathroom. I go to the mirror and I recognize the person staring back at me. But they bear no resemblance to that man in the living room.  

“I'm that woman from the show.”

I stumble back in disbelief, desperately trying to make any kind of sense of what it is I'm seeing. I can hear him approaching. Reflexively, I slam the door shut.

“Are you okay?”

What kind of stupid question is that to ask? I'm on the verge of hyperventilating. I think. I don't know. I've never actually done that before. But I assume this is what one feels like just before they start doing it. Unable to pick up on the obvious, he reiterates

“Hey, you okay?”

I survey the room for something that might provide me with an answer. Maybe just an escape. 

“Give me a minute.”

“Well, you are in my apartment.”

“Seriously, just give me a minute.”

“How did you get in here? Or find out where I live? Are you stalking me?”

Like anyone's going to stalk you. Still searching the room, my eyes catch my reflection in the mirror.

“Just let me figure this out.”

“Because you don't already know all of that!”

I take in the long hair, the breasts, the excessive make up that I seem to be wearing

“Shut up!”

Okay. Okay. What is this? What is happening? How is it that I'm in a shouting match with myself? Am I sure this isn't a dream? I know I'm like never aware that I'm dreaming, but I really want that to be what this is. Because what is this? I'm a woman. The woman from the other night. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman.

“Oh my god, I need tampons!”

“What?”

I have to go out. Alright. I'm going to do this. I splash some water on my face, then grab a towel to dry it off. It messes up my make up. I don't care. I can't worry about that right now. Blood could start coming out of me any second.

“I'm coming out.”

“Okay...”

Deep breath. I slowly open the door. Just enough that I can slide out. I'm not sure why I don't allow for more space. But I know it creates a small sense of security. I'm grateful for that.

“So I don't really...”

I kind of turn my head away slightly. I just can't look directly at him. I can't look myself in the face.

“I don't know how to do this without sounding completely insane. I'm pretty sure it's actually impossible.”

“I'm inclined to believe that.”

“Just, just let me say whatever. Like before you respond or anything. And don't even respond to that, just...”

  I can tell he thinks I'm crazy. But he's also checking me out. Because that's what he was doing the other night at the show. What I was doing. Because I am him. So I'm talking to myself. But it's myself that doesn't know that I'm myself and thinks I'm the woman he was lusting after the other night. Okay. Should I try to explain the situation? What would someone have to say for me to believe this? Do I just blurt out something that only he would know? That I would know! Why do I keep referring to him like he's another person? I don't care what's going on, there's only one person in this room right now. This is any other night where I end up just talking to myself. So what do I tell me? He's totally staring.

“You thought of me this morning when you masturbated, but you weren't imagining us having sex or even me being naked because you've been involved in too many relationships that drug on far too long simply because of the ease of finding yourself in that situation despite not really having anything in common or necessarily even liking any of them because who's going to turn down sex especially not you because you've gotten to a point where you can only meet women at shows and since you always have to drive to Baltimore or Philadelphia to do that you just don't have the energy to approach anyone plus they probably live in those cities and do you really want to have a semi long distance relationship(?) and your sister's name is Karen(!) and your mother's maiden name is Martin which if she had been a single parent your name would have probably ended up being Mark Martin like the race car driver even though you don't like racing but you still know who that is because your dad is into it or he used to be when you were a kid and this girl who's name may have been Abby or Aubrey wanted to kiss you and you said only if you could see what was under the bandaid on her arm her right arm and she showed you and you swear it was just like this black hole and then she kissed you and that was your first kiss but you remember what you thought you saw more than the kiss and that's pretty much set the precedent for every relationship you've ever been in which I never really thought about until just now.”

His eyes widened and his mouth goes agape. Maybe that was too much. I feel like maybe I should say something to bring him back down. I don't know. Maybe that's just going to make it worse. Maybe I should just wait for him. Fuck, how is all this going to play out? What if he doesn't buy any of it? I don't even know if I have any money or anything. Like if that was included. Where would I go? I can't really go home or stay with any of my friends. Would I have to sleep in the park and hope that nothing happens? Or try to “hook up” with someone and also hope that nothing happens? Is that something I'm going to have to constantly worry about now, 'cause it's really freaking me out. He needs to say something.

“You can respond to that if you want.”

That pulls him out of his daze. Now he's kind of just glaring at me.

“Can I?”

“If you -”

“What the fuck was that? Like, where did that come from? You seriously are stalking me!”

“How would I know what you were thinking? You don't go around telling people what was on your mind while you were jerking off.”

“I could!”

“You don't ever talk about anything sexual, because then people are just going to ask about previous relationships. And you don't want to talk about that. Those girls are out of your life. Why relive your past failures? That's fucking stupid.”

“Who are you?!”

��I'm you.”

“Well, you look like the woman from the other night. That's somehow in my apartment and knows everything about me.”

“Because I'm you. Look, I don't know how this works. How this happened. But there's no way for me to possess such intimate knowledge without being you.”

“Maybe it's a dream.”

“If it was a dream you know you would probably be trying to force yourself on me right now.”

“I don't like what you're trying to imply.”

“Oh, it's just some subconscious belief that any potential relationship isn't going to work out. So why not just forego the inherent obstacles of courtship in favor of something strictly physical? Which is fine within the context of the dream. Definitely wouldn't want to take that exact approach in real life.”

“I wouldn't do that."

“Whatever. So do you like have enough of a handle on this that we can move onto other stuff?”

“No. What do you mean?”

“Like I don't know the specifics of anything going on under the surface.”

“Like penis or vagina?”

“Like I don't know how real any of this is. So I don't know what inconveniences I may have to deal with.”

“Thank you for choosing the least disgusting way of saying that.”

“I wasn't doing it for your benefit.”`

“You should.”

“Why?”

“Because this is an inconvenience I have to deal with.”  

“Pobrefuckingcito. Did I ruin your evening? And your plans to dick around on the internet until you fall asleep!”

“I was going to watch a movie or something.”

“But not before you...” 

The horror of realization sets in.

“Oh my god. You were going to masturbate. That's how this happened.”

“What?”

“That's the last thing I can remember from before. You were thinking about her. Me. Wondering about what could have been. Maybe she'd be at the next show you went to. Maybe you'd talk to her this time. Hey, it seemed like she smiled a few times and looked away. Right? Hold on to the fantasy, at least until you got to the bathroom.”

“That's not what I was -”

“I was still there for that. That's exactly what you were thinking!”

“Obviously I didn't know this was going to happen, okay? And you just said it yourself, you were there for that.”

“So?”

“So that was you too. So you can't just put all of this on me.”  “It is all you!”  

“Because we're supposed to be the same person?”

“We are!...I am.”

I'm incapable of any semblance of certainty right now. Nothing I can manage seems to change that. It just fuels my anger, confusion, but mostly fear. Because I know this is real. But the validation in knowing I'm right does nothing for me. I need comfort. Reassurance. To know that this is something that can be dealt with. And that this feeling engulfing me is just temporary. I look up at him, what used to be me, and I see him looking back. And it's weird. But not for the obvious reasons.

“So you like probably need pads or something, right?”

“Yeah. I didn't even think of that. Sounds a lot better than sticking tampons in my -”

“Vagina?”

“Yes, I have a vagina. That's so weird.”

“Not really. Lots of people do.”

“I'm not lots of people.”

“You are now.”

“This is a lot of shit to deal with.”

“You at least have a place to stay.”

“Do I?”

“You didn't think I wasn't going to let you stay here?”

“This is fucking insane. I didn't know what was going to happen. My whole existence right now is nothing but uncertainty. If you didn't believe me, I was totally screwed.”

“We'll figure it out.”

“I don't know what the fuck to do. We're the same person, so I know you don't either.”

“We can start by getting you some stuff. Things you're going to need.”

“Tampons.”

“Or pads.”

“But like for period, you can't just use pads. God. I really don't think I can do that.”

“Maybe you'll luck out and it won't be an issue for you.”  

“That would freak me out even more. Like if that's not going on, then what the fuck am I?”

  “One problem at a time. Come on.”

I reluctantly follow him out of the apartment. We pass through the front door and I have the impulse to take out my keys to lock it. But he beats me to it. I then consider the possibility that perhaps I would have been unable to anyway. I check my pockets. They inform me that my suspicion was correct.

In spite of this, I am still a bit thrown when I see him get in on the driver's side of the car. I begrudgingly go around and take what I wonder might become my permanent place in the passenger seat. He perhaps anticipates my disorientation, as almost immediately he informs me

“You may have to adjust that.”

“Why is this back so far? Who was the last person that sat here?”  

“Uh...Maybe Holly, I think.”

“That was like last year, wasn't it?”

“No. January or so.”

“That's still eight months ago.”

“That's not last year.”

“Stop being all defensive. Nothing was ever going to happen and you know it. She wanted to go to that show. We were her way there. She spent pretty much the whole ride to and from “sleeping”, occasionally “waking up” to check her phone. Nothing was going to happen.”

“Weren't you saying earlier about not wanting to talk about past relationships?”

“Past failures.”

“Same thing.”

“No, that was entirely a failure.”

“You know, I don't have to do this. What I'm doing right now. I could just say fuck it and let you bleed out.”

“Ew.”

“Then quit being a dick.”

“That's such a cheap shot. And it's not like I'm doing it intentionally. It's how we are. We've just never had to deal with it before.”

“I'm really this obnoxious?”

“I'll be your mirror.”

“Does that mean I should call you Nico?”

“You should not. Especially with the whole her being really racist thing.”

“Marketta?”  

“We don't even like Mark, why would I pick that?”

“Solidarity.” 

“No. Anyway, I feel it's kind of obvious what my name's going to be.”

“But I never found out what hers was.”

“Show girl? That would be creepy as hell. If I was going to do that I would just make it Holly. Or some actual ex. Erin. Michele. Perhaps Carrie.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Of course not. Those are all horrible names.”

“And horrible people.”

“Michele wasn't.”

“She was just really boring.”

“And yet we still went out with her for six months.”

  “What else was I going to do?”

“Sad truth. But you still -”

“Hey, did you just want to go to CVS?”

“I can do that.” 

 “Good, because we're here. So you might want to do something with your face.”

“What's...Oh, the make up.”

“You look like some high school goth.”

“Whatever. Worst case scenario, they think you did something to make me cry.”

“I feel like you want that to happen.”

“People believe what they want to believe. It's entirely out of my hands.”  

“I didn't realize you had money to pay for any of this stuff you wanted.”

“Stuff I need. Unless you want to try to get menstrual blood out of this seat.”

“I hope you don't think you can always use the threat of perioding on things to get your way.”

“Sure I can. And I honestly don't know why all women wouldn't do this. Lemons and lemonade.”

“We don't need lemonade.”  

“Right. Because I can make it.”  

“I really don't want to think about what lemonade is in this scenario.”

“It's the whole reason we're here.”

Once inside, I instinctively make a beeline for the hygiene aisle. Though I’ve never been here before, I find it right away. Perhaps this is my woman’s intuition kicking in.

“So many options. Overnight. Heavy. Thin. Flexi-wings. No wings. Unscented. Maybe we should look it up on the phone.”

“Now? We should have done this before we came in.”

“Shut up and give me the phone.”

“I can look it up.”

“You don't know what you're looking for.”

“Neither do you.”

“I'm more attuned to these things.”

  “You've been female for all of twenty minutes.” 

“Why are you whispering?”  

“Is this really a conversation you wish to have loudly in public?” 

 “Just shut up and give me the phone.”  

“Take it. There's no reception though, so it's not going to help you.”

“Still probably do a better job than you.”

“Maybe you -”  

“Wait, shut up.”

“Stop telling me to shut up.”

“There's someone coming down the aisle. Pretend like we're having a conversation.”

“We are.”  

“Something normal.”

  “I”m not sure what that means in this context.”  

“The phone really is more helpful.”  

“I think once the contract's up I'm switching to someone else. I mean, we're on a college campus and I'm getting no reception. If that's really the case, they might as well just shut down the whole school.” 

“That seems a bit excessive.”

“I'm not using the college. What do I care if it's here or not?”

“Pretty sure they put this store here primarily to accommodate the students.”  

“There's another CVS just as close to us as this one. We could have easily gone there.”

  “Then why'd we come to this one.”  “Because it's the nicer one.”

The aforementioned someone also seems to be in need of supplies. I try my best to make like this is routine for me, but my eyes are firmly locked onto her hand that is so assured of what it wants. I've never witnessed such confidence in my entire life. Current or former. Always Infinity Flex Foam. I watch in awe as she walks away. Once she's out of site, my hand violently jerks out before me to snatch a pack off the shelf. In doing so, I may have knocked some other stuff to the ground. But I can't be certain that it wasn't already down there.

“So you thinking you might want to go with those?”

“Probably alright.”

“And the ones on the floor?”

“I don't much care for those.”

“You're just going to let them there?”

“I get things are the way they are now. I can appreciate that. But that doesn't magically erase the discomfort of standing here doing this.”

“You literally could have picked everything up in the time it took you to say that. Or even have done it while you were talking.”

While I know he's right in my ability to perform the task, I can't help but feel he's still not seeing the bigger picture of what's going on. This simultaneous existence in two different worlds. I have an idea of how I'm supposed to go about this, but there's still the memory of thirty years spent outside. It's like a phantom limb trying to hold me back. Plus, I just don't feel like doing it.

“You got this.”

I make my way to the counter, as he predictably puts everything back on the shelf. I wonder if I should feel bad. Or if even thinking that is an acknowledgment that I do. But really it's just the way we do something in the moment that we know will screw us over later. I'm sure he'll do something to return the favor, so I decide I'm in the right not to care. Oh, iced tea.

“I'm getting this too.”

“I don't have an endless supply of money.”

“We have four sixty five in our account. Utilities just came out and you got two more paychecks before rent's due. You also have forty three dollars in your pocket.”

“Our account?”

“Yes, our account.”

“So you're going to go to work for me tomorrow to make that money?”

“I am never stepping foot in that place again.”

“Then I guess it's not our account, is it?”

“I can take you over here.”

“You're going to put me out like this? After everything that I've been through today?”

  I angle my face that the cashier can clearly see just how much I had needed to “do something with it”. I want her sympathy for me to turn into disgust towards him, since he seems so intent on returning that favor.

“Are you okay?”

I turn back to face him and am made immediately aware of his displeasure. He takes the forty three dollars out of his pocket.

“Yeah, I'm alright.”

He steps up to the counter, but she is clearly not sold on his innocence.

“Thirteen seventy eight.”

He hands her the money and anxiously seeks out a magazine to focus on while she makes change. She turns to me as she holds out his change and the receipt.

“Did you want a bag for this?”

It wasn't much to carry before it had been paid for. But knowing that it was now mine, even just sitting there on the counter, it possessed this new weight that I still wasn't entirely ready to take on.

“Maybe for the pads.”

She places them into an unnecessarily large bag. Like some kind of metaphor.

“Here you go. Have a good night.”

I pick up the bag and consider my exit.

“Thanks.”

I feel like I'm carrying it wrong. That it must be noticeable. I want to look back to see if anybody's staring. But I don't dare do it. I want her to still be on my side. It'd be upsetting to not have that. I appreciated the solidarity. Even if it was under weird circumstances. Being such a dick.

“Hey, dick. You forget something?”

He's beside me, drinking my iced tea.

“What the hell?”

“What the hell you? Why'd you try to make me look like an asshole to that cashier?”  

“You were being one. It is our money. I worked for that too. Put up with those sexist creeps everyday. Just because now that it actually matters, doesn't mean that it didn't before.”  

“I'm trying really hard to be nice to you.”

“You shouldn't have to be trying. You should just be nice. And you should definitely stop throwing it back in my face. Which you've done about ten times already. This is why people don't like us.”

“Who doesn't like us?”

“A lot of people.”

“I don't believe that.”

“We haven't had interaction with anyone we're not obligated to in over a month.”  

“That's not true.”

“Margaret's birthday at the bar.”

“Has it been a month?”

“Yes.”

  “Okay. But that was still an invitation to hang out with her on her birthday.”

“She just posted something on facebook for anyone to come out. She has like five hundred friends.”

  “But she doesn't hate us.”  

“She could like us more.”

“She should.”

“Should she?”

“I think so. I'm nice to her. When haven't I been?”

“Well, it's like I just said. You like to constantly remind everyone of how nice you are. What you've done for them.”

  “Because people are dicks.”  

“They are. But no one wants to own up to that. Much in the way you're doing right now.”

“Fine. I apologize for being a dick.”

“Only because I shamed you.”

“Yeah?”

“Let's just go home."

I begrudgingly retake my passenger seat. Try as I might, I can find no comfort in it. But I'm not sure how much I'm really trying. Is this the way things are meant to be? Constantly scraping for a position I can never have? Just always going along with whatever I'm allowed. This isn't what I had intended. I thought she'd at least like me. Want to...It keeps coming back. Knowing that this a thing entirely of my own design. I thought things would be better. Now I'm here without the slightest idea how to solve her problems. My problems. What do I even do with these?

“So you're staring at that pretty intently.”

“Because I intend to stick this in my underwear, so I am reading the accompanying literature. That I can be fully aware of just how invasive this is going to be.”

“And?”

“First of all, you need to forget pads of the past.”

  “Done.” 

 “And try Infinity with FlexFoam, our most amazing pad ever. While regular maxi pads mostly contain fluff -”  

“They're made of marshmallow?”

“Yes. But I assumed they didn't have any fluff, so I settled for these. Which are made of FlexFoam, a unique material that provides up to eight hours of comfortable, leak-free protection.”

“You got to wear that for eight hours?”

“If need be, eight hours. But thing is, it's so soft and flexible you'll barely notice it's there.”

“I don't fucking believe that.”

“Hey, until you try it, you won't believe it.”

“Does it really talk to you like that?”

“Yes. There's also a disgusting diagram of what looks like milk being poured out that then turns into a pad being soaked in piss.”

“That's -”

“Wait, there's more. Oubliez les serviettes du passé et essayez Infinity avec FlexFoam, notre serviette la plus à ce jour.”

“It actually sounds less condescending in French.”

“Oui. Que les maxi-serviettes régulières sont constituées -”

“You're going to read the whole thing?”  

“Maybe just this one bit here: grande partie d'une.”

“That's pretty good. But it doesn't really tell you anything helpful.”

“I knew it wouldn't.”  

I put the package back into the bag and just let it drop down to the floor mat. Even though it's now out of sight, it's still all I can focus on. I anxiously begin to swish it back and forth between my feet.

“I almost wish I could ask Mom about this.”

  “Can only imagine what that conversation would have been like.”

“Okay, so you're at this age now where some new stuff is going to start happening. Maybe some of your friends have already experienced it. And that's alright. It's not a race. If it hasn't happened to you yet, that's fine. Because I hope you would tell me if it had.”

“That guilt there at the end is eerily spot on.”

“That's how she is. As you know.”

“I guess that's probably the same talk she must have given Karen.”  

“I feel like that's a conversation her and Karen never had.”  

“Why wouldn't they?

"I just imagine she wouldn't have felt like she needed to."  

"Why not?"  

"Because Karen's never come across as someone who needs protecting."

“We are the baby.”

“It's more than that.”  

“What else is there?”

  “I really do admire your ability to so effortlessly go from acknowledging we're the same person in one sentence to pretending we're not the next. And, you know, denying that I'm privy to every detail of OUR entire life. It's quite the gift. You're so blessed.”

“I don't think it's really that big of a deal.”

  “It definitely was. But I'll concede that she probably wouldn't have volunteered to have the talk with us. The issue would have had to been forced.”

“Might be a generational thing.”  

“Perhaps.”

We round the corner to the apartment and I begin to brace myself. While the bond I have...had with my mother didn't really extend beyond a default parent child setting, simply thinking about having someone to awkwardly walk me through this was comforting. It was the first warm feeling I've had in my brief second life. I wonder if I'll ever be able to experience it anywhere other than some false nostalgia. He finds a spot and parks the car. He exits the vehicle. I keep looking forward, but there's nothing there. So I get out too.

By the time I reach the front door he's already inside and halfway up the stairs. I slink past the foyer and fumble with locks behind me. As I ascend towards OUR apartment, I notice the bag keeps grazing each step. I wonder if it's this uncertainty I'm carrying that's just dragging me along, but then it occurs to me that I am now shorter than I used to be. Another new burden to add to what seems to be a growing list. And he stands there at the door, maybe viewing this, me, the same way. Or maybe he's just waiting up. We enter and he turns on the light. There's a crackle that I had almost forgotten.  

“I don't need that on.”

“I didn't know if -”

“My eyes still work and I haven't forgotten the layout of the apartment we've lived in for the past five years.”

  He pushes the switch down.

“Okay. Lights off.”

“I'm not helpless.”

“I wasn't implying that you were. But I didn't know, like maybe you have shit eyes now. You say you don't, so I apologize for trying to be considerate.”

“Remember that whole conversation earlier about how nobody likes it when you constantly remind them of how wonderful you are?”

“That wasn't the whole conversation.”

“But it should have been the big take away.”

“I know this was also a contested point before, but I'm trying really hard.”

“Aw, poor white man -”  

“Which you were until like a half an hour ago.”  

“I think it's been at least an hour.”  

“It's definitely hasn't. But that doesn't matter. All I'm trying to say, All I'm trying to say -”  “Are you going to explain things to me now?”  “I'm just trying to accommodate you as best I can. And! Because I know you want to interject right here, maybe just resist the temptation to attach negative connotations to my use of the word accommodate because I'm not trying to suggest that you're any kind of burden but certainly our newfound plurality is something of an obstruction to our customary, singular routine of just not really giving anything any kind of real thought, consideration and this is something we must now the both of us deal with and so I am trying, yes trying, to make this easier for you which in turn helps me too. It's mutually beneficial. I'm not wrong about that. I'm pretty sure. Thank you.”

“I'm hungry. Do we have food? Should we have gone to the grocery store?”  

“You're not even going to acknowledge any of that?”

  “I'm asking if there's anything to eat. You can accommodate me by answering that question.”  

“Yeah, okay. Well, there's -”

  “I already remembered what we have. But thanks anyway. Really.”

“I can't say I'm a fan of the condescension.”

  “You got your acknowledgment and a show of gratitude, so shut up.”

 I expertly navigate my way through OUR still dark home to the kitchen, where I finally deign to turn on a light. I grab a bowl from the cabinet then carefully examine the spoons before committing to one. A trait I had really hoped not to inherit. I take the fuller of the two boxes of Rice Krispies and fill the bowl.  

“Hey.”  

He's hanging out at the fridge door.  

“We're out of milk.”  

“No, we're not.”  

“No, we are. Look.”  

Incredulous, I ignore his proof and seek out my own. I poke my head into the “mud room” and am met with unwelcome company: an empty milk container in the bin.

“Fuck.” 

“I can run to Turkey Hill quick.”  

“So you can hold that over me forever.”

  “Yuh huh.”  

He dickishly exits out onto the fire escape, while I contemplate just how hungry I am. I decide that the sound of his footsteps still making their way across the driveway is justification enough for me to begin shoveling the milkless cereal into my mouth. After all, my sudden coming into being must have exerted a great deal of energy. I should probably sit down and rest. But it seems whether he's around or not, I can't escape some kind of constant nagging. The pads have taken what should have been my seat on the couch. I could sit beside them and just ignore them. But that would be childish. And I already have fingers covered in cereal dust, so I think I've probably hit my limit for today. I snatch the bag and trudge to the bathroom. I leave the bowl atop the radiator and go in.

“The water's still running.”

I hit the lights and secure the door. Then go to investigate the tap. It has a tendency to drip, but is that the case or I am just weaker now. Thinking that reminds me how just half an hour ago I was trapped in here. Everything was so frantic and terrifying. I put my hand out before me. It's steady. But does that mean it's all okay now? I don't wish to lose momentum, so I retrieve the package from the bag and commence the experiment.

I open the box and am somewhat pleased to see no trace of pink, given all the condescension they were trying to give me on the outside. I pull one out and examine it closely. Hoping to unlock it's secrets. Or at least find instructions. But I'm overthinking this. It just lies there. That's all there is to it. I'm just stalling like it's some phone call I don't want to make. The longer I wait...Maybe I should try to pee first. That's sensible.

I unbutton my pants and shimmy them down to my knees. I then hesitantly pull down my underwear. And I find myself greatly relieved by the presence of obvious genitalia. Because despite my acknowledging its existence earlier, there was still a legitimate dread that I would prove to be all Mattel-like. Yet I still have the seat lifted halfway up before everything fully clicks. I let it drop back down.  

The porcelain is cool against my skin. That's good. It should help with...My hand is instinctively going between my legs. I pull it back and my fingers make contact with my pubic hair. I always found myself mildly repulsed when this happened as my former self. Now it's somewhat pleasant? Or maybe there's just a satisfaction with this new form that I could never find in him.

  “Oh. That was way harsh, Tai.”  

And I have still yet to piss. Why can't you just work with me? I turn the faucet back on and thrust my hand into the trickling water in the hope that it'll pass the message along to my urethra. If we had milk. If he hadn't taken my tea, this wouldn't be an issue. So this is his fault. He should be the one stuck here trying to do this. Seriously, what was our goal here? Was it lust? Or were we just tired of being alone? It has been over a month. But we didn't even really enjoy ourselves. Just a bunch of dudes talking about dicks for some reason. Kept waiting for things to wind down so we could leave. But then on the way home, I kept thinking how I maybe I should've stayed. That doesn't make any sense. Neither does this.

I pull my hand away from the sink and wad up some toilet paper to dry it off. Annoyed by the lack of cooperation, I stand up and retrieve a pad from the box. I start tearing at the wrapper until it is rendered an assortment of debris on the floor. I shove the pad down into the bottom/trench of my underwear and pull my pants back up. I flush the toilet even though I didn't technically do anything. This is still an accomplishment and I'll allow no lack of proof to suggest otherwise. The sink having been left running, I wash my hands. I catch myself in the mirror. The mascara is still messed up. I put my face down into the basin and attempt to rinse off the remnants of the other night. Because that isn't me. She's wherever. I'm here. I turn off the faucet. Make sure it's completely off. And blindly reach for a towel. I furiously rub it against my face. I remove it and see two black streaks. I consult the mirror once more.

“Good enough.”

That now behind me, I reacquaint myself with the cereal and seek out the comfort of the couch. I collapse into its soft embrace. I put my feet up on the ottoman and immediately wonder if they'll ever come back down. I've existed for maybe a half hour, but it feels like it's been so much longer. And maybe it has. What if this is something that has been coming for a while?

  Some illumination presses itself up against the window.

“Coming.”

He's back. That was quicker than I anticipated. I'm not sure what to do. I have the impulse to feign being asleep. The cereal's all but gone, so it's not like I really need the milk anymore. Give me shit about that. I get that it's how we are, but dude needs to learn to read a room. And at least for the time being, just be on my side.

He suddenly appears in the kitchen, cockily holding up the milk.

“Here.”

He doesn't even face me.

“Everything they had expires in two days, so drink up.”

“It's like the night we moved in.”

“Place is pretty janky.”

“Thanks. You can just put it in the fridge.”  

“You don't need it now?”

  “I was really hungry.”  

I brace myself for the onslaught of his disapproval of yet another inconvenience.  

“I'd imagine sudden existence will do that to you.”  

“Yeah, it's pretty draining. Probably just fall asleep right here.”  

“You can have the bed if you want.”

  “But, like, going forward I'm stuck here.”

  “We can alternate. You know, until we figure out a more permanent solution.”  

“What's that supposed to mean?”  

“I was thinking like getting another bed. But that spare room's not exactly ideal for a bedroom. I don't know. Maybe we end up moving.”

  “How long have we talked about doing that?”

  “Maybe you'll prove to be just the push we needed.”

  “Thanks for objectifying me.”

  “You know that's not what I meant.”

  “Eh.”  

“But you also know that, from here on out, it's something you should definitely get used to.”  

“I think I'm going to go to sleep now, so you can...you know, fuck off.”

  “But I was going to make some flowery speech and wish you happy birthday.”  

“I guess it is. Let's just pretend you already did and that it was very moving and not at all strangely focused on you and that you didn't then try to follow it up by awkwardly hugging me and agree to just say goodnight.”  

“It wouldn't be that weird if you were standing up.”  

“Yes, it would. Goodnight, Mark.”  

“Whatever. Goodnight...”  

I can see that he still hasn't figured it out, so I accommodate him.  

“Alison.”