#I’m just saying most showers don’t do a good enough job with either of these things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whositmcwhatsit · 1 year

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An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

AN: Hi, remember me? Yeah, it's been a tough few weeks, but I'm back on track now and free from soul crushing work, so my brain is free to wander.

The usual warnings apply.

Previous chapter

Chapter 9- Open Your Eyes

Chancy woke up in yet another hotel room. This one had striped wallpaper and heavy flocked curtains. She blinked and smoothed her hair, trying to remember what day it was. With no obvious days and nights, time turned shimmery and difficult to grasp. There were the shows, of course, but sometimes there was one and others there could be two in a day, it was an unreliable unit of measurement.

After a couple of minutes she decided that didn’t matter. Then she tried to remember where she was. Texas? Washington? Ohio? That probably didn’t matter either.

The bed was otherwise empty, which was unusual. She was used to waking before Elvis, having that moment of grace where she could breathe and marvel at him close up. One of the highlights of every day was curling beside him as he slept, her head on his pillow, stroking the back of her fingers down the side of his face and smiling as his lip twitched into the faintest curl.

While he was asleep, he was safe, he was calm, he was predictable. All was well.

Sighing, she threw back the covers and padded across to the bathroom to make herself presentable. As she passed the door that had been left ajar, she heard voices coming from the living area beyond, and she paused to make them out. Elvis’ was unmistakable, of course, but there was also Jerry’s near monotone, Lamar’s nasal twang, and Ricky’s uneven pitch. She also glimpsed Sonny’s broad shoulders through the crack in the door.

“I don’t know, man, I’m just saying you got your work cut out for you,” Lamar was saying somewhere off to the right. “She’s real sharp, you know. Plus she knows you so well, she’s got you bang to rights, son.”

“Well,” Elvis replied, his voice soft and slurred. “We’ll see, I guess. Maybe- maybe that’s what I need.”

“It’s what I’ve been saying for years,” Jerry intoned. “You always need a challenge, man. When you’re working, you rise to the occasion, so why not in love too, you know?”

“You worried about me being able to ‘rise to the occasion’, Jerry?”

There was a chorus of guffaws. Chancy rolled her eyes and smiled at them talking about relationships like they always teased the girls for doing. She didn’t want to think about who they might be talking about. There was no good answer to that.

The list of things she was refusing to think about was getting long enough to warrant a scroll rather than a page of a notebook. The tour would be coming to a close soon and they had not talked about what would happen next. Chancy would be going home to her job and her family and he would presumably be getting ready for his latest stint in Las Vegas.

Standing in the shower, she told herself that she had only signed up for the tour, and that she was only equipped to be there for the tour. No doubt he already had someone lined up for Vegas, and probably someone else for the rehearsals in LA beforehand too. And that was for the best.

“I tell ya, no need for windows when I got a view like that!”

Chancy whipped round and had to throw out her hands to stop herself from skidding on the slippery tiles, peering through the shampoo suds trickling into her eye.

“You scared me!” she replied. He had opened the shower door slightly and was peeking in with a sneaky, boyish smile.

“You don’t ever need to be scared, baby, not with me around.”

‘Most of the time you’re the one who scares me!’ she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she tilted her head up to catch the spray and rinse off her hair. The waft of cooler air hitting the steam made her glance back over as he pulled open the door, shrugged off his robe and stepped into the cubicle in his pyjamas.

“I don’t think you understand how showers wor-” His lips swallowed her words as he ducked down and kissed her, pulling her against him.

“See, I got ya,” he mumbled, his hands sliding down her slick skin as the shower soaked his hair to his face. “I’ll always protect you.”

“You’re crazy,” she murmured, clumsily unfastening the buttons on his pyjama jacket as her mouth chased his. He leant down to allow to her peel off the sopping top, grimacing in discomfort, but grabbed hold of her again as soon as she flung it over the screen.

“A real man’s gotta be ready to protect his woman any time, any place,” he informed her with childlike earnestness.

“And who or what are you protecting me from right now?” she asked, playfully inching down the waistband of his pants.

“Honey,” he mumbled into her mouth, “you never know.”

As soon as she got his pants down past his hips, he surged forward, pressing into her, and the sudden pressure almost took her off her feet. Trying to help, he grabbed her in a bear hug and almost went with her.

“Shit, this was a much better idea in my head,” he murmured wryly, biting on his luscious bottom lip as he pushed his hair from his eyes.

“It was an amazing idea,” she assured him, fruitlessly trying to swipe away drops of water from his brow to stop them trickling into his eyes. “But I think the only thing I need protecting from right now is gravity and these darn tiles. Can’t fight science.”

“Aw, faith beats science every time, you know that,” he replied, resting his head on her shoulder and turning his face into the crook of her neck. The pattering of the spray against her skin, combined with the soft touches of his lips and the scrape of his stubble and teeth at her throat, was almost too much.

“And common-sense beats all,” she told him, carefully stepping backwards. “Come with me?”

She reached down to grab his waterlogged pants and toss them out of their way and when she looked back his gaze was heavy but loving as his eyes slowly travelled down from her face. She withstood this as long as she could, legs trembling, and then she turned and stepped out of the shower.

“Damn, I’d follow that ass anywhere,” he murmured, catching her when she paused to grab a towel, and pulling her into him. She could feel his excitement against the curve of her ass as he practically lifted her, nibbling her neck like a hungry vampire. When she tried to turn to hand him a towel, he just squeezed her tighter and they half-walked, half-stumbled back into the bedroom.

Something felt different, there was an urgency about his actions that hadn’t been there before, and she wondered if he was thinking about the end of the tour as well. Without preamble, he manoeuvred her onto the edge of the bed, flipping her at the last second so that she was looking up at him. When he swooped down, fitting himself against her like they were made that way, she slid her fingertips up his arms where they twitched against the ripple of muscle as he held himself up over her on his elbows.

“Are you okay?” he asked directly against the shell of her ear, his damp cheek pressed against the side of her face. She went to nod but shivered instead, digging her nails into his shoulders. “I can’t- I…” He pulled back, but couldn’t meet her eye, his cheeks pink. “I want-”

She nodded this time, gritting her back teeth as pulses of tension radiated out through her body. He pulled away from her with a grunt, leaving his hand splayed out across her chest to hold her in place and she clasped her own hands over it. As he looked down, the fingers of his other hand slipped and slid into her, testing her readiness. She writhed slightly against them and his frown of concentration faded into his boyish smirk, his eyes glittering in that irresistible way that made all the girls swoon, Chancy included.

Having learnt her lesson, she didn’t push or urge him on, but scraped her nails up his soft sides, making him twitch his whole body and glare at her with playful ire.

“Don’t play with me, baby, you don’t wanna know what I’ll do to win,” he warned in a silly, deep voice that had her giggling. Her laughter cut short as he plunged a finger inside her, biting his lip against a smile as she inhaled sharply.

After a minute or so of this, he nodded absently and took hold of himself, his other hand moving down to her stomach as he positioned himself at the right angle. When he thrust up, she gasped and he sank down and scooped her up with his forearms. His forehead pressed against hers as he drew back and then pushed deeper, filling her with an aching heaviness.

“You’re okay, baby.”

All of her senses were in overdrive, she could feel the droplets of water from the shower still on the middle of his back as she wrapped her arms around him, trying to tug him in tighter, closer. His chest hair scraped against her skin, the weight of him crushed her ribs and hips, and she wanted more. It was never enough.

“Wait, wait a minute!” he exhaled, pulling up and releasing her onto the mattress. She was hanging half off the bed, and the beaded edge of the mattress felt scored into the skin above her tail bone.

Wordlessly, mindlessly, she watched him rise to his feet and view her pensively, his hands hooked just below his hips. He seemed unaware of her eyes as he thought, his erect cock glistening with her and his soft, round belly rising and falling with his breathing. She marvelled at how intimate and safe they had come to feel around each other in such a short period of time.

“Are you okay?” she asked finally, curling upwards towards him. He started slightly, like he had forgotten she was real, and smiled.

“Uh, yeah, let’s get you more comfortable, baby.”

He scooped her up into his arms like he was a groom about to carry her over the threshold (She shook her head at her stupid brain making that comparison.) and placed her in the centre of the bed. Face intense, he climbed on after her and slid his hands underneath her head, drawing out her hair and fanning it around her face.

Beginning to feel the chill and aching inside, she lifted an eyebrow and asked, “Are you done? Maybe once you finish dressing the set you could give me a script?” His eyebrow twitched as he considered the thought with faraway eyes. “You are so bad!” She tossed a pillow at him, hitting him right in the middle.

“Hey, watch it!” he retorted, grabbing her wrists and pinning them on either side of her head. He wriggled his hips so that he was lined up perfectly against her and rolled them slowly as he pressed her hands into the pillows. She craned her neck to kiss him, but he moved back slowly, a slow grin spreading across his face. Almost effortlessly, he slid into her, and her breathing hitched as he finally lowered his head, devouring her mouth.

Once he had picked up where he had left off, his pace was relentless and his hunger undeniable. His mouth rarely left her, pulling away only to gasp a breath before he was kissing and biting and just pressed against her again.

The pressure rose as the ripples of pleasure glided out from her centre, her muscles contracting and aching and tingling all at once. She shivered and shuddered beneath him and reached up to cup his face with her hands.

“Baby,” she whispered, “open your eyes.” He did, blinking a little at first like he had trouble focussing on her, before a filter of complete adoration came over his face. And she came in such a rush that it was almost painful, her clenching and moaning sending him sinking into her with a groan.

They lay catching their breath, plastered together, the silence loud and thick.

“Well, damn.” His voice was muffled deep in the pillows and she laughed, wiping her hair out of her face from over his shoulder.

“Now I’m gonna need another shower,” she remarked, as he peeled himself away from her with a wince.

“Let’s have breakfast first,” he murmured, dropping onto his back and resting his arm across his face. “Need to regain my strength. You’re relentless, woman.”

“What can I say, I just can’t control myself,” she returned, giving him a nudge in the side. She caught him smiling underneath his arm.

It was pancakes for breakfast again. At this rate, Chancy reflected that she might be able to write a book on the range, variety and edibility of pancakes served by hotels across America. These ones were good. Not Grandma level good, obviously, but soft and fluffy and just absorbent enough to take in the syrup without sucking it away never to be seen again.

“I didn’t realise there were so many factors to consider,” Elvis remarked after her review. He picked up a strip of charred bacon between his fingers and chewed on it, holding back his smile.

“Of course there are. Pancakes are a work of art.”

“Well, you’d know.” She watched him dip his next strip of bacon into the jug of syrup and shook her head with affectionate disbelief.

“What? C’mere a minute. It tastes good! Here, try it.” She shook her head and he leant over, rubbing the bacon on her lips and coaxing her in baby talk to just try an ‘iddle widdle bit’. When she didn’t crack, he ate it himself, shaking his head at her refusal. She stuck out her tongue and let it flick over her bottom lip, tasting the salty grease and sweet syrup together, but she refused to admit it was good because he didn’t need the encouragement.

“Gotta make the most of it,” he shrugged, munching through the bacon. “Gotta go on a diet as soon as we get home.”

The look on his face was positively mournful and she stopped herself from pointing out that if he ate less bacon dipped in syrup now then he wouldn’t have to spend so long on a diet later. He wasn’t stupid, but there were areas in his mind where logic failed to stick and eating was one of them.

“You know what would finish this off perfect?” he commented suddenly, brightening. “Something cold and sweet. Baby, can you call down and order me some ice cream?”

“For breakfast?!” Her laughter was caught between amusement and disbelief.

“It’s six in the evening,” he pointed out with that mischievous boyish smile.

“Are you serious?” She thought back to times when she had witnessed someone question his eating habits and how promptly they had been torn down and tossed out. It made her tense before she gently added:

“Sweetie, you can’t still be hungry.”

“Pwease, Cha-Cha?” He stuck out his bottom lip and she knew that she would give in, as much as she didn’t want to. She was inwardly cursing her weakness as she picked up the receiver, keeping her back to him so that he couldn’t mouth any more requests while she was ordering.

By the time the ice cream arrived, Jerry and Joe had appeared to check in and talk about arrangements for the show. They side-eyed Elvis’s breakfast without comment, knowing better, while Chancy shifted uncomfortably. She knew should have tried harder to talk him out of it, though it was likely she still would have been unsuccessful at doing anything but putting him in a bad mood.

Gradually, as the evening wore on, more people arrived at the suite, the usual faces, but also some locals. There were the beautiful young girls, as always, some local police officers that Elvis had got talking to in the hallway while they were moonlighting as security, (She hoped they were not as zealous as that one cop that had strong armed her in the elevator.) and more of the guys.

Elvis was evidently in a very social mood since he seemed to be making it his mission to talk to every single person as though he was their best friend, leaving her doing her best to not look awkward. She was usually better at this, better at striking up random conversations, but after her first attempt when she had made a joke about Sonny’s shirt and Charlie had come rushing over to laugh hysterically while also giving her a panicked shake of the head, she had retreated to an armchair.

“Hey CC, you okay?” Chancy blinked and stared up into Jerry’s concerned face.

“Sure!” she trilled. His expression didn’t change and he didn’t move away.

“Can I get you anything? You want a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thank y- You know, actually, a drink would be great.” She looked over to where Elvis was joking around with Joe and Red, shoving at Joe’s shoulder as he burst out with his deep belly laugh. “And, you know, if you wanted to pour a drop of vodka in the Pepsi, I would not be averse.” Jerry winked and nodded.

A few minutes later, she discovered that he did not know how to quantify ‘a drop’. She almost spat out her mouthful, but forced herself to swallow it down, burning all the way.

“Wow, look at you!” Sandi remarked, giving a low whistle as she glanced over at Charlie and the rest of the guys with Elvis. “You’re really looking the part.”

Chancy peered down at the white silk sheath halter dress that Elvis had asked her to wear, wiping her fingers, wet with condensation from her glass, on the geometric sequined shapes that cut into the sides in different shades of blue.

“My arms are cold,” she replied numbly. Sandi nodded, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s a little chilly in here. Are you okay?”

Chancy looked up into her wide, blue eyes and remembered the teenager with a headband and little hair flips like Lesley Gore standing giddily by the gatepost of Elvis’ LA house every time a car drove past her. She reminded herself that she was living Sandi’s teenage dream.

“I’m fine, honey,” she replied, forcing a wide smile. ”You know, you look beautiful, that outfit looks so good on you.”

“Thanks, it’s from Bullocks,” Sandi replied, swishing the skirt slightly. “Cost more than my rent.”

Chancy studied her face, unsure whether that was intended to be a dig at her sitting there in her Elvis-bought dress with her Elvis-bought underwear and her Elvis-bought jewellery. Intended or not, it smarted. She smiled politely the way her mother had taught her to do through awkward situations and glanced down at her half-finished drink.

“Hey, baby, you gotta look up now and again. I’ve been trying to get your damn attention for the past ten minutes.” Elvis squatted at her feet, leaning on the arms of her chair and caging her in. “I needed you to come rescue me from Sonny telling us the story of how he almost made it with that chick Sylvia from last night.”

“Almost?” she asked, recalling the way that the girl in question had practically shoved her silver hot pants in Elvis’ face as he sat talking to some karate instructors he had met the last time he had played there.

“Hell, no, don’t make me retell it, baby. It was boring enough first time round.”

“Does it end with her telling him that she’s holding out for you?” she teased. He grinned, biting on his bottom lip.

“Naw, she said she had a boyfriend.” He rubbed his nose ruefully and reached for her glass. She only remembered why that wasn’t a good idea a second before he took a big gulp and choked on it.

Grimacing, she waited for him to stop coughing and wondered how much trouble she was going to be in. She had a flashback to the time that Elvis’ cousin Junior had given her a glass of some spiked punch at a party and Elvis had yelled at her in front of his family.

His face like stone, Elvis grabbed hold of her by the wrist and marched her into the bathroom away from any nosey onlookers. Slamming the door shut, he emptied the glass down the sink and tossed it onto the counter. She was surprised to see it bounce rather than break.

“Baby, what’s going on?” She had been expecting anger, so his sigh and soft question threw her, leaving her clutching for a response amongst all the defensive, appeasing replies she had already prepared.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” she said finally, slightly defensively. He nodded, lowering his head as he stepped closer, sliding his fingers down her palm until they entwined with hers.

“You know, people are sending out messages all the time, sending and receiving, without ever even realising it. Their souls are communicating on a higher level that they are usually not even aware of.” He squinted slightly as he gazed down at their feet. “It’s like waves, you know, o-o-or television or radio signals. And some people, I’m talking heavy, spiritual types, gurus and holy men, heavy mothers, they train for decades to learn how to master the skill of- of communicating soul to soul.”

His eyes flickered up to hers and he had a mischievous, wry look on his face. “Now, don’t go panicking, honey, I’m not saying that I have that power, not completely. I know everyone thinks I’m crazy, but I’m not that crazy, yet. All this to say, you might have a fan-fuckin’-tastic poker face, baby, but I receive more than you think I do a-a-and if you try and lie to me it’ll only make me fuckin’ paranoid.”

“You just made a whole meal out of calling me a liar,” she observed. He laughed, rocking on the balls of his feet so that his chest nudged into her.

“Well, one thing I do know is how to turn everything into a performance, right?” Giggling, she swivelled one of his pendants that had gotten twisted in the opening of his shirt.

“I’m okay, honey, really. I’m just a little tired.”

He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, his mouth lifting into a small smile, before stepping around her and reaching for his black case. She rolled her eyes at the wall and turned to follow him more slowly.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” he said gently once he had drawn out the pill bottle he was looking for, “so can we just pretend that we already went through the whole damn script already, and you can take one of these?”

“What is it?” she asked warily.

“Just a little boost of energy.” He stroked her side like she was a skittish horse. “Just an itty bitty one for my itty bitty girl.”

“I don’t know…”

“I know you don’t, that’s why you got me. I know, so be a good girl and do what you’re told.”

Gingerly, she took the pill from him, thinking about ways she could dispose of it without him noticing, but he rinsed out her glass and refilled it with water, watching her intently.

Hesitating all the way, she slipped it onto her tongue and took a sip from the glass. As soon as she did, he emptied out several more into his own palm and threw them back. He winked at her as she stared and he pretended to think twice before taking the water from her.

“Nearly killed me last time,” he muttered. “No more drinking, honey, okay? You know I don’t like tasting it on ya, a-a-and it ain’t good for you anyhow.”

He threw the pill bottle back into the case and then pulled open another drawer. When he turned back he had a little smile on his face and something shiny in his hands. He took her wrist and pulled it up, leaning over so that she couldn’t make out what he was doing until he had clasped the bracelet. It was one of his, the rolled gold thick and heavy against her bones, with his initials spelt out in diamonds and one sapphire in each letter.

“There, just a reminder for anyone who forgets.”

“Who you are?” she asked, confused.

“Whose you are,” he replied, gritting his teeth as he clasped her jaw and brought her in for a tender kiss.

It was hard to make the right face after those words, but she gave it the old college try.

“Oh my, this is too much, baby! It’s beautiful, but- but- but it’s yours.”

“Was mine,” he corrected, grinning down at it. “Looks prettier on you.” She threw her arms around him and leant in, finding it much easier to focus on infusing her voice with joy when she didn’t have to concentrate on making the right face as well.

“You are the sweetest man,” she whispered into the shell of his ear, twitching her nose as the sideburn tickled. “I love it, thank you!”

When they walked out of the bathroom, Elvis had a self-satisfied smile on his face and Chancy could tell from the way some of the guys were eyeing each other and exchanging smirks that they thought he had just gotten lucky. She was too unsettled to play along.

The pill began to kick in as Elvis dressed for the show. She was gradually aware of her heart pattering at the inside of her rib cage and her scalp prickling. Her arms and legs felt incredibly restless like they might run off without her if she didn’t get up and move. Her fatigue, which she had felt for days now, melted as lightning, sharp and cold, filled her veins.

She cast her eyes about for someone to talk to, feeling in desperate need of being part of a conversation, as if she might sink between the atoms of the room if she didn’t keep moving and talking, reminding her body that she was a living human being. She spotted Jerry standing by the window talking to a couple of men she didn’t recognise. They were all wearing sunglasses at night like a gang of blind vampires.

“I just want to let you know that you are a lousy bartender,” she murmured, touching his elbow to get his attention.

He glanced over his shoulder and she was gratified to see him smile when he registered her. It was funny how quickly things could change when you were forced to interact with someone at close quarters at all hours of the day and night.

“It’s not a career path I was looking to pursue,” he shrugged. “Seems to have brightened you up though.”

She worked to maintain her smile as she didn’t correct him. She was ashamed to admit that she had taken what Elvis had offered, though she knew that she was by far not the only one to do so.

“Didn’t realise I was so dim before,” she countered, lifting an eyebrow. Like a gentleman, he introduced her to the two men he was talking with, but she found it hard to follow the conversation. Something about a deal, maybe a movie or a concert, percentages, the Colonel, promotion… She moved on again.

Her eyes lit upon Sandi and Charlie standing by the stereo system that had to be unpacked in every hotel room when they arrived. He was switching records now as Sandi gazed over at Elvis while she sipped her drink.

“What’cha putting on, Charlie?” Chancy asked, leaning against the shelving unit.

“Why, you got a request?” he countered with a grin.

“No, I trust you. Just as long as you don’t put on something and then play it over and over and over.”

“Hey, you know I don’t have no control over that,” he replied pointedly, gesturing over his shoulder with his chin to where Elvis was entertaining the masses.

“Then put on something he’s not hung up on.”

“And you know I can’t do that neither.”

Red and Sonny were chatting with a small group of girls. Chancy could have called them women, but she would have needed to do an ID check first. She recognised the guys’ smiles, the boisterous way they were nudging each other with their shoulders and puffing out their chests. She had seen it all countless times over the years. The only things that changed were the girls’ faces and names. Even the hair colours stayed the same.

Joe was standing by the door, walking himself round in a little circle, folding his arms and then unfolding them to check his watch before folding them again. He didn’t look so cool, calm and collected at the moment, no quick smile and charming quip ready to deliver. He glanced up and caught her eye, raising his eyebrows in irritation. There was a message there, a challenge. She found herself nodding like an obedient soldier and moved across the room to where Elvis was talking to a man with a hairstyle that belonged back in the 50s.

“Well, that’s kind of you,” Elvis was saying. “I appreciate it, really. When I first started out, none of them big-time promoters and radio stations wanted anything to do with me, really. It was always the smaller- the ones who actually went to the shows and knew what the kids were into- they were the ones playing my records and getting us out there and everything. Without ‘em I’d still be playing small towns in Texas, or driving a truck most probably.”

Chancy tried to imagine it, but the picture dissolved in her mind each time. He was too big, too stark, too loud to fit into the scenarios she created. When she thought of the truck, she put in an excitable, strange-looking boy, quick to smile and always fussing and fiddling with something, eager to be on his way to the far-off future that awaited him. This man didn’t belong there, wouldn’t have existed there.

With this stark realisation clanging about her brain, she hooked her pinky around his, wincing slightly as he tightened his finger and his ring pinched her.

“Are you coming to the show?” she asked the man standing before her. He hadn’t looked at her once and still didn’t now as he answered in the affirmative. She was impressed since most of the guys had raked their gaze across her cleavage at least once that evening. “Do you know a short-cut, because I think we’re all gonna need it at this rate!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elvis murmured to the man. “You won’t miss it. Ain’t no show until I get there.” Chancy felt Elvis release her finger very deliberately and let her hand drop and she knew that she had made a misstep.

Minutes later that was confirmed when he snapped at her in front of everyone:

“You don’t have no right, no right, to tell me when I’m done talking. These people, they put me where I am, gave us all we got, and all they want in return is to shake my hand and get a fucking autograph. It ain’t your job to tell ‘em to move along, or me for that matter. You understand?”

The simmering heat in his gaze somehow made her feel icy cold as she stared up at him, knowing better than to try and defend herself or explain.

“Yes.”

“Because if you can’t handle that, then I will send your ass back home so fast you’ll be half buried in that fucking town before you know what’s happening, you get me?”

“Would-” She hesitated as his eyebrows rose, but squared her shoulders and pushed on through. “Should I go and apologise?” He searched her face like he could sense her defiance hiding somewhere, but she had been raised by a gambler and his mistreated wife, she knew how to bury her thoughts and feelings and sharpen them like weapons for later.

“Ain’t no time. We gotta go.”

The rest of the evening, Chancy got a helpful reminder of why people went out of their way not to annoy Elvis. When you upset them, most people might stew in it for a while and then you got past it. Elvis was no different, but when you lived in his world that meant you had dozens of people giving you the same treatment. It could sometimes feel like you had ticked off the whole world.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it will blow over,” Sandi said as they took their seats, the lights immediately going down since the intermission had already run ten minutes over.

“I’m not worried,” she replied, inwardly cringing at how defensive she sounded.

“Good for you,” Sandi murmured, patting her on the knee.

After the first song, Elvis made a barbed comment about being late because of “complications, yeah, that’s about right.” He shot JD and the rest of the backing singers a sideways look, and apologised to the audience, assuring them that he was happy to be there and he would do his best to entertain them.

Chancy began to seethe, knowing that she didn’t deserve this level of punishment for trying to help. If it wasn’t for her they might still be back at the hotel, Joe pulling at his receding hairline, and the promoters considering having to refund tickets.

After that, the show continued as normal. Needless to say there were no song dedications that night, but the worst part was the looks that Sandi kept throwing her and the supportive, condescending pout on her face as she tilted her head and rubbed her arm.

Elvis didn’t speak to her in the limo, even when she handed him his sunglasses and joined in with the chorus on what a good show it had been.

Back at the hotel, Joe caught her arm as she trailed back to their room.

“Hey Chancy,” he began, and her stomach dropped. She knew that tone, that fake pally smile and easy amiability. “You know, the girls were saying that they haven’t had the chance to have a real catch-up with you yet. They were wondering if you’d come down and visit with them.”

To stop them from betraying her with a wobble, Chancy’s lips twisted into a knowing smile as she reflected that at least she was important enough to warrant the big guns and that Ricky hadn’t been tasked with telling her to get lost for a while. She glanced down, rubbing at her goosebumps as the chemical energy fizzed endlessly inside of her.

“Can I at least get my coat?”

“Oh, you won’t need it. They’re just downstairs and I think they’re planning on coming back up here later.” Oh, they had it all figured out.

“In that case, uh, could you take this and put it somewhere safe in the room?” She unclasped the heavy bracelet around her wrist. “I don’t want to be walking around flashing this about. It might as well spell out ‘Rob me’.”

The way Joe’s smile dropped from self-satisfaction into disquiet was truly delicious to Chancy. In fact, she had to shove down the laughter that bubbled in her belly as she imagined him plodding into the suite with the bracelet in his outstretched hand. She wiggled her fingers in a cheerful goodbye and turned towards the elevators.

The Sweet Inspirations, the female soul group that provided backing for Elvis, were staying a few floors down with the rest of the stage crew. When Chancy arrived at their open door, they were riffing on how they should probably be grateful that Colonel Parker hadn’t put them in a motel by an off-ramp. Estelle nudged Myrna who was making the crack as Chancy wandered in.

“What? Everybody knows what I’m talkin’ about,” Myrna retorted. “He’s the kind of man who’d invite his mama to stay and then charge her rent.”

“No, he’s not,” Chancy said. “He’d never invite his mama to stay. And she wouldn’t wanna come if he did.”

“Come on in, girl, you’re our kind of people!” Myrna called, beckoning her over to the sofa.

Soon, the music was turned up and the drinks were flowing and Chancy almost forgot about the mess she had left behind. She almost forgot that Elvis was mad at her, that Joe was probably mad with her now, and she relaxed. Kathy the soprano joined them with the rhythm guitarist, and some of the Stamps were wandering the corridor and stuck their heads in to say hi. It was almost like being back home again.

“So, you see Jerry tonight, Estelle?” Sylvia said with a mischievous grin. “He was looking fine in those tight little jeans, wasn’t he?”

Chancy grinned, watching Myrna shooting them all murderous looks before she started to giggle.

“You shut your mouth about them jeans,” Myrna retorted. “Don’t you be looking!”

It was fun spending time with the women of the crew. Chancy always had fun with the Inspirations, who never ran out of things to say and knew how to have a good time. They had a few drinks, put on some records and gossiped about people they knew. They tried to interrogate her about what was going on between her and Elvis, but she shrugged it off, pointing out that if she was his girlfriend, she would have been up in his suite and not there with them.

An hour or so later, someone must have called down, because people started making their way upstairs. Chancy considered staying where she was just to make a point. She was sure that she could find herself a spare bed for the night after hearing about what some of the crew were getting up to. But she was also weak. Part of her just wanted to be back with him, in spite of how mad she was about the way he had spoken to her. It didn’t feel right being away with him, knowing he was mad at her.

Sonny opened the door to the suite when Myrna knocked, turning back to make a joke to them. Myrna didn’t spot the look of panic on Sonny’s face as he took them in, but Chancy did and a wriggling sick feeling filled her stomach.

It was almost like the crowd parted as she walked through the door. She vaguely felt someone knock into her with their shoulder and was rubbing the throbbing part of her arm as she focussed on the girl in Elvis’ lap. Having strode across the room, Sonny tapped Elvis on the shoulder and then turned away smoothly like he probably had a dozen times before, fading into the background so that he didn’t get caught up in the mess.

The vague impression that Chancy got of the girl was blonde and tall like a model from a Coppertone ad, her legs gleamed golden from the hem of her tiny skirt to her strappy wooden heeled platforms. She glanced up at Sonny as he whispered to Elvis and a perfectly straight curtain of white-blond hair obscured her face. Chancy inhaled as Elvis raised his head, and though the tinted lenses of his glasses hid his eyes, she knew he was looking right at her. There was a self-satisfied curve to his mouth.

If Sandi had even tried to pout and pat her arm in sympathy right then she would have punched her. As it was, the girls shot each other looks and said something about going to get a drink. Chancy forced a smile and joined them, almost counting the seconds as she watched her glass get poured and she sipped it down in big gulps. She refused to give him the reaction he was looking for, refused to titillate all the onlookers waiting for a scene.

Eventually, when it seemed like a good amount of time had passed, though it had probably been only ten minutes, she slowly and calmly made her way across to the bedroom. It took all she had not to slam the door of the bedroom behind her, but she held it together, trying not to think about everyone whispering on the other side.

Even if she hadn’t felt the weight of his gaze the entire time, it was obvious that he had been watching her when he immediately followed.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she pulled clothes from drawers and from hangers in the closet. It annoyed her that someone kept unpacking all her things like irritating little elves every time they arrived at a new hotel.

“I don’t really need to answer that, do I?” she asked, trying to fold a silk shirt that kept slipping and sliding in her shaking fingers until she balled it up and rammed into her case. He put a hand up to his forehead and winced like thinking of a response hurt his head.

“You sore ‘cause of what happened earlier?” he mumbled finally.

Chancy paused and studied him, noting the way his head was hanging and the way he seemed to be listing to the left.

“Yes,” she replied curtly. “You didn’t have to yell at me in front of everyone.”

“You were out of line,” he replied, his tone light and teasing even as the words slurred together. “Being all pushy, like a little bossy baby.” He knelt on the edge of the mattress and bit on his bottom lip as he gazed at her through the dark pink lenses of his sunglasses.

“I’m not playing right now, Elvis,” she returned coolly, turning away from the bed and snatching more clothes from hangers.

Echoing her in that high pitched cartoon voice he knew she hated, he carried on crawling across the mattress and he grabbed the dresses she had just put in her case and slung them behind him.

“Cut that out.”

“Nope.” He waited until she returned to jam more things into the case and then reached out and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her towards him. “You gotta stop being a widdle bossy girl, trying to tell your man what to do.”

“Elvis, I mean it, I’m not- Just leave me alone!” She wrenched herself free more out of luck than anything else. He almost fell backward onto the bed and grabbed the headboard to keep himself steady. His eyes lit up with an icy glow.

“Who in the hell d’you think you’re yelling at, huh?” He jabbed out his foot and kicked her case off the bed, where it overturned and emptied all of her things on the floor. “Waltzing in here all worked up like you didn’t start all of this with your fuckin’- your little show out there earlier.”

“My what? I was- We were running late and everyone was getting antsy and I was just trying-”

“You don’t need to be tryin’ to do nothin’. What d’you think I pay all those motherfuckers out there for, huh? No, I don’t need no more managers and lackeys thinking they can tell me what I can and can’t do, ain’t your job.”

“My job,” she scoffed. “Do I have a job? What is it?” Bed warmer? Human teddy bear? Placeholder until you get someone better?

“Well, it ain’t to be a bitch, that’s for sure!” he spat back. “I- I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you, I really don’t.”

Chancy raised her eyebrows in disbelief and dropped to her knees, righting the case and trying to shove everything back in. She scrambled round the bed to retrieve the dresses he had tossed.

“Uh huh, the silent treatment. Right on goddamn cue.” He stumbled off the side of the bed and slid the case under the bed out of her reach. When he clumsily stood back up straight, his face was aglow with a weird cruel, playful energy and his eyes were opaque, he was so high. She looked away as he took hold of her biceps, steering her onto the bed.

“Just sit down for a minute,” he murmured, like he was the reasonable one. “We’re getting ourselves all worked up over nothing. It’s silly, honey. I know you were trying to help, you always help.” He knelt between her legs and pressed a soft, gentle kiss against her collar bone.

As if he had hypnotised her, she felt the anger and tension drain in an almost painful wave down her body, her brain instead filling with calm and anticipation. She took a deep breath and let her head sink against the side of his as he kissed his way up to her neck, but as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw the leggy blonde being nuzzled in almost the exact same way. Something inside her crumbled.

“You should let me go,” she said, looking past him and focussing on tiny details in the room to clear her head. “I’m sure that girl is great at helping too.”

“What girl?” he murmured after a long pause, nibbling on her earlobe.

“The girl you were kissing when I came in. She was real pretty: tall, blond, probably had gorgeous blue eyes like you like.”

“No, I don’t think so, weren’t me,” he replied, shaking his head slightly as he continued pressing breathy kisses across her cheek. “I like teeny tiny brunettes with big brown eyes.”

Chancy sighed, put a steadying hand on his shoulder, and scrambled backwards up onto the mattress. She dropped off the other side and leant down to retrieve her case.

“You know what you’re doing?” he asked, his voice gritty and deep like he was playing a role. “You better not be playing games, woman, because you walk out that door, I ain’t chasing after you.” He rose to his feet and glared at her across the bed. “You know I hate this kind of dramatic bullshit!”

“Ha, yeah, that’s why you always set it up this way!” she returned, angrily scraping the tears from her eyes with the top of her wrist. “All of that was on purpose, I’m not an idiot and your tactics never change!”

“Just go on, get out!” he sneered, waving his hand. “You’ve had your foot half out the door since the beginning anyhow, don’t even try and deny it!”

“I haven’t!” She was suddenly furious at how breathless and weak she sounded, pathetic. “How can you say that?!”

“Maybe because I got fucking eyes!” He lobbed something in her direction that hit the doorframe with a metallic clink and dropped onto the shag carpeting. She looked down and saw a glint of gold.

“Because I won’t wear a ton of gold on my wrist when I’m all alone in a strange hotel?”

“That ain’t why you threw it back in my face,” he retorted scornfully. “Don’t give me that bullshit! I know when pushy women don’t get their way they get spiteful.”

She snorted mirthlessly and nodded, letting her case hit her against her calf.

“Yeah, just women.”

“Goddamn your smart fuckin’ mouth!” he stormed towards her and grabbed her wrist, yanking her out the bedroom so fast she almost lost a shoe. He was yelling for Joe, who suddenly popped up from out of nowhere like he had been waiting. He probably had. The rest of the suite was empty as if it had been raided.

“Get this bitch a ticket and make sure the fuckin’ plane leaves tonight!” he dragged her forward and released her hand, sending her into the back of the couch with the force of the momentum.

“Don’t worry about it, Joe!” she yelled, even though he was standing feet away. “I’ve got my own damn ticket!”

The bedroom door slammed shut and she heard it repeating over and over in her head. Her eyes were throbbing with the pressure of the tears behind them, but she refused to give in.

“You, er, want me to call down and see if I can get you a room?” Joe asked smoothly. “He’ll probably cool down in a couple of hours and want to see you. You know what he’s like.” She laughed, a couple of loose tears spilling over the edge of her lower lids.

“Yeah, I know what he’s like,” she returned, choking on the sobs and bitter laughter in her throat. “That’s what makes this so pathetic. I’m going to head to the airport, but thanks.” She looked down over the back of the sofa, hating the heavy feeling in her stomach, glaring at the cushion where Elvis and the girl had been sitting.

“Has he got her stashed somewhere?” She looked at Joe sideways, her mouth tilted in a wry smile. “Am I gonna get on the elevator and find myself face to face with a giant pair of legs?”

Joe didn’t say anything, but Chancy laughed at her own joke, before wiping her eyes with the heel of her palms. She walked out of the suite without looking back.

@thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @missmaywemeetagain, @from-memphis-with-love, @richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel, @freudianslumber, @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters, @prompted-wordsmith. @literally-just-elvis-fics, @eliseinmemphis. @lookingforrainbows, @stylespresleyhearted, @amydarcimarie, @returntopresley, @savedrebelcreation

#elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fan fic #70s elvis #whositmcwhatsit #an enjoyable slide to oblivion

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fic-recommended · 1 year

Text

Drarry Fics

more to be added, if I feel like adding

—————————————

Grounds for Divorce - Tepre

(122,217 words / 10 chapters / Explicit)

Tags: Slow Burn, Pining, UST, Anal Sex, brief but all the same enthusiastic rimming, One (1) lemon tree, Accidental Bonding, And I mean like U! S! T!, Jealousy, Deals with Trauma, They both top at some pointron is a good friend, Draco is a Good Cook, Dubious Consent due to the Accidental Bonding, The actual SLOWEST burn, Hurt/Comfort, Have I mentioned UST? Cannot overstate this it's like A LOT, First there's frottage, And then there's more sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, and just a lot of sex, sex on a bed, sex in the shower, sex on the floor, Sex on a settee, In other news they go to Egypt, Teddy is a Small Bean, There is one (1) cat, and one (1) happy ending

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

I- hmm. I don’t have words for this fic. It’s like staring at a sunset, tears streaning down your face and asked if you think it’s pretty. Anything you say about it couldn’t do it any justice. Read it. Enjoy the sunset. It’s the best you’re going to see.

Enjoying Yourself, Potter? - DragonGirl87

(10,352 / 1 chapter / Explicit)

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, PWP without Porn, Surprise Ending

Malfoy walks in on Harry in the showers. Harry can’t seem to forget Malfoy’s face and most definitely not the three haunting words Malfoy uttered… – “Enjoying yourself, Potter?”

Would it really be one of my fic rec lists if there wasn’t a pure filth fanfic? I think not.

Any Instrument - dicta_contrion

(131,102 words / 22 chapters / Explicit)

Tags: HP: EWE, Post-Deathly Hallows, Slow Build, Mystery, Politics, Angst, mental health, Disability, Disability Management, Coming Out, Awkward First Times, Wandlore, Elder Wandlong walks, Magic, Kittens, Happy Ending

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

There is just somthin about Draco in this fic that slaps so hard. You know you’ll come to realise that I either recommend a filthy short smut or a very long slow burn fic that fucking destroys you and makes you believe in love at the same time. This fic is no different. Actually this fic is both. Doctor!Draco, intensive reaserch on wandlore (I’m pretty sure the author knows more the Ollivander), Harry being the people pleaser fuck that he is, Goyle is kinda baby?, 10/10 fic

Running on Air - eleventy7

(74,875 words / 17 chapters / Teen and Up)

Tags: Mystery, Drama, Friendship, Slow Burn, Romance

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Oh my god. I’ve never read something so beautifully written in my entire life. The verse of this made me want to cry. I sent quote after quote to both my girlfriend and my bestfriend. I just needed them both to hear the beautiful things I was reading. It was so wonderful. I wish I could forget the fic so I could experience it again.

Never Grow A Wishbone - ShanaStoryteller

(123,690 words / 25 chapters / Teen and Up)

Tags: Post War, professor!draco, Professor!Harry, Draco pov, Slytherins Aren't Evil, War is Complicated, Language is cultural, Slow Build, No character bashing, Unreliable Narrator, VERY UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, HP: EWE, Monthly updates, Politics, mostly politics a little everything else, which isn't what i intended but it's what we got, realistic politics, or more realistic than fic usually has, which fills a lot of people with anger i guess

She almost smiles, and true alarm starts to build in his chest. “I’m afraid I’m not here for something so small. Professor Roberts has resigned.”

“Good,” Draco says honestly, “Would you like a list of suitable alternatives? I know a number of competent potions masters abroad, but then of course you’d have to hire another teacher to act as the Slytherin head. I’m afraid you’ve dried up all the half decent Slytherin Potions masters.”

“Not all of them,” she says quietly.

He blinks. She can’t be serious. “You can’t be serious.”

“Gravely,” she says, “Mr. Malfoy, I am not above begging.”

What the bloody fuck. “I don’t even like potions!”

Draco returns to Hogwarts.

He has a duty to his blood and his name and his house, and he will fulfill it.

This fic was insane to read. I remember texting my friends that it made my brain hurt. I feel like this fic is canon and it has effected every other piece of Harry Potter media I’ve consumed. Draco is being a pureblood and I agreed with him???? Fanfic made me a death eater??? This fic goes so hard for no reason and it’s a delight and a mind fuck. ShanaStoryteller out here making Harry Potter make more damn sense.

Tea and No Sympathy - who_la_hoop

(70,045 words / 11 chapters / Explicit)

Tags: Slow Build, Draco-centric, Tea Drinking, Swearing, Muggle London, Houses of Parliament, Malfoy Manor, flangst, Family Feels, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Coming Out, Heartfelt Conversations, Sarcastic Conversations, Owls, Competitive Card Games, Falling In Love, getting drunk, Enthusiastic Snogging, Hogwarts Castle, Sex In The Slytherin Dormitory, Frottage, Time Travel, Time Loop, HP: EWE

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Baby gorls!! My secret third favorite fanfic trope other then soulmate au and slow burn is TIME LOOP FICS. Draco having to come to terms with being a prick to my boy Harry while falling in love and also being an enigma in time???? Sign me the fuck uppp

#draco malfoy fic #Harry Potter fic #fic recs #fic recommendations #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic recs #Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter #harry potter x draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter fic recs #Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy fic recs

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howaboutcastiel · 2 years

Text

I've Made Up My Mind

Summary: (7) Layla’s on a hunting trip… and she hasn’t been home in a few days. FWMS Masterlist.

Genre: Mostly fluff, a little spicy, a tiny bit angsty.

Content: Kissing, heavy petting ig. Vague talk of human trafficking and description of a violent nightmare. Overall… PG-13? 4.1k words.

A/N: I could have made the text messages abbreviated and more ‘realistic’ or whatever, but I would rather them be readable. Just pretend Marc was an English major ok. This was originally only ½ a chapter but it got too long.

Marc had been texting her a lot.

It was part of their agreement, but neither of them had expected it to actually be working. Layla had met Marc halfway with his mental health treatment—he refused to go to therapy, she refused to sit by and watch him go on without help. He agreed to write and, by extension, he agreed to write to her. Every single day, whether he felt like it or not, whether he had anything to say or not.

Sometimes it would come in the form of simple good morning and good night texts. Other times, he’d stay on the phone with her late into the night, whispering the vulnerable things that he should have been saying to Layla all along. Some things were easier than others, he had come to find out, but that didn’t really matter. He stuck to his word.

Layla had been on a “work trip” in Dubai for the last several days. The targets that she was tracking were high-risk, high-reward, and the job took all her attention. Most of the time, she was unavailable to reply to him, but Marc still sent his texts like clockwork.

Marc: Good morning, I love you.

Marc: Goodnight, I love you.

Marc: Good morning. Please be safe.

Marc: Having a hard day today. I wish you were here.

Marc: Goodnight. I love you.

Marc: Morning babe. Hope the weather’s good where you are.

She hadn’t answered in over three days, but he wasn’t upset with her. Marc was scared, though. As much as Khonshu had protected him from harm, he wasn’t very convinced that Taweret could be trusted to do the same for Layla. He’d seen the entire Ennead’s avatars slaughtered in one night, and their gods were supposed to be protecting them, too. Maybe Taweret was good on her word, or maybe she was just as much of a pompous ass as the rest of the Egyptian deities. Either way, Marc was getting concerned at Layla’s lack of reply. His anxiety was palpable.

Marc: I just realized that I don’t even know what your favorite flowers are. That’s one of the first things a husband should know, isn’t it? As soon as you get home, I’m buying you flowers.

Marc: I love you so much. Goodnight.

Marc: I think that the nightmares have started again.

He didn’t know much about his PTSD, except that a doctor had told him a long time ago that his nightmares were part of it. At the time, most of them were about his brother, save for a select few brutal ones about his mom. Now, though, he had a whole array of horrors that would threaten to greet him every time he closed his eyes. They only worsened when his bed was empty.

Steven’s presence helped a little bit, but Marc was still losing enough sleep to affect his cognition. Even if he did manage a few hours, he’d wake up exhausted all the same. His heart would be racing, his sheets would be drenched in sweat, and his limbs would be so heavy that it almost hurt to drag himself to the shower and then to the kitchen to brew a too-strong cup of coffee. Sometimes the body rested better when Steven was the one at the front. Sometimes, though, he’d return to the Duat when he fell asleep. Paralysis would follow, but instead of a demon to haunt him, there would just be the dreaded image of endless dunes and the feeling of sand in his throat.

Needless to say, the boys were not sleeping very much. They had come to be used to it, but it seemed quite unfair that they’d made so many strides in sharing the body and still could not manage to get a good night’s rest. Steven knew of many ways to pass the time when the restlessness came, but Marc wasn’t used to it. Each time a terror managed to tear him up from his bed, there was only one thing he had to fall back on.

Marc: Last night it was about our trip to Tokyo. You remember that? I was scared as shit that whole mission but you didn’t even flinch.

Marc: It wasn’t like the trip though. I was so slow, it’s like I was frozen in place. You were running around fighting just like normal. But you were too slow, too. I just watched it all in slow motion and they took you away from me.

Marc: I don’t know what I would do if that happened.

Marc: I miss you so much. I know you’re busy but please let me know you’re okay.

Marc: I love you so much.

He couldn’t believe the man he was turning into. Marc had never spoken this much about anything in his life. Ever. Even if it was just over text, even if he didn’t have to say the words out loud, he’d never been so… vulnerable before. He never knew that he even could. The more time he spent saying these things to Layla, though, the more natural they felt to share.

Marc: You know how they say that love at first sight isn’t real? I call bullshit on that. The first time that I saw you I was already done for. You had on that leather jacket and your hair was pinned back, and you tore into that guy at the display case when he credited your father’s work to some other dickhead. There was just so much fire in you and I knew right then. I was hooked. I had to have you.

Marc: That sounds all sexist doesn’t it. That’s not what I meant. You know what I meant. You were just all the perfect things and I didn’t even know what to do with myself. I wanted to protect you, I had this NEED to protect you. But you never needed it, you always took care of yourself. You still do.

Marc: That was the only way I knew how to love you.

Work had been a solid distraction, but time was stretching on and there was still no word from Layla. Marc’s unease was beginning to grow into panic. Now, his lack of sleep was from worry just as much as from nightmares. It took everything in him not to turn to the bottle for comfort, or god forbid, one of his other coping mechanisms.

Marc: I just want to know you’re okay.

Marc: I’m sorry for the things that I did. I know that I already apologized but… I’m sorry. The way that I lied to you all that time. I don’t know what was wrong with me. It’s still hard not to lie sometimes, but I never do. I promise. I will never lie to you again. I was so goddamn stupid and I thought that you were better off without me. I don’t know, I still think that, but I don’t want to hurt you like that again. Plus you have Steven now too. He can give you things that I can’t. He can be the things that I’ll never be. The things that you deserve.

Marc: Please tell me you’re okay. It’s been four days.

He was half-convinced to book a plane ticket to Dubai. Marc gave himself another day. If Layla didn’t reply in the next 24 hours, he was coming to find her. Ceremonial suit or not, he would be there to make sure she was safe. He couldn’t help himself.

It was nearly two in the morning and Marc hadn’t even shut his eyes once. He knew that he needed to be up at the crack of dawn, but he couldn’t get his heart to stop jumping into his throat. Marc had taken ibuprofen for the pounding in his head, but it barely muted the physical pain and didn’t touch the rest of it. He sat at the edge of his bed, drawing circles on his skin and willing the motion to calm some part of him down. It wasn’t working.

Suddenly, the dead quiet of the night was interrupted by a sharp, chiming tone.

A text alert.

Marc flinched at the noise and his head jerked in the direction of his night stand. The flip-phone sat motionless on the side table, the screen illuminated blue. He snatched it into his hand.

The phone started going wild. Text after text flooded in until more than a dozen messages had been alerted in quick succession. Voicemail tones rang in-between them. Marc could only stare at the phone in shock until the onslaught slowed. Finally, the tones stopped and the room was once again silent. He pulled the first message up on the screen.

(4 Days Ago) Layla: I’m about to lose signal for a few days. Not even sure I have it now. I don’t know if my messages will send, but I’ll try to update you.

(4 Days Ago) Layla: Goodnight. I love you.

(3 Days Ago) Layla: I’m beginning to think that the wings on this suit are giving me a complex.

(3 Days Ago) Layla: I’m safe, by the way. Might not text for a day or two. I got a good lead.

(3 Days Ago) Layla: I miss having my partner to help me.

(1 Day Ago) Layla: Finishing up here. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back to London. Leaving later tonight.

(2 Hours Ago) Layla: Oh God. I just got your messages. None of mine even sent to you did they?

(2 Hours Ago) Layla: I just got off my flight. I’m waiting on the bus now. Are you awake?

(2 Hours Ago) Layla: Can I come over?

And then, one final ping.

(17 Minutes Ago) Layla: Fuck it. I’m coming over.

If Marc was restless before, he was wide awake now. He fumbled for the switch on the lamp beside his bed, illuminating the room with a much harsher light than the glow of the moon seeping through the windows. The apartment was a mess—dirty mugs littered about the place, shirts and sweats strewn across the floor. Marc scrambled to clear a path from the front door, hiding the clear evidence that he’d been falling apart for the last couple days.

He had just placed the last mug in the sink when a gentle knock against the door echoed into the kitchen.

Marc was at the door in an instant. He turned the knob and pulled it toward him. Layla was dressed in a hoodie and sweats, likely the clothes that she wore on the plane. Her hair was tied up in a bun. She looked tired.

Her feet dangled in the air as Marc scooped her up into his arms, taking less than a second to look her over first. Layla gasped at the impact, digging her nails into his back. She expected him to put her down after that, but he didn’t budge. Marc's arms were wrapped firmly around her and he wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t.

“Hey, baby,” she hummed. Layla leaned into his touch, bringing her hand up to the back of his head. He sighed into her neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I love you,” Marc groaned. His breath was hot against her skin. He kicked the door shut and stumbled backward to the sitting room. “I missed you.”

Layla chuckled when the backs of his knees hit the couch. “I know. I love you, too.”

Marc was shaking. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he was practically buzzing with energy. Whether it was excitement or shock or something else, he wasn’t entirely sure. All he knew is that he couldn’t physically get any closer to Layla, but he didn’t feel quite close enough.

“Scared me to death.” His grip didn’t soften. He leaned back until his shoulders hit the cushions. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Her weight shifted on top of him. Her mouth found his ear and her teeth grazed the lobe. “I’m back now.”

He hadn’t felt like this in so long. In some respect, Marc had never felt like he was feeling right now. He had never wanted to hold her so tightly. He had never been so utterly terrified to let go. What Marc could remember, though, was the feeling of longing. The feeling that their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. The feeling that Marc’s only goal in the world was to make Layla feel good. Like that was his purpose.

Marc pulled her down into a kiss.

They moved together lazily, but passionately. It seemed that neither of their bodies quite had the energy for what they truly had in mind. He held Layla against him with all the strength he could muster, keeping her body flush with his and giving her the opportunity to explore his waist with the limited movement of her one free hand. The two of them could have stayed there for hours, save for the fact that it was nearly three in the morning and neither of them had slept a wink in days. Marc persisted, though, as long as he could. He only finally pulled away when his lungs could not physically handle being deprived of air anymore.

Layla wrapped herself around him from behind when they made their way to the bed. She was nearly as tall as him, her frame almost as big, so she had no difficulty enveloping him in her arms. He was rigid against the feeling at first, but managed to sink into it in a matter of minutes. He felt safe in her arms and, though he wouldn’t admit it, he really needed her to hold him right now.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he mumbled to her. Sleep was tugging at him in a way that it hadn’t dared to in days. Her breath tickled his neck.

She interlocked their fingers, breathing a chuckle. “Me too. Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

His eyelids were heavy. He was as tired as he’d ever been before, but only now did his body seem to think it was safe to relax. Marc thought, for just a moment as he drifted off, that he might actually sleep well tonight. That would have been too good to be true, though, and sure enough, the nightmares came just the same as they always did.

This time it was Cairo. Nothing too fancy, nothing imaginative. Marc’s mind was filled to the brim with imagery of Arthur Harrow and his followers. The violet beam that Harrow flung from his cane wrought destruction in every direction. Marc reached for the crescent blade on his chest, but felt only fabric underneath his palm. Just like always, Marc’s feet were frozen in place. He couldn’t move, couldn’t protect himself. More importantly, he couldn’t protect her.

“Layla.”

He called out to her, intending to shout, but the noise came out barely a whisper. She couldn’t hear him. Layla stood before Harrow in her avatar suit, just a few steps away from the tip of his outstretched cane. He had noticed her presence. It was only a matter of moments before he decided to strike against her.

“Layla!”

Still, nothing came out. Marc could only watch in horror as the beam of light struck Layla square in the chest, knocking her backwards. He wanted to scream at Harrow—to distract him, to make himself the target instead of her—but his voice was shot. The disciple walked right by him, zeroing in on his wife. She seemed in no rush to pick herself up off the ground. Marc already knew how this ended. In a hundred different nightmares, he’d seen the same thing before. Layla, fighting against all odds, determined as always. Him, frozen and unable to help. Too slow to protect her. Too weak to protect her. He had watched his enemies strike her down a hundred times before. That’s all he could ever do. Watch.

Harrow brought his cane over his head, aiming the crocodile-shaped knob on the end against Layla’s skull. Marc tried to look away as he dealt the first blow. His head wouldn’t turn though, and his eyes wouldn’t close no matter how hard he tried. Even if he’d seen it a hundred times, even if a small part of his mind always knew that it wasn’t real, it didn’t hurt any less. He yelled for her, one last desperate plea.

Marc was at the edge of the bed before he even realized he was awake. He almost wanted to laugh at himself—it was normally Steven that woke up running. The beginning light of the sunrise illuminated the room just enough for him to see the outline of a figure beside him. He lowered himself back into bed, blushing at the way Layla was staring at him. He didn’t know if his movement had woken her up or if he was talking in his sleep. Either way, it was obvious she knew he’d just woken from a nightmare.

“Sorry,” he murmured. His body was still trembling and his heart was still racing. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright,” she chimed. She held out her arms as an offer to hold him. To comfort him. “I get them, too.”

He shook his head, moving to sit at the edge of the mattress. “I don’t think I can go back to sleep right now.”

“You should at least try, darling. You’ve barely slept three hours.”

“I’ll be fine.” He put his head in his hands. Layla was having none of it.

“At least lay with me.” She repositioned herself so that he could lay his head against her chest. She patted the bed beside her. “Please? Keep me warm, baby.”

“Okay.”

Marc always loved the feeling of Layla running her hands through his hair. It was the most relaxing sensation he could think of. Layla carded her fingers through his curls as he laid against her, and Marc could feel his muscles relaxing more than they had in months. The trembling died down the longer he listened to her steady heartbeat. After a while, he brought his arms up to wrap properly around her torso.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into her chest.

Layla pulled the cover up over him. “For what?”

“For staying.”

The sun was rising above the horizon by now. The low golden glow illuminated the studio just enough that Layla could see the content on his face. She could also see that, despite his relaxed demeanor, he wasn’t going back to sleep. As much as it would have made sense to get up and put on a pot of coffee, Layla wanted to stay warm under the covers for just a little while longer.

Marc wasn’t the only one who had fallen apart over the last few days.

“Marc.” Her voice was worried, hesitant. He craned his neck to look at her, picking up on the tone immediately. “I don’t think that I can be alone right now.”

He hadn’t asked about the details of the mission. Layla had told him the basics: a trafficking ring was wreaking havoc on the people of Dubai, particularly on the women and children in poorer communities. Taweret had found a gap in their operation—one that Layla could squeeze into perfectly, if she played her cards right. It was never meant to be a one-and-done trip, but Taweret had hoped they could take a chunk out of the organization, to weaken them right from the start. Marc hadn’t yet asked whether she and Layla had accomplished that.

“You don’t have to be.” He brought his hand down to hold hers. Layla’s wedding ring brushed along his palm and he squeezed her hand tight. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” she piped. Layla gritted her teeth. “But I need to.”

They readjusted, so now Layla was laying as Marc had just been, her head resting on her husband’s chest and her arm wrapped around his waist.

“It’s only fair,” he half-smiled. “I’ve been baring my soul to you for weeks.”

She smirked. “You’re supposed to be doing that anyway.”

“So are you.”

Layla took a few deep breaths before starting. Talking about things was easier for her than it was for Marc, but that still didn’t mean it was easy. She sighed. “This job is so much bigger than I thought. And it’s so much…worse. It’s horrible.”

Marc nodded slightly and she cleared her throat. She continued, “I saw things I don’t know how to forget. I mean, some of our adventures together got pretty rough, right? But this was something else entirely. It was like going to hell. Actual hell. These people are demons, Marc. I don’t know what else to call them.”

The worst of the worst, Marc thought to himself. “I can see why Taweret wanted them punished.”

“No, not punished.” Layla shook her head. “Eradicated. It’s not about them Marc, it’s about all the people they’ve hurt. All the people they’re still hurting. They need help. My help.”

Her breath shuddered and Marc brought his hand up to rub circles on her back. “But it’s not just Dubai. It’s not even just the peninsula. It’s everywhere, love. I mean absolutely everywhere. It’s at least over half of Asia and probably just as much of Africa and Europe. I don’t even know if calling it the tip of the iceberg would do it justice. There’s got to be a million people involved, or close to it. The ring isn’t that powerful, but it’s so spread out. I can’t imagine how far.”

Marc didn’t like any of what he was hearing. He hated the thought of that many people in danger, of that many children in danger, but it wasn’t just that. He could tell by Layla’s tone that her fear was not pushing her to forfeit the mission. It wasn’t motivating her to step back or to minimize the scope of her goal. No, he knew better than that. Layla was terrified, not because she had bitten off more than she could chew, but because she was sure now more than ever that she would not stop until the ring had burned to the ground.

“So what are you going to do?” He questioned hesitantly.

Layla almost winced as she thought of her answer.

“I’m going to dance with the devil.”

She buried her head deeper into his chest, trying to absorb the heat. “It’s already started. I have to go in as a participant. I have to work for them, or at least make them think that’s what I’m doing. That’s why I couldn’t text for a few days, they had to search me. Had to be sure I wasn’t a cop or someone from a rival group. I had to make them trust me. Or at least, not actively distrust me.”

“Layla…”

“I know, baby. I know how dangerous it is and I know what it means I’ll have to do. But I can’t stop now. You should know that more than anyone.”

Marc’s heart was skipping again. “Is Taweret making you do this? Is she forcing you?”

“No, Marc. She’s not like him. She wouldn’t do that. This is my choice, alright? I’ve made up my mind.”

And Marc knew what it meant that Layla had made up her mind. There was no point in arguing, no point in trying to convince her otherwise. There was no point in doing anything besides helping her or getting out of her way, and Marc was in no position to help. Not the way she needed him.

“I’ll talk to Steven about helping you track them.”

Her body went rigid at the statement, and she hugged him tighter. “Thank you.”

“Now come on, we gotta get up.” He stretched underneath her, trying to gently roll her off.

She didn’t budge.

“Come on, babe. I’ve got work.”

Layla made a noise of discontent. “Five more minutes.”

He scoffed, then smiled. “Fine, but you’re making breakfast.”

~~~

I hate that this chapter is so late. Ill try to keep to the schedule better.

@n1ght5h4d3-24 @magicwithaknife @rmoonstoner @nervouslaught3r @unavoidabledirewolf @kbakery @mccn-bcys @gingermous @avatarofseshat @damreonsgirl @dragons-are-my-favorite @k8esilver @competentpotato @theconsultingdoctor10 @rayrlupin @moony-artemis @nerdory10 @valkyrieace

@ahookedheroespureheart @mt2sssss @loki-hargreeves @starfirette @celeste412 @avengersinitiative2012 @sifinskies @unspokenmoon @maplemind @mainstreambitchlife @hot-mess-express1 @toracainz @zarahbronstein @daughterofthequeen @am-3-thyst @romanarose @wand-erer5 @jake-g-lockley @in-between-the-cafes @alexismm @moonmoonboys @joyful-soul-collector

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #layla el faouly #marc x layla #marclayla #moon boys #fire within my soul #Masterlist

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darkness-compelled · 1 year

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Here is the shit I’m dealing with every day.

Top of the list is picking, I have 8 scabs on the back of my right shoulder, and a bunch of scabs on the very top of my head that cause me headaches. It’s not a choice, it’s a compulsion I cannot control, I gasp at the pain and there’s always blood under my fingernails.

I have headaches, every single day I have one for at least an hour, often induced by my hair being up or the head scabs or the heat.

Stomach issues, I often have a stomach ache or intestinal distress. I’ve had a pain in my lower right abdomen for over a year.

Appetite. I struggle to eat a lot of days, nothing sounds good, often because I don’t really want to perpetuate my existence. I’m either not hungry at all or I can’t eat enough.

Suicidal ideation. Almost every minute of my day is plagued by wanting to die. By wishing I had died when I tried to kill myself. Longing to not exist. Every single thing weighs on me. It gets impossible to make decisions because I don’t even want to be here, I don’t care, fucking feed me fire or shit, it doesn’t fucking matter. At. All.

Self loathing. I fucking hate myself. Applying for jobs only makes me feel more worthless and small and stupid and useless. Which makes me want to hurt myself. Which makes it so hard to take care of myself. Take a shower? I’m not worthy. Eat? I don’t deserve it. Sleep? Only if I don’t wake up.

Self harm. I punch myself a lot. I punch things gently because I know they’ll hurt and leave bruises, so I do it enough to make it hurt. I think that’s part of not eating. As mentioned above any self care is impossible and that feels like self harm to me.

Flashbacks. They’re non-stop. It’s a constant flow of either bad memories, things that pissed me off, things that hurt me, or things that embarrass me. It’s so hard to focus when this is happening. I often will say, outloud, “it doesn’t matter any more. Stop thinking about it. It doesn’t make a difference.” but that doesn’t really help

Mental anguish from isolation. Because I don’t really have a huge support system and most of the people I love are far away, I spend a lot of time alone. Then I’m thinking about how alone I feel. Then I’ll try to reach out and… it just feels like there is a barrier there. Even with the people I love. Like no one can set foot in my mind.

Don’t forget back pain. I don’t sit on the couch anymore, because it made my back hurt so bad. I use a barstool in the kitchen to cook or do the dishes because the pain makes me feel like my legs are going to give out.

All the physical pain makes me dissociate and I just started learning about depersonalization. I’ve always viewed myself as separate from my body and mind. So that’s nuts there’s a name for that. I struggle with paralysis because my body doesn’t feel like mine, because it feels fucking pointless to try so hard without experiencing a proportionate amount of joy.

Oh shit, and I have a wicked cough right now that is def bronchitis. It happens with acid reflux, which I have a lot because of binge eating and drinking alcohol to cope. So loving the mucus cough going on.

And I do it. I fucking overcome that shit. I eat, I take my meds, I fucking shower, I take care of the household chores, I apply to jobs, I sleep. And I hate it all. But I do it.

#depression #bipolar #fool #just a fool #pain #frustration #rage #suicidal ideation #whatever

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dudemanauthor · 2 years

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Ruby's Aura Puberty

Author's Note: Gonna be honest, I forgot that this was one of my most popular fics. I assume the lack of weight gain in it gave it a broader appeal. Still, rereading it, I gotta say I think I did a pretty good job with this one.

This was all starting to feel very familiar for Ruby, as yet another sparring round ended with Ruby flat on her back and her sister Yang standing victorious. Yang went over to her defeated sister, offering Ruby a hand.

“Another round?” Yang asked cheerily.

“You’ll just kick my butt again,” Ruby grumbled quietly, staying flat on the ground.

“Hey, c’mon, do you know how many times my butt got kicked before I got this good?” Yang asked, genuinely waiting for an answer from Ruby once Ruby realised it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“Probably not as much as I’ve lost to you,” Ruby grumbled again. Yang crouched down next to Ruby.

“Ruby, you’ve got potential, you just need practice,” Yang reassured.

“No, I don’t!” Ruby despaired. “You’re bigger and stronger than me, I’m never gonna be as awesome a fighter as you. Can I go back to practicing with Crescent Rose?”

“If you’re ‘so weak’,” Yang said with big, overdramatic air quotes, “then how come you can swing Crescent Rose around like it’s practically weightless?” Ruby paused for a moment.

“Practice,” Ruby answered reluctantly.

“Exactly! So, c’mon, another round?” Yang asked again. Before Ruby could answer, a bell rang. “Oh geez, dinner already? Okay, I guess we can come back to this tomorrow,” Yang said as she stood up, offering Ruby a hand up, that Ruby eventually took. Ruby’s less than stellar performance put a bit of a damper on her evening, not to mention how sore and stiff she felt after what Ruby could only call a beating.

---

As Ruby woke up the next morning, she was surprised to find that she was the last one up and the only one still in the room. Usually a Sunday was enough to get Blake and Yang to sleep in longer, but Ruby just figured that she needed the extra sleep after yesterday’s training. Even then, it still didn’t feel like Ruby had fully recovered. Either that, or she had caught something and was feeling under the weather. She was feeling like her head was spinning, and she was feeling a heat that even getting out from under her sheets didn’t help cool down.

“Ugh, this sucks,” Ruby groaned as she slowly clambered down from her top bunk. She figured that a cold shower might help, so she decided to stagger towards the bathroom. Before she could make it all the way to the shower, Ruby’s balance went all of a sudden. Ruby had just enough time to get a hold of the bathroom sink and hold herself up.

“Woah, okay Remnant, you can stop spinning so fast, please,” Ruby said with a woozy voice as she held the sink with a firm grip. That was when a sudden heat filled her body. “Gah, so hot,” Ruby said quietly as she fanned herself with her hand. “Okay, so maybe something’s up, but what?” Ruby asked her reflection. Her body answered by beginning to grow, slowly, steadily and spontaneously, all at the same time. Her modest breasts began to fill out in every direction, creating a sudden increase in weight that caught Ruby’s attention. Then, her attention was split by her pyjama pants suddenly feeling tighter. She looked down. The first thing she noticed was the ground slowly getting further and further away from her as she appeared to be growing taller and taller. After that, she noticed her flannel pyjama pants growing snugger and snugger around her rear and thighs and rode higher and higher up her shins as she grew taller. A quick look made it clear that that wasn’t her imagination, her butt really was growing before her very eyes. At first, it was just rounding out, looking plumper and perkier. Soon, it began to grow wider, making her hips and waist widen too to accommodate it. It wasn’t long before she could feel her pants straining to contain her expanding rear, and it was about the same time when she noticed her tank top straining too as it tried to keep her growing body covered up. It didn’t help that everything was riding up as she grew even taller still. She looked up at her reflection and noticed that her head was getting close to the top of the mirror. She wasn’t prepared to be tall, but it beat being tiny by a long shot. Before she could think too much about that, she heard a tear come from behind her. It was her pants finally giving out on her as her rear became too much for her pants to handle. Ruby tugged her pants down, revealing her generous rear and the panties that were disappearing into it. Ruby decided to get proactive with this one and tug her panties down too to keep them intact, but that was a trickier task with how tight they had become. As she squeezed her rear out of her panties and tugged them down her chunky thighs, she noticed how soft her rear was getting. Ruby was too nervous to explore further, she was still trying to process the fact that this was happening, let alone that it was happening to her.

“Oh man, this is sooo weird,” Ruby said nervously as she kept watching herself grow, since there wasn’t exactly anything she could do but watch. Fortunately, she could feel herself finish growing taller, just in time for her reflection to reach the top of the mirror. Ruby guessed that she was probably a little taller than Yang at this point, but this was hardly a time to check for sure. Ruby was busy dealing with her chest outgrowing her top, making it ride up even further and revealing her flat belly, which Ruby noticed was starting to get a hint of muscle definition, and causing some concerning creaking coming from her top’s seams. She pulled her top up and over her breasts, which looked bigger than any she had seen before on anyone she knew. They were each enough to fill a hand and then some. The only complaint Ruby could think of right now was when the realised that she needed to get new clothes, since her larger chest wasn’t exactly going to stay comfortably in anything Ruby owned at the moment. Heck, she might even struggle to fit into Yang’s clothes. Of course, her rear was a similar story, if a bit more dramatic. Ruby could tell that it was getting massive. Everything else had stopped growing, but her rear kept on growing. She had never seen a rear this large before with her own eyes, let alone in person, and she could see and feel it growing more and more. Her thighs were growing thicker, large enough that she had to completely remove her pyjama pants and panties so that she didn’t have to tear them off later. Her hips were also growing incredibly wide, wide enough that Ruby was worried that she might have trouble getting out of the door and out of the bathroom. That was when the thoughts of how others would react got into Ruby’s head. Ruby couldn’t say for sure how anyone would react, whether it was confusion, curiosity, whatever it could be, and it had Ruby nervous. She knew there would be some sort of reaction, how could there not be? She had a rear that was big enough that she could probably start using it as a shelf soon enough, not to mention the other expansions. At least there was one upside, since she was not feeling as dizzy and overheated as she was before. In fact, she actually felt better than usual, stronger, more energetic, just in time for her to feel like her expansion was finally over. Ruby let go of the sink and stepped back, feeling her rear and thighs jiggle all over with every move. She stopped to take a good look at her body.

“Okay, this is… I guess this is real,” Ruby said in a breathy voice, still trying to fully process what she was seeing. The near nudity was the first big thing that got her attention, with the only thing Ruby still had on was her pyjama top, and that was only on her shoulders, it certainly wasn’t covering any of Ruby’s exposed pale flesh. Once that was pushed past, Ruby then needed to push past her much larger chest, literally in this case, as it was so large that Ruby couldn’t even see her own feet without moving her breasts out of the way or craning her neck to look around them, with Ruby choosing the latter, as she was still a little apprehensive about touching her expanded body, even if it was her own and even if it was probably the easier thing to do. Once she managed to look past that, she noticed her stomach was sporting a well-defined set of abs, even if there was a touch of softness to its appearance, enough to make it look like there was more than just muscle there. Further down, Ruby got a good look at her wider waist, hips and thighs. Ruby had to guess that they were maybe double their original size, maybe even triple when it came to her massive thighs, even if it was helped by how scrawny Ruby used to be. Ruby quickly forced her brain to brush past the inherent weirdness of comparing such massive changes to herself from about five minute ago, at most, and took a look behind herself. There, dominating Ruby’s sight, was a massive pale rear, jutting quite far out, yet somehow what must have been a fair amount of weight was practically unnoticeable to her. Finally, slowly, Ruby reached a hand down to her thick thigh, feeling soft and smooth to the touch.

“Yep, definitely real, I guess,” Ruby said to herself as she took some slow, deep breaths to steady herself. Then, Ruby carefully gave a mighty thigh a squeeze, and got two very surprising results. Firstly, as her fingers sunk into the dense layer of fat, she felt a jolt shoot up her spine. Ruby could not tell what exactly that feeling was, but it felt good, good enough to want more. The second thing Ruby noticed, was how surprisingly firm and strong her thighs felt, despite how jiggly they were. Just how strong they were was something that Ruby was planning on finding out at a later point. For now, Ruby had a little more self-exploring to do. She gave her hips a little shake, then stopped to admire how the massive globes continued to wobble on their own. As she gave herself a gentle spank, she felt that jolt again, a little stronger this time, a little better. So, she gave herself another, and another, making sure both cheeks got some attention. Then, with one harder spank, the jolt was so powerful, she felt it fill her whole body with energy, even making her legs quiver and her core heat up with what felt like a very different type of heat. That clued her in to what she was feeling.

“Heh, wow, I guess this is a turn on for me now, as well as a couple of other things, maybe,” Ruby said to herself as she carefully sat down on the edge of the bathtub, hoping her legs wouldn’t give out on her, taking a moment to appreciate the extra padding she had as it made her seat more comfortable. “Hope the team doesn’t mind me having some ‘private time’,” Ruby added for no one in particular. She hesitated for a moment, half expecting to have jinxed herself and expecting the door to fly open with her entire team walking in on her or any number of other alarming but unlikely possibilities. That was when the heat in her core flared up, drawing her attention away from that. Ruby took a deep breath as her hand glided down her toned stomach, stopping just before it could dip between her giant thighs. Then, slowly and carefully, Ruby inched her hand between her legs, already feeling a delightful hint of pleasure. As her fingers gently teased her lower lips, Ruby brought her spare hand up to her mouth, pre-emptively covering up any noises that managed to slip from Ruby’s lips. Ruby could tell that she was going to need help keeping quiet, since she had never been so aroused in her entire life. It was as if her physical growth had also flipped a switch in Ruby’s brain, helping her reach new heights of arousal and excitement that she didn’t know that she was capable of reaching. It only got better once Ruby slipped her fingers between her lower lips and into her hot core.

“Ooh, that feels good,” Ruby groaned, muffled by her free hand. As her fingers slowly went to work pleasuring Ruby, more moans slipped from her lips and into her hand to be muffled. As her fingers massaged Ruby’s inner walls, it started to feel less like she was just pleasuring herself, and more like it was a need that her hands were fulfilling for her on their own. Of course, that didn’t stop it from feeling better than she had ever felt from doing this before. There was a sudden sensation in her chest. Ruby couldn’t tell what it was, but she could tell that her large, plump breasts were in need of some attention. Ruby took her hand away from her mouth and closed her mouth tightly. After that, her hand drifted down towards her chest, gently massaging her breasts, gasping from how great it felt, like it was easing off some unknown source of pressure. Her hand scooped up a breast, feeling the heft of it as it spilled out of her hands. As if on instinct, her hand lifted up her breast, Ruby leaned in, and her lips latched on to the diamond-hard and fully erect nipple that adorned her breast. Ruby moaned quietly as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, sucking gently on the nipple, but it was enough to get some well needed relief. She let go of her breast, and now it was hanging by her mouth as she used her free hand to reach up and massage her other breast. Ruby let out more blissful muffled moans as she continued giving her surprisingly sensitive mammaries the attention they apparently were in desperate need of. Of course, her other hand wasn’t idle this whole time, still working away at Ruby’s core. Her fingers were even beginning to hone in on Ruby’s most sensitive places, as they glanced over them and then returned to find them again, massaging them and making her needy core feel better and better. All of this was done on pure instinct, which had taken over Ruby’s actions, something that Ruby didn’t have any problem with, only because of how incredible this all felt. That instinct, the instinct driving Ruby’s body to seek more and more pleasure, made her fingers and mouth work faster and harder. Ruby sucked on her achingly sensitive teats harder and harder, occasionally swapping nipples to spread the love and give her hand a chance to give her other soft and pillowy breast the deep massage that it loved. Her fingers moved faster and faster, building up more and more pleasure and pressure as it pressed harder on her sensitive spots, making Ruby’s eyes glaze over as she focused on nothing but her own need for pleasure. Finally, in one sudden moment, all that pleasure came to a head as Ruby came long and hard. Ruby’s moans became so high pitched, Ruby was barely able to get them out. Ruby’s eyes shut tightly. Her whole body closed in on itself as it tensed and relaxed as waves of pleasure flooded every inch of her expanded body. This was a whole new experience. Ruby had never had an orgasm like this before, it blew every other one out of the water. It reduced Ruby to a panting mess, her lungs taking in deep and fast breaths, needing the air desperately and making her bosom heave dramatically as she sucked air. A thin sheen of sweat formed on her skin as Ruby’s exertion made itself clear. Ruby never thought something like this would take so much energy, but, then again, she had never put so much energy towards doing something like this. But gods, was she rewarded for her efforts, as she sat and bathed in the orgasmic afterglow, savouring every moment as it permeated her entire body, even setting off aftershocks of smaller orgasms, even after her hands stopped trying to pleasure her and went to holding the bathtub to keep Ruby upright. As Ruby’s amazing orgasms finally came to an end and Ruby caught her breath, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, wow, is this how it’s meant to feel?” she asked the empty bathroom. Then, as she opened her eyes and her vision focused, she spotted something imbedded in the floor tiles, right next to her foot. “Huh, what’s this thingy?” Ruby said as she reached down to pluck it out, which was harder than Ruby expected. As she brought it up, close to her eyes so she could get a good look at it, she thought it looked strangely familiar. A few seconds of examining more, and Ruby knew where she knew this from. It was a rose petal, similar to the ones Ruby put out when she used her semblance for super speed, except this one was a more vibrant red than the ones Ruby usually put out, as well as being flattened out and as hard as a diamond. Ruby carefully ran her thumb over the edge, and found that it was almost razor sharp, making Ruby glad that she was careful. As Ruby stood up, her focus shifting to the rest of the room, she froze. Her hand fell open and the razor rose petal dropped to the floor with a quiet clatter. Ruby’s eyes scanned the walls, confirming what her first glance had seen. That rose petal she found wasn’t the only one that she had apparently created. There were dozens, peppered across the bathroom walls, the mirror, even the bathtub, shower and toilet. Ruby’s hands went to her head as she began to panic.

“Holy cats! How am I supposed to explain this? I gotta start cleaning this up,” Ruby said so fast that only she would be able to properly understand it. Still, the volume got some sort of attention, as there was a knock on the door that made Ruby yelp.

“Ruby?! Are you okay in there!?” Yang asked through the door.

“I’m fine!” Ruby lied, her voice cracking with utter terror. She wasn’t ready for this, not at all.

“Are you sure? You’ve been in there for a while,” Yang continued.

“I’m fine, everything’s fine, I’ll be out in a sec!” Ruby said quickly as she used her semblance to quickly get dressed. At least, that was the plan. The top went fine, even if her breasts were crammed into it like sardines in a can and it was more of a crop top than a tank top now. As for her pants and panties, they only managed to get halfway up Ruby’s giant thighs. Ruby could only imagine how badly the rest of her clothes would fit if this was a struggle. With no other options, Ruby decided that a towel would do, and wrapped one around herself, before shuffling towards the door looking like an overstuffed burrito. As she opened the door, she saw her sunny sister looking at her.

“Jeez, that was…” Yang started, before getting a better look at Ruby. “Uh, Ruby, are you hiding stuff inside your towel? And how are you so tall all of a sudden?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Ruby said loudly, hoping that blatant lies would get her out of this.

“I’m talking about this,” Yang said, before poking Ruby’s hip, and recoiling with surprise as she hit something that didn’t seem like fake padding. “Ruby, what’s this? And please be honest with me. I can hide it from everyone else until you’re comfortable showing them.” Ruby visibly deflated.

“I-I-I don’t know, I woke up, went into the bathroom, and then all this happened,” Ruby said quietly.

“Does that include this?” Yang asked as she plucked another razor rose petal from the door. Ruby nodded, her eyes glued to the ground.

“I’m sorry for turning into a weirdo,” Ruby said, at a barely audible volume. Yang put her hands on Ruby’s shoulders and had a soft, sweet look in her eyes as she tried to get Ruby to look at her.

“Hey, Ruby, just relax. You’re not weird, and you don’t have anything to apologise for. I know you wouldn’t fire a ton of petals into the walls on purpose, and there’s no need for you to apologise for having a growth spurt.” Yang used a hand to lift Ruby’s chin up. “Now, look, how about I take some measurements and go out to get you some bigger clothes, while you clean up your petals? I’ll make up something for Weiss and Blake so you don’t have to worry about them. Sound good?” Yang asked. Ruby looked up from the floor at her sister, a soft smile on her lips.

“I’d hug you, but I kinda need to keep this towel up,” Ruby said awkwardly.

“Say no more, sis,” Yang said, before wrapping Ruby in a nice, tight hug.

---

This was all starting to feel very familiar for Ruby as yet another sparring round ended with her sister Yang flat on her back and Ruby standing victorious.

“Ok, this is awesome,” Ruby cheered as she showed off with a quick set of machinegun kicks to the side while Yang hopped up from the ground. The kicks were enough to make Ruby’s large and firm thighs slightly jiggle

“Yeah, guess you were right. That extra height and strength is doing wonders for you,” Yang admitted.

“Yeah, it’s like that one show where this one guy got rid of some weights that were slowing him down and then became a super-fast badass because he did heaps of training, except it’s sorta the other way around for me, I think,” Ruby babbled excitedly. “Oh, also, thanks for these cool new shorts and tights,” Ruby added, doing a happy twirl to show off the bright red compression shorts that just barely covered her ‘cool new booty’, as she called it, and the dark tights that were stretched tightly across her mighty and meaty thighs, so tight, in fact, that there were a small handful of tears from how much thigh they had to contain.

“Hey, no worries Sis. Shorts are definitely what you wanna be wearing if you’re gonna be an ass kicker like me. Of course, I guess your ass kicking’s a little more literal than me,” Yang said.

“Plus, they’re comfy and easy to wear. Just not super sure about all the attention I’m getting now,” Ruby added. Yang went over to put a reassuring hand on Ruby’s shoulder, quickly correcting as she looked up at Ruby rather than down like she was used to.

“Don’t worry, you get used to it. Still, if anyone gets creepy, show ‘em who’s boss. Works like a charm for me,” Yang suggested.

“Heh, yeah. Even if I’m stealing some of the attention you had,” Ruby teased. Yang put on a fake shocked face.

“Oh no, now what will I do now that pervy dudes aren’t staring at me as much?” Yang said in a deadpan voice, before the pair burst into laughter. It might take some getting used to, but Ruby’s new body wasn’t so bad after all.

#BE!RWBY #breast expansion #butt expansion #height growth

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bravewolfvesperia · 4 months

Note

Out of the blue, Yuri’s GHS would sound for an incoming message from a number he wouldn’t know. But the first of three messages made it incredibly obvious who sent them:

[18:56] Hi Yuri, it’s Ludger! Sorry if this spooks you– I MIGHT have begged the Tech Department for the number linked to your account. |･ω･) But don’t worry, this is a one-time exception! [18:57] The reason I did this is PLEASE come to Film Noir ASAP! I’ll pay 10x whatever job you’re doing if I have to! It’s REALLY important! [18:59] Hope to see you there! (ﾟ∀ﾟ人)

And thus, Ludger waited at the bar for however long it took Yuri to show up. Be it minutes or hours, he wasn’t moving until his drinking buddy showed himself. But when he did, opening the door to the bar would set off a confetti cannon aimed left enough of the door so it wouldn’t hit him, but the confetti would shower on top of him.

“Yuri, I’m glad you’re here! Sit down– you’ll wanna be sitting for each phase of my surprise!”

Though Ludger asks, he’s got Yuri by the arm and drags him to sit down at the nearest stool. When they both settled in, the tender poured them a glass of Drellin 47 Year Old Single Malt Whiskey, price range… out of most folks’ league. But that’s not all– Ludger’s reaching into his suit for a hand-sized black velvet box with white patches like a night sky.

Popping it open, there’s a pin– no several fine cut amethyst pins, trimmed with pure sterling silver, shaped into the Vesperia star. Many nights Ludger prayed his Ardent Vesperias and Brave Vesperia shared the same namesake… But if not, still looks neat dare he say so himself!

“I thought since your guild might become as powerful as Spirius one day, you guys ought to have a signifier to say, ‘Hey world, WE’RE Brave Vesperia!’. And since they’re pins, they won’t get in the way of your work– unless you prick your finger pinning it or something.”

“Consider this whole thing my thank you for spending so much time with me as Ludger, not President Kresnik. I hope I’ll see you again soon without me having to strong arm you here!”

@ofstarsandskies

At first he was confused; then, he felt bad. Whether today or not, one day Ludger would probably pick up on his anxiety. Worse, he felt bad about feeling bad in a situation like this. He did his best, still being responsive and attentive, but he knew getting this out of the back of his mind would be next to impossible. One day he would have to tell Ludger, right? Well, either way, it was better it came from Yuri than Victor...

Tonight though...? He wasn't sure he could pull it off. Ludger was so happy right now. When Ludger handed him the pin, he knew he was supposed to be happy too, but it was a mix of that happiness of sorts and feeling sick. Actually, truly sick to his stomach. He'd always been good at acting casual and masking his emotions, and right now was no different... but he would have to say something soon. For Ludger's sake of course, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it in.

After the very beginning, he wasn't even really sure he could say any of it was a lie. How it all started was deceptive and Yuri wasn't against it if his target was some nasty killer. He'd known and seen plenty of monstrous people with wealth and power. Those sorts of people, yeah, absolutely, he would do this to if he it needed to be done. The problem was that he'd never run into someone with wealth and power who wasn't like that. Whose circumstances were probably too complicated for Yuri to understand.

Not everything at this point had been deceptive, but did that matter if it was how it all started? At the end of the day it probably didn't even matter how Yuri felt about it though. It was Ludger who would probably feel betrayed and lied to. In part, this feeling was because things had gone okay. Because Ludger was someone he'd gotten along with. Because he did start to look at Ludger as just Ludger and not a CEO. At some point it had become real enough, and Yuri didn't know exactly when, but that had been the moment he'd failed this job.

Still, for now Yuri accepted the pin. If, later, Ludger couldn't forgive him, he could always just give it back. Maybe the CEO of Spirius with all his might and power would hate Brave Vesperia after this, even though Yuri was the only one involved. Maybe Yuri would have completely ruined their reputation instead. He never thought his guild would get as big as Spirius, nor did he ever intend for it to, but maybe Ludger hoped it would. Maybe he just hoped it would be that big because he was... friends with someone in that guild.

By now it could have been either the drinks or his conflicting emotions, but he could feel his heart starting to pound a bit. He wished he could redo this whole thing. Have been more true of a person to this man, and for this time to actually be more happy. Maybe it was a mistake like this that always had Flynn warning him about taking dangerous jobs like this. At least he hadn't gone through with it so that mistake wasn't made, but there was still the mistake and guilt of potentially hurting someone's feelings and destroying what could've been a real friendship.

He probably didn't deserve to appreciate the gesture, much less the pin... but if he could still fix this someday, it was worth accepting it. For now he gave what smile he could, in the hopes that one day he could be worth all this. That one day this would be more real. When he wasn't... holding back and giving half truths. The longer it went on the worse it would get, but... tonight, he couldn't he do it. He couldn't ruin the man's night or watch his face fall in disappointment.

The truth was, Yuri was scared - not for himself, but for how upset Ludger might be that this had all started because of that job.

"Ludger, I... um... thanks. I don't think someone like me is worth all that, but... I appreciate it. The pin, your thoughts... I hope I can live up to that one day."

Maybe he didn't deserve to be forgiven, but he couldn't help that he hoped he would be.

#ofstarsandskies #{ ic asks }#{ verse: xillia 2 }#/ me on hiatus: - Yuri: we're going to reply to this actually #i think. i think ya broke him ludger. /

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starlingsrps · 4 months

Text

tolls both ways.

it’s been one of the long, bad, bloody days and the sky is starting to shift colors when wes finally emerges from the infirmary. he’s been awake since before dawn, on his feet since the first planes started returning. his back is killing him and his hands are cramping from procedures and signing orders and death certificates. the copper tang of blood is lingering in his nose but when he gets a deep breath of clean air, it smells like a perfect, warm early summer night.

he knows this well from residency - buzzy brain, dead limbs. he feels like he could sleep for a week but knows that’s bullshit. he’s better off going through the motions - a walk, a shower, a snort of the good bourbon from under his bed where the rest of the vultures he calls friends and colleagues can’t get it, maybe a little socializing - before crashing.

the walk first, he decides, setting off towards the main road. he usually walks down that a ways before cutting through fields and back to the gate. he doesn’t have near the rapport with the farmers jack warren does - his farm credentials are solid gold while wes spent his growing up years hiding inside at a soybean farm that was middling to fair at best. he doesn’t think they grow soybeans in england and even if they did, he wouldn’t know the first thing about starting a conversation about them. all the same, the farmers around base seem fairly reasonable. after a few weeks, he hasn’t been chased off with a pitchfork just yet.

there’s a kid on a bicycle weaving around the road ahead of him. wes thinks he recognizes him a bit. there are always kids hanging around base, either at the exchange or with the ground crew and pilots. never with the medics, which wes appreciates. there’s not much about his job that’s especially child friendly and even if there was, he’s never been great with them. his nieces and nephews back home all came along when he was a kid himself or after he’d left home.

still, most of them have scattered by this time of night and on days like this, he knows the crews typically try to keep them away from the carnage.

“kid, don’t you have parents?” he calls and then immediately regrets it, remembering an article he’d read about blitz orphans being sent to live in the countryside.

the kid slows down and turns his head to look at him like he might be stupid. “of course i do. my nan’s at home.”

“better get home for supper then.”

“do you mean tea? you talk funny.”

“thanks. you talk funnier.”

“no, i don’t.” he pauses. “where are you from?”

wes suddenly realizes that he may be escorting this random kid home or at least they’re heading in the same direction. “the moon.”

he laughs and it’s just maniacal enough to make wes crack a smile. “you can’t be from the moon!”

“you know where tennessee is?”

he gives him another look over his shoulder, this one definitely saying that he thinks he’s stupid. “i know where tennessee is. my mum is american.”

something clicks in wes’ memory, something about a woman on one of the surrounding farms that’s both a widow and american. hatcher had definitely been the one to mention it but then again, hatcher has a catalog of every possible available woman in east anglia between the ages off twenty and forty where a moral compass should be. if he is escorting this kid home, he guesses it’s better him than hatch.

“so where’s tennessee then?” he asks. they’re on the main stretch of road now, wes following the kid as he keeps weaving back and forth.

“over kentucky.”

wes clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “under, kid. they’ll never let you in now.”

“yeah, they will.”

“no way,” wes says. “i’m best friends with the tennessee gatekeeper and i’m telling him.”

another maniacal burst of laughter, this one making wes laugh. not because it’s particularly funny but because it feels nice to be a little silly for once. “you don’t even know my name.”

“sure i do. alberto frankenstein, right?”

they’re coming up on a short lane with a house close to the road and the kid cuts his bike, scattering gravel. he turns to face him and wes sees a pointed little face with a stubborn chin. “my name’s noah.”

“wes,” he says, feeling like he should offer a hand to shake but keeping them in his jacket pockets.

“you’re not a pilot.”

“no, i’m a doctor.”

“right.” he cocks his head again, nods towards wes. “got blood on you.”

he looks and yeah, there’s a smear of blood on his collar that he’d missed. he’s not sure who it belongs to. it’s been one of those days. “it’s not mine.”

“it was bad today,” noah says, matter of factly.

wes doesn’t know what to say to that. it’s the truth and clearly he spends enough time around the base to know. the kids were probably all sent home as soon as the planes started landing but they tend to hang around anyways. noah’s probably not old enough to remember life without war and damn if that doesn’t just about slam into his chest. “be better next time.” they both turn at the sound of a young woman’s voice calling noah’s name down the lane. “sounds like that’s you.”

“that’s my mum,” he says. “do you want to come for tea?”

wes thinks of the shower and bourbon in his future. “maybe some other time.”

#type: writing #c: wes walker #verse: at the end of the world

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pixeldistractions · 4 months

Text

A cool breeze cut across the bed from window to window, brushing over their bare skin, ruffling the sheets that hung as curtains. Outside, the day perished and darkness fell. She lay silently on his chest, maybe not asleep, but maybe not awake, either. But he wasn’t tired. There was too much to think about.

He needed to escape and to stay at the same time. He never thought it was possible, but what if those two things could coexist? He needed this—to roam the wide world with this woman at his side. What if he could have both? He didn’t know if it was the best answer, or a terrible one, or just the only answer he had.

But he had nothing to offer her. He had literally nothing. It would be insane. What would he say to her? I’m a known failure with half a job and no prospects. How about quit your job, leave your family, uproot your poor innocent daughter and your whole life, and come follow me around in my broken camper?

He couldn’t ask her that. How could he?

She shivered in the breeze and nestled closer to his body. He went to pull the blanket over them, but she woke.

“So, um, now I’m hungry for food,” she said. “Is it too late? Is everything closed?”

It was nine o’clock. Not too late for a college town on a Saturday night.

“I know of a place,” he said. He could afford to take her out to dinner. Here, he could. The local Tex-Mex place catered to broke college students. He was really in his element in this town.

But she wanted to freshen up first. “Does the shower work? Is it warm?”

“It works. Warm? Um, it might take a minute to get warm. But it’ll get there.”

So he turned on the propane, started the water heater roaring, got the water flowing. But he hadn’t considered the lights. They were using lanterns and candles, so he didn’t notice when the power, which was hit or miss, ultimately became a miss.

“Uh, that’s okay,” she said, “Maybe do you have, like, a flashlight?”

They were in a camper. Of course he had flashlights. He grabbed the closest spare camping lantern, which was right outside the door, and he brushed off the spiders before she could freak out and call it quits on the spot. He knew how much she hated bugs. And well, “good luck,” he said, because “have a great shower” would have been silly. There was no way this shower was going to be great.

At least he had freshly laundered towels for her after this disappointing shower.

How could this ever work? He didn’t mind these inconveniences himself, but women and children needed different things. They needed lights in the bathroom, and warm water, and a fridge that worked all of the time and not just sometimes. Maria was gentle and caring, forgiving and patient, but make no mistake, she was a princess sometimes. She didn’t belong here in this broken camper. If she had any sense, she would run as far away as she could before they dug themselves in deeper.

But he didn’t want her to run. Please don’t run. He wanted her to be with him, beside him, everywhere he went. And that was selfish, maybe. It was foolish. They only became a couple two months ago, and they’d been long distance for most of that time. They were in such limbo here. It was too soon and far too much to ask, and yet, it was the only answer. They couldn’t do another month of long distance, over and over again. She deserved so much better than all of this.

He should have fixed the electric panel and solar power converter by now. He was embarrassed for himself that he invited her here, but she was being so polite about it. Colette would have laughed him straight off of the planet. Ha, you fool, you loser, you joke! What were you even thinking? Looks like you got someone to fuck you, but why would she ever want to keep you?

It was a stupid idea.

Maria finished her shower and came out dressed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It wasn’t that bad. It got warm enough by the end.”

She wore a casual ankle-length dress and a denim jacket. He loved her in red. “You look beautiful,” he said. “I’m just gonna wear this again if you don’t mind. I only have one nice shirt.”

“Of course you should wear it again. You only had it on for an hour before I took it off you.”

She studied his eyes, and what was she trying to find in there? Did she really want to know him that deeply? He was afraid of what she would find. More trouble than he was worth? Not everything she hoped for? Sorry, so sorry, she didn’t mean to sign up for all this?

It’s okay. You can change your mind if you want to. I wouldn’t blame you.

He didn’t know if she came to any conclusions, but she tipped up and kissed his cheek. She left her lips there on his skin for so long, her gentle love seeped into his pores, into is blood, and flowed through his veins, knowing just how far to go, just which turns to take, just what dose of medicine to deliver to his fickle heart. She knew all the paths of his heart because she already lived there.

Then she said, “Let’s go get some food.”

— from “boxes and squares #4.4: now know the answer” (4/5)

footnotes: Maria vs the bugs // why would she want to keep you?

Gameplay notes: so his lot is supposed to be off-grid, but for some unknown reason sometimes the power just works. And then sometimes it doesn’t. A glitch, I guess, but it really is hit or miss and that bathroom really was very dark, lol!

Next ->

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #sims story #sim stories #jordan #maria

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shiftysarah · 5 months

Text

April 25, 2024:

We had an argument that broached the topic of me not getting enough sleep, and how badly he treats everyone in the middle of the night. I reminded him that he is not the only one who is affected by not getting enough sleep, and that just because I’m not lashing out at anyone does not mean I’m not suffering. He was so pushy, that I ended up bawling and reminding him that he PROMISED to stop talking so badly about the kids and that it had been an ultimatum, and he still didn’t stop. In saying this, I was not trying to say “I’m going to hold you to this ultimatum.” I only said it because he would stop pushing me to say what I was upset about. But after I said it, he started talking about a possible divorce. He kept asking if that was what I wanted. It IS what I want, but I’m not ready yet and I’m scared. So I kept trying to avoid answering that question, or saying “I’m still trying”

That night he made sure to put the kids to bed so that I could get enough sleep. I still got up with them in the night, but it was fine because I had gone to bed early and had plenty of sleep.

April 26, 2024:

I got up with the kids in the morning, got them ready for school, and took them to school. By the time I got home, he was still in bed so I went to wake him up so that he could try to shower and start his work day. He was very cold and passive aggressive and didn’t want to speak to me at all. I tried to give him some space, but a friend of mine asked me to come over for a bit, so I had to speak to him to let him know that I was going somewhere. He eventually got up and showered, and we were even both in the office working for about 1 hour before I left. The whole time I kept trying to to talk and be normal, but he was giving me the cold shoulder. I did go to my friends house for a bit. As soon as I left he texted me and told me that he had gone back to bed because he was too depressed to work. When it was time, I went and picked up both kids from school and brought them home. Here was another chance for us to talk. He told me he was upset that I would “just leave” to go to a friends house. (This friend has been trying to get me to come over for weeks and he knows this. It had nothing to do with him. Which he KNOWS) He said he was hurt because we had just had a fight the day before and we obviously needed to talk. But I had TRIED talking to him and he wouldn’t speak to me.

Again he kept bringing up divorce. I was trying to not say anything that would indicate that I want that. But THEN he kind of hit me up it’s his own ultimatum, saying that I need to decide because either I get a job, and get out, or we stay together and file for bankruptcy. And he even said “if we file for bankruptcy, and you want to leave, that would really screw you over”

I was honestly so confused trying to decipher if this was a threat or not. Of course I don’t want to be involved in his bankruptcy! My car is paid off and in my name. This made me feel nervous like I’m going to have to get out sooner than I wanted.

Later that night we talking again and he apologized a lot and made promises about changing his behavior and going back on his medication. (We’ll see)

April 27, 2024:

Today we are just acting normal for the most part. It’s a little awkward, but he’s not drilling me with questions, so that’s good. I know I probably can’t wait until December like I had originally hoped, but I would love to wait until after Girl’s birthday party, and after I get an new job?

#marriage problems #divorce #emotional abuse

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emberlynnrayne · 1 year

Text

Weddings, Family, and Bullshit

What is it about weddings that make people so crazy? My sister’s wedding was this past weekend, August 8th, and good god, it couldn’t be over soon enough. There are so many threads of B.S. that tie into the knot of that day, I don’t know where to start. Oh! How about that it only happened because I got engaged? No, really. She had been saying for ages before it that they were “married in the eyes of God, and anything more is a paper of man” (Obviously my sister is more than religious enough to make up for my lack of it.) She said they were going to save up for a nice wedding and they were in no rush. She said these things over and over, as recently as days before my engagement was announced. Not only that, my sister has always been very “I’m the oldest, I should be first!” To an incredibly irritating and delusional degree. So just a week after I was engaged, she announced her plan to have her wedding. God. Dammit. Because of this, our weddings were made to be a competition. With little over a year and a half for me to plan mine, and barely 6 months for hers, the family decided that her wedding was going to be a wreck and mine would be gorgeous. No pressure, right? But she just kept screwing herself over! She bought a 4 foot metal swimming pool, and literally HOURS later posted to facebook complaining about trying to afford her wedding. I wanted to be happy for my sister, but for a thousand reasons, I just couldn’t. She kept shooting herself in the foot only to butch and moan like it was someone else’s fault, the family kept comparing all our decisions, and she was such a smug, childish cunt I just wanted it to be over. Some maid of honor I am, huh? But I was only her maid of honor because she moved to a nasty little chicken farm town in GA, alienated her friends, and made a number of bad decisions that keep her broke and housebound. She had no one else and it was her own fault. Oh, and she was planning to milk me for every penny she could. Unfortunately for her, my stable job and working fiance pay our bills, and we do put our bills and responsibilities first, so there really wasn’t anything left for her. You know her church offered her a choice between a wedding shower and free catering for her wedding? Guess which she chose. Then she tried getting our father to do all the cooking and serving. I sound like a terrible person and sister, but I’m still mad. I held all this in, kept a smile on my face, and stayed supportive for her. I did everything I could do for her because in spite of all the crap, I love her and this was her big day. With her date literally 2 month in the year before my chosen date, October 8th, which I had announced before her, as well. All that aside, I sucked it up, put a smile on my face, made the trip to the most disgusting town in GA, and did my best to make sure she had a great day. And it turned out alright. I wouldn’t have chosen blue and orange for my colors, but Rosanna and I have always been incredible opposites.

Family. Oh, tumblr, will you ever hear the end of my family troubles? DRAFT END

Here’s my thoughts, several years later. Rosanna is stuck in a holier than thou, victim mentality. I was so angry when I wrote the above post, because I was tired of the competition. It didnt stop after this, either. Years later, long after I went no contact with her, she scheduled her baby shower to be on my daughters birthday. She knew from family that that day was my daughters birthday, but she didnt care. Rosanna was the favorite. The golden child that got what she wanted. We were raised in constant competition with each other. She was the normal child that my parents could understand and support. I was the troubled child that liked weird things and they didnt understand. Thats a whole thing to write another day.

Ive been no contact with my sister for years, and I dont regret it. She’s not a good person, she doesnt make healthy, responsible decisions, and she uses her christian god as a weapon and validation for her toxicity. “You dont need antidepressants, you need god.” was probably the final straw for me. Shes homophobic, ignorant, and so very self absorbed. She doesnt care that she hurts people. Im past being sad about the disconnect. I dont know what else to write, so Im going to end this here.

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heich0e · 3 years

Text

bad day bokuto koutarou/reader (haikyuu!!) word count: 2.2k tags: fluff, i just wanna hug this beefy man one (1) time, sakuatsu mention if u squint (and project)

“Sakusa-san, where do you think today’s game went wrong?”

A few people in the conference shifted uncomfortably in their seats at the tension-fraught question, though the players lining the long table at the front of the room, poised behind microphones waiting to catch their every breath and uttered syllable, were noticeably still.

The outside hitter leaned forward towards the microphone in front of him, careful to be heard even with the medical-grade mask between him and the audio recording device.

“Our opponents out-played us. We tried our best, and our team was strong, but the team on the other side of the net played a better game. All we can do is use this loss as a lesson to better prepare for our next match.”

Upon hearing his response, a few members of the press gathered scribbled notes down on the pads of paper cradled in their palms, while others who preferred digital note taking methods typed fervidly into the smartphones in their grips.

You did neither of those things, your eyes still glued to one figure at the far end of the table, broad shoulders hunched as his gold eyes were fixed to his hands, clasped tightly in front of him upon the conference table.

Bokuto’s hair was lightly damp, hanging limp in his grim face. There hadn’t been enough time for the players to shower between the end of their losing game and the ensuing press conference, so you suspected he either dumped a bottle of water over his head or dunked his head under the tap in the locker room before changing into his black and gold tracksuit along with the rest of the team and filing out to be painstakingly questioned about how and why the match had gone wrong.

He hadn’t looked up once since the start of the question and answer panel.

A few more members of the press stepped up to ask questions to various players, though most were directed to Meian-san, the captain of the defeated Black Jackals — as their leader, their loss fell mostly on him to bear. He handled it with the same grace you’d expect of a man of his calibre, navigating difficult (and often unsubtly pointed) questions with practiced care and unfeigned solemnity. Regardless of Meian’s skill as an orator, you found yourself hardly listening as he rattled off his responses to the various questions that came his way — your attention still on the solemn man at the end of the table.

“- and considering Bokuto-san’s game in particular seemed to be off tonight, is it fair to say that the team is facing issues with their coordination as a group?”

Your attention was finally caught as the player who your focus had been fixed to was mentioned for the first time by name.

You watched Bokuto’s slumped shoulders stiffen, his hands tightening as they gripped each other to the point you could see his knuckles go white.

“I think that everyone finds themselves falling out of sync with their teammates occasionally, and Bokuto-san is no more an exception to that rule than I or any other player on the court. There are good days and there are bad days. As his team, it’s our job to account for that, and do our best to compensate for it until we can find our rhythm as a cohesive unit again. While there were moments in the match where we fell short of that, I’m proud of the way we operated as a team in this match as much as any,” Meian replied, his tone coming across a little more curt than it had at any other point in the press conference as one of his players was directly slighted.

“But don’t you think that-“

The moderator stepped up to the mic, cutting off the reporter who attempted to follow up.

“We have time for one more question.”

You rose to your feet from your uncomfortable plastic chair, ignoring the way your legs had gone slightly numb from sitting for so long and your feet were aching from the heels you’d worn to the game that evening, and your hand shot up before you knew what you were doing.

The moderator’s eye caught yours, and the earnest look on your face seemed to sway the man, who looked weary after a long, particularly miserable conference. He nodded slightly in your direction, giving you the floor.

You dipped your head in thanks first to the moderator, and then in a brief bow of acknowledgement to the team whose eyes had turned to you.

You looked up, meeting Meian’s eyes. He looked exhausted, just like the rest of the team flanking him on either side. The setter, Miya-san. was brooding at his left hand, with Sakusa as stoic as ever on the other side of the blonde. Thomas was on the brink of nodding off at the end of the left side of the table, with Barnes only thinly holding back the urge to shake him awake between him and Sakusa. Even Hinata — the ray of sunshine he normally was — looked completely burnt out after the defeat they’d suffered on the court not long prior, a few seats to Meian's right.

“Thank you for you time this evening, gentlemen,” you started off, clearing your throat a little. Your eyes flickered down to Bokuto on the very far right, but he seemed (if anything) to be staring even harder at his hands, though they were now separate and balled into tightly-clenched fists in front of him atop the table. “I won’t take up much more of your time.”

You watched the corner of Meian’s lip very nearly curl up into a smile as he nodded at you in recognition, a little bit of relief on his face that you were the one to round out the draining press conference.

“Meian-san, you mentioned that your responsibility as a team is to account for the moments where one member of your unit is falling short. That there are good and bad days for every athlete, and that things won’t always run smoothly.” You said, and the captain nodded in agreement as you summarized the earlier point he had made, though his eyes betrayed his confusion as to where you were going with your point.

“Bokuto-san,” you said, turning to the far end of the table and the player who had been steadfast in refusing to meet your gaze for the entire length of the press conference. “Did you have a bad day?”

The room went very still as your question hung in the air.

Atsumu giggled a little, and Sakusa elbowed him in a way that was meant to be discrete but the resounding oof! spoken directly into his mic as the blonde setter doubled forward gave them both away.

A pair of gold eyes flickered up to you.

Finally.

He cleared his throat a little, leaning towards his microphone.

“I… did.” His answer was simple, though reticent. His lips were pulled into a little pout as he regarded you.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you replied patiently, your arms crossed over your chest. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your hardest on the court, right?”

Bokuto’s brow furrowed. “Of course not, just because I didn’t play well doesn’t mean I wasn’t trying. I respect my team too much for that. I practice too much for that.”

You quirked a brow, urging him to continue.

“We all devote so much time to this game — to perfecting our plays and making sure we’re in the best form we can be when we take the court. We’ve dedicated our lives to this game,” Bokuto kept going, gaining momentum with every word, his voice taking on more zeal with every passing beat. “We train all the time and we follow strict diets and exercise routines even when we’re not training; we travel long distances for games, sometimes for weeks or months, and we lose time with the people that we love — all for the sake of the sport. To step onto the court and give anything less than a hundred percent wouldn’t just hurt me and my teammates, it would be hurting the people I care about too. That’s why losses like this one are so rough.” He cleared his throat, something sad flashing behind his eyes. “To think that you may have let someone down: your team, your fans, or someone you care about,” his sad gaze was fixed on you, “that feels bad.”

“But like you said, you would never step out on the court with the intention of doing less than your best,” you said, and he nodded slightly. “So how could anyone possibly fault you for that?”

Bokuto’s gaze softened at your words, the tension in his shoulders finally easing slightly.

The moderator cleared his throat, and for the first time you remembered that it was not just you and Bokuto in the room.

“That’s all the time we have for this evening…”

You sighed some time later, brushing a piece of hair back from your face as you typed one last note into your phone, sending the email with your recap of the press conference to your press team’s email thread for them to finesse into a short blog post that would be online likely before you even made it home for the night.

With one final swoosh sound from your phone after sending a quick email to your editor, you locked the phone in your grip and let the screen go black. The device was hot in your palm — likely thanks to overuse since it had recorded the audio of the press conference and then handled all the correspondence that had followed it. The intern from your news station who had accompanied you to the game and to the press conference to live-tweet both events on the corporate twitter had long gone home, and the rest of the press had left as well, leaving you alone in the large conference room.

At least you thought you were alone.

You turned towards the door when a little shuffling noise caught your attention.

Bokuto was leaning against the doorway, still in his team tracksuit but with a fluffy black parka pulled on overtop. He had his MSBY duffle bag on one shoulder, and his hair was properly wet now from the shower he must have just finished taking. He looked utterly exhausted, but less morose than he had the last time you saw him.

“Hi,” you said softly, scrambling up to your feet.

He nodded a little in greeting.

He let his duffle hit the floor with a dull thud, his arms lifting slightly.

It was all the invitation you needed.

In a moment you had crossed the room, ache in your feet be damned, and you were crushing yourself against Bokuto’s welcoming frame as he curled himself around you.

You let him hold you for as long as he needed, his face pressed into the top of your hair as you slipped your arms into the warmth of his coat, running your hands along the tense planes of his back.

“I’m sorry you guys lost,” you whispered quietly into the material of his track jacket, pulling your face back slightly so you could peer up at him.

“I messed up,” he said, his voice glum.

“You did your best, Kou. Everyone knows that.” Your grip around his midsection tightened slightly, pulling yourself even closer to his warmth. “I know it, your team knows it, you know it."

“Still feels bad,” he murmured sadly, and your heart panged in the depths of your chest.

You forced yourself up on your tiptoes, ignoring the ache in your heels, craning your neck up towards him. Even stretched up like that you were still too short to reach him, relying on him to close the gap between your pursed lips and his. He didn’t hesitate to do so, pressing his mouth to yours.

His large hands cupped your face in his palms, his lips parting needily against your own as he ran his tongue against your bottom lip. You obliged his request, letting your lips open so he could press his way inside, chasing the taste of you like it was the only thing that could make him feel better.

Because it was.

When you finally separated from him, both of you were breathing heavily.

“Let’s get you home,” you said, unwinding your arms from around his waist and taking his hand in your own.

“Can we take a bath when we get home?” he asked meekly, dipping down to retrieve his hastily discarded duffle bag with the hand that was not laced with yours.

“Of course we can. I got new sheet masks today too,” you said with a nod, squeezing his fingers a little tighter in reassurance.

Bokuto’s eyes lit up.

“Are they-“

“The ones that look like pandas? Yeah, I got 'em just for you,” you said with a knowing smile and a breathy laugh.

And as the two of you exited the stadium hand in hand, listening to Bokuto babble about which scented candle from the stockpile you kept at your shared apartment he wanted to light that evening while the two of you were in the bath (he was torn between eucalyptus mint versus citrus and sage), you felt just as grateful to be the person that got to help him through the bad times as you were to stand at his side in his triumphs.

Bokuto may have had a bad day, but you’d spent the past three years together figuring out exactly how to make a bad day better.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto drabble #bokuto x you #haikyuu fluff #bokuto fluff #writing #idk what this is #let me live #hq drabble #hq writing

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anime-rambles · 3 years

Text

"OMEGA STOP PART 1"

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, Angst, blood, SFW

Word Count: 2900+

A/N: Seeing how everyone is loving “Welcome Home Omega” I decided to do another omegaverse fic this time with lots of angst. Thank you so much for all the kind words, reblogs, likes and follows. Was thinking of making a Part 2 for this? What do you think?

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her alpha’s after being away in Europe, thinking she would be able to re-join her alphas and be happy. Only to discover they move on without her.

Link to Part 2 = https://anime-rambles.tumblr.com/post/657712192264814592/omega-stop-part-2

************************************************************************

I collect my suitcase from baggage claim and make my way towards the arrivals gate. It has been an incredibly long 8 years since I’ve been back home in Japan. After graduating UA with all my friends, I decided I needed a new path, something exciting that didn’t include my alphas. Being away from my family and friends has been one of the most difficult things to go through and more importantly being away from my alphas. It was nice to be needed and not just because of my second gender.

After graduating UA, I joined Fatgum’s agency and from there I met Jackie one of fat’s previous partners on the drug squad. She needed a bright new hero that wanted to work outside of Japan and head off a special unit in charge of investigating quirk enhancing drugs. At first everyone was onboard and excited fir me but as time went on, it was becoming increasing hard to keep in contact with my busy alphas. So, one Christmas, two years into the job we all agreed to stop dating and put our relationship on hold, until I was finished with the special unit or until one of the alphas said enough, come home. I agreed happily, never thinking I would get the come home call, but here I am. I left Europe and returned home.

The doors of arrivals opened in front of me, I look around the barrier hoping to see either of my boys, Bakugou or Kirishima, but neither blonde nor red head could be seen. I walk the corner a small bit, thinking they might be hiding but nothing. I spot movement in the distant, a blur of pink rushing to my arms, knocking me off balance.

“YYYY/NNNN, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR HOME” Mina sobs into my ear. “Mina” I say back hugging her tightly. Out of everyone in UA Mina stayed in constant contact with my updating me on the group’s latest gossip and everyone hero’s ranking. “Come on, lets get you home” She speaks again, taking one of my bags and my hand in hers. I smile to her and gladly accept her hand. Mina is an omega like me, after UA her and Sero got together and currently have a beautiful house and a serval fluffy cats. Once we reach the car and start our journey. Mina tells me of everyone, what they are doing and what is planned for my coming home party tonight.

“Wait, slow down, where are you taking me first” I say, laughing at her excitement. With her hands on the car wheel. She says “Bakugou and Kirishima’s” I pause for a second. They must just be living together and not actually still together without, right? They wouldn’t betray me, would they? These thoughts are fully my head, maybe coming home wasn’t a good idea. I should have ignored the “come home” agreement. What if they just want to use me to have their kid and toss me aside.

“Y/N, please say something, you made me promise not to talk about the boys when were away and right now you’re kinda scaring me.” She presses.

“I’m… just thinking. So out with it tell me what has been going on, why are they living together.” I asked shifting in my seat to look at her and she drives down the straight road.

“Okay, so it started whe….”

Mina basically said what I thought she might after I left fully and didn’t come back like we agreed. Kirishima and Bakugou stopped for a while, they didn’t live together, socialise or anything but after Kirhisma was badly injured in a battle, they moved back in with each other and kept their relationship quiet, it’s been 6 years, that they been together while I have been alone.

“So that’s basically all of it y/n, I’m sorr…”

I cut her off, “Mina this is not for you to apologise for, you kept your promise to me and now I must face the music as they say in Europe.” We had arrived outside their house ages ago, but we ended up talking. I step out of the car and move to grab my bags. I look up to the house, it’s huge and white. Very modern and what’s looks to be very expensive. But what can you expect from the Number 1 and Number 5 heroes in Japan. Mina steps out and comes to my side of the car to hug me goodbye and to tell me the information for tonight. Just then the front door opens, Kirishima steps out with a huge grin on his face. He has changed a lot since I left. He is like a wall, thick with muscle and sporting a high red ponytail.

“There she is,” Kirishima says, holding out his arms as he makes his way down the path towards me. I drop my bags and run to him. I can be anger later, but right now I need this hug. “Here I am,” I say back to him, I took my face into his neck to breathe him in, he tries to do the same but it is unable as I have my marks and scent glands covered as Europe has different rules than us. I can sense the confusion and say I will explain later. Kirishima greats Mina and they discuss briefly about this evening's plans and Mina is off on her way, waving goodbye. With his arm around me, he guides me inside towards the kitchen. We each stand on opposite sides of the Island, not knowing what to say first.

“So, where’s Bakugou? I thought you would both be at the airport” I say frankly to him, showing my frustrations. “He had to work, but he should be back home soon,” Kirishima replies shuffling his feet. I stare at him, I want to voice my anger, I want him to know how much I hurt, I need to do this with Bakugou. “Okay” I reply looking at my bags, why did I come here, why did I think we could go back to normal. “He’ll probably be late like always though, why don’t show you to your room and you can get ready for this evening” He smiled at me, like he trying to form an olive branch between us. I nod and follow him out of the room and up the stairs. All around me are reminders, parties I could not attend, award shows I missed but right now I can’t dwell on that. My time in Europe was the best experience of my life and right now I want to go back. Kirishima leads me to a guest room and leaves me to get ready. I sigh, this is going to be difficult.

************************************************************************

Doing the finishing touches to my hair, I smooth my dress down as I look in the mirror. I’m wearing a tight-fitting black dress, that is off the shoulders. I rub my hands down my neck, wishing I could have had the surgery to remove my mark guards yesterday before I came home. Just to show them, that I kept my promise to them. I hear noises downstairs, Bakugou had arrived home ages ago but did not even come to say hello, just went straight to the shower. Although I know what Mina told me was true, I needed proof if I was to enter an argument with Bakugou. I walk a small bit from my room trying to stay quiet, I turn a corner and see a wall of photo frames, most are from UA and some are from Dates we three had together. The difference, I was no longer in the photos, I was cut out. You could see my arm or a sliver of my hair and maybe an eye. I felt rejection, my inner omega whined. Why would they do this to me? I ripped the frame from the walls and marched downstairs. My heels clicked on the floor beneath me. I rounded the corner and enter the kitchen not bothering to wait for their conversation to finished. I throw the frames onto the countertop and look up at both of them making eye contact. If I wasn’t so mad and hurt, I would be shocked at how mature and sexy they both are right now. Kirishima's hair is half up, half down being supported with braids and he is in a maroon shirt opened slightly. Whereas Bakugou wears a white shirt and supports an undercut. My alphas have matured, I suppose I have as well.

Kirishima looks at the frames and stays quiet. Bakugou does not dare to break eye contact with me.

“So, let me get this straight. I leave home, to become great in something that is bigger than me. I leave my alphas with an agreement, that we all would hit pause, and eventually I would come back or get a called from either of you to come home. I follow the rules, and it seems to me what I got in thanks was to be cut from your lives.” I raise my voice, guesting to the pile in front of me.

“tck…” Bakugou replies and looks at Kirishima.

“Don’t tck me Bakugou, it seems to me that I’m not even wanted here anymore, so why was I called home, let me guess you need an omega to have your child and then I’m to disappear,” I respond. “No that’s not why we called you back” Kirishima speaks up, slightly walking towards to appear less hostile.

“Funny how you call us your alphas but yet, our marks, our bond is no longer on your neck,” Bakugou responds, pointing towards me. “They are not gone, they are covered by a skin slip, in Europe is safer to have them covered in case you are kidnapped and forced to bond with someone,” I say back to him. “Omega, please let us explain, I understand your hurt, but we want you still, your part of our family,” Kirishima replies placing a hand on my elbow. I jerk away from him.

“So, all this time, when I was away, suffering through my heats alone. Omega depression after omega depression. You two, were what? Together happily rutting away.”

“Yes, how do we know you never had it off with anyone else,” Bakugou said leaning on the Island in front of me. “Bakugou, don’t say that -” Kirishima scolded him. “- we don’t think that y/n”. I stand there shocked; I can sense he is hurt but right now I will not be his vent.

“ah, I see, I was away fucking my way through Europe apparently and my alphas decided that instead of coming to see me and to tell me. They went behind my back” I stare at Bakugou not daring to back down. “How do we know you weren’t, how do we know you didn’t get our marks removed?” Bakugou asked.

I scuffed and turned out of the kitchen, towards my bags that were left at the bottom of the stairs. Both Alphas stayed in the kitchen and spoke to each other. I opened my bags and reached into it to find a wrapped plastic bag. I walked back into the kitchen, hearing Bakugou raising his voice at Kirishima, “I can’t Kiri, you almost died.” Kirishima hushed Bakugou as I re-entered the kitchen. I threw the bag at Bakugou.

“Go on, open it -” I say with my hands on my hips. “- There’s your proof” I stand and watch it. Bakugou opens the bag and pulls out two jumpers, one of his and one of Kirishima’s. Their scent has well worn out but mine could be smelled. Years of being alone, years of depression, laid in their hands. Kirishima’s eye watered. “This proves nothing, maybe if you weren’t lying about our mark being gone, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Bakugou said, dropping the jumpers on the countertop. “What do you want me to do, perform surgery right now, you know once you never doubted me” I laugh under my breath.

“Yeah well once, you weren’t such a slut, betraying your alp-“Bakugou responded but Kirishima stepped in creating a barrier between us. Tears started to form in my eyes, my vision blurred. Fine, if Bakugou wants proof right now that I was loyal then fine, I’ll give it to him.

I look at my nails and smile to myself, I thank whatever god is listening that I have long pointed nails today. Kirishima is currently speaking to Bakugou, standing in front of me. I can no longer hear him. All I know is, those skin slips have to go now. I take a deep breath in and dig my nails into my neck around where the stitched used to be. I whimper, both can smell blood and turn to look at me. I rip the slip from my skin, blood starts to pour from my neck but nothing that would majorly hurt me. I reach for the other and dig my nails in. “Y/n stop, what are you doing” Kirishima reaches to stop me, but he’s too late I pulled the other off and make eye contact with Bakugou. “You wanted your proof, here you are Bakugou, take a whiff I have NEVER BETRAYED EITHER OF YOU” I scream, throwing the slips onto the counter and storm off.

“Omega come back now” Bakugou shouts after me, I can hear him chase me and reach for my arm. I pull it forward and turn to face him. Tear are leaving my eyes, ruining my makeup, my dress ruined from the blood. “What Katsuki, you believe me now? What do you want from me, why are you mad?” Bakugou stands in shock, unable to talk. “ANSWER ME NOW,” I scream again. Bakugou reaches forward grabbing my arms, tears forming in his. Kirishima was leaning on the door behind him.

“HE ALMOST DIED, AND YOU WEREN’T THERE, I WAS ALONE, WATCHING HIM DIE AND YOU WERENT THERE, YOU PROMISED ME I’D NEVER BEEN ALONE, AND YOU LEFT ME ALONE WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK” he roared at me. I shoved Bakugou off me.

“I CAME HOME WHEN EIJIROU WAS IN HOSPITAL” I shouted back, both alphas heads shot straight up and looked at me. “I was there, I broke me promise to stay away until I was asked by either of you to come home. But I saw the fight, I saw Eijirou get knockdown and didn’t get back up. I hopped on the nearest flight and came home. You need proof, ask Fatgum, Denki, Tamaki, Deku.. anyone who sat in that waiting room.” I said looking into Bakugou's eyes. Kirishima walked forward to join us. Bakugou went to speak. “No you let me speak, I was there. Kirishima opened his eyes and called me an angel and then you shot into the room in a panic and threw yourself on him. Bakugou you looked in my eyes and didn’t say a word, so I stepped back, you saw me there, you. Don’t blame this on me. Knowing how angry you would be, Deku came and got me, promising to watch over both of you.” I stopped to wipe the tears from my eyes.

“How dare you hold that over me Katsuki Bakugou,” I say to him, Kirishima reaches for my hand as if to pull us all back together. I step back, I need to breathe to get out. I walk about the front door, grabbing my handbag. “I’ll see you at the party, some welcome home this was,” I say not looking back and slam the front door.

I walk down the path and reach for my phone, dialing Mina’s number. “Hey girly, I’m just about to leave for the pub,” Mina says down the phone. I start to cry and sit down on the curb. “Sero, wait a second” Mina whispers away from the phone. “Y/n, what’s happened, what’s going on,” She says again her voice has lowered. “Mina I need some help; I can’t see everyone looking like this,” I say back to her. I cry again, I can hear the door behind me open and I stand. I turn and see Kirishima, “Y/n wait please, come back in, we can sort this out,” he says, and I look over his shoulder. Bakugou is frozen in the same spot, staring at the floor. “I’m almost there, start walking to me,” Mina says and hangs up. I bend down and undo the straps of my heels, steeping out of them leaving them on the step. I start to run down the street, I need some quiet, I need to think.

“OMEGA STOP” Bakugou shouts behind me, but I can’t. I see Mina’s car and run towards it.

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