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hale-13 · 3 years

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Conditioned

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 16 - Touch Starved

“Can I take a shower?” Peter blurted out, shifting uncomfortably. He felt gross from the dried sweat and the bloody residue that was left on his scalp and around his hair line felt the intense need to get cleaned - broken arm be damned.

Words: 2084, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Helen Cho

TW: Literally None - Just Fluff

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Well Peter, I see no reason why you should have to stay here any longer as long as you promise to actually rest and allow yourself to heal,” Helen said firmly but with a smile toward him and Peter nearly sagged with obvious relief.

“Oh thank god,” he said he’d, already struggling in his attempts to climb out of the MedBay bed he had been sentenced to since the day before with some help from Tony. He flinched a little as he tweaked his sore arms, moving the wrong way, but trying to keep his muscles as relaxed as possible to prevent any further damage. His recovery is going to be annoying enough as it is without making it worse.

In his most recent fight against the Shocker the night before, he had caught a direct hit on his right arm which had successfully and cleaning broken his radius and ulna in two. In his haste to get away and then catch himself on a poorly shot strand of webbing he had dislocated his left shoulder. The pain had been so stunning he had barely been able to finish webbing up Shocker and get away before the police showed up.

It probably didn’t do much to help the injuries when he had swung back to the Tower but he had been numb and delirious by that point so he probably wasn’t really thinking straight. He does remember Tony not being super impressed with him when he nearly passed out as soon as he landed.

“I’m serious about resting,” Dr. Cho warned him as she helped him settle his, still sore and recently reduced, arm into a sling. “You need to take it easy for at least another few days or you’ll risk re-injury and possibly surgery.”

“Oh that shouldn’t be a problem,” Tony said breezily. “I have no problem cuffing him to a bed if I have to.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whined, trying to stand and balance without using either of his arms – it was much harder than he thought it would be – and already trying to edge toward the door. Tony just quirked up an eyebrow at him.

“Your aunt, definitely against her better judgement and with an amazing amount of misplaced trust, is letting you stay here with me so you don’t get into any more trouble during your convalescence so if you could just work with me for a couple of days here that would be much appreciated,” he told Peter very pointedly with a final wave at Helen as he herded Peter toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

Peter just rolled his eyes at his mentors dramatics but allowed himself to be directed – to tell the absolute truth, his arms still hurt pretty badly and he wasn’t really looking forward to his oral painkillers (that made him sleepy and emotional) and his anti-inflammatories (that made him into a right bastard if he was being honest) and trying to convince Tony that he didn’t need either. He wasn’t super confident about his success rate with that. “Can I take a shower?” He blurted out, shifting uncomfortably. He felt gross from the dried sweat and the bloody residue that was left on his scalp and around his hair line.

“You know that you can’t get your cast wet,” Tony reminded him holding up a hand when Peter opened his mouth to interrupt. “I mean, I suppose I can wrap it in a bag or something if you really want to shower that bad.”

“Yes please,” Peter eagerly agreed. Ever since the Bite all of his senses had been more sensitive but none more so than his sense of smell and he wasn’t a particularly big fan of the fact that he could currently smell himself. It made his skin crawl and was completely disgusting.

“Alright then,” Tony nodded. “Shower first and then a movie marathon slash prescribed nap directly after. Do we have a deal then Mr. Parker?”

“Only if we can get pizza for dinner later,” Peter bartered as the elevator opened up on Tony’s floor of the compound. “With pineapple this time,” he continued with a wrinkled nose, “the olives you got last time were disgusting!”

“You have astonishingly terrible taste but yes fine. Pizza later.” Tony nodded, herding both of them into the kitchen with a single-minded determination. The Wal-Mart and cling wrap cast protection apparatus Mr. Stark rigged together left a fair amount to be desired in the looks department but was completely functional when it came to water-proofing which was good enough for Peter.

It took some skill to slip away from his mentor but Peter was soon slipping into his room, struggling to get out of the sling on his own and finally succeeding. It made him wince from the extra pain it caused but it didn’t overshadow the relief of doing it on his own. He knew his limits from previous dislocations and knew that it was crucial to not overdue it while the joint was healing or he risked the chance of re-injury and, as Dr. Cho had reminded him earlier, surgery.

With a grimace, Peter rested that arm across his stomach and used his bagged up right arm to pull his shirt over his head. He was barely able to manage it when it pulled at his sore muscles and broken bones. Maybe he should use a button down or zippered hoodie instead.

Thanks to FRIDAY (bless her seriously), the water of his shower was already running and warmed up to his preferred setting of skin melting and he was quick to turn his back into the spray and luxuriate under it for an extended time. The high pressured water felt amazing on his back and shoulders, loosening up the knots and clenched muscles and providing relief.

“You doing okay in there kid? You drown yet?” Tony asked, knocking on the door and indiscernible amount of time later and knocking Peter out of his stupor.

“I’m good!” Peter called back, hurriedly reaching out for his body wash and cloth painfully and cleaning himself up to the best of his – limited – ability. By the time he was ready to wash his hair and hairline he felt exhausted and achy despite the excellent water pressure and all the good work it and the heat had done to relieve the pain in his shoulder and back. “Fuck,” he cursed, trying to lift his arm above chest level and spectacularly failing, finding himself unable to without making his muscles seize.

Peter was pretty bendy due to his powers so he attempted a couple different contortions to reach his head before just flat out giving up, turning off the water and taking his towel off the heated towel rack installed in the bathroom (rich people – seriously). It took longer than Peter cared to admit, but he was able to dry and dress himself in sweats and a zippered hoodie. He was even able to shuck the bag off his cast with little struggle so he was feeling pretty decent when he ventured into the living room with his hair sopping wet and dripping onto his shoulders since he wasn’t able to adequately dry it. Whatever. It would dry on its own eventually.

“And what’s all this supposed to be?” Tony asked, glancing up from his phone and wrinkling his nose but not moving from where he was leaned against the counter in the kitchen. “Why are you dripping all over my floor?”

Peter fought off a blush and tried to hunch his shoulders, stopping when it hurt. “I couldn’t reach up to get my hair,” he grumbled, failing to completely push down his blush.

“I guess that explains all the blood still caked in there,” Tony hummed, leaning over to move the dampened curls around to look at the blood still matting some of his hair together and crusting up around his scalp. “Well that’s pretty easily remedied. Welcome to the salon Underoos,” Tony said, pulling over one of the barstools and setting it in front of the kitchen sink, gesturing for Peter to sit.

“Uh… what?” Peter questioned, brows furrowing in confusion.

“I’ll wash your hair for you,” Tony clarified, looking pointedly between Peter and the stool again. “Just sit down while I go and grab some things!” And, with that, he took off in the direction of the bedrooms and associated en suites.

Peter, still pretty confused but (mostly) trusting his mentor, sat down unsteadily on the stool just as Tony came back around the corner with an armful of towels, shampoo and conditioner bottles along with a wide-toothed comb and an expensive looking hair dryer. He triumphantly arranged everything on the counter next to the deep sink and wrapped one of the towels around Peter’s neck. “Lean back buddy,” Tony said, using a finger to push on the center of Peter’s forehead until he gave in and let himself be pushed back to lean back with his head in the sink.

Doing his best to ignore the weirdness of it all (weirdness was pretty common around Tony Stark after all), Peter closed his eyes and crossed his arms across his stomach as the water turned on. He tensed up a little when he felt fingers start dragging through his hair but was quick to relax and release the tension in his body under the careful massage of his mentor’s hands through his hair and the warm water cascading across his scalp. He let out a little hum of contentment.

Tony let out a soft chuckle, squirting a healthy dollop of the shampoo into his hands and lathering it up before applying it to Peter’s hair, working through the snarls and tangles with care and scrubbing the leftover blood out of the curls. Peter went nearly boneless under his ministrations and Tony would definitely be lying if he said he didn’t milk the washing and conditioning portion at least a little bit. He knew that Peter had to be feeling pretty miserable and it settled something buried deep inside him to provide just a little extra comfort.

All too soon, though, he had rinsed out the last of the conditioner leaving Peter’s hair clean and dripping as he turned off the water. Peter made no move to get up or to open his eyes, breathing deeply and seemingly on the very verge of sleep, so Tony grabbed one of the towels and started to wring the extra water out of the kid’s hair, running the towel through it cautiously. “Just need you to sit up for a second here kiddo okay? Then you can nap, scout’s honor.”

Peter grunted and grumbled but did slit his eyes open and let Tony help him sit up, swaying back and forth and little on the stool and Tony ran the towel through his hair a couple more times to really get rid of the water as much as possible. He dropped the towel on the counter in exchange for the comb and the hair dryer. He ran the comb through the mess a few times before starting the hair dryer up. Peter practically melted as the warmed air fluffed up his curls. It didn’t take long to dry at all and, by the time he was done, Peter was listing forward nearly into Tony’s chest.

“Couch or bed buddy?” Tony asked with a fond smile, running his hands through Peter’s warmed and clean hair.

“Couch,” Peter muttered, leaning into his petting and making Tony’s chest warm up. This kid… god. He ended up supporting most of Peter’s weight but was able to quickly get him lying face down on the supple cushions with his head pillowed on one of the throw pillows resting on Tony’s lap, the ratty fleece blanket Tony kept draped over they back of the couch draped over him and a heating pad resting across his healing shoulder.

“Let’s start a Star Wars marathon FRI. Volume at thirty percent,” FRIDAY was quiet as she dimmed the lights and started the movie, the familiar logo and music making Peter relax even further into the couch, completely gone. As the opening theme ended and the camera panned to the shots of Leia’s ship, he felt Mr. Stark’s hand rest on his back, digging into the knotted muscles of his back.

It maybe wasn’t ideal to mess up his arms so much but, Peter thought, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his recovery.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump16 #Prompt: Touch Starved #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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smkkbert · 4 years

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Time for a story - Unfinished Business

When there was nothing that made waking up early easier for Felicity than the prospect of lazy morning sex, there was nothing that made it harder for her than dreaming of it.

Felicity hadn’t always been a fan of sex. It hadn’t had anything to do with prudery as some girls around her had thought. It had just been that Felicity hadn’t had the best experience when it had come to sex. Sure, it had been nice and everything, but there had also been some awkwardness and comfortability to it like nakedness often brought. In addition to that, it had often left her unsatisfied which had only increased the awkwardness, especially as her partner had rarely ever realized it. If he had, he had mostly acted like it had been her fault.

Only since Felicity had started dating Oliver, she had learned that sex could indeed be like this mighty hurricane that characters in the books she had been reading and in the movies she had been watching had talked about. Although Felicity had always found that especially first times were awkward because you saw the other person naked for the first time and had to learn all the ways you reacted to them and they reacted to you, sex with Oliver had been great from the first time. It had only grown even better after that.

Through the years, Felicity had learned that the simple reason behind this was that she and Oliver were soulmates, irretrievably connected to each other as star-crossed lovers deep inside. She and Oliver understood each other without words on a deeper level than other people understood each other even when they were telling each other everything they had experienced, thought or felt. It was so simple and so big at the same time.

Sex was one of their ways of saying they loved and needed each other. Sex was one of their ways of showing each other how well they knew each other already and learning something new about them. Sex was one of their ways of following that urge of connecting that was deep within them. Of course, sex was one of their ways of simply having fun too.

Because of how meaningful sex was for them, it had now become a frequent part of her dreams, and it often left a vivid memory on her. Like right now, Felicity could still feel the tickling of the hot water that had been pattering down on her skin under the shower. She had goosebumps from the ways Oliver’s warm hands had been roaming over her back, the callousness of her fingertips feeling scratchy against her soft skin. Wetness was pooling between her thighs, and she still felt how close to her orgasm she had been.

If Oliver had been lying on top of her, sleeping with his head on top of her chest as he listened to her heartbeat, she would have seduced him into morning sex right there. Of course she knew that it wouldn’t have taken a lot of seduction since Oliver, just like she herself, was in for morning sex almost every morning. It was almost like some kind of ritual.

Since Oliver wasn’t lying on top of her like he usually did, and she didn’t hear him in the bathroom either, Felicity guessed that he was out for his usual morning run. She would use the thirty minutes that she had left before her alarm would go off to try finding back into her dream once more.

Closing her eyes, Felicity turned onto her side and pulled her blanket up to her chin. She was just snuggling her cheek against the pillow to feel even warmer.

It wasn’t the blanket that made her feel warm though. It was the feeling that spread from her face all through her body that made her feel this warm. A smile spread on her face at the feeling. She didn’t have to open her eyes what it meant.

“You’re here.”

Only Oliver could make her feel that way. He didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t even have to touch her. He just had to be there and look at her. It made her feel incredibly content, safe and loved.

“I wasn’t feeling like going out.”

Felicity could hear in the huskiness of his voice that Oliver hadn’t had the luxury of a good night of sleep like Felicity herself had had. Through the years, Oliver had learned to sleep more peacefully. At the beginning of their relationship, sleeping for thirty minutes straight could have been considered a win. Now, he could fall asleep on the floor in the middle of the day.

Still, sometimes life triggered old traumas and made it hard for him to find the necessary rest to recover from his busy days. Felicity knew who was at fault for the sleepless nights Olive had had lately – Midas and Blood Rose.

That they had held Felicity hostage at the Smoak & Queen Science Center for Kids had been bad enough. That Midas had died while Oliver had tried to take him down had only made it worse. Felicity didn’t even want to start thinking about the fact that Blood Rose had managed to escape. She was somewhere out there now, probably plotting her revenge against them already. She had lost her loved one, so she was certainly going to come back at them sooner or later. All of that was pretty hard on Oliver.

Opening he eyes, Felicity saw Oliver lying on his side of the bed which had been almost completely unused since they had bought this bed years ago. He was lying on his side, his hands under his head to use as a pillow, as he watched her. The expression in his eyes was soft, but there were dark shadows under his eyes and a little bit of sadness in his smile.

“Morning.”

Felicity’s raspy whisper made the corners of Oliver’s lips twitch slightly. He moved closer to her until his chest brushed against her breasts with every intake of breath. Dipping his head forward a little, his nose brushed against hers.

“How are you feeling?” Felicity asked in a whisper, lifting her hand to Oliver’s cheek and stroking her fingertips through his stubble. “Any better?”

Oliver sighed. “I don’t know.”

Angling her head forward a little, Felicity rested her forehead against Oliver’s. She framed his face with both of her hands, holding him gently. He was so precious to her that she couldn’t possibly hold him too gently. She wished she could protect him from anything, including this.

“It will get better,” she promised, “because we will be careful and vigilant. It might take a while, but we will find Blood Rose. She won’t get to hurt our family even more than she already did. She chose the wrong side of law, and we won’t let her get away with it.”

Oliver’s eyes locked with Felicity’s intensely, and he could see how much he admired her determination. He himself often found himself troubling to be hopeful. He had experienced too much bad to just forget about it and think that everything was going to be okay at the end. At least sometimes he troubled with seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. It was a good thing that, at least for those times, Felicity still had enough hope for both of them.

Putting his fingers around her wrists, Oliver leaned forward and captured Felicity’s lips in a gentle kiss. His lips were soft on hers. His stubble scratched the soft skin around her lips in the way that Felicity loved so incredibly much. A low sigh fell from her lips, and Oliver used that opportunity to stroke his tongue against hers.

Although Felicity loved kissing Oliver, feeling like she could lose herself in the taste of his lips anytime, her sigh turned into a groan now. Frowning slightly, she pulled back and looked at Oliver.

“You already brushed your teeth,” Felicity complained, “that’s not fair.”

Felicity tried to escape the bed, so she could hurry to the bathroom and brush her teeth too. Before she could even move half an inch away, Oliver wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer to him. He nuzzled her nose before brushing his lips against hers once more.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered against her lips, “and I want you. Now.”

With how normal their life was by now, it was easy to forget that Oliver had spent months on some weird island that hadn’t really offered basic sanitary facilities. What others could find disturbing, didn’t bother Oliver a lot of times. On the other hand, sometimes there were still things that barely anyone even noticed, but that could trigger the symptoms of Oliver’s PTSD to come back to the surface.

They were working on it. Just not this morning.

“And if the way you have been biting your lip and been moaning before is any indication, I’d say that you want me too.”

Indeed, thanks to her vivid dream, Felicity realized that she was in almost desperate need for her orgasm. She had been so close to it before. It almost felt like it had been real. Just the prospect of going back to having sex made her sex pulsating.

Felicity’s eyes locked on Oliver’s. His pupils were dilated. The iris was darkened. There was no doubt that he wanted her. His desire made her stomach tingle, and it shot a jolt of pleasure through her core.

Their lips met in a kiss. It was a lot hungrier than the kisses they had shared this morning so far. They knew that with the alarm going off in like twenty minutes, they couldn’t waste much time. Their mornings were always planned through to the second since a family with two working parents and five kids couldn’t just live for the moment.

Wrapping her leg around Oliver’s hip, Felicity opened herself to him. The hem of the shirt she had been sleeping in moved up her body, allowing her to move even closer to him. Her sex that had already dampened her panties with its juices pressed against the bulge in Oliver’s boxer briefs. A moan escaped her lips.

She loved how, even after all the years that they had been together already and all the times they had had sex already, neither of them needed much more than the thought of having sex with each other to be utterly turned on.

While Felicity was deepening the kiss, she pushed at Oliver’s shoulder. He got the hint and turned onto his back. With his hands at her hips, Oliver took her with him. She straddled his lap, and the new angle caused his clothed erection to rub against her clit. A low moan escaped her lips, allowing Oliver to stroke his tongue deeper into her mouth.

All the sensations – their hungry kiss, his rough hands stroking over her thighs and butt, his hard cock rubbing against her sensitive sex – brought back the images of her dream before. They had been under the shower, their chests pressed together, so that she had been able to feel his rapid heartbeat against her ribs. Her back had been pressed to the cold tiles, while the hot water of the shower had been streaming down on her. Her legs had been wrapped around Oliver’s hips as he had been burying himself in her sex over and over again.

Felicity knew that she couldn’t and didn’t want to wait any longer. She pushed at Oliver’s boxer briefs. He didn’t need any further motivation. With a quick movement, he pulled his boxer briefs down his legs and kicked them out of the bed. Felicity took off her panties at the same time.

Kneeling over him, Felicity locked eyes with Oliver. The iris of his eyes was so dark now that it was almost black. Oliver took hold of his cock and positioned it at her entrance. Before Felicity could sink down on him though, he moved his cock away teasingly. The tip of his cock moved between her folds and bumped against her clit.

A long moan fell from Felicity’s lips, and her head fell back. Oliver repeated the same teasing movement once more, causing Felicity’s eyes to flutter shut. He lips fell open, but no sound came out this time.

Her nerve endings felt like they were on fire. Her dream had left her desperate for more, but Oliver continued to tease her. It was so much, and it wasn’t enough at the same time.

Eventually, Felicity put her hand over Oliver’s around his cock. She positioned his cock at her entrance once more and sank down on him slowly. The feeling of welcoming him in her wet heat was indescribable. The way his cock spread her inner walls like only he could, reaching all those different spots that seemed to connect right with her soul, was so great, no matter how many times she had experienced it already.

Once he was seated deep inside of her, filling her perfectly like only he could, she started moving her hips back and forth slightly. The movements made his cock press against the slick walls of her sex firmly, touching and stimulating all those nerve endings. After a couple of times, Felicity changed her movements and used the muscles in her thighs to life her off Oliver a little before she sank down slowly once more.

Continuing to ride Oliver the way that she did, hard but somewhat slowly, Felicity let her head fall back and just enjoyed the feeling that she got from the way she and Oliver were connected. Having his cock moving inside of her was one thing. Feeling his hands moving from her thighs to her butt and up her back and all the way down again was another. Feeling Oliver’s heartbeat quickening beneath the palms of her hands was yet another one.

Morning sex just energized her for the day in a hundred different ways, and it really just was everything that she needed to know that this was going to be a good day.

It wasn’t long until Felicity felt her orgasm nearing. Her body felt like it was on fire, offering pleasure and maybe a little bit of pain at the same time. It was a wonderful mixture as the pleasure certainly outweighed the pain. She was on the good side of playing with fire.

Angling her face down again, she locked her eyes with Oliver’s. In his eyes, she could see everything that she needed to know. He was as close as she was, ready to give into the pleasure any second, but willing to prolong it for a little, just so they could-

“Daddy?”

Oliver’s and Felicity’s eyes both widened at the sound of their youngest’s voice. They stilled, holding their breaths to figure out if Addie had maybe just called for Oliver in her sleep like she did sometimes, or if she was coming any closer. The quick footsteps that came into the direction of their bedroom were anything they needed to know though.

When the handle of their door was pressed down, Felicity moved off Oliver. She and Oliver both groaned at the loss of contact, especially as they had been so close to coming but had been denied the release. Being caught by a child in the middle of an orgasm once had been bad already. Neither of them needed it to happen a second time.

Felicity pulled the blanket about herself and stroked a few strands of hair out of her face, so she could smile at Addie when she opened the door and hurried into the room. She was dressed in a white summer dress that was full of colorful flowers.

“Look, daddy,” Addie said loudly, turning around herself with spread arms, “I got dressed alone.”

“Wow,” Oliver replied, trying to sound happy and proud despite the frustration that at least Felicity could hear in his voice, “that’s amazing. I am so proud of you.”

“I am a big girl now.”

“Oh, yes you are,” Oliver agreed, nodding his head, “but you are almost three years old, so it’s not a surprise. You really have become a big girl.”

“I am ready for breakfast now.”

“Good.” Oliver’s voice sounded maybe a little bit too high to be believable. “Wake your siblings up already, okay? Daddy’s going to be downstairs in a minute.”

“Okay.”

With that, Addie an outside, and Felicity dropped her upped body back into the pillow, shaking her head to herself. With five kids, it really was never getting boring. There was always something going on, always some kind of chaos handed to them.

“She can’t go to her play group in her summer dress,” Felicity said with a sigh, lifting her hand to her forehead, as she stared at the ceiling, “or she is catching another bad cold.”

“Oh, you’re saying.”

Felicity turned her head to see Oliver staring at the ceiling grumpily. He was just as pleased about the interruption as she had been Felicity guessed.

Turning onto her side, Felicity propped onto her forearm and leaned over Oliver. Since Oliver seemed to refuse to look at her, Felicity put he fingers to his chin and turned his face towards her. Oliver perked up his eyebrows.

“This,” she whispered, “is not over.”

Oliver pushed his tongue against his cheek. “I told Addie that it will take at least a minute until I am downstairs and-“

Felicity’s alarm going off was enough to make Oliver stop and grumble. With the little time that they had in the mornings, they both knew that they didn’t have any time now. The alarm was the start of a strict routine they had to follow to make sure that their kids were going to arrive at school and in their play groups in time as well as they had to make sure that they were going to be in their offices in time too.

Once Felicity had turned off her alarm, she turned back to Oliver and placed a firm kiss onto his lips.

“This,” she promised, “is not over yet, and we will pick up right here as soon as we can.”

“Hopefully,” Oliver grumbled, “because I am not even close to be finished with you.”

Felicity really wanted that orgasm that she had been denied twice today. Tapping the end of her pen on the top of her desk, she thought about how good she had felt with Oliver’s hands all over her and his cock so deep inside of her. Just recalling her memories from earlier today turned her on so much that she had to push her thighs together.

As a woman in STEM, Felicity knew that she had to work at least twice as hard as every man in the same professional position. That she had married a billionaire who had actually been the one owning the company before it had become theirs. It was why she had made a point of being perfectly professional during work, at least as long as anyone was here.

Sometimes, during days like this, Felicity wondered if maybe, she should just act like a man would do. She doubted that any man in her position would even hesitate for a second to call their wife of girlfriend for a little lunch quickie. They wouldn’t fear what their employees or anyone else were thinking about them. For men, it was perfectly fine to use their lunchbreak for a little sexual release.

Puckering her lips, Felicity looked at the desk in front of her office. Emily’s place was currently unoccupied as she had gone down into the cafeteria to grab some lunch. If Oliver came here now, nobody would notice. Even if she came back, she knew that she could trust Emily to keep quiet about it. She was a good assistant and a good friend.

With a quick movement, Felicity grabbed her phone and dialed Oliver’s number.

“Hey.”

Felicity wasn’t surprised that he took the call immediately. He had done his best to avoid touching her in the kitchen this morning. He had been and probably still was just as much on the edge as Felicity was too.

“You have two options.” Felicity figured it was best to get right to the point. “Option number one. You come right here and get me that orgasm I was denied this morning. Option number two. You don’t come here, and I will finish this myself because, God, I really, really need that orgasm.”

“I am already in the elevator on the way to your office,” Oliver replied, “so don’t you dare start before I am there. I only have five minutes though.”

“Two minutes will be more than enough if you bring you A-game.”

“I always bring my A-game.”

Felicity licked her lips. “So you are going to push up my skirt until it pools around my waist.”

“With my fingers stroking over your skin.”

“And you will take off my panties-“

“-tearing them off actually-“

“-and press my against the wall to take me-“

“-hard and fast-“

“-and then you will-“

When Oliver entered her office now, Felicity ended the call. Oliver did the same, pushing his phone into the pocket of his jacket. He crossed the distance towards her, took her hand and pulled her with him into the bathroom.

With their eyes locked onto each other, Oliver pushed the hem of her dress up until it pooled around her waist. Just like he had said before too, he ripped her panties off of her. The sound it created sent a jolt of pleasure right through her core. Taking a step forward, he caged her in between his body and the wall. His eyes were still on hers, dark and full of desire.

Felicity pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek and roamed Oliver’s chest with her hands. She brushed her fingertips against his clothed erection before she unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants and boxer briefs down in one go. She grabbed his cock and moved her fingers along the thick veins that there showing there towards the tip of his erection.

With a guttural groan, Oliver captured Felicity’s lips in a needy kiss. His hands moved down from her hips to her butt, grazing the slim line between the cheeks of her ass. As Oliver deepened the kiss, leaning more against Felicity, so she was caged in even more, he lowered his hands to the back of her knees and pushed her up against the wall. Felicity grabbed his cock and positioned it at her entrance.

Breaking the kiss, Oliver locked eyes with Felicity. Slowly, he lowered her onto his erection, pushing his hips forward to bury himself deep inside of her. The slick walls of her inner channel welcomed him easily, stretching and fluttering around him. Her legs wrapped around his hips, making him go even deeper.

Once he was seated deep inside of her, their lips met in another passionate kiss. Their tongues danced together. Oliver’s front teeth grazed her bottom lip, making her moan into the kiss.

As Oliver’s hips picked up a quick and hard rhythm, causing his skin to slap against hers. The sound filled the room, mixing with the muffled moans that fell from their lips. Felicity snuck her fingers under the hem of Oliver’s shirt, scratching the ruffled skin on his lower back slightly, but Oliver pulled her hands away and lifted them over her head. His hands stayed wrapped around her wrists, pinning them against the wall.

Oliver hadn’t lied when he had said that he was going to bring his A-game. With the way he had caged her in between his body and the wall, the angle of his thrusts allowed him to hit all the right spots inside of her. A searing fire had built in the pit of her stomach and threatened to spread all inside of her. She was so deliciously close to her orgasm and this time-

“Felicity?”

With a loud groan of frustration, Oliver broke the kiss. Quickly, hopefully before Emily heard them, Felicity slapped her hand onto Oliver’s lips and shot him a strict look. Emily was a good assistant and friend, so Felicity didn’t want to put her through the embarrassment of listening to them having sex.

Felicity sucked in a deep breath, trying to push the burning feeling of pleasure away from her. “Yes?”

“Mr. Holmes is here.”

Holing onto Oliver’s shoulder, Felicity let go of his lips to glance at her watch. Her hips shifted doing so, creating a new friction that almost made her eyes roll into the back of her head. Oliver must have felt it too because he dropped his head to the crook between her shoulder and neck, biting down on her tender skin lightly.

“He is almost twenty minutes early,” Felicity called with raspy voice.

“He said he had an appointment in the neighborhood and thought he’d come by immediately,” Emily explained, “but I can make him wait downstairs.”

Oliver looked at Felicity urgently, nodding his head. He really wanted her to say that it was better to have Mr. Holmes wait downstairs. The thought of leaving this unfinished yet again really made Felicity eager to agree. Mr. Holmes was an important client though, and she might need the extra twenty minutes to talk to him.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Alright.”

While Emily was leaving if the sounds of her steps becoming quieter was any indication, Felicity looked at Oliver. He looked focused and maybe a tiny little bit annoyed or whatever to call it.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity whispered, peppering kisses all over Oliver’s face. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

Oliver just grumbled in response. When Felicity pushed at his hips to make him let go of her, it turned in a joint groan of them both. The loss of contact after another unfulfilling attempt at working to their release was almost physically hurting them.

“This is really important,” she told him, quickly cleaning herself with a wet washcloth, “because, otherwise, nothing could have stopped me from stopping there.”

Oliver stepped behind her and kissed the back of her head before he started cleaning himself up too. Felicity knew that he was not mad at her. He understood that her work was important to her. She would always put their family over the company, but she would put the company over sex. At least sometimes.

“How long do you have to work today?”

“I am free at around three pm.”

“Great,” Oliver replied, “because in that case I suggest that we meet at home right after that, so we can finally screw each other’s brains out.”

“Sounds perfect.” Felicity sighed and buckled Oliver’s belt. ��Because I really prefer undressing you over helping you get dressed.”

Oliver chuckled, tugging a strand of her hair behind her ear and learned down to kiss her. The moment their lips brushed together, the pleasure seemed to wake up and roll over them again.

“Three thirty. I will wait for you in bed. Naked.”

Felicity groaned, her fingers tightening around the lapels of his jacket. “You are making it impossible to wait until three thirty.”

“That is just because it’s already impossible to me,” Oliver whispered into her ear before he leaned back and winked at her. “See you at three thirty.”

“No minute later.”

→ → → → →

“It’s three thirty,” Felicity said as she stepped into the house, “so why aren’t you naked?”

Oliver pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looking Felicity up and down. He tried to hide it, but Felicity could see the desire in his eyes. The last hours since they had said goodbye in the bathroom behind her office had probably been filled with as many thoughts of what they would do when they saw each other again as hers had been. She had barely been able to focus on her meeting with Mr. Holmes or anything really.

Oliver got up from where he was sitting on the steps of the stairs and approached her slowly. He took her purse from her and placed it next to the small table where they always kept their keys. He unbuttoned her coat after that and put it to the coat rack. His arms wrapped around Felicity’s waist slowly then. His lips lowered onto hers.

Felicity sighed at the sweet kiss. She sighed against Oliver’s lips and wrapped her arms around Oliver’s shoulders. Her fingers moved into his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp lightly. A soft wave of passion ran through her.

When their lips parted, Felicity licked her lips. She could still taste Oliver on there, and it made her sigh softly. God, how much she loved to have his taste on her lips after they had kissed. She wished it could just be there forever.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Queen?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver asked, letting his fingers stroke from her back to her waist and down to her hips, “but would it work if I was trying?”

Felicity smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Oliver replied and brushed his lips against hers once more, “because I have prepared everything to make sure that we will have some fun now and nobody will interrupt us.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.” Oliver nodded his head firmly. “William, Emmy and Tommy are still in school. Millie and Addie are in their playgroups. Raisa is out to shop some groceries. It’s just us and a romantic setting in out bathroom.”

“Sounds perfect,” Felicity replied and straightened up onto the tips of her toes to capture Oliver’s lips in another gentle kiss, “so let’s lead the way, Mister.”

Oliver didn’t have to be asked twice. He wrapped his arms around Felicity’s waist tightly and lifted her off the floor. Their lips continued to explore each other with slow and gentle movements. It was like they had just fallen in love with each other, and it was the first and the last time that they were going to make love.

It was one more thing that Felicity loved about having sex with Oliver. It was never the same. They could have lazy morning sex to energize themselves for the day. They could fuck like there was no tomorrow. They could make sweet love. They could do all of that and more.

When they had reached the top of the stairs, Felicity slipped out of her shoes and let them drop onto the floor. Oliver carried her further into their bedroom and towards the en-suite bathroom.

In front of the door, he lowered her to the floor. The soles of her feet touched the soft carpet. Oliver deepened the kiss for a moment longer, angling her back. When their lips parted, Oliver nuzzled her nose briefly before he pulled her back into an upright position. With his hands at her hips, he turned Felicity around then. His chest pressed to her back. His arms stayed wrapped around her middle. His lips leaned against her ear.

“I thought a warm bath was the right thing to get us into the right mood,” he whispered into her ear, “so we have the warm water and the bubbles surrounding us while we have- What the hell?”

Felicity tried not to, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing when Oliver pushed open the door to reveal the romantic setup that he had created for her only for them to be surprised with Hawk, who was sitting in the bathtub full of bubbles and rose petals. His head rested on the edge of the bathtub, looking at them innocently.

“I guess we haven’t been the only ones in need of some romance.”

“You!” Oliver pointed his finger at Hawk, who lifted his head from the edge of the bathtub and waggled his tail nervously. “When I get my fingers onto you.”

Hawk jumped out of the bathtub quickly and shook himself. Drops of water as well as bath foam was splashing in their direction. Oliver and Felicity laughed, trying to hide from the water. That gave Hawk the opportunity to escape them before Oliver could have indeed gotten his hands on him.

Felicity leaned against Oliver, and he placed a kiss to her temple. He was still chuckling, and so was Felicity.

“This was a really nice thing you did for Hawk.”

“I know,” Oliver replied with a desperate sigh, “I just love him so much.”

“So much, hm?”

Oliver’s eyes sparkled. “I was really looking forward to enjoying this bubble bath with him.”

Felicity laughed, dropping her forehead against Oliver’s chest. She guessed that their life was never going to get boring. Luckily.

When Felicity angled her head back to look at Oliver’s face, she found his eyes already on hers. He lowered his head towards her, about to brush his lips against her lips when the front door was unlocked downstairs. Felicity pulled away, frowning.

“I thought everyone was out.”

“Mom?” they heard Emmy calling from downstairs a moment later. “Dad?”

“I guess school was out early today,” Oliver grumbled, his hands tightening on Felicity’s hips, “which is just great.”

Felicity sighed, nodding her head. She patted Oliver’s chest lightly and brushed her lips against his jaw softly.

“I guess we are lucky that we aren’t interrupted at a later time,” Felicity said with a sigh, shaking her head, “because I don’t think I could bear the thought of having you inside me without coming once more.”

Oliver nodded his head. “Agreed.”

He pecked Felicity’s lips before she turned around to check on Emmy downstairs. Before she had left the bathroom, Oliver held her back though.

“Hey.”

Felicity turned around to him in the frame of the door and perked up her eyebrows.

“I will get you that orgasm. Today. I promise.”

Felicity smiled, winking at him. “I know.”

There was always a chance that promises couldn’t be kept. No matter how much you tried, you could never really be sure. With this promise, Felicity knew that Oliver wouldn’t allow anything to come in between. He needed himself to keep that promise as much as Felicity needed him to keep it.

She’d take it even if it was her even hornier dream-version of Oliver that would have to do the job at the end. Her two Olivers really never disappointed.

→ → → → →

The lack of orgasms this day had brought might have been harder on Felicity than she had realized when their last attempt at sex had failed. Doing the dishes after the dinner while the kids had finally agreed on a movie to watch now, Felicity felt her mood growing darker though. It couldn’t be time for the kids to go to bed soon enough.

When Felicity took the baking dish, Hawk lifted his paw and lifted it against her leg.

“You don’t really think that you get to lick out the rests of this after what you did today, do you?”

Hawk whined, touching her leg with his paw once more. He looked at her with his big, dark eyes pleadingly, but Felicity shook her head.

“There is no way that you will get a treat after you have taken away my treat and-“

“Give the dog the baking dish.”

Felicity perked up her eyebrows, looking at Oliver, who was standing in the frame of the door. The expression in his eyes was intense.

“He ruined the bath, so I am not going to give him-“

“Give him the baking dish,” Oliver repeated, “and then come here.”

Felicity frowned. “Oliver, what are you-?”

Oliver crossed the distance towards her, took the baking dish and lowered it to the floor, so Hawk could lick out the remains of food that were still in there. Taking her hand, he pulled her with him towards the garage then.

“Oliver, what-?”

When Oliver pushed her into the garage, switching on the light, and locked the door behind them, it finally clicked with Felicity. She finally got what they were doing in the garage.

“Oh, thank god.”

Oliver was just as eager to finally move this forward as she was. He put his hands to her hips, lifting her onto the hood of her car. Spreading his legs, he stepped between them and pressed his hips in the juncture of her legs. His hand grabbed some strands of hair at the back of her head and pulled her towards him. His lips captured hers in a hungry kiss.

All those failed attempts at being pleasured to the peak had left its marks on Felicity. Just feeling Oliver’s already half-erect cock against her sex, having his hands roam her body and uniting their lips in the searing kiss was all she needed to be utterly turned on already. She didn’t need any foreplay. She had had a lot of foreplay today already, and there was no way that she was going to miss the ecstasy of her orgasm another time.

“I want you,” she whispered against Oliver’s lips, “right now.”

Oliver nodded his head in agreement before he broke the kiss. With a quick movement, he pulled her off the hood. He untied the bow at the front of her sweatpants and pushed the pants as well as her panties down in one go. Felicity reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, but he slapped her hands away lightly.

Felicity wanted to complain because there was no way that she was going to lose more time than necessary. Her complaint died on the tip of her tongue when Oliver suddenly went down on his knees and buried his head in the juncture of her legs though. His lips closed around her clit, while two of his fingers thrusted into her wet channel without any hesitance.

His tongue was drawing small circles around her clit. His lips latched onto her folds. His fingers thrusted in and out of her channel with a quick rhythm. His fingertips brushed against all her most sensitive spots.

This was so good. It was better than good. It was better than any word she could possibly find for it. It was feeling so unbelievably whatever.

Felicity had no idea how Oliver had the strength to do this. As much as she loved to give him a blowjob and have him at her mercy, especially when he was on the edge already and she could tease him until he was feeling that he was going crazy, she wouldn’t have the energy to do so today. After everything they had been through already, now she really just wanted to be released from her frustration. She really just wanted to come.

She had no words to tell Oliver, so she just gabbed some strands of his hair and pulled him even more against her sensitive sex.

With how well Oliver knew her body, knew what she liked and what she needed to come, it didn’t take him long to have a wave of pleasure running through her body. He just continued to flick the tip of his tongue against her clit, using the rough top of his tongue to pleasure her until her legs were shaking and her moan became even louder. When her fingers scratched over his scalp particularly firmly, he groaned against her clit. The sound made her most sensitive parts vibrate in a way that made her shiver and pushed her off the edge.

Finally.

“Oh, god, Oliver,” she whispered, her head falling back as she enjoyed the pleasure running through her, “just don’t stop.”

Of course Oliver didn’t stop. He continued to use his tongue and his fingers to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible. The mighty wave that had rolled over her when the orgasm had first hit her, ceased slowly. The hot prickling turned into a warm shiver. Until, eventually, those warm shivers let go of her and allowed her to take in her surroundings once more.

Pulling at Oliver’s hair, she made him let go of her clit and prompted him to straighten up. As soon as his face was on one level with hers, Felicity framed his face with her hands and pulled him towards her. She captured his lips in a kiss, enjoying the taste of herself on there. They both moaned in unison.

She couldn’t possibly love this man more than she did. All her heart, all her soul and everything she was or had ever been was connected with him, loved him. It was a lot, and sometimes the thought even scared her a little bit because she felt like it should be impossible to love someone as much as she loved Oliver.

That man and their kids were just everything to her.

Felicity kicked off her sweatpants and let them drop to the floor. Hooking her fingers in the waistband of Oliver’s sweatpants, she pulled him back close to her. When she aimed to take off his sweatpants and boxer briefs right now, Oliver didn’t push her hands away. Instead, he helped her getting rid of the annoying layers of clothes that were in their way. Positioning his cock at her entrance, he locked eyes with her.

For some reason that Felicity would never truly understand, that first thrust of Oliver’s cock into her tight channel would always feel like coming home. There was something so grounding to having Oliver thrust into her. Uniting with him was all she really needed to know where her place in life was.

Once Oliver’s cock was seated inside of her, his hips stilled. He lifted his hand to her face, stroking his fingertips over her cheek. Oliver’s fingers were trembling slightly, showing how much it really took from him to keep onto the little bit of control he still had on himself. He was desperate for his own release, but he refused to just pound into her until he had what he wanted and needed. He wanted to make this good for her too because they had both waited for this too long already.

Felicity wrapped her arms around Oliver’s neck and wrapped her legs around his hips. With the way their bodies were pressed close to each other now and with the new angle of penetration, Oliver couldn’t hold still any longer. He started thrusting, going for a quick but deep rhythm.

Oliver’s thrusts hit the most sensitive parts inside of her, rubbing against all the right spots and creating a perfect friction. There was nothing about his thrusts that wasn’t to love. It was just perfect.

With that first orgasm that had been running through her, Felicity was suddenly a lot more relaxed. She had gotten the much-needed release, so she felt like she could take her time and enjoy all the pleasure Oliver was making her feel now. She didn’t need a quick release anymore.

Oliver on the other hand was very eager to finally get the pleasure that he had been denied several times now too. His thrusts were losing its rhythm. Gritting his teeth, he held on though. he didn’t want to come before she had come again.

Felicity grabbed Oliver’s hand and led it between their bodies. His fingers rubbed against her clit in a quick rhythm. That way, Felicity’s pleasure was increased quickly. Within seconds, she felt the tips of her toes tickling until the pleasure ran all through her body. With a long moan, Felicity let Oliver know that he had achieved his goal. It was all he needed to let go too. Only two more thrusts and he released into her.

They held onto each other tightly, moving somewhat in synch to prolong their pleasure for as long as they possibly could. Eventually, their bodies stopped moving though. They continued to hold onto each other, letting their hearts beat in unison while they were trying to catch their breaths.

“Damn it, this was good,” Oliver said after a moment, “and so needed.”

Chuckling, Felicity angled her head back to look at Oliver. She put her hand to his cheek and swiped her thumb of his bottom lip. It was reddened and swollen from their kisses, but it still felt so incredibly soft.

“I love you,” Felicity whispered because she wasn’t sure if she had told him today already, and she felt like no day should go by without it, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Oliver brushed his lips against hers before he pulled her off the hood of the car and turned her around. When his hips pressed against her butt, she could feel that he wasn’t done yet. “And we are both going to love this.”

He thrust back inside of her from behind her, making Felicity’s body slump forward as she was still so very sensitive. Her hands looked for anything to hold onto, but the car didn’t offer anything. Biting down on her bottom lip to quiet her moans, Felicity grabbed his hand on her hip, lacing her fingers through it.

Oliver leaned over her, covering her back with his chest. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, kissing it before he whispered, “Ready for another round?”

Felicity just nodded he head because, God, she was ready to be pleasured once more. Three was her lucky charm, and after their three failed attempts at sex, she guessed three orgasm was were only fair. Maybe, if she was really lucky, she might even get a forth orgasm since she had missed that one in her dream too.

Either way, she really wanted to feel Oliver moving inside of her again. It was too good for her to resist the offer.

“Ready,” Felicity whispered, “when you are.”

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @mrt2501 @arsipaci14 @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie310 @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez21-blog @pleasantfanandstudent @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @haahaaa2408 @pattid1 @faegal04 @24karatgem @wrldtravler @readerkas @olicity-beliver @greencoffeecups @snorlaxishere

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 36

Warning: brief mention of attempted suicide, SMUT

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @ocfairygodmother

Every time she closes her eyes it's there. Dhaka. The dirty, crowded streets; a sea of pedestrians and vehicles. Rundown tenement buildings and hotels; broken or missing windows, rusted balconies and faded, chipped paint. Narrow, cluttered alleyways and over populated laundries and the odd restaurant and cafe. Vendors peddling their goods among the chaos. It had been loud; a level of noise that she hadn’t anticipated. A continuous drone of honking horns and revving engines and incessant chattering and laughing. Yet at night it would grow eerily quiet; sundown and the call to prayer bringing a silence...a stillness...that was almost breathtaking.

There are so many moments...images...permanently ingrained in her mind. That hotel room with its filthy walls and its water stained ceiling; the stark white and pristine bed sheets an odd and stark contrast against the dirt and grime. Torn and faded curtains covered the windows; or least attempted to. The balcony was rotting and weathered; cracked contract cement, wobbly and dent...and in some places missing...railings. It had been a shit hole; too much mismatched and broken furniture shoved into such a small area, a kitchenette that boasted a stove with only one matching burner and a barely functioning bar fridge and only one set of dishes and cutlery. The toilet had to be fixed every time you flushed it and the shower nozzle was barely higher than she was tall, and there never seemed to be any hot water or pressure to it. Yet it hadn’t been the worst accommodations she’d ever bunked down in; a paradise compared to some of the conditions she’d been subjected to while in the Middle East. And after things had taken an intense -yet not so surprising- turn, nothing around them had mattered anymore; able to temporarily escape the reality of their surroundings and the uncertainty of the situation. And they’d seek out that escape -and the profound pleasure it brought with it- as often as possible.

She can see Gaspar’s. Luxurious by Dhaka standards; a beautiful, well kept home just outside of the city limits. It should have been a relief; getting behind that iron security gate and those four supposedly welcoming walls. Finally off the streets and away from the violent and gunfire and the unpredictability; no longer having to watch your back every single second. But it had made things worse; she should have been grateful and somewhat relaxed and able to let her guard down. But the uneasiness had lingered; the absence of any true sigh of life within the hole eating away at her even as she stood in a hot shower and washed away all the dirt and the blood. There was a wife but no actual evidence of one; only a single toothbrush in the holder by the sink, nothing by hygiene products geared towards me, no housecoat -feminine or otherwise- hanging behind the door.

He’d been an intimidating man; not as tall or as muscular and defined as Tyler, but big and burly and strong in his own right. Putting on a good show with the welcoming smiles and the friendly chatter, but always watching her out of the corner of his eyes. Calling her ‘the girl’ or ‘that girl’ even when she was in the room. Rolling his eyes or scoffing every time she attempted to speak. He didn’t trust her; in the same way she didn’t trust him. There was no doubt that he felt that, which in turn made his hostility towards her even stronger.

And when he’d confronted her in that darkened, upstairs hallway, the threat he presented had become all too terrifyingly real. Accusing her of being cunning and manipulative; willing to say or do anything to guarantee that Tyler would get her out of Dhaka alive. Even if it meant ‘whoring herself out’ to him. That in the end -once they were out of Bangladesh and all was said and done- she’d leave him even more damaged and broken than he already was. Telling her that he knew what she was up to; he recognized the deviousness and the sneaky little games she was playing. Even congratulating her on being able to do it so well and for pulling it off as long as she had. He’d tried gaslighting her: she was only “slowing things down, putting an even bigger target on his back. You’re going to get him killed. How are you going to feel then? Knowing he died for you. Will you even care?”. Admitting that he was impressed by just how evil and calculated someone so “small and cute and innocent looking” could actually be. And there was nothing she could have said or done to change his way of thought.

She was the enemy and she needed to be eliminated at all costs.

“The kid AND the girl.” She can actually hear it in his voice, see the vehemence and determination on his face. The same way she can still see his sneer and the darkness in his eyes in that upstairs hallway when he’d reached out to touch her hair and…

Ovi. Ovi opening the door across the hall. The harsh whispers and Gaspar’s threats and lewd, degrading comments jarring him from rest. All of fourteen years old with that mop of hair and those huge dark eyes and that scared, anxious face. His life turned upside down in the blink of an eye because of his father’s transgressions. He could have easily ignored it; listening to every word that was said while cowering under his blankets. But he hadn’t. He’d cared enough to put a stop to things; growing bolder and braver as each second of that long and trying day ticked away. Afterwards...when the thread had been neutralized...she’d made the kid take a vow of secrecy. That they’d never speak of that moment again and that he’d never...under any circumstances...breathe a word of it to Tyler. And he was still loyal; holding onto that secret even seven years later.

Bile rises in her throat. He has that effect on her. Gaspar. Even the mere mention of his name makes her feel nauseous. It’s worse now; knowing just how vile and evil he could be behind that fake smile and his promises to help. It had probably been his plan all along; he’d probably gone to Asif the second he finished talking to Nik. Seeing it as an easy payday; convinced that there was no way Tyler would turn down the deal. Why wouldn’t he give up some random girl he’d been casually fucking and a drug lord’s kid? Five million is a lot of money in your pocket, and when combined with your freedom, it would be ridiculous to turn it down. After all, that's what Gaspar would do. No questions asked. He wouldn’t think twice about getting rich off of someone elses pain and misery. And weren’t all the mercenaries like that? At least in his eyes? Ruthless. Merciless. Savage. What were two strangers compared to that kind of money? An easy choice, in his eyes.

She shouldn’t be surprised. That he’d stoop to that level. And there’s vindication to be had in the fact that he’d hadn’t gotten away with it. A guilty pleasure in knowing that he’d gone to his grave...and hopefully the deepest recesses of hell...without seeing a single cent of Asif’s money. He hadn’t known Tyler as well as he thought he had; he’d never expected him to both turn down the offer and fight to the death -if need to- to stop Gaspar from getting his hands on her and Ovi. It had been a fitting end; sitting on those steps in his house, watching and listening as he took his last breaths. She’d felt nothing; not even the slightest bit of remorse or pity. At least not towards him. She’d felt it for Ovi; just a kid and being forced to pull the trigger and having it on his conscience for the rest of his life. And she’d felt it towards Tyler; knowing how hard it hits when you’ve been betrayed by someone you thought you could trust. Gaspar would have killed him. His loyalties had switched to Asif and with Tyler out of the picture, the entire ten million would have been his to keep. It’s a bitter pill to swallow; saving a man’s life and having him betray you THAT badly. All Gaspar had cared about was the payout. Not the three lives he would have destroyed in the process.

The guilt returns with a vengeance. Appalled that she’d even asked what she had earlier in the day. If he’d considered...even for a split second...accepting the deal. The one person that she’s always trusted...who trusted her in return...being subjected to a question that makes her nauseous to even think about. The only person in her life who has ever made her feel safe; giving her an overwhelming sense of safety and security that no one else had ever managed to do and she’d never realized she wanted OR needed. Who’d been so willing to die for her that day on the bridge and who would do so...without hesitation...even now. The last person who should have ever faced a question like that. She’d seen the hurt in his eyes; how deeply it had cut him. Far deeper and far more painful than any physical injury he’d ever received. The fact she’d even think that about him...see him in that way...doing more damage than the actual words themselves. And she’d regretted it the second she’d said it; setting the way his eyes darkened and his expression hardened and his jaw tightened. He rarely got that way with her; not even during the most intense fights they’d had over the years. His temper could be volatile and his words cutting and harsh, but his face...his demeanour...never did THAT. It was cold and brutal. Scary, even . And that’s something he’s never made her feel. Fear.

Esme has no idea why she asked that question in the first place. She doesn’t think that way about him; never has. Even seven years ago there had been no doubt in her mind that he would have done anything and everything in his power to keep her safe. To get her the hell out of Dhaka. And that time spent on the Sultana Kamal Bridge should have been all the answer she needed. When she sat there listening to him choke on his own blood; having to put her fingers through the bullet hole in his neck to keep him alive. That should have been enough. All the proof she needed. He HAD been willing to die for her. He almost did. On the bridge and in the hospital and even all those years later when he’d tried to take his own life because the demons of the past were just too much to bear.

She pushes those thoughts out of her mind. Of all the things she’s seen and all the things she’s heard, nothing cuts deeper as hearing the person you love -more than life itself- tell you that they don’t want to live anymore; that you’d be much better off without them. No amount of reasoning with enough to convince them otherwise. No amount of tears and begging and pleading enough to get them to change their mind. And when you’re the one that finds them when they've gone through with their attempts…

A flood of tears threaten and she squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to hold them back. Nothing good ever comes out of dwelling. Whether it be about Dhaka or Gaspar or all of the other battles that have been fought between then and now. And she rolls over onto her side; watching the way his body rises and falls with each steady breath and the slivers of moonlight that bathe his skin. His back towards her as he sleeps facing the hall. It’s been the same way for almost seven years; his insistence on facing the door in the same way he won’t sit in a public place with his back towards an entrance. Always ready for any possible threat that could come their way; knowing they stand a better chance of survival if he’s the first person someone encounters. It gives them both a sense of security; him confident in his strength and skills, her confident in his willingness and ability to protect her.

***

Moving closer to him, she uses her fingertips to slowly and methodically trace the large Nordic compass tattoo that sits between his shoulders. In time moving down to each scar and blemish that mars his skin; those little imperfections that make up everything unique and beautiful about him. He hates that word; despises it being used to describe anything about him. As if it somehow takes away from everything he’s been through; dulling those edges and diminishing his strength and toughness and ‘softening’ him. It’s ludicrous but understandable. It’s what happens after years of witnessing abuse and toxic masculinity at its finest. He’s nothing like the man he’d grown up with; aman he’d been expected to respect and emulate. And despite that harsh bringing and the nerves of steels and the hardness...the roughness...that comes from years in the military and then as a mercenary, he’s breathtakingly human.

Behind that tough as nails facade and those jagged edges, he possesses a staggering amount of compassion. There’s a kindness in his eyes; if you look close enough. It’s none more evident then when he’s with his children: patient and calm, very rarely raising his voice and most certainly never raising a hand. Both face and tone gentle and those strong hands with their scars and calluses and busted up knuckles capable of so much tenderness. Whether it be fixing Millie’s hair or patching up skinned knees or tending to busted lips and bloody noses. Even a husband...and especially as a lover...the sides to his personality are vastly different; always knowing what she craves. Whether it’s the need for him to be aggressive and dominant or soft and gentle. He just KNOWS. Before she even has to ask. Able to read it in her body language and see it in her eyes; reacting to the situation and becoming exactly what she wants and needs him to be. He’s complex and sensitive; far more than other people realize.

Her lips replace her fingers; pressing feathery kisses across his shoulders and onto the nape of his neck and along his hairline. A hand sneaking under the arm that rests lightly against his side, palm slowly travelling over her chest and down to his abs and lower; the hair that makes up his ‘happy trail’ wiry and rough against her fingers.

“Baby…” his voice is a low rumble; groggy from sleep. “...what are you doing?”

“Admiring.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Really late or really early. Depends how you look at it.”

Sighing, he reaches for his phone as it charges on the nightstand; not objecting when her hand slides even lower. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I'm not allowed to admire my husband at three in the morning?”

“You should be asleep.”

“So should you.”

“I was. Until my brain caught up with my body and realized you were getting ready to jerk me off.”

“I wasn’t even close to doing that. But now that you mentioned it…” her hand continues its descent, smiling against his shoulder when he groans deep within his chest as her nails lightly drag along his hardening length before taking it in her hand; warm and thick and solid against her palm.

And his own hand slips beneath the sheet that slits low on his hip; much larger and stronger as it covers hers, showing her exactly what he needs. Her mouth slowly travelling over his shoulder and the back of his neck; lips soft, tongue moist, teeth lightly nipping. Loving the power she has over him; the way his breath quickens and his body trembles ever so slightly and his cock grows full and hard in her grasp.

“Hey…” she protests, a dramatic pout on her face when Tyler rolls over to face her.

“Not like that,” he says, and kisses her. Even his kisses have a different side to them. Right now they’re soft and languid and tinged with the lingering remnants of sleep. A hand wandering as his lips down move to her neck slipping up the front of her tank top and cupping one of her breasts; thumb passing over the nipple as he licks and sucks at the sensitive flesh at the side of her throat.

It’s all too much; the scrape of his beard against her skin, the way he alternates between gently caressing the nipple and firmly punching and twisting it. The ache between her legs is profound; almost unbearable. And her eyes close and a whimper escapes her lips and one hand tunnels in his hair and the other reaches between them to work on his cock once again. Enjoying the sounds that escape him and the way his body tenses and his hips jerk towards her.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he says, and then uses his size to his advantage and pushes her onto her back.

“That’s the point.”

“I said not like that.” He kisses her again; deeper now, more insistent. Demanding. A hand grabbing a hold of her hip and the fingers pressing into her flesh as he encourages her to open her legs. A long, low groan tumbling from his mouth as he slips into her with a slow, deep thrust.

She sighs, eyes fluttering closed as he moves inside of her. Each thrust fluid and intentional; every push causing a whimper to escape her lips. Legs falling open and bending at the knee; that simple change in position pulling him in even deeper. He feels so good; those hungry and needy kisses, the way the muscles of his back move against her, the bulge of biceps and forearms as he bears his weight on outstretched arms. And when he breaks out of a particularly deep and demanding kiss, she reaches up to grab a hold of his hair; yanking his head back and then trailing the tip of her tongue along his throat, over his Adam’s apple and up onto the underside of his chin. Tasting the sweat on his skin, feeling the trickle of his beard. And when she pulls his bottom lip between her teeth, something unravels inside of him. Movements become faster. Harder. Spurred on by the noises she makes and the way her nails rake down his back.

“Make me cum,” she whispers. “Please...Tyler...make me cum.”

He reaches between them, the tips of two fingers toying with her clit. Until he can feel her shuddering against him and her hips lift off the bed; kissing her in order to stifle the cry that she emits. And he continues to move inside of her; pushing through the contractions and the convulsions of those inner muscles.

“Let me finish in your mouth,” he says, eyes searching hers for permission. And when she gives a nod of consent, he pulls out and rolls onto his back. Fingers of both hands tangling in her hair as she kisses, lick, and nibbles her way down his body. “Fuck…” the word leaves him in a low, drawn out groan when she lightly sucks at the tip before fully taking him between her lips. And it takes all his will power to not grab a hold of her head and fuck her mouth. Letting her do all the work; eyes closed and chest heaving, hands gently resting in her hair. “...feel so good…” he praises. “...feels so fucking good.”

Her hand curls around his shaft; working together with her mouth to drive him closer to the edge. Soon it becomes impossible to bear and he can no longer hold back; hands tightening in her hair and his hips rising off the bed, forcing her to take him even deeper. Fucking her mouth win the way he he would her body while buried inside of her. Until he’s coming hard and fast, pushing down on her head until the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat; long, hot spurts of semen that she accepts willingly, swallowing every last drop. Mouth and hand working together to drain him dry, leaving him a panting, quivering mess.

“You’re so fucking good at that,” he breathes, and then cocks open an eye as she kisses her way up his body; her eyes sparkling, a prideful grin on her face. “Yeah...you SHOULD be proud of yourself and things you can do.”

“Maybe you’re just easy to please.”

“It’s not that. Trust me. It’s you. All you,” he pushes a hand through her hair once again, lightly tugging on her dark tresses as he pulls her down into a long, deep kiss. And she settles her body against his; head against his shoulder and their chests pressed together, her legs resting between his.

“Thanks for waking me up,” Tyler says, and she laughs. “Normally I’d kick your ass out of bed for waking me up at three in the morning, but I think you had a pretty good reason.”

“It didn’t go the way I planned,” Esme admits. “You were supposed to let me do all the work.”

“That NEVER happens.”

“Because YOU won’t let it happen. Because you’re stubborn and you won’t ever just lie back and let me spoil you."

“I don’t know, I remember being laid up after knee surgery and you pretty much had to do everything. And by the way, I know it’s been three years, but you did an awesome job. My dick says thank you.”

She grins and presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “Your dick is very welcome. He’s lucky I like him so much. I can’t stand most dicks. Yours? He’s alright.”

“That’s because all the other dicks you had didn’t know what they were doing. Mine? Legend.”

She laughs at that, and he drops a kiss on the top of her head; palm slowly running down her spine and settling at the small of her back. Fingertips grazing over the tattoo that resides there; remembering how she’d been so embarrassed when he’d seen it for the first time. A ‘tramp stamp’ she’d called it, though he still doesn’t fully understand the phrase. It had been a drunken mistake during her first year at college and she’d always regretted it. But didn’t mind when...in Dhaka...he'd pinned her to the bed face down, hands tightly holding her hips as he traced the tattoo with the tip of his tongue.

And he closes his eyes. Prepared to settle back into sleep with her slight, small body pressed against his. Knuckles brushing along her spine.

***

“How well did you actually know him?” Esme asks.

Tyler’s eyes snap open. He’s slightly disoriented; on the edge of sleep when she spoke. “Who?”

“Gaspar.”

“Why are we talking about him? Especially now. Right after we made love.” He doesn’t use that term often; mainly because their ‘go to’ has always been straight up fucking. As crude and harsh at it sounds. Very rarely were things slow and gentle in the bedroom.

“How close were you guys? Acquaintances? Friends? Best friends?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Why are we talking about him?”

“I’m just curious.”

“It’s almost four in the morning,” he points out.

“When you say he was your friend, do mean you were friends with him like you are with Koen and Rata, or…”

“A friend as in we worked some jobs together and we’d go out for beers afterwards or we’d meet up if we ended up in the same place. Not friends as in I’d known him my entire life or I’d go to his place and visit during my downtime or send him text messages and Christmas cards and all that shit.”

“So basically a work friend,” she concludes.

“Yeah...basically. Why are we talking about him again?”

“And you saved his life, right?”

“Once. Why?”

“How? How’d you save his life?”

“Esme, what the hell? Why are we talking about this? Is it ‘cause of what I told you today? That’s why I DIDN’T tell you before. Because I knew it would bother you. I knew you’d dwell on it and ask questions I don’t have answers for. If I’d known this would happen…”

“Humour me,” she says. “I want to know. How you saved his life.”

Tyler sighs. “He went into Honduras to do a job for some mobster type. Ended up fucking the guy’s wife and getting caught. So Nik sent me in there to get him out. He was a couple of hours away from a pretty painful and gruesome death when I got there.”

She scoffs. “You should have left him there.”

“Well what’s the saying? Hindsight is twenty-twenty? If I’d known then what would happen in Dhaka, I would have have told him to go fuck himself and bought a front row ticket to watch his execution. But…”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know. What happened that night. I know you blame yourself for taking Ovi and I there. But it’s not like you knew he was going to fuck you over.”

“I knew something wasn’t right. When I talked to him in the kitchen. There was something weird about the way he said ‘how’s the kid and the girl?’. And then talked about leaving to go and kiss his wife and it seemed...I don’t know...like it was bullshit.”

“There was no proof there was a wife.”

“He was wearing a ring,” Tyler points out.

“That means nothing. Lots of people wear rings on that finger. We never found out for sure. You know, it'd probably be pretty easy to look up if there really WAS a wife.”

“Why would we bother?”

“Just for curiosity’s sake, I guess.”

“Who gives a shit? It’s been seven years. If there was a wife, I’m sure she realized pretty quickly how much better off she was without him.”

“I still don’t understand how he could do that to you. Especially after you saved his life. Betray you like that.”

Tyler shrugs. “Money’s a hell of a motivator.”

“You never took the money.”

“I’m not a psychopath. He obviously was. And I don’t want to talk about this again. The whole deal thing. Once was enough. And it didn’t end well.”

“I didn’t mean it. What I said. It was a stupid fucking thing for me to ask. I don’t even know why I DID ask it. It’s like it just came out.”

“Baby,” he runs a hand over her hair and kisses her temple. “We already talked about this. We don’t need to do it again.”

“I feel like complete and utter shit about it. For hurting you like that. I never...ever...would do anything to intentionally hurt you. And I’m a shit human being for doing what I did and I feel terrible and…”

“Esme, stop. We’ve been through this. You said you were sorry, I accepted it, we moved on.”

“You should be angrier.”

“Says who?”

“Me. Because I know how I’d feel if you said something like that to me. If you all but accused me of being like Asif or Gaspar or guys like Mahajan Senior. It would kill me inside. And I’d be so pissed and hurt and…”

“And I was and now I’m not and you need to drop it. It’s fine. You apologized, we talked about, what more is there? I’m not angry. Am I hurt still? A little. But I’ll get over it. I’ve said plenty of mean shit to you when I’ve been mad, yeah?”

She nods.

“And you’ve always forgiven me. Every time. So let it go. Please. It’s over.”

“I am sorry,” she tells him. “That I said it. Because I’ve never…ever...thought that about you.”

“I know. Is that why you woke me up? To apologize in a different way?”

“Maybe.” she admits. “Did it work?”

“I’d already forgiven you. So you didn’t need to go to all the trouble.”

“You mean I could have saved all the time and energy and spared my jaw the hard work and pain?”

“You’re being dramatic. You do it willingly so it can’t be THAT bad.”

“I do it because you like it. And because I like doing it for you. And if I’m being honest, it kinda turns me on.”

Tyler grins. “You ARE dirty.”

“It’s easy to be dirty being married to the likes of you. You’ve got skills. Mad skills. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to marry you in the first place”

“Yeah? What are the other reasons?”

“It’s a whole bunch of things,” she says. “The way you can always make me laugh even when I’m having a really shitty day. How you always compliment me even when I know I look like crap. How you always look at me like I’m the most amazing woman in the world. Because you’re a great kisser and you’re nice to look at and you help make beautiful babies.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“And mostly because I love you and I thought I’d never love anyone THIS much. Especially after Mark and all his bullshit. I didn’t think I’d ever get married again. And then you came along and that was it. Everything changed. I often wonder how things would have turned out if we met differently. Do you ever think about that?”

“Sometimes,” Tyler admits.

“I always have it in my mind that if you’d met me at my cousin and Gs’ wedding, would things have gone down then? If I hadn’t been overseas…”

“I would have fucked you in the coat check room for sure.”

She raises her head and frowns.

“Just saying. And you wouldn’t have wanted to know me then. I was an even bigger mess than when we DID meet.”

“Okay...so if not there...where?”

“I dunno. I always imagine that you would have been here on vacation and we would have run into each other that way.”

“On the beach?”

“Sure. That works.”

“I so would have been checking you out,” she giggles. “All the muscles and the tattoos and those eyes and that hair…”

“I didn’t always have that hair, you know.”

“Every scenario I ever think of, you have that hair. Humour me. Would you have checked me out?”

“I’ve seen you in a bathing suit. So, yeah. I would have checked you out.”

“It weird to think about,” Esme muses. “A different version of us. A normal version. A normal Esme and a normal Tyler. With normal jobs and normal lives. I think you would have made a good cop. Or a firefighter. Or even just stayed in the military.”

“I always think you would have made a good teacher,” he says. “Or a nurse. Considering all the times you’ve had to take care of me. And how good you are at giving sponge baths.”

She grins. “Would still have fallen in love with me? If I’d been normal?”

“How normal?”

“If I’d been a nurse or teacher. Same personality, just a different career.”

“In a heartbeat. What about you? Would have fallen in love with me if I’d just been some normal guy?”

“Hmmm…” she ponders. “I don’t know…”

Tyler scowls. “You know what…?”

“I’m kidding,” she laughs, and presses a kiss to his lips. “I would have fallen in love with you a million times over.”

Smiling, he places a kiss on her temple and wraps both arms around her, holding her tightly and securely. Until her breath softens and evens out and he knows she’s asleep.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #Chris hemsworth character

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toldbymae · 4 years

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𝐆 𝐑 𝐀 𝐕 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 ~ 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐮

C H A P T E R O N E: BEGIN AGAIN

Fandom; Choices stories you play

Pairings; Ethan Ramsey x Mc (Lucky-Rae Longford)

Summary; Emotions are the luxury you can’t afford as a Doctor, consider this something Ethan Ramsey learned early. When the sun sets, all hope seems lost. That is, until a wide-eyed young intern tumbles, quite literally, into his life and the sun has never shined brighter.

Warnings; Swearing, Graphic descriptions of injury, Alcohol consumption, NSFW, Character death, Violence, Mentions of stillbirth, Physical abuse.

Word Count; 1.4k (1,467 including this and the above.)

Author Note; This story is an au and starts at the beginning of open heart book one. The storyline won't entirely be the same, some aspects will change eg; Miss Martinez won't end up dying because of mc...instead it'll be because of someone else. In this story, you’ll hate Landry even more.

𝗚𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗶𝘁𝘆; 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵, 𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘀.

Enjoy!

LUCKY-RAE

After a six and a half hour flight, Lucky got off the plane and made her way through security, grabbing her suitcase and making her way through the crowd of loud and rowdy people. Most of them wore a smile, running into the arms of friends and family, while others were crying and watching as they bid goodbye.

Life is something precious.

It's strong and yet, it's so fragile and easy to take away.

The automatic doors opened and, almost instantly, she was hit with golden rays of the sun. Boston, she smiled and began venturing down the street.

Lucky couldn't wipe the irreplaceable smile off her face, nor did she want to. This is going to be the start of something new. Something good. Something...unimaginable.

The sudden vibration of her phone drew the redhead from her thoughts as she hastily grabbed it out of her pocket.

Landlord guy; 27 Ilford terrace, be there at 3 pm and I'll give you your keys. NO LATER.

Lucky; Sure thing

She tucked her phone safely back in her front pocket and called for a taxi, told him the destination she was heading to, and sat comfortably in the back seat, after putting her luggage in the boot, with the much-needed assistance of the driver.

25 minutes.

The car set off and Lucky leaned her head against the window, watching everything pass her by.

A smile crept back onto her face.

It's happening, it's finally happening. All these years of dreaming, believing, and working hard have led her to where she is right now, where she will be in the future.

Edenbrook Hospital, one of, if not the most, prestigious in the country. Widely known for its efficient and dedicated health care and team.

It hadn't always been her dream to work there, nevertheless, Lucky was determined now more than ever, not to allow the past to cloud her judgment or decisions.

All the people she'd save...all the people she'd be able to help...and those who she can't save...

Seconds descended into minutes which soon felt like hours and the taxi pulled up outside her new home. She thanked him, paid, and dragged her suitcase behind her as she walked up the steps and patiently waited for her landlord to arrive. She spotted him making his way down the road, wearing a blue shirt and loose-fitting black trousers.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person Mister...."

"Just call me Farley." He said delving his hand into his over-sized pocket and fishing for the keys.

"Thank you, I promise to take good care of the property...Mister Farley."

He laughed, "I know you lot will."

She paused, you lot. But there's only one of her...

"What did you mean?" She asked.

"Oh..." He laughed again, "Go inside and you'll see, Doc."

And she did. She unlocked the door and trekked up the stairs and wished there was a lift.

Lucky's breath was instantly taken away. The view was simply spectacular, the apartment was spacious, too spacious.

"This isn't all for me, is it?"

"Turns out you really are as smart as you look." He retorted, turning his head and pointing out all the other bedrooms which would be accommodating other people. Lucky shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't worry." He reassured, "I'm sure you'll get along with them just fine." Without another word, Farley departed leaving Lucky alone.

Her momentary peace was interrupted at the sound of voices and the door flying open. Five people walked in, luggage trailing after them, and meek smiles.

"He really wasn't lying..." Someone moaned, a slim and tall man with wild curly, hazel nut-brown hair, with baby blue eyes.

"I got one can't wait!" The voice of a short, brunette squeaked, smiling from ear to ear. Lucky couldn't tell whether or not she was being genuine.

"What are the odds of us all Woking at ED?" Another woman rolls her eyes and makes her way into the kitchen and raids the fridge.

"Well...I guess I should introduce myself?" The uncertainty in her voice caused Lucky to internally cringe.

"Lucky." She extends out her hand and the small girl, no taller than her, shakes it.

"I call dibs on the largest room." Says the girl whose name Lucky is yet to know, who is currently stuffing her face with a chocolate bar, "I'm Jackie, that's Sienna, Elijah, and Landry."

"Pleasure to meet you." Lucky replies. Sienna smiles at her, "I think we're gonna get along just great and I love your voice, are you, Welsh?"

"Irish, from Killarney."

"Well, is anyone hungry might as well order something." Elijah says getting his phone and looking up nearby takeaway restaurants.

Hours of talking and unpacking later, the interns sat at the table eating pizza and watching TV, feeling nothing except mixture exhaustion and relaxation.

"There's this bar down the road called Donahue’s, wanna go?” Jackie suggests, earning the attention of her new fellow roommates.

Landry shrugged, “I mean I don’t mind...but we’ve orientation tomorrow so...let’s not drinking too much.”

“Alright, let's go.”

...

ETHAN

The bar was still and quiet as the diagnostician drank the last of his whiskey and motioned for the bartender, his long time friend Reggie, to get him another.

"You sure you want another?" Reggie asks, hesitant.

Ethan almost instantly nods and the sound of voices filling the once empty bar drew him from his thoughts.

One in particular caught his eye.

Her laugh sounded like a melody he could listen to every day.

Her eyes, glassy, pure, and ruby green. So beautiful and mesmerizing.

Her hair, long, curly, and auburn shade of red.

Her freckles, as golden as the sun, spread across her face like stars in a midnight sky.

Ethan forced himself to turn away, unable to get the image of her out of his head.

He wouldn't see her again.

Or her dark red lips, so kissable.

He drank the remainder of his drink and decided to call it a night, much to Reggie's relief.

From the corner of his sky blue eyes, he sees her stumbling and about to fall, glass in hand. He catches her just in time and she smiles and drunkenly laughs, before throwing up a river on his green jacket and white top. Ethan sighs and helps her walk over to the nearest booth and sits her down.

“Shit...” She says, “I’m such a lightweight. Sorry, I uh...you know.” Her eyes dart to the ground and her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you some water.” Ethan walks over to the bar and Reggie gives him a bottle of water, he opens the bottle and passes it to her. Lucky smiles gratefully and drinks it.

“You're a lifesaver...sorry again about your-

“It’s fine, really.”

A hesitant silence falls upon them until Lucky speaks, “I’m not usually like this.”

“I’m really, really, really nervous about tomorrow...”

“What’s tomorrow?” He asks.

“My intern orientation at Edenbook Hospital. Have you heard of it?”

“Yeah, I certainly have. I don’t think you have anything to be nervous about. You're going there for a reason, remember that.”

“...You know exactly what to say. I like that.”

He sits down opposite her, properly able to see her golden freckles in the soft and warm glow of the light.

“I haven’t asked.” He began, “What’s your name?”

She laughs, playfully slapping his knee, “My parents named me something, like, super weird...don’t go laughing okay?”

“You have my word.”

“Lucky. Lucky-Rae to be exact.”

...

The following morning felt like a complete nightmare. Ethan was in the shower and for once, not even lukewarm water could calm him down.

He dreamed about her.

What was wrong with him?

Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined her long red hair tickling his skin as her lips pressed tantalizingly against his flesh, traveling lower and lower...

His eyes darted upwards at the clock and the time was five minutes past six. Ethan didn't bother wrapping a towel around himself and turned the shower head off before getting dressed and making his way to work.

The traffic was even more so annoying than usual.

Cars sped past him and all could hear were the screams of the couple arguing in the car in front and a baby crying in the car behind. Ethan resisted the overwhelming urge to gouge his ears out. Half an hour passed and Ethan was walking in the hallways of Edenbrook, watching the nurses organize patient files.

An hour later the interns arrived and the hospital wasn’t silent anymore. A sudden commotion corrupted, he turns his head and a woman has collapsed and isn’t moving. Without another thought, he rushed over and ushered for space.

Ethan looked around and noticed an intern rushing over, long red hair, dark green eyes...golden freckles. As if this day could get any worse.

#choices #choices stories you play #open heart #pixelberry choices #mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan jonah ramsey #Watdafwack

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loubabykitten · 5 years

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BEST FICS OF 2018

first of all… happy new year guys!!!

as promised, here are the best fics i read in 2018 (some of them were published before but i discovered them in 2018), there're not in order:

Chasing empty spaces (79k, chaptered) - 1930s au

by @domestic-harry

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Don't want shelter (76k, chaptered) - teacher!louis, businessman!harry

by @fullonlarrie

Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago…

When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.

During the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other.

Save myself (219k, chaptered) - rich!louis, student!harry

by @make-thisfeellikehome

Louis Tomlinson is a train wreck. That is a way of putting it lightly. His whole world is a vast blur of darkness and bad decisions and it doesn't matter how many times he decides he's done, he always falls back in, because darkness is tricky like that for him. Louis wants for nothing—has everything he could ever ask for really, but it's all nothing. Maybe he needs to be rescued—maybe he can't be rescued. No one knows.

Or the one where Louis is a spoiled rich kid who is ignored by his entire family, who's friends only use him as a means for drugs and no one believes he's worth any more than just that. Harry Styles is a first year university student who's just moved to Doncaster for their theatre program who just happens to get the short straw when he's partnered with Louis for Bio Lab. What could go wrong?

Lightning strikes twice (104k, chaptered) - groupie!louis, famous!harry

by @catfishau

Louis slipped his hand onto Harry’s thigh, snaking his fingers up and inwards. “I’m a big fan. You’re so talented, and I have to admit that I actually fancy you a bit.”

“Yeah?” Harry reached up to push Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. “Well, you know, I like to try and be accommodating to my fans.”

“You’re quite well known for that,” Louis whispered as he turned his head some more, their mouths an inch apart. “So I hear.”

---

Rock star Harry Styles was nineteen when he met Louis, a groupie with a huge heart that Harry couldn’t quite shake from his mind. Fate granted him a second chance at the age of sixty, his washed up and lonely existence being transformed by a widower with a bookshop.

Tell me how to feel about you (38k, chaptered) - college/university au

by @imlouisaf

Louis thought it would feel different once he got to LA. He knew it was best for him; a fresh start as far away as he could get. But when the plane touched down and he stepped out into the hot air around LAX, Louis felt exactly the same.

There's still a hole in his chest where his heart used to be; ripped away even after trying for so many years to keep it from happening. He knows it's not all his fault, not by a mile, but it doesn't stop him from blaming himself for it all going wrong.

If he'd just stayed strong, if he'd said no when he said yes, maybe everything would be different.

Or, Harry has been trying to convince Louis to date him for years, but Louis has always been wary of Harry’s fairly obvious commitment issues. Louis eventually gives him a chance, opening his heart up to the one thing he fears.

Have faith in me (183k, chaptered) - rich!harry, assistant!louis

As the son of Anne Styles, millionaire owner of one of the world's most luxurious fashion labels, Harry has spent his last seventeen years living in carefree extravagance. And now he's grown tired of it, along with the pressure from his mum to follow in her footsteps and the constant care given to him by her past assistants.

When his mum's newest assistant, Louis, moves into the guesthouse, Harry determines to be treated differently. To be treated like an adult. Except Louis is not at all what Harry was expecting...

This is a story about growing up, growing in love and having the faith to make it last.

Shake me down (208k chaptered) - college/university au, insecure!harry, protective!louis

by @agreatperhaps12

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Red hands (132k, chaptered)

by @harrytum

“I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them.

“But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.”

a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

There are no atheists in foxholes (64k, one shot)

by @suspendrs

“Do you think we’ll ever see it again?” Harry asks after a minute. “London?”

Louis blinks, looking down. They very well could spend the rest of their lives on this island, and they’re both very aware of that. Everyone probably already thinks they’re dead, anyway. Their flats are going to be sold, and their families are going to have funerals, and life is going to go on without them. Even if they do get rescued, it’s already been days. The news of the shipwreck has definitely reached London by now. They don’t know if there’s been any effort to look for survivors, but they also don’t know how far away from the wreck they are, or how far people are going to go to look for them, or if anyone even knows that this island is here and, like, it’s very possible that they’ve already looked and stopped looking for survivors, and no one knows they’re out here-

“I don’t know,” Louis says, before he can start spiraling. “I hope so, but I don’t know.”

Or, the sea takes everything from Louis, but it gives him back more than he ever could’ve asked for.

Dance to the distortion (96k, chaptered)

by @domestic-harry

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

Lonely king (40k, chaptered) - broken!louis, indie!harry

When Louis' parents pass away in a car accident, he inherits a cottage in the woods of Scotland. He ends up spending the summer there; unraveling secrets, mending bonds and creating memories with his best friends.

For as long as i can remember (it's been december) (128k, chaptered) - lawyer!louis, chef!harry

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

The road less travelled by (98k, chaptered) - Lumberjack!louis, high school principal!harry

by @freetheankles

Louis was a lumberjack happy to be living his life alone in what could qualify as Middle Of Nowhere, Canada.

Every morning, he went out into the woods, cut his logs, then came home at dusk to a scalding hot shower and a good book by the fireplace. Rinse and Repeat. He had a good life, quiet and peaceful; simple. Not a secluded one as Niall annoyingly claimed.

Louis certainly didn't need some chatty trespasser dropping into his life, his forest, his home. Invading his space, his circle of friends, touching his stuff, asking questions about his husband. His late husband.

A trespasser who wasn’t supposed to crawl under his skin, occupy his thoughts, and steal his heart from where Louis had locked it safely away, only to put it right back on Louis’ sleeve — where it once laid.

No, Louis definitely didn’t need Harry.

Saving symphony hall (124k, chaptered) - symphony hall au, omega!louis, alpha!harry

by @helloamhere

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

Shelter as we go (75k, one shot)

by @fondleeds

Louis looks at him like his words might break him, glass about to splinter, one wrong footfall away from shattering into a million tiny pieces.

“Hey,” Harry breathes, and he knows, meeting Louis’ eyes, that his words could break him easy as anything. He almost wants Louis to bring his boot down.

AU. Nova Scotia, 1968.

Walk that mile (149k, chaptered) - road trip au

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

MY TOP 5:

5. I believe him when he tells of loving me (28k, chaptered)

louis doesn't remember harry. harry takes him home.

4. Wild love (130k, chaptered)

by @daisyharry

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

3. In sickness and in health (83k, chaptered) - american!harry, british!louis

by @rainbowsandlovehl

“Just make sure that you head down to the immigration office as soon as you can, alright?” James reminded them, making them look towards the man and nod in unison. “Remember Louis, you have only two weeks. So make it legal quickly so you don’t get deported.” “I’ll be sure to remind my assistant to schedule our appointment,” Louis joked and laughed.

A loosely based The Proposal Au where Louis is to be deported in two weeks. Since he doesn't want to lose his job, he asks his assistant, Harry to marry him for a green card. If it makes them realise they're in love, oh well. There's also the fact that no one doubts their credibility.

2. Hush (41k, one shot) - high school au, quarterback!louis, feminine!harry

by @wankerville

“I don't like you like that, Harry.”

“See,” Harry starts, Louis can hear the smile in his voice, “that's where I think you're lying.”

or an au where small towns suck, louis is losing it, and harry’s just too perfect.

1. Light my morning sky (54k, one shot) - college/university au

The relatively cliché College AU in which Louis happens to be proficient in Philosophy, Ethics and keeping his distance, while Harry is in need of a tutor to salvage his grade, and never passes up on a challenge; Zayn and Liam like to gaze wantonly across at each other whilst pretending to read Austen; and Niall is the precarious bond that holds them all together.

(Expect some sappy self-indulgent scenes consisting of bed-sharing, 4 am almost-love declarations, drunk texting, and far too much time spent at the student bar for it to be an accurate depiction of uni life.)

#larry #larry stylinson #larry fic #fic rec #best fics #best fics of 2018 #best fics of the year #it's a long one #sorry #larry au #larry smut #larry fluff #larry angst #louis tomlinson fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #enjoy

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fanficshiddles · 5 years

Text

Seeking control, Chapter 12

The following few days passed much and such the same for poor Ellie.

Tom came to visit her every morning. Where he would make sure she took her pills, ones she still had no clue what they were truly for, and then she would shower under his watchful gaze.

The more time she spent in the hospital, the more she craved to be around Tom. He was the only constant in her life of late. The only one that made her feel better. The nurses were all terrifying at the hospital, threatening to lock her in the padded room if she didn’t follow protocol.

She spent every meal time with Alice and Trish. She discovered that they didn’t have the same restrictions like she did, with the water turning off and having to shower while being watched. They also had more luxuries than she did.

‘I have heard that those who try to commit suicide are treated more like children, it’s just for safety.’ Alice said sadly. ‘But I’ve never heard of someone’s doctor being the one to watch over them shower. Are you sure that’s safe?’ She frowned.

‘He offered, I’d rather he be there than one of the nurses anyway.’ Ellie blushed a little, though she wasn’t really sure why.

‘Do you fancy your doctor?’ Trish asked, giggling.

Ellie’s eyes widened. ‘What? No! He’s just… He’s really nice. He’s helped me a lot. And if it wasn’t for him finding me, then I probably would be dead. Apparently.’ Ellie said quickly in Tom’s defence.

‘It’s just weird, he sounds like he’s went over the boundaries of just being your regular doctor.’ Alice was worried for her new friend.

‘No, that’s ridiculous. He is a good doctor, he cares about his patients.’ She said firmly, determined it was the truth.

But she knew deep down, the feeling tugging inside her stomach, she knew something wasn’t quite right. That he did, and had done from the start, do things that weren’t exactly normal protocol. He was more touchy feely than an average doctor, went out of his way entirely for her. But… she couldn’t help it when her stomach fluttered whenever he called her his good girl.

Besides, she knew that he wouldn’t be here for her if he didn’t care about her. He was the only one that truly seemed to. He was so kind to her and helpful. So what if he had other intentions, he had never harmed her, only ever had her best interests at heart.

‘Stockholm syndrome.’ Trish blurted out.

‘What?’ Ellie looked at her.

‘It’s when the abducted falls for their kidnapper.’

‘I know what it means, but how is that relevant to my doctor?’ Ellie asked before she could continue.

‘Well, he watches you shower. Visits you daily. And you don’t see how wrong that is? It’s just… Odd.’ Trish said and Alice agreed with her.

Ellie shook her head and stood up from the table, she abandoned her dinner and went to the door. But a nurse stopped her from leaving.

‘Please! I want to go to my room, I don’t feel great.’ She begged the male nurse.

‘No. Go sit down.’ He said in a gruff tone.

‘This is ridiculous! You can’t keep people in here if they don’t want to socialise!’ She screeched.

That got the attention of not only other nurses but also some other patients too, who all stopped eating and turned to look at Ellie, to see what was going to unfold.

Things did escalate, Ellie started freaking out again as she tried to barge past the nurse. So she was dragged to the padded room, kicking and screaming. She even tried lashing out at them, to try and get free. She was put into a straight jacket and left in the room.

She screamed until her throat was sore and she could scream no more. She couldn’t stand or do anything really because of the straight jacket, she could just lie there and roll back and fore. It was horrible feeling so restrained and trapped.

It felt like days had passed, but only two hours went by before the door opened. She looked up, her eyes all puffy and red from crying. But her face lit up slightly upon seeing Tom. He walked into the room and stood over her, looking incredibly giant and intimidating to Ellie at that moment.

He rubbed his beard for a moment, his gaze hard and cold upon her. Then he crouched down and Ellie saw he looked disappointed, yet also concerned. One of his large hands reached down and petted her head gently. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his touch, enjoying the affection.

‘Ohh my little Ellie. You’ve been naughty again. You really need to stop misbehaving for the nurses.’ He rumbled. His tone of voice sent shivers through her, making her feel bad.

‘I’m sorry.’ She croaked, her voice was sore and her throat was raw from the screaming.

Tom frowned and trailed his fingers down the side of her face and along the front of her neck. ‘You’ve harmed yourself again, darling.’ He sounded concerned now.

‘It wasn’t my fault.’

‘Shhh, stop speaking. That won’t be doing your throat any good.’ He chastised, his fingers still softly stroking her neck.

She squirmed in her straight jacket, the feeling in her arms were disappearing, going numb. Tom bit his lower lip, trying to ignore the tugging feeling inside of him at seeing her so helpless and bound.

Tom sighed and lifted her up into a sitting position, unbuckled the various straps on the jacket and pulled it off. Ellie let out a relieved sigh when she got to straighten her arms out. Tom held her hands in turn and rubbed her arms for a while, until she got the feeling back into them.

‘Come on. Let’s get you to your room and get a drink.’ Tom stood up and put his hand out towards her. She slipped her hand into his, allowing him to pull her up to her feet. Keeping hold of her hand, he led her through the hospital back to her room.

He got her a drink and sat her down on her bed, sitting next to her he put his hand on her thigh. ‘Why did you play up in the cafeteria?’

Ellie downed the drink before replying, to try and lubricate her throat as much as possible. God, she never knew it was possible to scream so much.

‘I just wanted to come back here.’ She looked down at his hand that was still resting on her thigh. He gave her a squeeze.

‘Why?’

She sighed. ‘Two of the other patients I’ve been talking to, they were making you out to be… bad. I think.’

‘What do you mean?’ Tom narrowed his eyes, his face hardening.

Ellie kept her eyes forwards, unable to look at him while they spoke.

‘They were saying it’s weird how much time you are spending here with me, that I won’t allow the other nurses to supervise me while I shower. But you’re just making it easier for me, aren’t you? You’re only going above and beyond as my doctor.’ She then looked up at him, his face was soft and he smiled.

‘I’m glad you see it that way, darling. Because that is exactly what I am doing. I really care about you, Ellie. I know being here is difficult, and I do want to help you. Make this stay as easy as possible for you, just like you said. Maybe your new friends don’t have a doctor that they feel they can confide in, so they are perhaps jealous.’ Tom suggested, rubbing circles with his finger on her thigh.

‘Maybe.’ Ellie nodded and looked away from him, but he caught her chin and had her look back at him.

‘Ellie. I’m proud of you for making new friends, that’s a good thing here. But after speaking to the manager, and from taking notes with your behaviour, we think we may know the problem.’

‘Really? What is it?’ Ellie wasn’t sure whether she should feel happy that they knew what was wrong with her, or bad about it…

‘With your anxiety, depression, apparent hallucinations, and Judging by your actions previously, before you tried to harm yourself... when you were sleeping around with guys, which seemed a bit obsessive for you.’ She blushed hard and felt like she’d been slapped in the face at being reminded of that. ‘And since being in here, I know you won’t have masturbated. Since you get checked on hourly. I know you would be self-conscious about being caught in the act. Your behaviour has become progressively worse in regards to acting out with the nurses…’

Ellie was confused, unsure of what he was getting at. Tom could see the confusion on her face.

‘Ellie…’ Tom paused a moment, resorting to enveloping her hands with his. ‘We feel you are suffering from hysteria.’

#Tom Hiddleston #seeking control #fan fiction #doctor tom hiddleston

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anthropologicalhands · 5 years

Text

ceg fic: impressionism (what completes this picture of me and you)

title: impressionism (what completes the picture of me and you) characters: heather & valencia, beth/valencia, heather/hector summary: Valencia admits that she once had a crush on Heather notes: not totally sure how happy i am with this fic, but at this point it has been sitting in my drafts for literal months now, so out it goes. Ao3 Link

In Heather’s opinion, one of Valencia’s best qualities is her willingness to throw herself wholeheartedly into her ventures.

Granted, Heather usually prefers to observe the hurricane from a comfortable distance, rather than letting herself get swept up in it all. But, on occasion, she doesn’t mind braving her way into the eye of the storm.

Like right now, when she is seven months pregnant and less chill than she has ever been in her life, Valencia showing up unannounced and armed with rose, apple juice, and her cosmetics bag is unequivocally a good thing. It’s been a while since they’ve been able to hang out, just the two of them. Hector is nice and Heather loves him and she’s happy he’s been here for her during the pregnancy, but sometimes his niceness is just too much, and almost as annoying as Rebecca’s casual thoughtlessness. In contrast, Valencia’s straight-shooting, take-no-prisoners determination is a gift.

Even better: unlike the people Heather is living with, Valencia is observant, and notices changes around her without Heather having to point them out.

“What’s going on with Estrella?” Valencia pauses in front the aquarium on her way back to the sofa, bending down to get a closer look. “She looks different.”

“That’s ‘cause she is different,” says Heather as she reclines on the sofa with her feet propped up, doesn’t bother to look up from her phone.

“What do you mean?” Valencia asks, perching on the ottoman to resume painting Heather’s nails. She’s been looking more relaxed recently, Heather finds herself thinking idly. Probably the result of a series of fortunate events—the small but tangible successes so necessary to building a business. Heather bets that taking on Beth as a partner has probably helped ease the stress.

And, well, also the fact that Valencia is now definitely getting some on the regular. There is no way that there isn’t a net positive effect of some kind.

“I mean that she’s a whole new starfish,” Heather explains, wincing as the Rebyl spawn punctuates her statement with a two-beat kick.

Valencia’s concentration doesn’t waver, but her eyebrows arch up high on her forehead in surprise, followed by a deep sigh of resignation. “Again? Seriously?”

“Yeah. At least this one looks more like the original Estrella, so I didn’t know it happened until this week, because last week was Rebecca’s turn to take care of her.”

Valencia purses her lips, shaking her head in disappointment at Rebecca’s carelessness. “Wow. I’m surprised you’re not more upset.”

Heather shrugs. “I probably should be, but I already got angry at the shower this morning for the wrong droplet-to-skin-volume ratio, so it’s not worth working up the extra energy.”

“That sucks,” says Valencia sympathetically, looking down at her handiwork, forehead wrinkling in concentration.

“It really does. These pregnancy hormones are sending my reactions totally out of whack. I am noticing, like, everything is too much, like this dress is super itchy and you still smell like Beth’s perfume from yesterday. I know that sounds creepy, sorry, but I can’t help it,” she adds, responding to Valencia’s weirded-out expression. “And to make things worse, now I’m missing other things. Like, stuff I actually care about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I used to be able to tell things about people before they even know it. Like a wolf. I learned a lot about wolves before I dropped my wildlife biology class. Did you know that they can tell if a person is pregnant even before they know it themselves?”

“That must get awkward.”

“Right?” Heather asks, letting her head fall against the back of the sofa so that she is staring right up at the ceiling. “But I’m not like that anymore – I used to be a wolf, and I knew things, but now I’m a pregnant wolf and I know nothing. Which doesn’t make any sense.”

Valencia’s eyes have gotten almost comically round as she follows this train of logic to its conclusion. “Oo-kay,” she says after a brief pause, setting down the bottle of violet nail polish and taking up the setting. “Speaking of Rebecca, you’re channeling her pretty hard right now.”

Heather rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s because she keeps texting me about the gestational periods for different mammals and it’s like, getting really annoying. I don’t care that elephant pregnancies last for two years, I’m human and I want it out now.”

Valencia’s head jerks up and she stares at Heather. “Two years?”

Heather gives a slow nod. “Yep.”

Valencia wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Ew.”

“Right? But it’s true.”

“Weird. Does Rebecca just know these things off the top of her head or is she Googling random animals every few days?”

“Who knows? But I’ll admit that she does follow up with cute videos of the respective baby animals, so that kind of helps, but only because my baby brain is really dumb and easy to please.”

“I mean, cute animal videos will do that,” agrees Valencia seriously.

Heather hums her assent. “But seriously, my powers of observation are gone. I’m missing out on the subtle social cues that tell me about drama. And you know I love drama.”

Valencia hums her agreement, and they lapse into a comfortable silence. Heather texts Hector a non-negotiable request to pick up non-dairy milk and any bath products that might possibly have lavender in them.

“You’ll be back to normal and picking up drama in no time,” says Valencia soothingly. “It doesn’t matter if you miss a couple of things in the meantime.”

“It kind of does,” says Heather, looking up from her phone, peering over the swell of her abdomen down to Valencia. “It’s like missing an episode of The Nanny. It might not matter in the long run, but it’s still totally possible that a massive change happened while you weren’t looking and everyone is making references to an event that you don’t get and you have to piece it together without context, because streaming is not an option.”

“You’ve missed things before. No one is going to judge you for it.”

“No, I don’t miss things.”

Valencia’s responding hm is just judgmental enough to compel Heather to straighten up in her seat.

“I don’t,” she says, a hint of challenge entering her voice. “It was basically my superpower, before this parasite took it.”

“I’m not saying you don’t pick up stuff,” says Valencia, setting down the bottle of polish. “I’m just saying, that you can’t notice everything. It’s not possible.”

Heather’s eyebrows shoot high up her forehead; pregnancy might be messing with her senses, but Valencia’s carefully blank expression is radiating I have something on my mind loud and clear. “Okay, enough generalities – what did I miss?”

Valencia hesitates, but when she looks up to meet Heather’s eyes, she juts out her chin a little bit, firming up. “It’s nothing. And I’m going to tell you.”

“Good.”

“It might be weird.”

“Valencia, I am currently pregnant with Rebecca and Darryl’s baby. Is it that level of weird?”

“No, it’s not that weird,” says Valencia after a pause. “Right. Let me finish the varnish first.”

“Cool.” Heather opens up her phone and adds egg salad to the list. It’s not something she would normally eat, but whatever the Darryl baby wants, it’s gonna get. Maybe it will get bored by all the luxury and try to strike out faster.

Valencia screws the cap back on the bottle and travels back up to sit on the couch cushion besides Heather. “You’re going to love it –they have little white flowers on them.”

“Cool. I’d offer more specific compliments, except there is no way that I will be able to see them over my distended stomach and swollen ankles.”

“Which is why I uploaded the pictures on Instagram,” says Valencia breezily, waving her phone. “You can leave your comments there.”

“Right, exactly. Because that’s what Instagram is for, looking at things you can’t look at in your normal, day-to-day life.”

Valencia makes another noncommittal hum. Heather watches as Valencia continues to mess around with the bottles in her makeup bag, waiting patiently for her question.

“Well?” Heather prompts, when nothing juicy is forthcoming.

“Oh! Right.” Valencia startles a moment before composing herself, tucking her hair behind her ears. Interesting.

“Do you think you ever noticed anything about me that you don’t think that I was aware of?”

Sounds like Valencia is on another self-awareness kick. Well, Heather’s down to help. She tilts her head to one side, considering the question. “I doubt it. I mean, once you broke up with Josh, you’ve been pretty upfront about what you were thinking. Maybe when you and Beth were becoming a thing, but you figured that out pretty quickly, so it doesn’t count.”

“Okay but…”

“But what?”

“But what about me liking girls, specifically?”

“Specifically?” asks Heather, raising her eyebrows slightly.

Valencia takes a deep breath, setting her shoulders straight. “Yeah.”

Huh, interesting.

“Nothing specific,” says Heather thoughtfully, mentally flicking through their past hangouts for signs of Valencia’s interest in anyone beyond their direct social circle. “I mean, there was a distinct lack of interest in guys going on with you, like, even on our girls’ nights out, but when I saw you and Beth together I, like, knew that you had a vibe going on. I didn’t see that before with you and anyone else.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, then you didn’t notice,” says Valencia, sounding vaguely offended.

“Notice what?”

Valencia takes a deep breath. “Beth might be the first girl I’ve dated, but she isn’t the first girl I liked.”

“That makes sense. Who were the others? Denise Martinez from high school? You’ve always complained about her. No, wait, it was Rebecca, right? I know she kissed you once—”

“She mentioned that?” demands Valencia, sitting up, spine ramrod straight, before she pauses and reconsiders. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t be surprised. But no. That was…something else. Which, in retrospect, might have helped me reconsider a couple of things, but that’s so not what I’m talking about right now.”

“Okay, so it’s not Rebecca. Cool. Then would it have—” she stops suddenly. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So—”

Valencia nods. “Yep. I think I liked you.”

Valencia says it casually, but it’s a bombshell all the same. Heather blinks as she considers this new information, comparing this new context to all the things she knows about Valencia, like pulling away a curtain for a clear view. Their ease with one another, how quickly Valencia started seeking out Heather’s advice and was willing to let her slouch on her couch when she needed time to refill her chill bar during the most hectic days of Rebecca’s hasty wedding planning storm. Valencia had been remarkably lax about Heather setting very close boundaries.

“Oh, huh. Okay, didn’t see that at the time, but okay. That tracks.”

Valencia stares, incredulous. “That’s it? That’s your reaction?”

Heather considers the facts, how she had only known Valencia tangentially as Josh’s girlfriend, with a general idea that they were unsuited, but not understanding just how much until Rebecca brought her to Sugar Face for the first time, beaming and declaring that, if it was all right with her, Valencia might hang out with them a few times while she got over her own post-break-up blues. And she was kind of basic, but also acidic, and very fun and a little clueless and then she just stuck around.

“I mean, I don’t think I totally missed it,” clarifies Heather. “I thought I got a vibe on you for a little while there when I met you, but like, I was trying to figure out if you knew that or if it was just getting into the groove of having a girl group, but there was also the stuff where we were both trying to figure out what to do with our lives and then everything went down with Josh and Rebecca and it just, like, kept going down.”

Valencia nods, grimacing at the memory. “Yeah, it was a lot to process.”

“So much processing,” says Heather with feeling, eyes rolling heavenwards. After a beat, intrigue overtakes her surprise and she sits back up again. “So: how long did you carry a torch for me?”

Valencia gives a dismissive wave. “Not that long. After you started dating Hector I had an epiphany.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I realized that our tastes were way too different to ever work out.”

Valencia pulls a face to punctuate her statement, startling a laugh out of Heather.

“That kinda sounds like an excuse,” teases Heather, a little relieved. Valencia’s shoulders ease, and it’s obvious from the way she’s speaking that there isn’t jealousy or some sort of anguished feeling behind her declaration, and that’s soothing in a very Valencia way. She doesn’t want to stir up drama – she just wants to make things clear and straightforward.

“It really isn’t,” says Valencia, in the same tone she uses when critiquing Josh’s taste in formalwear.

“Okay, it isn’t.”

“I genuinely believe that your interest in Hector cleaved our chances as a couple completely.”

“Sure,” concedes Heather with a smile, “I know you don’t like Hector. Is it because he knows all of the embarrassing stories about you from when you guys were kids?”

“No. Why?” Valencia’s eyes narrow and her body goes rigid. “Why do you mention it? Did he tell you something? Was it about the Sleeping Beauty thing, because he really should know better than that—”

“No, he hasn’t,” says Heather immediately, because it’s true and if the way that Valencia’s perfectly sharp eyebrows are starting to furrow in the middle, if Heather doesn’t clear up that point immediately, there is a nonzero chance that Hector’s demise will be imminent upon walking through the door.

“Good.” Valencia leans back on the sofa, her face still thunderous. “At least his sense of self-preservation is intact.”

“I’ll get that story out of you, then,” says Heather, amused. “You really have nothing good to say about him, do you?”

“Hector is very symmetrical,” says Valencia primly. “And I am willing to admit that he’s been handling your pregnancy very well despite not actually knocking you up.”

“Thank you, I know that cost you something.”

Valencia nods, looking faintly martyred before she shifts position on the sofa, leaning against the cushions, her chin propped up in her palm. “So, you didn’t know I had a crush on you at all?”

“No, I missed that. Which is unfortunate, because it really is flattering.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, totally. You’re definitely a catch. So,” she drags out the word, starting to grin, her long-starved desire for gossip sniffing the air. “When did you know that you liked me?”

She’s pleased to see that Valencia relaxes completely at her teasing, whatever fears she has reassured by Heather’s reaction.

“I didn’t at the time,” admits Valencia. “It didn’t take that long to understand that I liked Beth, really, but I’ve been kind of unpacking stuff with her since we’ve started dating. You know what a good listener she is.”

“Right.”

“And I would keep talking, right, about times when I might have been attracted to other women, what I might have thought of them, and I would think about you and about how, when we first started hanging out, I was so giddy about having female friends for the first time in a long time, and you really helped me figure out what’s normal girl stuff and what wasn’t. And I was so excited to have such smart and attractive friends and I wanted to see you guys every day and your opinions really mattered to me—and I realized that there had been, like, two layers to how I was thinking about you, specifically.”

“Two layers, huh?”

“Yeah, both the core that, you were a cool person, but also like a filter on top of it that make things especially nice. Like the Amaro filter on Instagram. Which, incidentally, is the one I used when I posted your pedicure.”

“Got it.”

“Like, I wanted to be friends,” Valencia continues, insistent. “I absolutely wanted to hang out with you as a friend. But I also kind of wanted to impress you and…have you look at me in a certain way. Though, to be clear, that feeling isn’t really a part of our relationship now, that I was attracted to you. That is in the past. It’s important, but not, like, the defining thing about us. But it in our history and it was weird that you didn’t know about it.” Valencia deflates. “I’m sorry, is this making any sense? This isn’t meant to be a love declaration, or anything, and I’m worried it sounds like one, but it’s just—”

“Part of the history of our dynamic,” Heather finishes. “No, I get it. Human attraction is interesting and doesn’t really care about fitting neatly into romantic-platonic categories.”

“Exactly,” says Valencia, smiling. “Like, I just feel that it’s weird that you didn’t know that’s how I felt about you. You know everything.”

“Apparently not,” says Heather wryly. “But I’m glad you think so.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for telling me. For the record, though, we totally would have been a hot couple in a parallel universe,” Heather adds. “Totally objectively speaking.”

Valencia laughs, her shoulders loosening. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Yeah. And while you might not think the same about me, I do think you have good taste – I’m glad you met Beth. She’s very cool.”

“Aw, thank you.” Valencia beams, pressing her hand over her heart. “That means a lot.”

Heather smiles, a rush of affection for her friend coursing through her, sweeping aside the discomforts of the day. “Come on, let’s have a toast to your good taste and behaving like mature adults. Now gimme my apple juice.”

Laughing, Valencia does as she asks.

#crazy ex girlfriend #heather davis #valencia perez #ellie writes fic #i'm not sure i did this justice #my headcanon is a bit more unwieldy #but oh well

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parabellum-rpg-archive · 5 years

Photo

Congratulations, Marie! You’ve been accepted to play Sofia Costello. Your request to change her FC to Zoey Deutch, has also been accepted. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.

Admin note: This audition was incredible, and it was so hard to pick from because we had three different Sofia auditions. You were so detailed, even just in describing Sofia’s names. You’re an incredible writer - welcome to the group! - Admin V

CHARACTER DESIRED.

I will be applying for the lovely Sofia Costello.

SOFIA ( soh - fee - uh ) — “wisdom, skill” :

Not many people see it, the intelligence that hides in Sofia Costello’s eyes. When they hear that she’s a socialite, and aside from that, uninvolved in the family business, frivolous to a fault and with a dramatic streak to boost, it’s not exactly something they look for. But there’s a reason Sofia practically breezed through private school, there’s a reason she does live up to her first name, even without her parents knowing when they picked it out what she’d turn out to be like. When she applies herself to something Sofia can be a whirlwind of ambition and determination, pushing herself until she masters whatever her goal is.

GUINEVERE ( gwin - iv - eer ) — “white enchantress” :

There was no surprise that her middle name became a tribute to her recently deceased mother. The terrible accident, the twins’ first few weeks of life spent in the NICU, Sofia still believes there must have been some higher power, someone watching over them, to make sure they actually made it out of that hospital alive. In her heart, she believes it was Guinevere herself, who couldn’t pass on to the afterlife until she knew her babies were safe. Not one typically for religion, this is the one belief she clings onto tightly, with both her hands and one that has made her carry the middle name with nothing but absolute pride.

COSTELLO ( cos - tell - oh ) — “little castle” :

Despite her never caring much about the family business, Sofia would do anything, absolutely anything, for the other Costellos. Much like her middle name, she wears the surname with pride, not for the power it’s associated with ( though, despite her disregard for the business, she still quite liked that part ) but for the people. Her parents, her siblings, her cousin — she loves them dearly, which is quite possibly also why she’s so against her darling brother, her twin, her Luca marrying Paisley Sinclair, not when Juliet already brought him so much heartache. Not when he deserved so much better than that.

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORDS.

There are so many things Sofia Costello is to me. From reading her biography, I immediately got the sense that she is not the type of girl that can be described with a single trope, that she is probably a lot more than people give her credit for, too. Then I started reading through the other biographies related to her own, saw that Marcel saw her as assertive & unafraid of a challenge and that Luca’s noted that the twins could get away with almost anything, especially when Sofia flashed the doe eyes her parents adored. I kind of fell in love with her even more, and I also started to understand just how broad this character is.

I think the first thing that came to mind for me when looking at Sofia was mafia princess, though mostly focussing on the latter part. A socialite, who basically ignored her family’s business, but enjoyed the luxuries of it anyway. Taking after the mother that raised her, being good at getting what she wanted, and throwing a fit when she didn’t. I think I’d build on this by saying that Sofia is probably very dramatic and overindulged, but also that she is very confident and charismatic. That there is a regal air around her, and that it makes it easy for people to have a skewed perception of who she really is, for people to underestimate her, but never test out of she is really naive, in fear of her family’s rage. I also think that it makes her powerful in social situations, knowing she can snag the attention of a room with just a few quick gestures, knowing she can play the game of power struggles as well as anyone.

The second thing I really thought about was her being a bit of a trouble maker. Sure, she focussed on her studies and goals enough to make sure she was the best, but when she could talk herself out of almost anything — how does it not become tempting to try and indulge. I think she kind of embodies that ( I hate myself for making a Gossip Girl reference in the year of our lord 2019 but it’s been burned into my head and I can not get it out ) Serena van der Woodsen feel, where she is legendary for partying and getting into trouble, but still beloved enough for none of it to really matter. I also think that like Luca, she probably held the Costello name over her peers, letting them know that she could do anything, get away with anything, because of the family she hails from.

Finally, I think that currently, at this moment in time, Sofia is changing. I think she realized that with her twin brothers’ marriage to their enemy, she could no longer remain uninvolved. After never really having any interest in the family business, she suddenly wishes to push herself right into the middle of things, for her brothers’ sake, to keep him out of a loveless marriage, especially when Juliet Carmichael had already dragged him down a hole of addiction and obsession. I think her interest in their family affairs is also growing, and I think that once all of this is done, there is no way for her to go back to her regular life.

WRITING SAMPLE.

writing sample one.

So. Getting involved in underage drinking and then mistaking a police officer for a stripper, Sofia could admit it to herself, this was not exactly one of her finest moments. She had done worse things, of course, but those her parents did not find out about. Yet. This one, unfortunately for her, they had. In her defense, the police officer looked exactly like that new stripper at the Venetian, and she’d thought he’d definitely recognize his owners’ daughter. Also in her defense, the drinks at Sapphire were not to be messed with. She’d only had a few glasses, but was already swaying on her feet — and considering someone had tried to champagne shower her, she now reeked of alcohol too. “Please officer — I’m so sorry”, Sofia had looked at him with those pleading eyes that only very rarely were denied. Apparently, the cop was a little too insulted at how she’d tried to use his handcuffs in ways they definitely weren’t meant for because he wasn’t buying it. Not even the slightest bit.

She’d considered calling Luca, or even Mia when she reached the station, hoping they could just come get her out without much hassle, but as soon as she entered the building, one of the officers’ superiors recognized her, and after berating the man for picking up Marcel Costello’s daughter, he placed her at his desk, a blanket to keep her warm wrapped tightly around her shoulders and a mug of hot chocolate in her hands as he called a secure contact to connect him to her parents. “Damn it”, she swore under her breath, knowing that all she wanted to do was fall into her bed and sleep for the next ten hours — not being forced to work her magic on both her parents in the middle of the night.

Luckily for her, it was not her parents that came to pick her up, but one of their underlings, so she had time to prepare the speech. I just went out for a little celebratory drink, I promise. My friend Nadine got engaged yesterday, and us girls had to take her out for the night, of course! She’s absolutely ecstatic about it, I’ll make sure to get some extra invitations to the wedding, her father is the CEO of some large, Fortune 500 company, so you know the nuptials will be lavish. Sorry, I’ll get back to the story. So, Christie — you know her right, with the nose job? She ordered the drinks, and I guess there was alcohol in them, I didn’t even taste any, I swear! And then we get outside, and Nadine thinks that lovely police officer was a stripper we hired just for her, and when we realized he wasn’t, it was already too late. At that point, she’d let those beautiful doe eyes of hers fill with tears, and a regretful expression would fall over her face. She’d apologize at least twice more, come up with some more excuses, and eventually, they’d tell her to just go get some rest, that it was all okay.

And Sofia would never hear about it again.

writing sample two.

Her rage was like a burning, living thing. It was fire, coursing down her veins, into every single cell of her being, taking over, turning her into pure, undiluted anger. It had been building from the moment the family discussion about this betrothal had started. She’d seen some slivers of feelings about this whole situation in her family’s eyes, some of her own feelings reflected in those, too, but she didn’t think any of them were as powerful as hers. Sofia had retreated into herself, the rage building up as she sat there, silently, barely being able to hear what anyone was saying over those feelings. When finally the attention shifted to her, to the way she seemed to glow red hot, she’d looked up at her father, her words almost like the hiss of a viper, so sharp. “You are not whoring out my brother to some enemy bitch,” The last word had been spat out, and it was like her self control snapped. She’d raged and cried and yes, even begged, but there was no budging, not this time. So she’d stormed out, telling them they’d all rot in hell for this and didn’t let anyone near her for weeks.

It had been hell — absolute torture for her to refuse contact with her family. She did not want to see any of their faces, did not want to hear any of their pleas to just come back, to just talk to them, at least. She flinched every time she saw Luca’s name pop up on her phone screen, and wanted to smash her phone against the wall every time she pressed the deny call button. Sofia learned a surprising lot about her own power of self-restraint during those weeks, how long she could hold out, how to hide her hurt and anger behind a blank, emotionless face. Let them see her empty space at the table and realize what they’d done. Just like her father, she refused to budge on this, and only when she realized it herself, by her own intelligence and being let alone with her thoughts for so long, did she return to them.

When she barged in after weeks of no contact, Sofia strutted towards her father with that sense of confidence she had always possessed, showing absolutely no sign of anger or how upset she was, she just looked him into the eyes and told him that if this was happening, she wanted to be more involved in the business. She only offered a brief ‘family duty’ as an explanation of why. To be fair, it was true. But it was her loyalty towards Luca, specifically, that was the reason behind it. During her self-imposed exile, Sofia had realized that they all probably just saw this as the only solution to their troubles with the Sinclairs, and if she wanted to get her brother out of it, she’d have to know all the pieces involved in the game they’ve been playing since the Medici’s were chased out of Chicago.

After all, you can’t win in chess unless you have a proper view of the entire gameboard.

#accepted

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jxhnnyvincent · 6 years

Text

Writing Prompt

Protective Tom (Requested By @LiaTaylorDae)

The rain in Bullworth was pleasant for some of the students and townspeople, feeling lavished with minuscule droplets that pampered their skin soothingly. The rain’s touch was gentle, a sprinkle of showered raindrops pecking them with soft kisses. It felt like an earthly tranquility, refreshing the people as they inhaled the olfactory telluric scent of the precipitating rain. However, for some of the others they absolutely held a vast disdain for the rainy weather, especially the preppy, fortunate students and the affluent townspeople that inhabited the Bullworth Vale, a whole castle caped with luxury and expensive indulgences. They had been apprehensive and afraid of taking a risky chance of getting their wardrobe grimed with the wet rain. The jocks were also whirled in angst, worried of getting their jerseys mucked with mud all over the fabric by slipping or exercising on the mud-caked football field. There was also a few who simply didn’t care, specifically pertaining to the greasers and nerds, and a couple non-cliques.

Meanwhile, Sabrina was enjoying herself, relaxing inside of the boys dorm, specifically in Jimmy’s room. She couldn’t help but observe the rain at a pure focus, admiring the rain for what it was worth. The skies were gloomy and a cloudy gray, and although they seemed depressing, Sabrina however felt at ease.

“Isn’t Tom supposed to pick you up soon?” Jimmy had pondered. The two chums were both sprawled on his bed, aligned opposite of each other.

“Yeah, in a little bit,” Sabrina answered, craving the palate of nicotine. Perhaps she could ask Ricky to lend her a smoke, but currently she had been lost in her mind. She was in a lazy daze, wishing to not invoke in anything at the moment.

Jimmy propped himself up on the bed in a sitting position, extending his arms out in a stretch. He gazed at the beautiful female Vincent, slightly envious of Tom for being in a relationship with one of the Bullworth girls that held the finest qualities. She was exquisite in everything and her personality was the sweetest, if one was on her good side. In some terms, she would be arrogant towards one if they were either an arch rival or one who she utterly despises.

With a flick of his hand, he smoothed out some of the tendrils in his copper hair that was growing in a taper haircut. Throughout the course of the year, his previous buzz cut had conveniently grown, the flock of hair standing in an upright direction. A few of the girls, including Sabrina, had found it quite attractive on him as they had a preference for boys with sprouting locks of hair. It made him look like an actual teenager with his style of hair, making him appear as the young adolescence he was. Not to mention his hair coordinated so immaculately with his rosy cheeks and dollop of freckles, emphasizing his appearance as a natural ginger.

“What do you do to get rid of stress Sab?” He asked, heaving an exasperated sigh.

Sabrina shrugged, resting her arms against her chest. “I don’t know, I mean drawing usually works for me when I’m bored. And smoking helps.”

Jimmy frowned, not being one to smoke. Being the typical bad boy he was, he had tried a swing at inhaling a breezer from one of the myriad of stepfathers he had, but was disgusted by the taste and regretted it instantly. Also, he hadn’t been the one to be exactly phenomenal or skilled with the arts either.

“Damn, those methods don’t really help me.”

Sabrina furrowed her eyebrows and gaped at him, her chocolate pupils swept with concern. That had been another ideal that Jimmy had admired about her, which was how true she was with her feelings.

“What are you stressed out about?” She asked, her voice so soft it sent tingling shivers down his spine.

“It’s those damn jocks, I’m tired of them picking on the weaker kids in school! They think they are all that just because of their oversized pituitary glands.” He clenched his fists tightly, shaking his head in disbelief. He remembered his recent encounter with Ted and Damon, how they were harassing his buddy Pete for nothing at all. Ever since, it fueled his anger and pure resentment towards them more. Sabrina couldn’t respond much, as she was a cheerleader which meant she was partially involved with the jocks herself.

“Yeah, they suck, especially Damon.” She simply agreed.

“Aren’t you a cheerleader?” He asked, remembering her position on the squad. He earned a courteous nod from her and was silent for a moment.

“So,” he began, “what do I do Sab?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I do to get back at those brainless roid monkeys?” He inquired.

She bit down on her bottom lip and pondered, thinking of a solution for her friend. The least she could do was help him, assist him as he had helped her with so much. It had been a variety of circumstances he had aided her in, and the one she was grateful for most was helping her brother become stable without the presence of the promiscuous Lola. He had also been there for her as a listener, helping her cope with anything assessed and a strong supporter throughout everything ever since he arrived here. She was truly grateful for their strong friendship, the two kindled in an inseparable bond.

“I mean, I guess you could ask Earnest for help.” She suggested, hoping it wasn’t a half bad idea. Which in this case, it wasn’t.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow and rubbed his chin, considering her idea. “Not bad, Sabrina. That’s actually a pretty good idea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he agreed to it, resorting to this plan, “you know what, I might go pay a visit to him now. I am sure he’s at the library being a typical nerdling as we speak.”

He sprung up from the bed, determined to plant a vain revenge on those damned jocks who thought themselves as high and mighty just because of their advantage in sports. He was ready to aim fire and fight, prove that just because they weren’t in sports, that they didn’t rule the school. Besides, he was the boss, or will be, and will prove to them they weren’t in charge.

Seeing that she didn’t make an attempt in joining along, he peered over his shoulder and halted to a pause.

“Are you coming or what Sabrina?”

“No,” she decided, gaping at the ceiling, mentally counting the abundant tiles that were scattered all over. She heard the sound of the pampering rain and was eased, immobile.

Assuming she wanted to wait for Tom to arrive, he didn’t protest. He respected her decisions and began to venture on his way out.

“See ya later Sab.”

Now she was alone, remaining in Jimmy’s room. She refused to move, feeling unusually pleasant not being involved in anything at the moment. All she wanted to do was simply relax and see her boyfriend that was planning to pick her up for a date.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the famous greaser slut.”

The sound of that familiar, distinctive voice alarmed her, causing her to hop up from Jimmy’s twin sized bed in a jolt.

“What do you want Gary- oh, I’m sorry, or shall I say, power hungry, manipulative man whore?”

She earned a resentful, hostile glare from the sudden Smith, provoking her in bitter agony. She didn’t hesitate to return the same glare, the tension rising in the air. Thunder roared from outside, suddenly the rain evolving into a major storm.

“I see you are in Jimmy’s room, what, you tired of poor Tom cat?” Gary remarked.

“What are you doing here Gary?” She demanded angrily.

He threw his hands in front then behind, compressing the palm of his hands against each other. “Oh nothing, just thought I might wander around and see what the two morons are up to on this rainy Sunday afternoon.”

“You eavesdropping asshole! What did you hear?”

Gary cackled mischievously and cracked a spiteful grin. “I thought I had mistaken it for explicit, obscene moaning, but turns out it was just two losers talking nonsense.”

“Go to hell Gary!” She cursed, and he sneered.

“Sorry, but an FYI sweetie, I already went to hell and it’s much pleasant down there than it is in this shithole.”

Sabrina’s heart was beating rapidly, practically to the point it could of left her chest if possible. She was fuming with the familiar sense of rage, similar to Johnny’s. But it wasn’t remotely offensive, not like his. It was rare to provoke her, sincerely. However, the only one who would managed to do so was Gary.

“Why do you have to irritate me so much?” She interrogated, her voice faint with defeat. It wasn’t fair how out of the entire female student body, he had only bothered to insult her and treat her negatively. His grin faded, his previous expression that reminded her of the vain and maleficent Joker was subdued. He approached her threateningly, causing her to cower backward towards the wall.

“Because greaser slut, you are easy to manipulate. You are naive, nothing but an opportunity to for me to walk all over you. You may deny this, but you are gullible! You are a weak girl, having to depend on your brother and Tom for everything you do! You are such a fucking slut, walking around having a boy at your arms to be at your defense. You think you are so slick, with your perfect report card and the entitlement of class president, the class valedictorian, and this, and that! The list goes on, but deep inside you are vulnerable and worthless. You account to your imperfections, honey. You may think you’ve got this, but all in are you are just a little bitch. Just know I’m taking you down, and Hopkins too. You, your brother, everyone you ever loved is going to suffer eventually, just you wait!” He vilified, full of pure agony and equipped with disdain. Although the phrase, “sticks and stones may break ones bones, but words would never hurt them” was applied in everyday modern life, however for the female Vincent it had been another story. Hot tears began to stream down her face, becoming a waterfall. She had felt like the pouring rain, all it’s tears spiraling from the sky slamming down against earth’s surface melodramatically. Her chest dropped inside of her, utterly defeated by his bitter choice of words, his own style of melee attacks. As the tears rolled down, so did she. She collapsed down to the floor, unable to concentrate. Her train of thoughts had seized to nonexistence, as if the railroad had suddenly stopped. Gone, nothing but a dissembled passageway causing the fall of the train. She was trapped in fearfulness, worrisome of this malicious sociopath was capable of.

Gary stood with a valiant pride, knowing he had defeated the newly distressed girl with his words, foretelling how disparaged she was. She had been shattered so fragile, soaking her tears on the navy shagged texture of Jimmy’s oval shaped rug.

Thinking he could get away with having the chance of defeating her, he had assumed wrong the moment he turned around. He met up with the sudden Tom Gurney, who has heard the familiar cries of a certain female. He narrowed his eyes once he caught gaze with the manipulative Smith, who handed him a deceitful smirk. Realizing the girl crying in the corner, so vulnerable in defeat was his girlfriend, he rushed to her, kneeling down to her level.

“Babe! What’s wrong?” He uttered out, enveloping her in his hold for support. Her cries worsened, deepening in uncontrolled sobs. He was quick to realizing she wasn’t able to speak, so he simply held her in his arms, caressing her to his chest.

She didn’t mind the soggy, damp fabric of his hoodie, instead holding him tighter.

‘Oh Tom,’ she mused mercifully.

She needed her prince to come along. Now he was here, worried about her current condition. He worried she was about to have a panic attack, aware of how her anxiety had a tendency of getting the best of her. But he was here, in time for her to relinquish in his arms, alleviating her state of emotional distress.

When she was at a somewhat calmer, comprehendible state, he had spoke up, disrupting the silence.

“Babe, what went wrong?” He asked lightly, his voice faint and not levitating louder, fearful it could of disturbed her the wrong way.

She sniffed, a few tears streaming down her angelic face. “Gary.”

One word. One name.

One.

It was all it took for Tom to figure it out, that it was that son of a bitch who was the specific reason for her breakdown.

She sank deep into his chest, hearing the mollified sound of his heart palpitating back and forth. Her head was submerged underneath his chin, sensing his anger levitating. She sensed his fury, and not wanting him to risk of getting hurt, she remained close. Like Sabrina, it had taken a lot for him to get angry, but when it came to his friends, his mother, or her, it was a completely different story.

However, her attempts at refraining him to take drastic measures of possibly hitting Gary ceased to a failure. He pecked her forehead with a delicate kiss and carefully released her from his hold, leaving her at her knees. She gaped up and grabbed him by the arm just as he was about to exit, determined in smacking the life out of this fucking ignorant sociopath.

“Wait, Tom,” she mumbled, causing him to pause in his tracks. She lifted herself up to her knees and to her feet, with the support of Tom to assist her. He gaped down at her face, his heart shattered as he glimpsed at her sad ridden face. Her olive complexion had been masked over with the tint of salmon, with hickory orbs puffy and swollen with teardrops like rain clouds. Her pupils were melancholy, her expression full of sorrow. This had only raised his determination higher, angered by the fact that someone would be so deranged with the idea that it was okay to hurt his girl.

Well that bastard was wrong and would regret having done so.

“I need to teach him a lesson, he hurt you.” He murmured.

Suddenly he received a coaxed kiss from Sabrina, hoping it would restrain him from getting himself into a hassled showdown with Gary. He didn’t escape from this, as he had needed this kiss from her. She wrapped her arms around him, causing him to be stuck in her hold and trailing off into Sabrina world. Perched on her tippy toes, trying her best to kiss her much taller boyfriend was a common struggle for her. So, like he always did, he lifted her up to where her legs were wrapped around his waistline. She was engulfed towards him, nudging her forehead against his. She repeatedly kissed him, trying her best to put him at ease. Listening to the sound of the rain distilling their ears, completing the peaceful mood.

Wanting to romanticize this further, he took her to Jimmy’s bed and hauled himself on top of her, craving her captivating essence. She suddenly felt warm as he compressed his body against hers, with his arms wrapped around her stomach while hers were enticed upon his neck. A combination of senses filled her nostrils, the components being the earthly scent of rain, lab chemicals from Jimmy’s lab set, and her boyfriend’s misty cologne. It was oddly a satisfying kind of olfactory, something that made her crave the distinctive scent and inhale it forever.

The lights were dimmed, the outside was flickering with shards of lightening zapping in an aimed attack towards earth, the rattling thunder representing earth’s battlecry. It settled the mood for them, allowing their moment to be more special.

With an extensive arm, he reached over to close the door slightly for privacy.

Sabrina couldn’t help but giggle throughout the kiss, humored by the choice of setting. Tom’s lips tingled from her adorable laugh, the sound he could hear all day if he could.

“What are you giggling about?” Tom asked.

The two lovers gazed into each other’s orbs, both sparkly. They were full of compassion, admiring each other’s significant presence in each other’s lives.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we are in Jimmy’s room?”

“No, what do you wanna do this in my room?” He wondered.

“No, I guess we can do this here. I just find the setting weird, making out in here.” She admitted, imagining what it would be like if Jimmy had returned from the library and invaded them accidentally. He probably wouldn’t mind, if it had been someone else, it would of been handled much differently.

“Yeah, you are right,” Tom agreed, but he didn’t care, just wanting to be with his girl nevertheless. “Anyways, let’s continue this..”

However, one delicate touch on her cerise silky lips and an unfortunate interruption had ceased their moment.

“Slut!” Gary’s shrill holler erupted from the hallway, angering Tom. He immediately bolted up from the bed and despite Sabrina’s attempts to coax him again, in a swift jolt he approached the irritating bastard. With one hand in the air, he grabbed him by the back of his throat. Forcefully he was spun to meet with Tom, and before he could prevent anything from happening to his poor face, he sent in a grapple. With an elbow angled towards the back, he collided his fist with his gut in a jab. He was plowed to the floor, clenching onto his newly injured rib cage.

“Ugh... you are gunna pay for this....” he huffed in defeat.

“That’s what you get for hurting my girlfriend, jerk!” He spat, shifting his leg in the direction of his side, delivering him a sweeping kick.

Nurse McRae sends her love.

Satisfied with the injury he handed him, Tom crossed his arms and gaped at him in a silent victory.

“No one messes with Tom, his girlfriend, or his friends!”

Arriving from behind, Sabrina rested a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention.

His cornflower blue orbs connected with her hickory eyes, complied with affection. Appreciative of her boyfriend, who deliberately went out of his way of defending her honor stimulated from his protectiveness of her, she pressed her lips against his cheek. She wrapped her arms around his neck and soon her lips eventually travelled to his.

#tom gurney #Sabrina Vincent #oc #oc fanfic #writing prompt #bullyscholarshipedition

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searching4paradise23 · 4 years

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July 10,2020

Sorry I never finished elaborating on my ex boyfriend, but now I;m forced to give a bit of a summary because this story pertains to him.

We met at a party but didn’t start talking until months later when me and my then husband decided to go our separate ways. First two months were awesome, even took me to six flags and booked a pretty luxurious hotel for us during fourth of July weekend and it basically was the best time ever. A week after that weekend, we went out of a friend’s birthday and since no one knew we were dating, he got extremely upset that I was going around our group of friends and talking to everyone as to not show favoritism. This led to him having a meltdown where he tried to drag me out of the club to go home. Later he called stating he got out of an uber and was thinking of jumping off the highway bridge. Fast forward a bit into that night where he ended up hospitalized and when I went in to see him, he said he had zero respect for me and that everything that happened was my fault and topped it off by spitting on me. Later on throughout the relationship (yes I stayed, I know) things were pretty chill except I would get the occasional comment about why don’t I dress differently or “If you don’t do this for me, then I’ll call my other girlfriend to do it” type of comments. Those always left me feeling terrible about myself to the point that I contemplated suicide one day because I felt as I can never make a relationship work. One day after about six months in, I found out that he was snooping through my phone to see if I was texting anyone or looking for a way out of the relationship. This prompted me to snoop and I found out he was talking to some girl for about three months. This led to a huge argument and I was trying to kick him out of the house but somehow he talked me into not breaking up. This phase didn’t last long because he started making more and more comments about my appearance or my actions, specially calling me a terrible mother. One day back in March, he started to openly speak ill in regards to the father of my child and I fought back because NOBODY speaks ill about the father of my child. SPECIALLY after her dad was soo accommodating when it came to shifting our visitation schedules due to emergencies or trips he always suggested. That night ended with him putting a loaded gun to his head in my closet and me having to talk him out of doing anything, then me taking apart the gun and hiding pieces around my house. All of this happened while my then 2 year old was asleep in her room. Safe to say, a restraining order came into play and well I thought that was it.

WRONG!!!!!!!!!!

My dumbass texted him a month into the restraining order because I was having an issue with my car tires and I wanted to see if he remembered which ones I recently bought. One thing led to another and we were hanging out in secret. A ton of emotions flooded me because I was feeling so good while we were separated and I though I was grown enough to handle bullshit and help him out. The arguing started up again, this time it was more like on a weekly basis and I do have to take responsibility because most of the shit started because I though I still cared for him romantically but I actually didn’t so I kept kinda breaking his heart until he legit broke. After me explaining and apologizing time and time again and stating that I think it’s better if we just never talk to each other, the switch in his brain got set to revenge. He wanted me to feel as shitty as he did so he would threaten me saying that he would tell m kid’s dad that him and I are talking so that way my ex could take full custody. He would force me to hang out when I really didn’t want to and would throw a huge fit when I said I didn’t want to be intimate.

Point is, we kept going back and forth being nice and cordial to him throwing a tantrum because I wouldn’t act as I was in love with him. But July 10th....went to a different level...

The plan for that day was that I was to go to his place to eat, play the switch, shave some body hair in prep for our massages the next day, and just take it easy. I knew something bad was going to happen the minute I walked in because he forcefully grabbed me and kissed me. After that awkward entrance, I pretended to act as if it didn’t bother me and we talked about our work life. We ordered food and were about to go and pick it up when he said he heard a rumor that I was sleeping around with my coworkers and said “you can say whatever you want about what I heard, I wont believe you.” So please, anyone tell me, how would you react if you hear such accusations and then are told that whatever you say it’s a lie. So I got upset and said that those rumors are false and I can’t believe he would say that out of nowhere and assume it was true. So in true me fashion I tried to keep quiet as to not make matters worse. We got n the car to go pick up food and he was purposefully driving like a maniac to scare me. He wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say and while he was getting angrier he kept saying it was all MY fault. I didn’t want to stay quiet after hearing that and that was when he lost complete control.

We were five minutes away from his apartment and he’s still yelling at me and out of nowhere, he punched me straight on my jaw. Immediately I froze and started to tear up. I never thought I could break someone to this point. All I could think of was of him saying how much he loved me but yet he straight up punched me in the face. Keep in mind, I’m 5′1 and 130 pounds, hes 5′10 and about 185 who lifts a decent amount so that punch was rough. We pulled up to the parking lot and he kept yelling and I didn’t want to cause a scene so I said lets just go inside and started to get out of the car when he grabbed my arm and dragged me back into the car, hitting my head on the car on the way in. I was scared at this point. I had to make a choice, either I stay quiet and not do anything and just see what happens, or do I try and fight back in some way shape or form the next time he goes for a hit just in case it escalates to the point where a coroner is in there determining time of death, they can at least say I died fighting for my life. So we’re inside eating and I’m not eating as much because my face hurts from getting punched and it hurt to chew. To be 100% honest, I don’t remember exactly what our exchange of words were. It might have been something along the lines of me saying that I don’t ever want to be in a relationship with him and that I do not love him , but that was enough for him to slap me..repeatedly. Then I kept saying how I wanted to just leave before things got worse, so he hid my car keys and my phone. This made me mad so I repeated my statement on how I don’t love him and I would rather be at home. That is when he first started to choke me....

I always knew that strangling someone takes a ton of time and effort so its usually committed by a very passionate person. He was feeling extremely passionate that day because I have never feared for my life before. I can still remember the feeling of him grabbing my throat and squeezing until I could barely move. Obviously, I freaked and started asking why tf would he do this if he claims to love me. His reason is because I’ve hurt him so many times and he couldn’t contain his anger anymore so he wanted to take it out. After that answer, I knew I needed to leave so I walked out and tried to get away as fast as possible but I wasn’t successful and he got me back. I was so scared and mentally prepared to fight back that at one point I said I started feeling repulsed by him after the last time I stayed the night and I said I didn’t want to have ex, yet as I was falling asleep, he grabbed me and decided he would take care of his business anyways. Yup....so because I called him out on it, ie called him a rapist, that led to another, longer rampage. This time started by him cutting up my sweatshirt, then he pushed me on the bed and was commanding me to get him ready for sex. Since I refused, he grabbed me, pushed and pulled me against the walls and when I eventually landed on the floor, he climbed on me and started choking me again. This time harder and longer. and when he let me go, the first thing I said was “now your a rapist and a woman beater, good job expanding your resume”. He then grabbed some scissors, cut up my shirt, then stepped on my abdomen instead of stepping around me, oh yeah then he wanted to show me what a “real rapist” would do. We wrestled and he managed to pull my pants down to my ankles, he then grabbed by underwear and ripped it off of me. He was clearly doing everything as a power move so I knew he wasn’t going to try and penetrate me, but I was wrong. Instead he let his hands do the work. I was mortified.

He then tossed me back on his bed and I desperately tried to cover myself so I didn’t feel so exposed. Instead he pinned me down, spread my shirt wide open and talked about how disgusting I am. Again, this is coming from someone who “loves me”. He kinda calmed down after that but I kept demanding for my stuff so I could just leave and so things wouldn’t continue to escalate. But that wasn’t the case. I noticed that he choked me so hard that I was bruising. All could say to myself at that moment was that I need to fight, I need to yell, I need to run or else next time it just won’t be a bruise. I tried to manged to thread a lil lighter, but still demand that I would be let out because this was excessive. He then would push me into the bath tub and turn the water on and demanded I’d shower under his supervision. I stood my ground and said no until he left me alone for a few seconds. I could tell he was exhausted but was still upset and all I wanted was to find my car keys and go home. Point it, similar events repeated, mostly it was more grabbing and throwing and slapping. At one point he was begging me to hit him, and I refused. After a couple of attempts to grab a phone and lock myself in a bathroom failed, he choked me again and said next time, he would grab a knife. After some negotiation, he let me go into a bathroom to pee and i locked the doors against his wishes. He broke into one of the doors with a knife in his hand. I was petrified and told myself that I had to make a run for it. He was sitting there and I said I would take a shower in that bathroom, but i needed my toiletry bag. He didn’t follow me out so I casually grabbed my wallet (since its all I could find) and ran out the door as fast as I could. I didn’t go too far because I figured he would find me if I was walking the streets, so i hid behind a stairwell. After I stood there for about 10 minutes, I knew I had to find a way to contact someone. I was too afraid to go knocking on random people’s doors because we’ve all heard stories about people who pretend theyre hurt and then rob you. Instead I sat on the stairs on the second floor until a female tenant walked out and asked if I was okay. I told her I was hiding from someone and she kindly let me in and helped me calm down and bandaged a couple of wounds I didn’t know I had. We talked for a good 30 minutes or so until I decided to call my own phone to be able to get my stuff back. She said I could go,and gave me a taser on my way out.

Once I went back to his place, he was completely enraged because he had been looking everywhere for me and I just demanded to get my stuff back. He refused and I was so sick of everything that the minute he turned his back to me, i tased him and he barely reacted....that scared me soo much because I knew he could easily over power me and take it. Which he did. He tased my arm and my neck....

I think that was the last of the physical abuse. We calmed down enough to where he gave my stuff back and I went home to try and feel safer.

#abuseisreal #fighter #secretshurt #long reads #bad relationships #know your worth

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favficarchives · 7 years

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Tactile Engineer (One-shot)

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader Summary: Tony Stark calls in his favorite tactile engineer to help pull together some wardrobes for the new team members. Wanda is simple enough, but Pietro’s enhancements give the reader a run for her money. Genre: Fluff Warnings: None Word count: 3,316

[Masterlist]

A/N: This was inspired by a gifset I saw ages ago and can’t find anywhere for some reason. It was all about the different parts of Edna Mode’s (from The Incredibles) job beyond “fashion designer,” and it really resonated with me. If I ever find that gifset again, I’ll link to it.

Was there anything worse than being woken up 30 minutes before your alarm by the shrill ringtone of your sometimes-boss?

Probably. But at this point, you really didn’t care to think too much on it.

“This is Y/N,” you answered, trying desperately to disguise the grogginess in your voice.

“Morning, sunshine!” The annoyingly chipper Tony Stark responded. “How are you on this lovely day?”

You groaned, shifting to sit up in your bed. “Tired, overworked, and underpaid. And yourself?”

“Well-rested, living large, and extremely wealthy.”

“You suck.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear as boisterous laughter rang through the phone. It wasn’t like Mr. Stark to be so… perky. Something big must be going on. Which meant you were more than likely to redefine the very word “overworked”.

“What do you need, Mr. Stark?”

“We got two new team members,” he explained, bringing down his tone to suit your own, “They’re going to need some special uniforms, and you know I only go to the best.”

You smirked. “So what the hell are you doing calling me?”

“Haha.”

You’re smirk turned into an easy smile. “When do you need me in?”

“The kids are –“

“Kids?”

“Sorry, ‘young adults,’ are still pretty jet-lagged, so they won’t be up for a few more hours.”

“So why the hell am I up?”

“Because I love you?”

You refused to dignify that with a response, glaring at your phone and ending the call. With an aggravated groan, you crawl out of bed and wander over the bathroom, shooting a text to your actual boss before hopping in the shower.

“This is Y/N L/N,” you heard Natasha say. “She’s our designer and will get you two suited up in no time.”

Maybe it was your early morning wake up call, maybe it was your boss’s unnecessarily snarky response this morning, or maybe it was being reminded once again how underappreciated you were, but her comment really rubbed you the wrong way.

You were not a designer, you were a tactile engineer. Designing is simply part of that.

You did not belong to them. You didn’t belong to anyone.

You wouldn’t have anyone suited up “in no time.” You would take you time and do it right.

“Y/N,” Natasha called, causing you to turn in your desk chair, “This is Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.”

You greeted them with a tired smile and a nod. Wanda nodded back. Pietro studied you silently.

“I’ve read through both of your files,” You said, rising from your seat and walking towards them. “Wanda, you should be pretty simple. You won’t need much more than the average agent, just fitted and suited to your personal tastes.

“Pietro,” You announced playfully, looking the speedster dead the eye. “You are my white whale. You need a wide of outfits designed for aerodynamicy, as well as comfort. We’ll also need to create a variety of friction-proof fabrics. We will either succeed, or we will kill each other.”

The Sokovian man smirked and raised a thick, dark eyebrow. “Sounds like fun.”

“Sounds like hell,” You corrected. “Wanda, you’re first.”

You’d been working at Avenger’s Tower for over two weeks. Your boss at the luxury boutique was on the brink of firing you last week – until, of course, a generous donation came from the ever-fabulous Anthony Edward Stark.

Wanda’s uniforms had been simple enough. All you needed were her measurements, aesthetic preferences, and texture preferences. Your sketchbook was full of basic work out essentials, battle suits, artic climate suits, tropical climate suits, basic espionage attire, formal espionage attire, and so on. You began creating the outfits – usually a stressful time for you, as a person can only handle so many busted sewing machines and needles to the finger before snapping – as a way to relax. Because, by God, Pietro’s suits were killing you.

You gave him an assignment at the beginning of last week. You wanted him to run through two pairs of shoes and his current workout clothes so you could determine the patterns of the friction damage.

The patterns on the clothes were what you expected, so there was no shock there. After that, though, came the shoes.

Once you got the wear patterns down, you took him out to get different shoes from different brands to test the integrity of the various inserts, soles, and treads. It was hellish for Pietro, who was running his heart out day after day, and it was hellish for you, being crouched over your desk for hours on end analyzing wear patterns and trying to figure out how the hell to create a material that could withstand his fucking running.

Just the thought of another full day working on this damn project had you exhausted. You took a deep breath as you approached your office, emotionally preparing for the hell that awaited you on the other side of the door.

You opened the door and immediately set your bag on the corner of your desk. Your eyes began searching for the pile of notes you’d taken yesterday, only to be immediately drawn to the bouquet of flowers that stood in a delicate glass vase in the center of the desk.

Weary (because who would be giving you flowers, and who would send them to the Avenger’s Tower?), you approached the bouquet and searched for a note. Tucked away among the petals and leaves was a little white card.

Flowers must smell better than old shoes, right?

-Pietro

You barked out a laugh, soon dissolving into giggles. The very cute, very funny man that you were sure was going to hate by the end of your time working with him had gotten you flowers. You never got flowers, and certainly not from a client. ‘Thank yous’, sure, but never anything beyond that.

You wandered out of your office and down the Avenger’s living room, your smile never leaving your face. You found Pietro munching on a bowl of cereal and sitting around the television with Steve and Sam. A small part of you wanted to go up to him and thank him with a kiss a cheek. However, you reminded yourself that there was no reason to think that his unbelievably sweet gesture was based in anything more than appreciate, and a kiss would cross that line.

So, you kept your distance, staying in your spot by the hallway.

“Pietro,” you called out, hesitantly toying with the small card in your hands. You promptly cast your gaze downward when his eyes met yours.

“Thank you,” you said, “For the flowers.”

Ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks, you risked a quick glance up. Pietro smiled back at you, his own cheeks dusted pink. The simple thought that you had a similar effect on him as he did on you sent your heart rate soaring.

You held his gaze for a few more moment before the beating in your chest became too strong to stand. Trying (and failing) to bite back your dopey smile, you left the room and returned to your now much livelier office.

Pietro POV

You’re smile knocked him out. Metaphorically speaking.

Unfortunately, though, Pietro was still very much conscious for Steve and mostly Sam’s incessant teasing that commenced immediately after you left.

“Seriously man, flowers? That’s old school,” Sam said with an approving look.

“No school like the old the school,” Steve mumbled through a mouthful of his cream cheese bagel.

“What’s your next move?” Sam asked eagerly, his breakfast forgotten on the coffee table as Pietro’s pseudo-love life became the focus of his attention.

Pietro’s face grew hot at the unwanted attention. “Nothing,” he muttered, rising from where he sat and walking towards the kitchenette.

“Nothing?” Sam and Steve responded incredulously.

“It was just a way to thank her,” he said quietly as he rinsed his cereal bowl in the sink. “She’s been working hard, and I wanted her to know that I appreciate it.”

He didn’t want to admit that your smile and blush gave him hope that maybe he didn’t have to convince himself of that excuse. Maybe you felt the same way.

Maybe.

“Flowers do not say ‘thank you,’” Sam told him with a smile. “A gift card says ‘thank you.’ Flowers say ‘I’ll still buy you dinner, but only if you I get to join you.’”

Pietro rolled his eyes, still facing away from the living room to avoid the other men seeing him blush. He wanted to believe them, to believe his own memories when he thinks about your sweet, shy smile for the fifteenth time in five minutes, but he couldn’t take that risk. He couldn’t believe that someone like you – someone so strong, so sure, so capable, so beautiful – could feel that way about him.

He grew up a poor orphan. He is living as a mutated freak. And he seemed to be making your life hell.

He couldn’t believe that you felt anything but contempt for him.

“She feels the same way you do, kid,” Steve said as he approached the sink, the smile evident in his tone. “But don’t believe us. You’ll figure it out.”

Patting the younger man’s shoulder, Steve left the living area, a still-grinning Sam in tow. Pietro was grateful for the silence, spending several more minutes standing over the sink, thinking through every interaction the two of you had over the past two weeks, and falling in the love with the memory of your smile.

It had been a month and half, and you were still spending your days at the Avenger’s Tower. At this point, Tony half-joked about hiring you on full time.

“It’d be nice to have you in-house,” he said one night – or way too early morning, technically – as the two of you bonded over coffee and another sleepless night. “You could spend more time on your research and developing different fabrics and stuff, and we could have someone on staff who actually know exactly what they’re doing instead of kinda what they’re doing.”

You smirked. “I thought you only hire the best?”

He smirked back. “That’s why I want to hire you.”

The thought made you smile. Working with (or for) the Avengers had some obvious disadvantages – ridiculous hours, potentially hostile work environment, getting a top spot on the shit list of every big bad guy in the world – but it may have been better than what you currently doing. After all, working as a “team member” at an exclusive boutique didn’t even offer you much in the way of design work, much less tactile engineering. And you didn’t even get dental coverage.

Still, you tried to rein in your excitement at the possibility of moving on to bigger and better things. Tony had mentioned his desire to hire you on full-time exactly once in the past six weeks, then never spoke of it again. And in your experience, that usually means someone isn’t interested.

As disappointing as it was, you couldn’t let it get you down. You had a job to do, and a white whale to conquer.

You had some of the test fabrics for Pietro’s suits ready to go. Now, you just needed to make the actual suit.

You called him in today to take his measurements, and the poor guy couldn’t stop blushing. Part of you wanted to giggle at how endearing it was, but another part reminded you how couldn’t stop blushing for a week after he gave you those flowers and he was kind enough to bite his tongue.

You measured his neck first, then his chest, shoulders, and back. You tried to ignore his intoxicating scent, but you made a mental note to be on the lookout for any candle or wax melt that mimicked it because damn.

The arm measurements went off without a hitch (another damn for those biceps). The waist measurement, in particular, had your face heating up; you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly… firm his abdomen was. You could probably count his abs with a light brush of your fingers, if you were so inclined…

‘But that would be unprofessional,’ you remind yourself, your blush deepening.

After you pulled yourself away from him and wrote down the measurement on your notepad, you lowered yourself to your knees and announced the next measurement: hips.

You wish you’d missed how wide his eyes got at the announcement. Maybe if you had, you could have pretended that everything was going to be just fine. As you wrapped your arms around his lower half, however, bringing your face uncomfortably and far too comfortably close to his... ahem… nether regions, you realized there was never going to be a way to pretend this was going to be just fine.

But damn, his ass was fine enough to make up for it.

‘Stop it!’ you scolded yourself. ‘He is a client and you are a professional. It’s just a sizing. Behave.’

Besides, he didn’t want you anyway. At least, not that you think.

The flowers got you excited, maybe a little too excited, but nothing else came from it. You thought maybe all of the blushing and smiles shared between the two of you (not to mention the Cheshire Cat grins on several of the other Avengers when they saw you two together) meant that you weren’t alone in your feelings. But, just like Tony had mentioned hiring you and then forgot about it, Pietro seems to have forgotten about whatever spark you felt.

Unless, of course, Pietro Jr.’s stirring is any indication.

You glance up at him in amusement as you pull away and move to do his outseam, biting back a grin at the poor man’s tortured expression. He looked absolutely mortified, but you couldn’t be happier. He definitely felt something, and that gave you hope.

You completed the outseam, ankle, calf, knee, and thigh (again: damn) measurements without issue. Pietro tensed considerably when the inseam measurement came about, but made it through.

As you wrote down the information and went through your checklist, a tag-team assault of delight and dread hit you full-force. Delight because of how amazingly embarrassed Pietro was going to be – the poor man – and dread because of how amazingly embarrassed you were about to be.

The crotch measurement.

That’s the one they never show on TV.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart. Ignoring the heat in your cheeks and thrill in your veins, you looked back up at Pietro. He seemed to finally be relaxing. You almost felt bad for ruining it.

Almost.

“Pietro,” you began softly, choking back a laugh, “there’s one more measurement I still need to take.”

He looked down at you a cocked an eyebrow.

You looked up at him, muffling your sheepish laughter as best you could.

“The crotch measurement,” you whisper through your mortified smile.

In an instant, Pietro was on the other side of your office. With his back flush against the wall and eyes wider than saucers, he looked like some poor bunny that just came face-to-face with a fox.

“Pietro,” you began softly, “I have to do it.”

He shook his head vigorously.

“Yes I d-“

“No you don’t.” He said immediately.

“I do if you want pants,” you told him with a wide smile.

“Who needs pants?”

You choked out a laugh.

“You do,” you told him, a smile still plastered on you face.

“Can’t I take it myself?” He whined.

Slowly, your sympathy for him began to break through the humorous awkwardness of the situation.

You shook your head lightly. “You don’t know how, and I’m the only one who knows what I have in mind for your pants and how they should fit.”

Pietro groaned in agony, his head falling in despair.

“I’m sorry,” you said lightly, a sympathetic smile replacing your earlier grin. “Please come back to the platform.”

Pietro groaned again, but did as you asked, looking every bit like a man who was walking to the gallows.

“So how much longer do you think this will take?” Pietro asked, glancing over your shoulder as you cleaned up your sketches and finished up your notes.

You paused, considering his question.

“Well,” you began, “It’ll take a few hours to make each outfit for you to test. From there we’ll work with different fabric combinations and work through any immediate complaints or concerns you might have. All in all, a few days to a few weeks, depending on our luck.”

“Days?” He asked in shock. “So I don’t have much time then?”

You halted your movements.

“Much time?” You asked. “Much time for what?”

He blushed again for the umpteenth time that day, and your heart was going wild. You didn’t want to get excited again and set yourself up for disappoint, but there was no way he’d be blushing this much if he didn’t feel something, right?

“I wanted to…uh,” he began, looking down and running a hand through his wavy hair. “I want to see if… if maybe you would… like to… go see a movie sometime… with me.”

You swear you might actually hurt yourself with how big you’re smiling.

“Well I don’t know, Pietro,” you teased. “That depends on the movie.”

A playful smile quickly replaced his bashful blush. He leaned over your chair, bracing a hand on the back of it and hovering over you.

“And what movie would appease you, Y/N?”

You chuckled and rose from your chair.

“Oh, I guess any movie will do,” you sighed dramatically, turning to face him. “As long as you’re there.”

He chuckled, approaching methodically and closing the distance between the two of you. You reveled in the closeness, and in the almost predatory look in his eyes. Just as he was about to say something, you cut in.

“It can’t be until after I’m done with this project, though,” you told him in all seriousness, placing a hand on his chest to keep some distance between you. “Technically, you’re a client, and the idea of dating clients weirds me out.”

Pietro nodded in understanding.

“That’s fair,” he said, smirking. “We’ll wait until you are back at the boutique. I guess we’ll just have to hope luck is on our side.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, ready to tell him that luck was never on the side of a perfectionist, when Tony burst through the door.

“Y/N!”

He stopped.

“Maximoff?” He asked with a shit eating grin.

You wanted to die.

“What do you want Tony?” You asked.

His grin turned to you. Yup, you definitely wanted to die.

“I want your signature on these employment contracts,” He said simply, waving around the papers in his hands.

You shot him a confused look as you walked over and took the papers from his hand. “I already signed all of the NDAs and stuff for contract workers?”

“I don’t want you to be a contract worker,” he said simply. “I want you to work for us full-time. I told you this.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Tony, I already have a job-“

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t?”

“They fired you.”

“They what?!”

“FRIDAY didn’t give you the message?”

You groaned and collapsed in your chair.

“I told her to,” Tony said. “They called your cell last week. I picked up. They were really snotty about it. Not good people.”

“No, they’re not,” you said. “They fired me over the phone?”

“Yup.”

“Through someone else?”

“Yup.”

“Dickheads.”

“Yup.”

You snorted out a laugh, briefly glancing at the employment contracts in your hand. Well, fuck it, why not?

You turned to Pietro.

“How about we just go out this Friday?” you asked. “I don’t think I’ll be going back to the boutique anytime soon.”

He smiled, walking to where you sat in your chair and placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“That works just fine for me.”

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #marvel fanfic #mcu reader insert

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keisume160 · 5 years

Text

I'm so sorry Monsta X Fans. I'm so sorry Wonho.

So... The bitch who tried to end my baybee boi TOP is back at her shenanigans again. I swear Han So Hee is such a bitter trouble making thot. I thought I hated her because I was an insane TOP stan, but no. I find her utterly DEPLORABLE. I'll explain later why this chick has me so angry on a personal level. But as for now, it almost 4am my time, I can't sleep, I'm pissed off and I need to rant.

Some guys I don't know also stepped down from their groups, because they either smoked weed, (Drugs is this bitch's MO), had some shit from their pasts, or was connected to Seungri's Burning Sun scandal, very loosely. I think one of them a combination of all 3. I said guys because I remember when I watched Hallyou Back News l recall them talking about another guy stepping down from his group as well, not long ago. Since I'm a bit muddy on the details so I will only talk about TOP and Wonho's involvement with the bitch.

I don't know who Wonho is or Monsta X, but this shit is upsetting. I feel that like VIPs have been taking hit after from the moment of TOP's scandal, now other fans are being hurt by this chick's poison touch. I can't stand the idea of any other fandom hurting like we have hurt. I also feel like this toxic creature in a Korean woman's skin suit worming her way into TOP's inner circle was the catalyst for a lot of things. This chick is obsessed with taking down idols, ruining careers, and hurting people.

Watching videos of girls in their rooms or in their cars breaking down and crying put me back in the mindset of 2017 when TOP had his scandal and overdosed. I don't l know Wonho or his former group, Monsta X, but I know that feeling of loss his fans are going through. She's wounding another person and the fans that love him so much out of spite and bitterness. It angers me so much, because these men are essentially being punished for being successful.

Now it's time for me to get really weird and personal, because maybe someone can take away something positive for my story.

Trigger Warning: Mental health issues, talk of low self-esteem/body image, homelessness, domestic abuse, sexual abuse, self-harm and talk of suicide is going to be discussed. If these are sensitive topics for you then please DO NOT scroll down. The TL;DR version is I related to one girl who was in tears about Wonho leaving Monsta X, because like her K-pop helped me when life was really hard or just too much to deal with which makes me all the more angrier at Han So Hee. Another girl I related to talked about feeling judged for crying over a foreign celebrity she doesn't know. I had a seriously messed up life the past nearly 10 years and when I didn't think I could going K-Pop and close loved ones reminded me of my worth. We've had so many tragedies in the world of K-pop for the past couple years. Gone are the days were we have the luxury of fan bases fighting over which group or idol is better. We really need to support one another, because we never know who will have their career ruined over petty BS, criminal acts, or Dear God forbid 'worse'.

Back in 2017, if TOP wouldn't have survived I would have immediately left the fandom. The reason is for the longest time I related to him the most. I completely relate to his love and passion for art. I relate to food being the most important thing in life. I relate to his love of wine. I can't drink it much because of my living situation, but I have a gift card for when I move. I relate to his strange but adorable quirks and habits. I plenty of my own. He loves chairs and finds them sexy. I love beds and find them sexy. I related to his mental health problems. I related to his body image issues. I related to how awkward he gets to touching others. I related to how lonely his feels. He hates being lonely, but he 'needs' to be lonely. For someone who's been hurt like him isolation is the easiest way to stay safe. I can understand this, because I'm hiding in my room most days. I tell myself I'm not good enough for love, I'm not nice enough for friends, and I'm not pretty enough for a boyfriend. Marriage and children isn't even a thought anymore because I gave up on it. I accepted being alone for the rest of my life. I hate it. The thought makes me cry, but people and what they are capable of scare me more than dying alone.

If anyone who reads this has gone through my blog you'll come across a couple real life pictures of myself. I'm a plus sized woman so learning someone who is so hot was once a fatty like me was a huge revelation. When I saw his pictures from when I saw Big Boi Tabi my first thought was "If I can get skinny will I be this hot?" Needless to say I completely missed the point back in my mind 20's. His weight loss was because of his determination to do what he loves. Looking back on it Plump Tabi was one of the things that made me like him. He was so cute and cuddly looking back then. He still had that intense anime glare which made me laugh. It was like if Snuggle the fabric softener Bear got married to Sasuke Uchiha, had a baby in Seoul, then raised the baby in the hood so he can be a an edgy anime teddy bear that grew up to be a rapper. Now I want to draw an rapping anime edgelord teddy bear.

I digress, one if the girls I saw crying about Wonho really broke my heart. She talked about how life hasn't been easy for her and how K-pop helped in the dark times. Another girl talked about crying over a K-pop boy you don't know and your loved ones who aren't fans are telling you to just get over it. I relate to all of this completely. Mother and I have been homeless for nearly a decade. We both are severely disabled, and can't work to supplement our income. It sucks because where I live housing is extremely expensive and our disability income isn't enough for market rent. We finally got a means of getting housing, but there's an issue with our credit. We want to be in our own place before Christmas, but life has been awful to us.

Beyond financial and housing issues, back in 2013, 2018 and just a few months ago I was in some very abusive relationships. During those times when I was being treated so badly K-pop and my loved ones being there for me, I would have attempted self-harm or suicide. The ex from 2018 was the worst of the worst. He was a groomer, manipulative, sociopath who verbally abused me, cheated on me, and forced himself on me in my own resistance. I can't even go into the basement where I live to get cleaning supplies or wash my clothes without having a panic attack. I still remember his face afterwards and I feel gross. It wasn't the first time he pushed me into having sex when I didn't want it. There are times I scrub myself in the shower to the point my skin breaks and bleeds, because I don't feel clean anymore. I even had to get the police involved because even after a year later he stalks me in real life and harasses me IRL. My self-worth has tanked because of him and I'm terrified of being touched in a sexual manner ever again because of him.

For some K-pop is a means of escapism, for others it saved their lives. Some just love the music. Others could care about the attractive idols. It's meaning can have as big or as little impact in your life as you want. For me I can say its mix of the first 2. I can be transported to a different world when I listen to it. I also can listen and be creatively impacted. K-pop helps me when I need to draw or write. Thanks to that evil girl another man and fan base is hurting. When what happened to TOP happened I was in such a deep depression no one got it, in fact I was judged for it. It sucks...

In the past couple years we lost idols due to petty drama, criminal acts, or suicide. We no longer can be in our own fan bases fighting each other over who's the best and who we love more. We really need to reach out and give others support, because we never know who's going to leave us next. Especially us as VIPs, because it seems like we're in the middle of a civil war Seungri Stans VS everyone else. To quote Filthy Frank, IT'S TIME TO STOP!!! We all know 2019 sucked ass for K-pop fans. Fighting each other only makes us lose focus of the outside forces attacking our baybees. I don't know what else to say. I've been feeling this way for a while and the more history repeats itself, the more I get upset. I really hate Han So Hee. I think she is a toxic disruptive force that dismantles careers, because she doesn't have one. She is the antithesis of a jealous scumbag.

I'm so sorry it took so long to post. I was typing this around a quarter to 4am, now it after 8am. I dozed off twice while typing. I know, I'mma boomer.

#Wonho #Pray for Wonho #Monsta X #Pray for Monsta #I'm so sorry Monsta X fans #Han So Hee #Han So Hee is such a bitch #HSH has a very punchable face #Kpop #Kpop fans #Kpop fans unite #Kpop fans support please support one another #Kpop fans if you ever HSH on the street...#Han So Hee hurt Wonho #Han So Hee hurt TOP #Han So Hee hurt the fans who love them #2019 needs to fucking end

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coffeedrivenfiction · 7 years

Text

Twintelle’s Tale

Chapter 1: Twintelle’s Tale

That voice… soft as silk, lighter than a feather….

She remembered that voice all too well, and the words were coming back to her.

“Mon amour… you will go on to do great things, so have no fear. Stand tall, stay strong… and remember… you can do anything. You are a star.”

Those words echoed throughout her subconscious, replaying over and over again like a cracked record, until her eyes fluttered open and she sat up, chest heaving.

Waking up sweaty was never a thing Twintelle liked to do—she abhorred it actually—but she was too preoccupied with her latest dream to dwell on how her nightie clung to her like a second skin. What would happen this time…? It seemed every time she dreamt of her mother, no matter the capacity, like clockwork, a major shift rocked her world. The last time, a little more than a year ago, she woke to find herself wearing this strange black mask that seemed utterly defiant to leave her face, and with it came the surprising ability to control her hair like an extra set of arms.

Apparently, this odd phenomenon was sweeping the world, so much so that it gained its own silly little sport, aptly named the ARMS Grand Prix.

That didn’t matter to Twintelle, who initially thought that her acting career was ruined by this strange occurrence, but it didn’t take her long to add in some action films to her repertoire, many of which were major hits at the box office. Critics lauded the fighting scenes and the choreography, and the world went absolutely crazy when Twintelle’s agent revealed she did all of her own stunts.

“Twintelle is the most versatile star in the business right now,” she remembered him saying ecstatically, “she can act, she can sing, we learned real quick that she can box with the best of them—she’s not letting this change to her life slow her down at all, she’s using it to her advantage! There’s no stopping the Twintelle train!”

She sighed, flomping back down on her bed. “The Twintelle Train, eh?”

Her room was vast, filled with the luxuries that her talent had earned her throughout life, including a lengthy table that housed a generous collection of perfumes. That was one of her main loves, buying and sniffing perfumes. The cornucopia of scents always set her mind, got her in the mood to take on the day.

“And speaking of starting the day… excusez-moi, really? This early?”

She spoke to her hair, which would seem odd by itself if not for the fact that both her length pigtails were currently lifting fifty-pound dumbbells.

“Honestly, can I not even shower first, obtenir frais?” she questioned with some annoyance, but her hair continued the set.

While fitness was something she always made time for, as her body was something of a temple worthy of worship according to a majority of her fans, Twintelle didn’t fancy the slight level of cognizance her hair seemed to gain since that mask appeared. Sure, it made daily tasks easy and fun, but sometimes, like now, her pigtails liked to go overboard….

As if she weren’t sweaty enough, she could fell the strain her hair was going through, which only caused her heartbeat to climb and her breaths to come out in heated pants. She would never not find that odd, how she felt the effects of working out through her hair, but she wasn’t going to complain either because she also received the benefits.

“Fine,” she relented, bringing her knees up and wrapping her real arms around them, “but this is the last set, d’accord?”

Her hair gave an energetic bounce.

“Alright then, allons-y. Un… deux… trois….”

Moments later, Twintelle was stepping out of the shower, towel around her figure and her sopping wet hair piled into a ridiculously high pile. Even though her body was sore from a workout that she hadn’t taken part of, the wash had done her good and she stared at her reflection in the mirror after wiping the mist away.

Her hair vibrated somewhat.

“Your guess is as good as mine, cheveux magiques” she sighed despondently, hearing the question without it being verbally asked.

That was another thing: so far as she could tell, besides being the only one afflicted with the ARMS epidemic and still retaining her arms, her hair could talk. In her mind. Where only she could hear. Smartly, she told no one about that little side effect and could only assume it was due to her ARMS being her hair, which was connected to her head. And that made her wonder if others afflicted, if their arms talked to them…?

Almost as if reading her mind, which it could, her hair vibrated in a ticklish fashion.

“No one else so far, hm? So I continue to be unique.” She smirked, whipping her towel off to wrap it around her hair in a playful jostle. “And how do I know I haven't simply gone insane over the past few months? You are attached to my head after all, you could be controlling my every move!”

Stifled by the towel, her hair gave a lackluster twitch and she giggled.

“True enough, I suppose. I never was one to be controlled… although taking a sign when I see it….”

She was leaning toward the mirror now, hands on either side of the sink. Her eyes were resplendent, and her shoulders firm. The hourglass shape of her figure, the delectable shade of her skin, the way her smile caused passerby to double-take, an attitude that was both firm and decisive yet tender and caring….

Many of those traits were the reasons beyond her immense popularity, why her films were considered box office hits before they even came out, why entire city’s turned up at her autograph signings. She had a built-in platform, she had the talent and determination….

“So… why not?” she wondered softly at first, clenching the sink, and now her heart was beginning to beat very fast. “Why couldn’t I master this as well?”

By ‘this’ she meant, of course, the ARMS Grand Prix.

Silly though it was, and utterly barbaric, it was something that had been on her mind ever since waking up to find her hair in the midst of making her breakfast. To participate in any ARMS sanctioned bout, one had to naturally have a pair of ARMS, and while hers may not have been literally that, her hair would surely qualify, right? Right. So why not give it a try? Why not venture into new territory and take her chances?

She was smirking now as the thoughts in her head began to swirl towards a conclusion that would no doubt flip the movie industry on its head if she decided to do this. Currently, she was set to appear in at least four films over the span of the next couple of years, one horror, two action, and a spy flick.

All of that would have to be cancelled if she wanted to take on the ARMS circuit. The training, the promotions, the matches and showdowns… Her mind was racing, she could see it… she could see herself standing at the final leg, fighting Max Brass, holding the ARMS championship belt over her head, the roar of the crowd….

You can do anything… You are a star….

That clenched it.

Hearing those words again, all worry and doubt was expunged from her mind and she whirled around with flair, hands on her hips with a defiant snort.

“Then, it’s settled!” she declared as though there were an audience before her. “I, the silver screen queen, Twintelle, am throwing my hand – er… hair! – into the ring!”

This was it, it had to be, what her mother was alluding to in that dream, how she could be whatever she wanted, that she was a star.

A few seconds passed with her just standing there, poised and still dripping from the shower, when her hair suddenly trembled. Whenever her hair moved on its own, it gave off emotions that translated itself into expressions in Twintelle’s mind, hence ‘talking’ to her, and right now, she was getting vibes of embarrassment.

“Moi? Embarrassed? Why should I be?”

Another shiver followed the first and it was then that Twintelle felt a chill slide between her legs.

“Ah… I see.” She facepalmed herself with a sigh. “Yes, I suppose standing naked and speaking like I just overcame a dragon is a tad bit – yes, I understand, right….”

If she could have melted in the floor, she would have, right then and there, but she couldn’t so she snatched her towel of her sentient locks and covered herself again.

“Ahem… now! As I was saying… oh forget it, le moment est parti…”

It didn’t help her bruised pride when her hair began vibrating, essentially laughing at her.

“Oh, tais-toi,” she snapped, unable to keep from smiling a little.

No amount of embarrassment could keep away the butterflies in her stomach. She was about to launch herself down an entirely new direction in life, one that she had no idea what the outcome would be. She had some experience using her hair as an ARMS weapon thanks to a few action films, but enough to take on a league filled with professionals? Could she rise to be a top contender? Was this even a feat worth attempting, or was she just chasing delusions brought on by her dream around a sensitive subject?

“Hm…?”

The way her hair started to shake… it was almost inspiring, like it were trying to encourage her; she felt it's confidence, that invigoration.

“You’re right,” she agreed aloud, a fire blazing behind her cerulean pupils. “You are absolutely right. Why not? Why not moi? The ARMS League… that's the next leg of my journey. I'll do it, because I can do anything.”

And she would have felt empowered in the moment were her hair not trembling with silent laughter.

“Yeah, yeah — arms, legs, I get it, hahaha….”

#ARMS #twintelle #fanfic #videogame #nintendo switch #adventure #friendship #twintelleislife #twintelleisbae

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neyla9 · 7 years

Text

Cipher’s House Chapters 20-22

Ao3 Version

I was running as fast as I could… I didn’t care where I was going; I just wanted to get as far away from Cipher as possible. I vaguely remember running up several flights of stairs, ascending the hotel’s many floors… until I reached the top…

Dipper had stopped running, too exhausted to move on at the moment. He gasped for air before taking a look at what was in front of him.

He had reached the final floor; there were no more staircases going up. Instead of all the previous floors, that had long hallways filled with doors, here there was only one door. The only thing between the staircase and the door was an odd welcome mat, with the “O” in welcome replaced with what looked like the eye of providence.

The door in question was made from wood so dark, it almost looked completely black. Instead of a number plaque like most of the other doors, intricate patterns, which almost looked like some kind of ancient forgotten language, were carved into the wood, the patterns shining with a golden glow.

Dipper reached out to the door handle, which looked like it was made of gold, and tried to open the door. He wanted to see where the door led, but was also scared of what was hidden behind it. He had hoped that the door was locked, so he would have an excuse not to go inside, but the door opened just fine, and Dipper reluctantly stepped inside.

Behind the door was another hallway, at the end of which there was a door identical to the one Dipper had just stepped through. On either side of the hallway were three other doors, leaving the room with eight doors in total, though the six doors on the sides of the hallway lacked the golden pattern.

Dipper opened the door closest to him and found a kitchen inside. It looked like a normal, albeit luxurious kitchen, complete with appliances, polished counters, and a small dining table along with three chairs.

The next room was bathroom, but again looked completely luxurious; everything looked like it was carved from marble, aside from a toilet and sink, there was the most roomy shower that Dipper had ever seen, and instead of a tub there was a huge spa pool.

Behind the third door there was a room that looked like a mix between a living room and a library; two soft, clean sofas, three comfy arm chairs, and walls lined with bookcases.

The fourth door was locked, so Dipper moved on to the next two; the two doors closest to the door at the end of the hallway. Both doors hid the same thing; a white, foggy room that seemed to go on forever, lined with shelves filled with glass jars and glass vases, that all seemed to contain some kind of glowing light, each a different color, and each jar and vase closed with a cork. It occurred to Dipper that each room seemed much bigger than should be possible, but why were these two rooms to big that he couldn’t even see the end? Especially since they were just filled with some kind of odd fireflies.

Dipper shook his head and turned to the last door. He opened it, hesitating for a only a moment, and inside he found… a bedroom. It was mainly black golden, had a king-sized canopy bed, a huge dresser, a black violin in the corner, a desk and chair with several papers strewn about both furniture… The first thing Dipper noticed however, was a huge mirror hung right in front of door; judging from his reflection, he looked like he had been through hell… and that might not even have been too far off the mark.

In front of the mirror, there stood a long, low table, but the only item standing on it was a glass vase, similar to some of the ones in the two other rooms, only this one looked much more… exquisite than the others? It was hard to pinpoint, but something about the shape and quality of the vase made it seem much fancier than the others. Aside from that, there was no odd light inside, and the plug was lying right beside it, only where the other vases and jars had had an ordinary cork, this was a plug made from glass, shaped like a diamond, and seemed to have been handmade for that specific vase.

Dipper shot up when he heard a door open. He turned around, relieved to find that it wasn’t the door to the room he was in, but that meant… it had to either be the locked door or front door.

“Will!” he heard Cipher’s voice call out. “I need to have a word with you!”

Dipper took one look around the room and realized the only available hiding spot was under the bed. He dived down beneath the bed, grateful that the long bed sheets were keeping him hidden.

He could vaguely hear some low mumbling that grew louder before the door was slammed open, and he saw two pairs of feet enter the room.

“Saki told me you’ve been ignoring her,” a voice that was unmistakably Cipher’s said.

“I just haven’t been in the mood for company lately,” the other person, presumably this Will responded. His voice was similar to Cipher’s, but it was much more mellow and sad, almost sounded melancholic. “She’s your niece too; why don’t you entertain her?”

“I’m busy, Will!” Cipher hissed. Dipper could see Cipher’s feet walk over to the paper covered desk. “I have a job to do!”

“Well, so do I,” Will responded with a sigh. “And you’ve really gone above and beyond this time. Usually you just let the guests handle, throw in a little visit once in a while to check everything’s going fine… I mean, you ate dinner and danced together; since when do you do that?”

“This one’s special,” Cipher replied defensively. “You’d understand if you met him. His will is so strong, he hasn’t even forgotten about his family yet… in fact, he hasn’t even given up escaping!”

“Bill…�� Will’s voice was soft as he stepped closer to Cipher. “He’s so young… He might still have a chance-“

“We’ve had younger guests,” Cipher scoffed. “And you know it’s already too late for him.”

“I just thought… maybe you could let this one go?”

“’Let him go’!? How many times do we need to have this discussion? It’s not my choice!”

“But you’re keeping the hotel open,” Will protested and stepped even closer to Cipher, who turned away from Will and walked over to the table in front of the mirror. “Isn’t it time to close it? Don’t you think you have enough?”

“’Enough’? Will, the point of a collection is to get at least one of each! And since each soul is unique, I’m not stopping until I have every soul in existence! Which isn’t going to happen, since I’ve already missed a bunch…”

Dipper nearly gasped, but quickly covered his mouth. Was that what this was about? Souls? Dipper supposed it made sense; Cipher had mentioned that Saki, the soul-stealing demon, was his niece… Though that still left a lot of unanswered questions…

“Then if you’re not gonna let him go, can’t you just end it already? Slit his throat or something, and not prolong his misery?”

“I can’t just do that,” Cipher scoffed, and Dipper heard him pick something up.

“You did that to our previous guest,” Will retorted. “Sent Damocles right into his room to stab him in his sleep.”

“That was different! That guy was literally begging for death!” Cipher groaned. “And now that we’re on the subject, you were supposed to have cleaned that room! Do you realize how embarrassing it was to show our guest his room, and only to find the bed covered in blood and stab holes? We have an arrangement; I take care of guests, you supervise the cleaning and maintenance.”

“It’s not like it made a difference…” Will mumbled.

“Besides, I don’t just wanna take the easy way with this one,” Cipher let out an almost child-like giggle. “He’s special… I want to break his will, make him give up on ever going home, and then… completely forget about everything that isn’t here… with me~”

“That’s… sort of surprising.”

“See this? I had this made especially for him,” Cipher let out a wistful sigh. “His soul is going to look so cute trapped in there~”

This time, Dipper couldn’t prevent an involuntary gasp from getting out, and Cipher froze.

“Did you hear that?” Cipher asked, before slowly walking closer to the bed where Dipper was hiding. “I think we may have an intruder…”

“Yeah! I heard it too!” Will grabbed Cipher and pulled him away from the bed and towards the door. “I think it was inside one of the soul chambers! Let’s hurry before they release some!”

“… Alright,” Cipher responded slowly before walking with Will outside the door.

Dipper waited for a moment, just to make sure they weren’t coming back, before he bolted out of the door, through the hallway, out the entrance, and down the stairs.

He lamented that he wasn’t able to free any of the souls trapped in Cipher’s home, filled with guilt at the thought in fact. Maybe if he hadn’t just assumed they were fireflies, if he had just let them out before Cipher returned…! But now he also knew what Cipher wanted from him, and he was determined not to let it happen. As long as he kept his hope burning strong, he could win this!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I finally figured out what Cipher wants from me; my soul. I’m still not a hundred percent sure what’s going on, but at least I know that Cipher wants me to give him my soul… I need to get out of here before he gets impatient and just decides to kill me…

Dipper began to slow down once he felt he was far enough away from Cipher’s room. He felt like, despite the information he had gathered, he was back to square one; trying to find an escape from the hotel. He was trying to remember the faces and names of his family and friends, but… he couldn’t. The only person he could remember was his twin sister, and even then, he could no longer recall her name.

The hallways he was traversing seemed different from the other floors, more stylish, more decorated, almost like the floor had been a later edition added on to the hotel.

It was as he was walking this hallway, he noticed something familiar; on a table by the wall, placed almost like a vase, was a glass jar, complete with a lid, and inside was an orange, glowing sphere, just like the souls in Cipher’s room!

Dipper couldn’t believe it! He might actually be able to save one of the trapped souls here! He did wonder why Cipher had placed it here, but maybe he had some souls placed all around the hotel as decoration! Dipper might even have walked past one before and not noticed! There was a small plaque embedded in the table that read: “Do not open”, which made sense, Cipher wouldn’t want to lose a soul.

Filled with excitement, Dipper took the jar and unscrewed the lid; he vaguely noticed that rather than a cork, this jar had a metal lid filled with holes.

As soon as Dipper had removed the lid, a pillar of fire shot out of the jar, burning the ceiling and nearby wall. Dipper dropped the jar in surprise, falling backwards from the sheer force of the fire, which was beginning to spread.

Smoke was starting to fill the hallway, as well as Dipper’s lungs. His eyes were filling with tears and he began to cough. He was completely surrounded by fire, unable to escape. He wondered, as the fire grew closer, whether this was the end, when he was hit in the head by some cold foam.

Dipper wiped the foam away and looked up from where he was sitting; Cipher was standing in front of him, holding a fire extinguisher, putting out the fire around them. When the fire was almost extinguished, Cipher picked up the discarded lid and used it to close the jar, before he put out the remaining fire and placed the jar where it stood before. The small orange light was still glowing inside the jar.

“You know, ‘do not open’ generally means you’re not supposed to open something,” Cipher chuckled as he looked down on Dipper.

“What was that?” Dipper asked, letting out a small cough; his lungs still felt a little smoke-filled.

“The Eternal Flame,” Cipher explained and offered a hand to Dipper. “A sentient, ever-burning fire. It was lucky I was around to put out the fire, otherwise it would have burned the entire hotel down… so many people would have died…”

Dipper didn’t take Cipher’s hand, and instead got on his feet by himself, throwing Cipher an angry glare as he did.

“What’s wrong?” Cipher asked almost too innocently, tilting his head inquisitively.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Dipper snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at Cipher. “You’re trying to play with my head again, make me think I almost killed all your guests. You want to make me cower with the guilt.”

“Actually, I would prefer if you didn’t,” Cipher grinned.

“I know what you’re after,” Dipper continued. “And you won’t get it! I’m going home, tonight!”

“Oh really?” instead of Cipher’s vaguely concealed fear when Dipper tried to leave before, this time he only gave a lazy smile in return. “And how are you going to accomplish that?”

“I’m…” Dipper hesitated for a moment, wondering why Cipher was reacting like that. “I’m going through the front door, of course!”

“Hmm,” Cipher hummed in response before sending Dipper a piercing look. “Do you even remember your old home?”

“N-“ Dipper bit his tongue to prevent himself from answering. Truth was, he couldn’t remember! He couldn’t even remember what his front door looked like! “Not my old home! My actual home. And you can’t stop me from leaving.”

“That’s true,” Cipher shrugged and stepped aside. “Well? Are you leaving or not?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I only hesitated for a moment, just one moment of uncertainty, and then I stormed past Cipher. I ran down the stairs and through the halls, until I arrived in the reception room, placed my hand on the doorknob, and remembered…

Dipper was filled with so many emotions when he grabbed that knob; excitement, fear, apprehension, uncertainty, relief… They all mixed together inside him, releasing a whole slew of contradicting chemicals in his brain.

He pulled down on the knob, only to find that it did not move. It was in that moment that Dipper remembered that the door was locked, or at the very least would not open.

“Ah yes,” a familiar voice whispered into Dipper’s ear, and he knew who it was. “It seems that you can’t open the door.”

“Where’s the key, Cipher?” Dipper asked after taking a deep breath.

“Oh, the door’s not locked,” Cipher chuckled. “You just can’t open it. Maybe you don’t even want to?”

“SHUT UP!!!” Dipper roared, turning around, pushing Cipher away in the process, and grabbed the nearest object; a floor lamp.

“Are you gonna beat me with that?” Cipher laughed. “Go on. Take out all your frustrations on me~”

Dipper let out a few heavy breaths, trying to calm down. He lowered the lamp, knowing that beating Cipher, while maybe satisfying, wouldn’t solve anything. Instead, he took the lamp and started hitting the foot of it into the door.

“W-what are you doing?” Cipher inquired, sounding slightly rattled.

“I’m -“ Dipper paused as he beat the lamp into the door, the door giving away a little bit with each hit. “Getting - out - of - here!”

After that last word, Dipper put all his strength into one last hit, breaking half of the door along with the lamp. As soon as Dipper noticed the hole in the door, he rushed out, began running to the gate, and through that foggy forest he had first arrived.

He couldn’t believe it! He was finally free! It was sort of a melancholic moment since all it had really taken was a couple of hits with a lamp. He could have avoided so pain and suffering if he had just done that from the beginning.

Then there were all the poor, lost souls… Dipper hoped someone would somehow be able to free them…

Dipper’s entire face lit up when he saw a light in the distance. He picked up speed, running as fast as he possibly could… until he got closer, and realized it was the hotel… complete with the broken front door and everything…

“No…” Dipper shook his head and turned around. “This… this isn’t possible…”

He began walking away again, not running this time. He must have accidently run in a circle, probably in his excitement to finally leave that hotel. It was a shame with all those other guests. Sure, most of them were monsters, but some of them seemed genuinely nice. Dipper hoped they would notice the front door was open so they could leave too.

Once again Dipper noticed a light in the distance. He didn’t hurry this time. He walked slowly and carefully, but the result was still the same; it was the hotel.

“No…” Dipper fell to his knees. “This isn’t fair…! I left! Why won’t you just let me leave!?!”

#billdip #cipher's house #cipher's house au

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