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random-mha-thoughts · 2 years

Text

Burn (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: You've been going through a personal situation with someone, Bakugou makes a suggestion to help you feel better about it.

Word Count: 1978

Warnings: Broken relationships, burning things, DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME WITHOUT PROPER SAFETY PRECAUTIONS

Tags: @theyenvymarleyyy @yamichxn @liviitehe

A/N: So... I'm back with another story... I've been going through some stuff since winter and this was the best way I could vent some of my feelings out, so just let me have this please. I wrote it in like January and stepped away from it for months so I could edit it without being in that same emotional mindset, so I hope you guys enjoy it still!

"Babe, what are you doing?"

I hear his shuffling footsteps behind me as I'm rolling a small lump of dough in my hands. For a moment, I wince because I already know I'm going to get a lecture and Bakugo likes to get his full 9 hours of sleep like a responsible person. But I don't look at him, instead choosing to concentrate on getting just the right amount of dough into my hands. "I'm baking cookies," I answer simply.

He groans. "It's 4 in the morning, why the HELL are you baking cookies?"

I hesitate placing the balled dough on my kitchen scale for a beat before returning to my rhythm. There are so many ways to answer that question, many of them would worry him. Hell, they worry me. So many answers that would require an unraveling of complex emotions that I'd rather not think about, nor would I prefer to visit right now because I don't feel like crying in the middle of the kitchen at this time of night. But at the same time, the fact that I am making cookies at a nocturnal time is cause for worry.

It means it's getting bad. Again.

I sigh, plopping the neatly rolled up ball onto the baking sheet next to me. "Because I've lost control of my life." That's not a bad way to start, I guess.

Bakugou groans again - I can already see his head thrown back exasperatedly even with my back to him - and he approaches my workstation. His annoyed gaze darts between the bowl of cookie dough, the parchment paper lined kitchen scale, and the baking sheet. He studies me, crimson eyes narrowed in light disappointment. I don't even laugh nervously as I usually would. He sighs and turns to wash his hands. I continue portioning the dough out carefully, Bakugou taking his place next to me and helping me.

We work in silence. I know he's less than enthused about being woken up in the middle of his beauty sleep to do something like baking, but I'm pleased that he doesn't ask questions (yet).

Once the cookies are in the oven baking, we set the timer and Bakugou slides them in the oven before turning to me arms crossed. "So, you wanna tell me what's going on?"

Standing across from him, I needed to hold onto the cool countertop for support. I've been wondering how to tell him for a while. This argument I had with someone else had nothing to do with him, but he's the closest person to me. He deserves to know at least what's going on, I just didn't know how much I should tell him. There was a chance he'd think differently of me, knowing I have some ugly thoughts.

"Come on." His tone softens. "For the past few weeks, you've been more quiet, less talkative, you're spacing out more, you're doing some weird new things," he motions to the dirty dishes on the counter, "And Sundays are your designated going-out days but you've been skipping them. What's going on?"

I look down at the floor. "I've... just had a lot on my mind lately." It's not a complete lie.

"Obviously, it's something you're not telling me. I know you're not being totally honest. Spit it out."

The line about being honest triggers a wave of memories, sending a wave of melancholy chaos so brutal I slide down to the cold floor to stabilize myself, curling up into a ball. A fresh wave of sobs threatens to come out as I cover my mouth.

"W-Oh sh- Babe, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's fine," I manage out shakily, my voice already higher and cracking. "I needed to tell you sometime and I've been neglecting you, I'm sorry." I motion for him to sit next to me, swallowing the rock in my throat.

I tell him everything. Every detail of my slow burn argument that lasted almost a whole week, starting from inciting events weeks ago to the climactic end last week. All my regrets, my mistakes, my anger, my insults, my self-doubt, my regrets, all the unspoken words I've kept to myself. Everything rushed out of me to the point where I was sobbing and shaking, Bakugou cradling me in his arms. I thought I would've been able to handle it, pushing it down for me to handle and process later, but later never came because I was trying to delay facing them. My fear of showing him the innermost darkest and broken parts of me that I thought would push him away. I realize I'm more of a mess than I thought I was; I let it build up by myself until I became a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor.

Katsuki stays silent, running his warm hands up and down my back and listening to everything I had to say, even if they weren't exactly coherent from the sobs.

"I knew something was wrong when you suddenly stopped going out and never told me anything." He pauses thoughtfully. "It must be hard to deal with mean thoughts since you're the nicest person I've met, but having them every once in a while doesn't suddenly make you a villain or something. They just come from feeling something, it's just human nature." He pulls back to look at me and wipe the tear trails off my face. "I still love you. I'm here for you, I won't leave just because you want to insult someone who hurt you. I think it's pretty hot, actually."

I manage a giggle, another tear falling. "Of course you would think that."

He wipes it away with the pad of his finger and smiles at me. "You're my superhero. I'm sorry you're feeling this way. I'll do anything I can to help you through this, if you'll let me. I know how hard it was to tell me."

I huddle against his chest, sitting between his legs to catch as much warmth as I can by hugging his arm over me. "You know, I didn't want to think about my feelings for so long. I wanted to ignore them as much as I could because I thought they were bad. I thought ignoring them meant being able to move on. I ran away from them until I was baking cookies at 4 am just to distract myself. I just... want to face them and be done with them."

"So burn 'em."

I stop tracing the back of his hand. "What?"

"Burn them. Y'know, like how spies burn important documents that they don't want other people finding."

I stare at him blankly. "What are you trying to say?"

Katsuki sighs. "You're the kind of person who needs to get things off your chest or it'll eat you alive. I know you still have a lot to say that you can't tell me, so just write what you feel. No sugarcoating. Exactly how you want to say them. And then, once it's out of your system," he snaps his fingers and creates a mini explosion for effect, "Burn it. No one else has to know."

The idea sounds perfect. I can be completely honest to myself, no matter how childish or insulting I will probably sound. And maybe some of my anger will be quelled by some form of destruction, I guess.

"You're doing the burning though, since you're so used to it."

A week later, Katsuki and I stood outside in our concrete backyard in the dark night. There was no wind to bother the fire or make a sound. I huddle close to him, looking at the inked looseleaf in my hand.

The night I wrote these words, I was angry and vulnerable. Hesitant to start at first, I could stop myself after the first sentence. My thoughts barely echoed in my mind as they were reproduced on paper. The experience was in a limbo between autopilot robotic reproduction and furious out-of-body possession. The only thing I vaguely remember is how rhythmic the words flowed out of me and the red-tinted vision of me screaming them out into an abyss without consequence. I couldn't even recall anything I'd written, despite the same insults dangling behind my tongue for days. I felt lighter, freed, but afraid of what I might've said. I tucked the paper away without reading it for days.

It wasn't until a few hours earlier that I decided to revisit them. The person's voice was furious, almost like they were never allowed to speak before, but now they had free reign. This person was a prisoner standing on their field to be executed and desperate to have their last words heard before they croaked. Honestly, I would've been repulsed, only pitying them for their terrible decisions and upbringing that led them here. But these were mine. I'm the villain who had to take accountability.

I wish I could say I didn't mean them, but I wrote them, my intent is obvious. At least I can say I'm not proud of them. I said what I needed to say, now no one needs to see them. I'm going to let that side of me go.

Katsuki takes the paper from my hand. "Not gonna lie, this would be the first time I've intentionally set fire to something."

I raise an eyebrow. "You're telling me you've never tried to set fire to something before?"

He opens his mouth to object, but then closes it. "Okay, stupid drunk things don't count, I was under the influence." He takes a breath. "You ready?"

I nod, bracing myself.

The bottom of the paper erupts into a single brilliant flame, sending my heart into a frenzy at my instant danger reflex. My body tenses being this close to fire, but I relax as I focus on the bigger, beautiful picture. A weak halo surrounding us and illuminating the pavement, the spotless paper being consumed quickly, the flames ascending up and leaving charr in its place, the gradient of a blue base bleeding into blinding yellow and white outlined by an orange border. I watch as my messily scrawled words disappear like a dark curtain sweeping across it, rendering it useless as only the smell of smoke and ash take its place.

I embrace his free arm. Words wouldn't be enough to describe how grateful I am for him standing by me this entire time, supporting me, being available for me to open up to him, being my safe space, witnessing this with me.

The timeless moment bitterly ends as the last of the paper chars to black, the flame fizzling out into blue until only dark grey smoke remains in the darkness. I follow the trail up into the night sky as if hoping to catch a glimpse of my words flying away.

"You okay babe?" Katsuki whispers, not wanting to disturb the stillness.

I let my body relax. My chest feels strangely lighter but filled with a newfound relief. Is this what spiritual cleansing feels like? The darkness around me is almost dreamlike. "Yeah," I breathe, allowing myself a moment to come back down. "I feel much better."

"And now you understand the joy of setting things on fire." I can hear his smirk.

The punch I want to land on his face turns into a light tap on his arm as I snuggle closer to him. "Thank you for this."

Katsuki plants a kiss on top of my forehead and his arm engulfs around me. "It's the least I can do to help."

As we finally drag ourselves inside, I imagine the paper that's just burned in front of me, the inked words on it already forgotten. I'm satisfied with letting them go, knowing they can't hurt anyone else and I wasn't attached to them enough to be sad.

Whatever I wrote will be a secret even I don't know and what I set free.

#bakugou x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou angst #hurt/comfort #gender neutral reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou scenario #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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ericspinkhair · 3 years

Text

unexpectedly becoming a sugar baby

pairing: ceo!sunwoo x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

synopsis: reader is desperate for money so she has sex with her boss

warnings: lots of oral and fingering, use of vibrator in public , office sex, sex for money

a/n: wrote this yesterday instead of studying for my final. the exam went well tho :) also please send in requests!!!

masterlist + requests

to say you were desperate would be an understatement. today you had received an eviction notice that stated that you had exactly 30 days to either pay back all the money you owed your landlord or leave your apartment.

due to your mother's illness you had to pay for all her medical bills. your father hadn't been in the picture for a long time so you alone were responsible for your mother's health. you couldn't just let her die. but because of all these costs you hadn't been able to pay your rent and now you were on the verge of homelessness.

never in a lifetime did you imagine that you would be begging someone for help. you felt so helpless that you honestly didn't really care how you got the money.

you decided to ask your boss for a raise and were prepared to work your ass off in order to get it.

mr. kim's office was on the fourth floor of the company, one you barely had ever been to. normal employees were usually only to be found on the lower floors so taking the elevator up felt wrong.

you were determined, however, to not let your pride get in the way. the money was more important than how you felt.

you knocked on the door twice. as if to make you feel even more nervous, it seemed like mr. kim waited extra long to respond.

when you entered he was sitting behind his desk. he didn't even look up at you so you just stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do.

'why don't you just sit?' he finally asked annoyed and closed his laptop.

you quickly took a seat and tried to put up a professional front.

'what can I do for you, um…' 'y/n,' you helped him out. 'right, y/n. what can I do for you?' he asked.

'I would like to ask for a raise, sir. you see, I am usually the first employee to enter the building and also most of the time the last one to leave. I do my work reliably and deliver solid results. my coworkers are pleased with me and we also get along well. I think I contribute a lot to this company and wanted to ask whether it would be possible to raise my pay.' you really tried to not make it seem like you had simply memorized all of this and forced yourself to speak slowly but firmly while looking him in the eyes.

mr. kim didn't respond at first but opened his laptop.

'to my understanding you have been working here for a very long time already. your pay is already the highest it can get. there is no way for me to raise it because there is no room for improvement.' he sighed and waited for your reaction.

you started sweating. this wasn't going as planned. you hadn't known that you were already receiving the highest pay. you were barely able to afford food with your current money.

'please, sir. I will do anything you ask of me. I don't care how many extra hours I'd have to work. I can do it. I promise. please give me a chance,' you begged him.

he was intrigued by you. why were you so desperate for the money?

'first, why don't you tell me why you are so keen on a raise?'

was your boss even allowed to ask you such personal questions? you answered anyway.

'my mother has cancer. I am the only person paying for her medical expenses and the treatments are all very expensive. I am about to get evicted because I cannot pay my rent.'

he seemed to be deep in thought. his gaze on you was intense.

your heart skipped a beat when he placed his hand on yours.

'y/n, I'm extremely sorry that you have to deal with all of this. I wouldn't want anyone to have to experience the same thing. believe me when I tell you that I want to help you. you know what? come back tomorrow. I have an idea how I might be able to help but I need to think about it further. would that be alright for you?'

it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. you didn't care about what you had to do. you stood up, bowed deeply and thanked him over and over.

he let out a deep chuckle. you were cute.

the next day you came back again in the afternoon. this time he answered the door quicker and his attention was focused on you from the start. the energy felt much different than the day before. he seemed excited and was smiling at you. this had to mean good news, right? he shook your hand and pressed firmly while looking you deep in the eyes.

'y/n, I came up with an idea to help you. but it is less conventional and it depends on how much you are willing to do.'

'mr. kim, I will do anything,' you assured him. the smirk he flashed you threw you off guard.

'okay then. first, I'd prefer it if you called me sunwoo as we'll be seeing more of each other if you were to agree.'

this lowkey felt like crossing some boundaries but you wanted to please him.

you nodded eagerly. 'okay, sunwoo it is.'

'so my idea is that there are certain things you can do to earn money. I will pay for everything with my own savings and you will receive it in cash. we will start off easy and over time I'll add new tasks. of course, you have the freedom to choose whether you want to do them or not. that is completely up to you.'

the look of confusion on your face must have told him you didn't fully understand.

'it's hard to explain. I'd rather you figure it out by trying it. since today is friday, the task I'll give you is for monday. I would like to choose an outfit for you. I'll send it to your apartment and you have to wear exactly what is inside the box. if you were to do this I'd give you $20 cash.'

that was a weird request. why would he want to decide what you were wearing? did he not like your outfit? did you look disgusting?

'let me get this straight. you pick an outfit for me and if I decide to wear it I get money?' you ask him to see if you had understood correctly.

'exactly. that doesn't seem so bad, right?' you shook your head. it was whatever.

'that's great. you'll receive your outfit and I can't wait to see you in it on monday.' you didn't know if you were imagining it but it seemed like he was eyeing your body. h god, he definitely didn't like what you were wearing.

$20 wasn't much but still more than nothing. and apparently the other tasks would be worth more. guess you had to start somewhere. with the money you could at least afford something to eat.

you say goodbye and continued with work until it was time to leave.

you waited anxiously all weekend for the clothes. sunday you decided to go for a walk and when you opened your door you almost tripped over a package.

on monday morning you tried on the outfit sunwoo had picked out for you.

the white blouse was a bit see through and a bit too tight around the boob area but looked neat otherwise. the black skirt hugged your curves perfectly and made you look quite sexy in your opinion. he even picked out a bra, underwear, stockings and high heels for you. the note he had left clearly stated to wear exactly and only what was in the box. so you did.

you usually wore something more simple and loose but you didn't feel too uncomfortable in this look.

when you entered his office his eyes lit up.

'I'm glad you wore this. it looks very good on you.'

you were sure you blushed a bit at his words. you weren't really used to receiving compliments from men.

'I like it too,' you admit. sunwoo smiled contentedly.

'so would you like to do the same tomorrow? I'll send you another outfit,' he asked you.

this one wasn't bad at all so you agreed. he handed you $20. when you stood up and walked out the door he couldn't stop admiring the way your butt looked in the skirt. tomorrow was going to be even better.

the blouse was almost the same one. however, this time the skirt was a lot shorter. it ended at the middle of your thighs. but that wasn't even the weirdest thing. this time he had forgotten to send you panties.

you felt very unsure what to do. the note clearly stated to only wear what was in the box.

you sighed and pulled down the skirt as much as you could. this would have to do. as long as you were just sitting, everything would be fine.

you went about your day and some time in the afternoon you were called into sunwoo's office.

you were wondering whether or not to tell him about the missing underwear but decided to keep your mouth closed. panties didn't seem to be a topic to talk about with your boss.

'today, I want to offer you an additional task. you will receive your $20 dollars for sure and you can make another 30 by cleaning my office. what do you think?' he proposed to you.

that would be $50 in total. you needed all the money you could get.

'of course. just tell me what to clean and I will be happy to help.'

everything was going according to sunwoo's plan. he was excited and told you you could start by dusting the shelves.

your eagerness was cute and he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

some of the shelves were higher up so you had to stretch to be able to reach them. when you did your skirt rolled up higher and he was able to see the just the outline of your butt cheeks. he unconsciously licked his lips.

for the rest of the week you continued these two tasks. but you noticed that the underwear kept on missing and the skirts also progressively became shorter.

this was a struggle when you were cleaning and organizing his office. you were aware of your skirt rolling up and you were hoping that sunwoo wouldn't notice.

of course he did. that had been his intention all along. when you bent down he could sometimes get a glance at your pretty pussy. he couldn't help but get hard at the sight of this and palmed his bulge through his pants.

in one week you had received $220. you would have been more happy if you hadn't gotten another bill from the hospital asking you for another $1200. the health care system was simply fucked up. whatever the next tasks were, you had to do them.

on monday you were cleaning his office again. you wanted to pick up some files but you struggled reaching them from the highest shelf. you felt your skirt roll up again.

'wait. I'll help you,' sunwoo announced and walked over.

you gasped as you felt something hard poke your thigh as he stood behind you to reach for the files. when he took a step back you saw the clear outlines of his hardened cock.

unable to hide your surprise, sunwoo laughed.

'this is all your doing.' so he did notice your skirt roll up. wait. had he given you these clothes with this in mind?

'do you want to touch it?' he asked.

you just blinked at him. what? were you perhaps still dreaming? it was possible that you were having a wet dream about your boss. sunwoo was very handsome and you had to be blind not to notice.

'if you help me get rid of it, I'll promise you $100.' he knew you were thinking hard. you couldn't keep your eyes off his bulge, clearly not sure what to think of this.

this was against all the work protocols but you would kid yourself if you said that you didn't want to. not only was he very attractive but you'd do a lot for a mere $100.

you reached for his belt. sunwoo smirked; he had won.

you pulled his pants down and were immediately greeted with his veiny cock.

'you aren't the only one not wearing any underwear, my dear y/n.'

so that had been intentional. interesting. you realized you must have been very naive to have believed that he had simply forgotten to put panties in the boxes.

you started by rubbing the tip softly with your thumb. it was pretty and pink and already leakined pre-cum.

you felt strangely good about having this kind of effect on someone. with a few pumps his dick was completely hard.

sunwoo propped his hands on the desk behind him and leaned back in bliss.

deep moans were escaping his beautifully luscious lips while you were pleasuring him with your hands.

you decided to put your left hand you use as well by massaging his balls.

'fuck! when did you learn to do this so well?' sunwoo groaned.

during high school you had had a lot of sex. it made you feel good and you enjoyed it. now your experience turned out to be lifesaving to you. well, he'd probably pay you even if you weren't as mind blowing.

'hmm, practice,' you simply state.

'if this is already so good I wonder what your mouth can do, baby girl.' being called that aroused you way more than expected. this was so exciting.

'I'll give you another $100 if you suck me off.'

before sunwoo knew it you had already wrapped your lips around his cock. you skillfully bobbed your head up and down. when you looked up at him with big eyes he swore he was about to explode.

with most of the dick in your mouth your other hand was continuing to knead his balls.

he was coming close quickly and grabbed your hair so you would stay still.

he proceeded to fuck your mouth harshly. you felt spit running down the sides of your lips and tears escaping your eyes as he buried his cock deep in your mouth. you tried to relax in order to deep-throat him properly.

he came hard and emptied his load in your mouth. to prove a point, you swallowed it and then opened up to show him.

panting hard he said: 'fuck you're just amazing!'

you looked absolutely delicious with your face full of cum. he had a good feeling you were the right person to do this with.

you licked off some of the white liquid from your lips and smirked at him.

this was definitely not what you had expected what you would be doing but you weren't one to complain.

sunwoo quickly disappeared to search for some paper towels to clean your face. his employees couldn't see you like this.

after your face was clean again he handed you $250. 'you deserve it.' 'thanks.'

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and leaned closer. 'maybe we can do more tomorrow.' ooh, sounds exciting.

'then I'll look forward to seeing you.' with a wink you left.

you wondered how much money you would get for some sexy time with your boss.

the next morning, you couldn't fully button up the blouse he had sent you. the top buttons had to be left open and a lot of cleavage was visible. this horndog!

this time you actually received some underwear but only for a special reason. you found a pink mini vibrator in the box as well.

so you were walking around with a vibrating stick up your pussy. you didn't want to come in front of your co-workers so you turned it off whenever you got too close and waited to calm down.

'did you have fun today?' was the first thing sunwoo said to you.

you laughed ironically. 'I had so much fun pretending I wasn't being masturbating in front of everyone…'

he made you turn around and lifted up your skirt. the outline of the vibrator was visible and he could see your panties shaking.

with one quick move he pulled your underwear down and took the vibrator to turn it off. it came out with a wet plop and juices were running down your thighs.

sunwoo surprised you by sucking on the wet vibrator.

'sit on the desk,' he commanded you.

you did as you were told and sunwoo spread your legs wide apart.

he inserted his index and middle finger which slipped in with ease. your pussy made wet noises as he pushed them in and out of you.

finally having privacy you allowed yourself to make sounds. he made intense eye contact while fingering you, loving the way your face was scrunched up in pleasure.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and started kissing him. his tongue easily won the fight over dominance and started exploring your mouth.

you two were basically just sucking each others faces off until he broke off the kiss and lowered his body. he attached his mouth to your clit and started sucking. you pulled at his hair in pleasure and had a hard time controlling your breathing. damn, he was skilled at this as well.

when he felt you clenching around his fingers he withdrew them and you let out a disappointed noise of protest.

'don't worry. you'll have more soon.', he laughed at you. he quickly took off his pants and pulled you off the desk. he turned you around so your ass was facing him.

he started rubbing his thick cock between your ass cheeks and coated it in your juices. every time he got into contact with your tense pussy a shudder overcame your body.

he lifted your leg and placed your foot on the table. the angle from when he thrusted into you from behind was just perfect.

sunwoo attached his lips onto your neck and started leaving hickeys there. at the same time he was kneading your breast through your shirt.

he had barely ever felt such a perfect pussy around his cock. the way you took him in seemed too good to be true.

while his dick was still inside you, he lifted you up and placed you on all fours on the floor.

he grabbed your hips so tightly that he left red marks on them. at this point, he was just uncontrollably slamming into you while you were losing your mind. you were screaming his name loudly, glad that you knew no one could hear you.

as you could feel both of you getting close, he pulled your upper body up to his chest and wrapped one hand around your neck.

the pressure he applied was just enough for you to see stars but not enough for it to be unpleasant.

the lack of oxygen stimulated your senses even more and while repeatedly screaming out sunwoo's name you finally came hard on his dick.

with a few more thrusts, sunwoo's hips started stuttering as well and he shot his load into you. while riding out your highs he was just fucking his cum right back into you.

when he finally pulled out, a pool of his semen started dripping out of you. you suddenly felt so empty. his thick cock had filled you up so good that you were already missing it.

while you were still catching your breath on the floor, sunwoo had gone to get paper towels.

when he came back, however, he seemed hectic.

'I'm so sorry. there has been an emergency and I need to leave right now. I'll leave these here as well as the money.' he placed everything on the desk and walked back to the door.

he turned around one last time. 'I hope we can do this again.' he smiled at you.

you later saw that he had left you $750.

kind of becoming a sugar baby had never been your plan but you didn't mind it. if only the circumstances had been better.

#kim sunwoo smut #kim sunwoo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #the boyz sunwoo smut #the boyz sunwoo scenario #kim sunwoo #smut #kpop smut #the boyz

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Jealous | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

Your mission is to get your boyfriend jealous. What better way to do this by fawning over Stray Kids?

Genre: slight nfsw? Idk its kinda hot? And female reader insert.

A/N: inspired by my convos with @seraplantery and @chaoticdeobi Kevin would be about me thirsting over Chan. Also idk what I wrote im sorry TT > TT

-----

Jealousy had never been in Kevin Moon’s vocabulary. And you were damn certain it would never be.

That doesn’t mean you never try pushing his buttons every time you can, though.

“How can he be so hot?” You mutter to yourself, loud enough that it reaches your boyfriend’s ears. It’s a late lazy Sunday afternoon and you two are taking this time to unwind and relax, mentally preparing for the full week of work ahead. While Kevin is busy doodling across his sketchbook like he normally is, you take this time to catch up on the multiple kpop performances you’d missed earlier this year.

And boy, have you missed out.

“Oh my god,” your lips go round as your eyes widen as big as saucers, gaze permanently fixed on the screen giving way to eight hot men dominating the stage with their fiery charisma and strong choreography, “Oh my-- holy shit I think I fell pregnant.”

Kevin’s voice permeates through the hot summer air, “What you watching?”

“Stray Kids,” you say absentmindedly as your eyes follow one particular member’s every moves. While you had fallen out of touch with the kpop world -- and you blame this on the concept of having a job and actually now going through adult life like anyone should be -- that doesn’t mean that you don’t get your phases, especially with one of your favourite groups you’ve been following since their debut.

“Stray Kids?”

“Yeah, jesus christ Kev-- Chan’s arms are to die for.”

Admittedly, you wouldn’t have been so vocal about admiring other men if it’s not for your silent experiment of whether Kevin Moon will finally bite at the bait jiggling before his face. He’d be an idiot not to.

But considering he is never even aware when other men look at you, you doubt that this time is going to be different. So you continue on:

“He’s not even my type of guy you know? I usually go for the tall skinny ones but somehow--he’s just so charismatic onstage. And did I tell you he’s Australian? I mean I’m not fond of Aussie accents but I don’t know I find it really sexy on him--”

“Woah Y/N, look at you. Talking as if you don’t have a boyfriend,” sarcasm drips from Kevin’s alto, causing your head to slowly turn with surprise, an eyebrow arching slowly at the way he seems hunched and rigid over his blank piece of paper, pen held so tightly in his grip it might snap in two.

“Kevin,” you draw out slowly as you try to hide your grin, “is that...jealousy I hear?”

He scoffs, “I don’t get jealous."

"Sure could've proved me wrong."

Reverting your attention back to the screen just in time to catch a glimpse of Bang Chan's smile, you sighed in bliss, "his abs, though."

There is silence from Kevin's part, causing your lips to tilt into a small smirk of victory as you click on the next video that follows. You know him all too well that you assume he will probably sulk for the next hour that follows, and you're content with that, considering that you're not at fault.

You're too engrossed in your video that you barely realize that a shadow hangs behind your shoulder, before an arm shoots out to close your laptop.

You whip around with a scowl, "hey! What--"

But no sooner are you protesting that you feel Kevin's arms haul you up, turning so quickly you can barely register anything but the soft mattress welcoming your figure as you are plopped onto it, Kevin's frame hovering over yours. His face is all but amused.

Laughter bubbles up your throat, "what the --"

It cuts off into a gasp upon feeling his arms hooking around the back of your thighs to pull you closer, lips mere inches above yours and dark orbs gazing down at you with a thunderous depth. It halts any further comment you are about to make, takes your breath away.

Something warm coils within your stomach.

You are a little breathless when you say, "y-yes?"

"You want me to be jealous?" His lips curl slightly, eyes narrowing down at you while fingers ghost over your thighs, his touch igniting a series of sparks in his wake, "I'll show you jealous."

And then he's kissing you. Hard mouth on yours, intense. Demanding.

That's not the Kevin you know but somehow desire pools through you. He's never been this...aggressive.

He is holding your frame against his, fingers so firm and pressing on the back of your thighs before slowly slipping up to cup your ass. You gasp in response, hands automatically lifting to grab his shoulders only for his to grab them instead and pin them down by your face. His head tilts, lips moving to your rhythm and dominating your tongue the moment you gasp into his mouth.

The softest grunts rumbles up his throat when your hips buck up on instinct. He murmurs against your mouth, "not so chatty now, are we?"

"I--"

And then his mouth is latching onto your jaw, peppering a trail of warm kisses that makes your heart beat twice as hard, your body writhing with the delicious sensation of wanting him. He devours your neck, growling with satisfaction when he urges your fingers down onto the mattress to stop any attempts of escape. That's hot.

You're practically seeing stars at this point, the sounds of his soft suckling evocating a sensation of heat deep within your belly that your legs wrap around his waist on their own accord to pull him closer. And the moment his firm length presses onto your heat, he lets out a moan that has you trembling.

"If I knew how you'd react--" you stop to moan softly as he grinds his hips into yours. Lord, "I would've done it more often."

"What, that's your kink?" His breath ghosts over your skin at your collarbone now. You struggle against him wanting nothing more than to run your hands through his glossy raven locks and to scratch your nails down his back. But his fingers squeeze firmly nibbling at the skin of your shoulder, "you like seeing me jealous?"

"Hm, I won't say the contrary," you breathe out.

Ensuring that one of his hands cage your wrists together, his other slips down to trace your neck, the dip of your breasts, ghosting over your side before trickling down the inner side of your thigh. You take a shaky inhale. Waiting.

He's looking at you now, gauging every reaction that you gift him with like you're a fascination he can't quite make out and the intensity makes you squirm.

Slowly, oh so slowly that it makes your toes curl, Kevin starts a slow, sensual path of kisses down the middle of your chest and air gets stuck in your throat the more you watch him, practically holding back a whimper with every searing touch he imprints upon your skin.

He kisses down your navel, nipping and biting as he does while his heated breaths send waves of heat up your spine. At some point he releases your hands to grasp your waist and they instantly tangle in his hair, emitting a grunt from the said man.

He continues his sensual search using his mouth, hot breath fanning against your skin down the sides of your thighs, landing on final peck to your knee, before rearing back up to hover above your pelvis and finally tilting his face up to yours.

And that makes your breath catch in your throat. For in Kevin's eyes you read the dark desire, the craving he holds for you, the longing.

Your heart jolts to a stop. You swear you stop breathing as your gazes lock.

A beat passes. You swallow hard. Suddenly vulnerable under his hooded stare.

Then, before your brain can scramble for coherence, the raven-haired man leans over. He presses a kiss.

Right on your sex.

A sound between a mewl and a whimper escapes your lips.

You gape at him. He smirks back, thoroughly satisfied.

Slowly, he hoists up until his lips hover yours once more and at this point, you're pretty sure you're dead. What with the speed of your heart rate practically vaulting out of your chest.

"Well," he murmurs while one of his hands keep tracing up and down your side, "I guess I can leave you to ogle at your kpop boys--"

His words are interrupted by you shooting out to grab his t-shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. And oh, does he kiss back like a starved man, grunting and growling as your fingers tangle up in his locks to pull him even closer as your teeth sink upon his bottom lip. He gasps.

You pull away slowly then --merely coming up for air -- and gaze into his dark, bottomless orbs, "the only one I'm gonna ogle tonight is you."

His breath halts for a minute. He stares at you, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

And then, a crooked grin spreads across his face.

"I like the sound of that."

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Be With Me Instead

Sequel to Treat You Better

Warnings: non/dubcon sex, oral.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and dark!Peter Parker explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader deals with the end of her relationship and the dissemblance of her life.

Note: I wrote a sequel to a one shot. Surprise, surprise. I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think!

To say your head hurt was an understatement. Your skull felt as if it would split in two. Your stomach was sour and your muscles ached. You smelled of sweat and something more definitive. A scent so carnal and strong it could not be mistaken.

You groaned and tenderly touched your temple as you laid on your side. There was heat behind you. It radiated beneath the covers and embraced you. You rubbed your head shakily as your dreams fizzled to nonsensical snapshots.

You hadn't been so hungover since your first year of uni. It kept you from more than two drinks on a night out since. Until last night. The memories a haze in your mind, blurred with your nocturnal fantasies.

You remembered Bucky, the bar, the first drink, the second, and the third, the shot of tequila. Then it all went static. You rolled flat onto your back and your arm rubbed against the source of warmth beside you. You looked over and gasped.

Bucky's bare chest rose and fell in the dim light. The morning sun was blotted out by the thick blinds. His metal arm was bent over the sheet and his dark hair was a mess of waves across the pillow. He was naked and so were you.

You sat up and struggled to untangle yourself from the covers. You fell onto the floor, your ass tender as it met the carpet. You remembered it then. All of it. The elevator, his arm around you, his lips on yours, calling his name as he--

The springs of the bed shifted and you looked up as he rolled over and leaned on his elbow to gaze down at you. He smirked, his eyes tired but sparkling. You stared back at him, mortified.

"What are you doing all the way down there?" He purred.

You shook your head and glanced around. You ignored him as you stood and groggily collected your clothes from the floor. Your legs were weak and your flesh buzzed. You could feel him still as visions of him fucking you replayed in your head.

"Hey, going so soon?" You looked over at him as you searched for your panties. Giving up, you pulled on your jeans and hooked your bra.

"B--Last night was...bad." You croaked and pulled your shirt over your head. "It shouldn't have happened."

You grabbed your jacket and purse. You paused and touched your stomach as it threatened to flip. He was unfazed as he pushed the blankets aside and stretched with a yawn.

You tucked your socks into your purse and forced your feet into your boots. You stumbled and he caught you as you struggled to stand straight.

"That's not what you said last night." He chided. "Sounded to me like you enjoyed yourself."

"I was drunk," You pulled away from him. "And Peter--" Your heart dropped as you recalled Bucky holding his phone over you. Looking into the dark lens as he gloated. "Tell me you didn't send it."

He smirked and you clasped your hand over your mouth. You were gonna spew. You fought to keep your stomach calm and backed away.

"How could you do this?" You gasped.

"You guys are over. What does it matter? So you had a little fun." He reached out to you and you evaded him.

"You tricked me." You sputtered. "I was drunk, upset, and you-you--"

"Don't act so innocent. You came to the bar with me, you had three drinks--"

"You said you'd drive me home and you just dragged me back here and...and--”

A knock, then more pounding, came at the door. You froze and your eyes widened.

"Open the fucking door!" Peter shouted from the other side. "You fucking asshole."

You stared at Bucky, silently pleading. Just wait for him to go, please. Bucky chuckled and brushed past you. You turned and grabbed his arm but he was too strong. You remembered the night before, how easily he had used your body. His metal hand around your throat.

"Please, don't. Bucky, I can't." You kept your voice low. "Just let him go."

He shrugged you off and you watched him stride to the door. He swung it open and Peter lunged at him in an instant. Bucky sidestepped and grabbed him by his scruff and tossed him to the floor.

Still naked, he stood calmly as Peter leapt back to his feet and spun around. He raised his fist but never struck as his eyes strayed to you. He dropped his hand and stepped back as if he had been hit. You winced and clutched your bag as your head swirled.

"I'm...sorry." You rasped and dashed past Bucky to the door.

You didn't look back as you fled down the hall. You crashed through the next door and down the stairs as the world rushed past you. You ran from your mistake frantically until you were on the street.

You swept past the pedestrians intent on their own destinations and to the grimy waste bin by the curb. You hugged the rim and retched into the depths as your entire body rebelled. You could rid yourself of the bile but you could not rid yourself of your guilt.

❤

You spent your Sunday in bed, hungover and heartbroken. What had you done? You were so naive. So stupid.

What else could Bucky have ever wanted from you but sex? You wondered however if it was more about Peter; about the odd vendetta Bucky seemed to have forged towards him in the last few weeks. To think Peter had the video, that he saw what you'd done was worse than the crime itself.

You cried, and slept, and tried to forget.

Monday came and your classes kept you busy but couldn't erase the blot on your soul. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. The days were barely discernible. Your mind and body functioned off of sheer routine, not a thought was spared beyond your self-pity.

You ignored your phone. Peter texted until you muted his notifications. A private number kept calling but you could guess who it was. You had no reason to ever go near the compound again and less to associate with its residents.

On Friday, you only had one class at noon. You were done just after two and eager to go back to your dorm and order pizza. Stew in your new solitary mourning; for your relationship, for your dignity, for all you had drunk away in one night.

Campus was chilly. Winter greeted the students with a blanket of snow and the approach of the holidays was darkened by the imminence of finals.

You walked along the winding path that led around the quad. The bushes were barren and prickly, the statues shrouded in hills of powder. You stopped to look up at the postmodern shapes arranged to seem as if they were floating. You tucked your hands in your pockets and shivered.

The snow crumpled behind you. As you waited for your fellow student to pass you were surprised when the footsteps stopped next to you. You frowned, confused, and glanced over.

Bucky's dark hair poked out from beneath the black beanie, he wore a thick jacket with fleece lining, and leather gloves. His eyes peered up at the statue as if he didn't even know you were there.

"What are you doing here?" You hissed.

"Well, you won't answer my calls," He spoke without looking over at you. "You do know I'm trained to find people. You can't just run away."

"Can't you take a hint?" You scowled.

"Can't you?" He countered. "Come on, we both enjoyed ourselves, didn't we?"

You looked down and dragged your foot through the snow. You felt a swirl in your stomach. The same you felt whenever you thought of that night. He was right but you weren't going to admit it.

"It doesn't matter." You insisted. "Look, I have exams. I have a degree to focus on. Let's just leave whatever that was as it is. Just sex. Regrettable sex."

He scoffed and nodded. You turned to watch him purse his lips as he thought.

"I don't wanna leave it." He said. "And I won't."

"Just leave me alone," You grumbled and spun back down the path.

You weren't surprised when he followed. You knew it wouldn't be that easy. He had come all the way here, incessantly called you for days, not to mention the scheme that created this mess.

"That's not how this works." He kept stride with you. "You don't just walk away from me."

"Please, just stop," You begged as you walked faster. "I can't do this."

"Do what? You were happy enough to hang around when Peter was standing you up. And now you're just ditching me because spider-boy still won't grow up." He grabbed your arm and almost pulled you off your feet as he made you stop. "I told you things I never told anyone else. This isn't just sex to me."

"You're insane. I was so fucking drunk, you could have been Peter and I wouldn't have known." You tried to wriggle free of his grasp.

"You knew it was me. You wanted it. You wanted me. You still want me," He squeezed your arm and leaned in. "I'm everything Peter isn't and that's exactly what you need."

"Let me go," You breathed. "Please. Just let me go."

"Never." He sneered.

"I'll scream." You looked around. Students shuffled by on their way to and from class. "I will."

He grinned and shook his head. He let go and stood straight. His blue eyes narrowed and he looked down at you. Knowing, confident, dangerous.

"Fine." He squared his shoulders. "Next time, you can scream all you want."

Your eyes rounded and your lips parted in shock. What did that mean? You knew it wasn't good.

He gave a two finger salute, "see ya around," he intoned as he stepped past you.

You turned and watched him stroll off down the path, seemingly invisible amidst the groups of overtired students and self-involved professors. You glanced around and felt your own insignificance. Your vulnerability.

Even if you had screamed, would anyone care?

❤

You shivered as you reached your dorm. You weren’t so sure it was the cold as your run-in with Bucky replayed over and over in your head.

When you entered the dorm, the three girls you shared it with were all closed up in their rooms. It was unusual not to find them giggling in the common room together. They were likely holed up prepping for finals.

You kicked your boots off and left them on the mat. Your bedroom was unlocked. You must’ve forgotten to lock it before class. Oh well, you were too distracted to care.

You set your bag on your desk as the door closed behind you and turned with a yelp as a small figure greeted you from the corner.

“Jesus, Peter, how did...what are you doing here?” You touched your chest and pushed yourself against the desk.

He glared at you as he leaned against the wall with arms crossed. “I’ve been texting you.”

“Why? What is there left for us to talk about?” You flinched as he pushed himself away from the wall.

“There’s a lot to talk about,” He sneered as he got closer. “Like you fucking him the same night we broke up. That’d be a start.”

“What can I say, Peter? It happened.” You retorted.

“And you just had to let him record it?” His lips slanted in detest. “What? Is that what I did wrong? I didn’t treat you like a slut?”

“Don’t,” You warned him. “I didn’t know...I was drunk. Very drunk.”

“And that’s an excuse?”

“We’re over. What does it matter?” You snapped.

“Yeah, but usually when a relationship ends, you don’t just jump on the next guy you see.” He spat. “And then you ignore me? For a whole week? Two years. Did it mean nothing to you?”

“It meant everything to me, Peter,” You countered. “But we were never going to last and it has nothing to do with Bucky.”

“So…” He was so close you could feel his breath. “You fucking him now?”

“No, I...it’s not your concern anymore,” You swallowed as he backed you up to the wall. “You should go.”

“I saw you talking to him,” He said evenly. “Out on campus. You looked pretty cozy.”

“Just go--”

“Not as cozy…” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped over his screen and smiled as he held it up. “As this.”

Your veins turned to ice as you watched the video. Bucky behind you, his hand at your throat, your flesh clapped as you called his name. Your voice was wild, it barely sounded like you. But it was you.

“So is that what you want? To hurt me?” You blinked away the tears. “Because you did that long before now.”

“What I want is for you to get on the bed.” He spoke quietly but his words cut through you.

“Go, Peter. We’re over.” You tried to push him away and he caught your arm and twisted. You whined as your wrist threatened to snap.

“If I have to tell you again, I can hit send. We’ll see what everyone else thinks of your short film. Hell, maybe you’d do better in a film degree.” He taunted and waved his phone in his other hand. “It’s a big campus but these things travel fast.”

You lowered your brow. The air was knocked out of you. You’d always known him as the sweet, compassionate boy you’d met that first day on campus. You knew he had changed, that’s why you’d broke it off, but you didn’t know he was like this.

“Please don’t do this,” You pleaded. “Peter, I’m sorry.”

“Get on the fucking bed now,” He drew the words out and closed his eyes as he inhaled. “Naked.” He let go of your wrist. “We’ll see who the little boy is.”

His eyes opened and you winced at their intensity. You gulped and nodded. You tried to speak but your voice was caught in your tight throat. You carefully stepped past him. You peeked over at the door. You stopped then bolted to the door.

Before you could grab the handle, it was covered it corded webs that sealed it to the frame. Peter sighed. “Don’t make me use them on you, too. Bed. Now.”

You turned and gave him one last look. Of disgust and desperation. He didn’t waver.

“And if I scream?”

“I can shut you up,” His fingers bent slightly as he lifted his hand. “Do I need to?”

You looked to your feet and unzipped your jacket. Your hands were shaking. You dropped your jacket on the floor and then your sweater. Your loose tee and jeans crumpled a top the pile with your socks trapped in the denim.

You stood in your panties and bra and peeked over at Peter. He shrugged and you knew he wasn’t going to stop.

You undid your bra and added it to the mess on the floor. You rolled your panties down and stepped up to your single bed. You climbed up and drew our knees to your chest to cover yourself. You couldn’t look at Peter again. You stared at the polka dot comforter beneath you and waited.

You listened to his footsteps, him fiddling with something unseen, the rustle of his clothing. You sensed him as he neared the bed.

“Come here.” He pointed to the mattress in front of him.

You turned and shoved your legs over the edge as you sat there. You ignored his naked figure and kept your eyes down. He grabbed the back of your head and pressed his cock to your lips.

You closed your eyes and parted your lips. He slipped inside and you gagged as he forced himself down your throat. Your eyes watered and you struggled to breath around him. He didn’t wait for you. He thrust in and out of your mouth. Each was hard, decisive, as if he meant to hurt you.

Again. His hand moved and his other came up to hold your head in a vice. He fucked your face as you slapped his thigh helplessly. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, didn’t even seem to notice as you fought him.

Finally he pulled out. Spit coated your lips as he let you go and you fell back, out of breath and coughing. You were dizzy from the sudden and rough assault. Stunned by Peter’s behaviour. Senseless.

“Turn over.” He barked and you looked down at him. You just stared at him.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you up. He spun you around and pushed you against the bed until you lifted your knees up on the mattress. He grabbed your neck and shoved you down until your head was on the mattress. He slapped your ass and you exclaimed.

“Shut up,” He snarled and you bit your lip.

His cock prodded you as he felt around for your entrance. He pushed into you slowly at first and then slammed into you all at once. You whimpered and he thrust again, harder. He bent over you and grabbed your arms. He bent them behind you and jerked his hips again. Each time he rocked into you, it was sharp and jolted your entire body.

He hissed as he was driven by his own ferocity. Everytime you made a sound, he sped up. Your body shook as he rutted into you over and over. You were embarrassed as your unexpected arousal eased the glide of his cock.

You shuddered and held your breath but you couldn’t resist it. The burning in your core, the flare that sparked and broke the surface. You gritted your teeth as you turned your face down muffled your orgasm in the duvet.

He growled. Not groaned, growled. You’d never heard him like this. Sure, your relationship had been anything but abstinent but something in him had come unhinged. He wasn’t holding anything back. Every ounce of hunger, anger, frustration, everything, was spoken through his touch.

He slowed suddenly. He kept his strokes long and even. He was pacing himself. He sped up again only to falter. Every time he came close to finishing, he pulled the reins back.

He released your arms and pushed you down until your legs slipped over the edge of the bed and your hips were flat to the mattress. He impaled you with decisive thrusts, his hands on the small of your back as he pinned you down. His breaths were deep and eager as he bucked against you.

When he came, he didn’t let up. He grunted and spilled inside of you but didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. His cum seeped out as he buried his cock in your over and over. He crashed into one last time, sending a pang up your spine as he did, and stayed there.

He squeezed your ass and pushed it apart. He wiggled his hips and let out a long breath.

“Is that what you wanted?” He smacked your ass and your body tensed. “A man.” He snarled. “Huh?”

“P-Peter,” You whispered as you turned your head.

“I guess falling in love with you just wasn’t enough,” He pulled out and pinched you so hard you cried out. You were too weak to move. “Have fun with Bucky but don’t come crawling back to me when he’s done with you. I don’t like leftovers.”

You rolled over as he turned away and started to dress, bending to grab each piece of clothing from the floor. Your lip trembled as he pulled on his jacket and tucked away his phone.

He didn’t even look at you as he left. The door slammed behind him and the tears began to flow. You had been ready for the break-up, but never for this.

❤

Finals came and went. You were numb. In a haze. For once you weren’t nervous for your exams but only because you could barely focus on them. After each, you emerged barely able to remember what you’d written. You couldn’t think about anything but Peter’s harsh goodbye and Bucky’s ominous promise.

The holiday break arrived and campus was mostly abandoned. You planned to stay on campus that year with Peter but instead you'd be alone. Your parents decided to finally take that Christmas trip to the Bahamas like they'd always dreamed of. It was too late to go home.

Christmas Eve. You ventured out to grab a few groceries for your solitary christmas dinner. Nothing special. Pasta and pinot. Last minute shoppers bustled in the small shop and you wove between them as the early winter dusk started to descend.

You stepped out onto the street as the grey sky turned a deep blue. You looked up at the sliver of moon and frowned. This wasn't how you'd imagined your Christmas. Never overly festive but you had looked forward to a cozy holiday with Peter. Well, that was a long gone hope.

You started down the street and were startled as a car honked at you and pulled up to the curve. You recognized it and walked faster. The engine died and the door opened and closed. The footsteps neared and you tried to elude them.

"Hey," Bucky caught your arm and forced you to slow down. You almost dropped the large paper bag.

"Leave me alone." You didn't look at him.

"Hey, I was just gonna help you out," He grabbed the top of the bag and you stopped before he could tear it. "That looks heavy."

“Please.” You hugged the bag and backed away from him. “I told you before--”

“You’re all alone.” He said bluntly. “On Christmas.”

“And so are you,” You countered.

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” He warned and reached for the bag again. “I could help you. Take care of you.” You wrestled with him but he easily took the groceries. He looked inside and tutted. “That’s a lot of wine for one person.”

“Fuck off.” You turned on your heel and stormed away. He could keep it all. You just wanted this all to end. The dread, the dreams, the terrible guilt that never quite left you. He followed.

“Just let me give you a ride. We can talk.” He caught up with you. “What is it? A five minute ride to campus? Just five minutes, please?”

You stopped again. You looked up at him sharply. You were tired. You just wanted to get back to your dorm and hide.

“Five minutes and you leave me alone for good.” You declared.

“Five minutes. That’s all.” He agreed and his lips curved just slightly.

You shrugged and gestured past him. He led you back to his car. He placed the bag behind his seat as you got in and he took the driver’s seat.

You crossed your arms and stared out the window as he turned the engine. You were reminded of that night he’d driven you home. You’d bought his sweet little act hook, line, and sinker. How stupid.

“I...wasn’t trying to trick you. I just wanted to be close to you.” He pulled out. “I hope you know that.”

“You recorded it,” You spat. “How was that not malicious?”

“That wasn’t about you, it was about him,” Bucky said. “I wanted him to see what he’d taken for granted. What he’d lost.”

“Are you stupid? Did you really think that was right?” You looked at him. “You could’ve been normal. You could’ve waited instead of getting me drunk. You could’ve just told me you were interested.”

“Do you think that would’ve worked?” He wondered as he steered. “I’m a lot older than you. I don’t know how things work these days.”

“You don’t just feed someone drinks and call that a relationship,” You shook your head. “You don’t send a video to her ex. You don’t--You don’t know what he did.”

“What do you mean?” He stopped at the intersection.

“Nothing. I just...me and Peter could’ve ended this as friends and you took that from me. And now, you know what, you’re right, I am alone. I--” You squinted as he turned away from campus and your words tumbled to murmurs. “Bucky, what are you doing? Where--”

You felt a prick in your neck and clapped your hand against it as you looked over at him. He held a syringe as your eyes felt loose in your head and a warmth spread along your neck and through your limbs.

“B-Bucky…” You fell back against the seat.

“I won’t let you go.” He said as your eyes closed. “I can’t. I love you.”

His voice floated around you and faded into the black as you slumped against the door. You sank into the void, entirely and blissfully numb.

❤

The shroud slowly lifted from you. Your eyes fluttered open and you groaned as the ceiling was painted in flickering light. The crackle and smell of fire tickled your senses and you looked around the unfamiliar room. You rolled onto your side and tenderly cradled your head. It felt like a pebble was bouncing around your skull.

A dark figure knelt before the artificial fireplace, the poker in hand as he stoked it. Slowly Bucky turned his head and his face came clear through the haze. He wore a pair of flannel pants and a grey tee.

You pushed yourself up and hung your legs over the side of the bed. He stood and set aside the iron poker. He neared and sat beside you, his hand on yours.

“Take it easy.” He cooed. “You’re okay.” He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

“Wh-where…” Your mouth was dry and you couldn’t find the word.

“Home.” He smiled and brought his hand up to cradle your face. He kissed your forehead as his thumb rubbed your cheek. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

You grimaced, confused. He reluctantly let go and stood. He walked around as you tried to clear your head.

There were two doors, the windows were blacked out, but otherwise it seemed like a normal room. It could’ve been any apartment nestled in the midst of the overpopulated city.

“It’s already noon. You should dress.” He placed a dress in your lap. “Then we can open our gifts.”

Your mind threatened to crack. What the fuck was going on?

“My ma never let us sleep past six, even on Christmas, but I figured you needed the rest,” He continued. “You looked so peaceful.” He smiled and you unfolded the red velvet. “You can get cleaned up just in there.” He pointed to the door on your right. “I’ll be here.”

He sat in the armchair by the fire and leaned his chin in his hand as he watched you expectantly. You stood as you tried to hide your discomfort. A man who stuck a needle in your neck was bound to do a lot worse.

You hesitated as you neared the door. It would be a place to hide for a while at least. You said nothing as you kept your eyes on him and backed through the door. You closed it, slowly. He never stopped watching and you found the lock on the door didn’t work.

You turned and held up the velvet dress. The straps were thin and the burgundy skirt was trimmed with matching fur. You hated it.

You look down at your own clothing. He’d taken your jacket and boots off. Your sweatshirt was rumpled from your induced slumber and your jeans were stained with salt along the ankles.

If you refused to be his doll, what would he do? You weren’t stupid enough to think you could keep him out, especially with a door handle that didn’t even click into place.

Even if you fought him, he probably had another needle at the ready. Besides he was much too strong for that. You knew that already. There were no windows in the bathroom. No way out it seemed as those in the other room were sealed.

You only had one choice. Well, not really a choice at all.

You quaked as you undressed. You avoided looking in the mirror as you folded your clothes on the counter. You kept your bra and panties on, even though they felt grimy from your sweat. You pulled on the dress. It was too tight and too short.

You wrung your hands as you looked around the bathroom. It was nice despite being a prison. Your nerves whirled around you and threatened to choke you. You flinched as knuckles tapped softly on the door.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

You blinked and marched to the door. You opened it, slowly, and stared back at him. He looked you up and down and grabbed your hand. He had a dreamy light in his eyes as he drew you out of the bathroom into the soft glow of the other room.

The tree in the corner had been lit up with pale string lights and you blinked away the specs they left in your eyes. He stopped you and tisked.

“No,” He pulled the strap of your bra down your shoulder. “Take this off.”

You tucked your lip under your teeth and reached back to unhook the bra. You wrestled it out from beneath the dress and he took it from you. He flung it beside the bed and turned back to you.

His hands startled you as he brushed up your skirt and along your thighs. He grabbed your panties and tugged them down. You winced at his force and the cotton dropped to your ankles. He nudged you forward and you stepped out of them before he kicked them away.

“There, perfect,” He took your hand again and drew you over to the tree. “Time for presents.”

He let go of you and sat on the floor like a child. He took a box from the pile beneath the fir and reached up to pull on your wrist.

“Come on. Sit.” He held up the wrapped gift. “Open your presents.”

You obeyed stiffly, careful to keep the skirt from showing too much. Your hand shook as you accepted the first box from him. You ripped away the paper and crumpled it up in your fist. You set it down and stared at the box lid.

“Bucky…” You glanced up at him. “It’s not too late. You can let me go. I won’t say a word. I’ll--”

“Open it.”

He shoved the box closer and it almost slipped from your grasp. His smile fell as his metal finger rubbed against his thumb nervously.

You let the box settle on your lap and you slid the lid off. Inside was a golden chain with your and Bucky’s initials hanging from it. You lifted it and he was swift to take it from you.

“Here,” He spun his finger. “I’ll help.”

You turned, rigid as he got to his knees and neared you. His fingers tickled your throat as he wrapped the gold around it and clasped it at the back of your neck. He played with the dangling links and sent a shiver through you.

You drew away and resumed your seat on the rug. He handed you another box, this one bigger. He waited, expectantly. After a moment, he nodded and raised a brow. You opened the second gift and revealed a set of sheer lingerie. You quickly covered it up and cleared your throat.

“You don’t like it?” He asked. His tone was dangerous.

“I do. Thank you. I just wasn’t expecting it.” You lied.

His metal fist balled and unballed. You kept looking back to it as he seemed to sway between delight and anger. You shuddered and he handed you the next gift.

“Good, good,” He said. “I picked them all just for you. I really hope you love them.”

You bit your tongue anxiously and opened the next gift. A dress similar to the one you wore but made of glossy silver silk. Then there was a toiletry set and some make-up and final a small box drawn from just beside the trunk of the tree.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as he bit down and turned the velvet box in his fingers. He cleared his throat and got up on his knees. You glanced around, your heart seemed to stop as you realised what he was doing. He was most assuredly out of his mind.

“Sweetheart,” He gripped it as he brought one knee up, “Will you…” He popped it open and revealed a diamond cut into a teardrop. “Marry me?”

You were light-headed. You pushed the empty box from your lap and stood. You could barely do that as you tried to wave him away.

“Bucky….” You gulped. “Bucky…” You spun and raced for the door. “You can’t do this! Let me go!”

You wrenched the door handle but it wouldn’t turn. You tried to rip the door out of its frame but it didn’t even shake, You beat on it and hollered.

“Help!”

You sensed movement behind you and before you could turn to see, Bucky’s arm came up around your waist and he dragged you back. You struggled with him but it was all too easy for him to bend you to his will.

He shoved you to the bed and you caught yourself on the mattress with a yelp. He followed quickly and turned you onto your back as he straddled you on the edge. Your legs dangled over the side and you slapped at him.

“Please, please, why are you doing this?”

He caught your hand and stilled it with his vibranium grip. He bent all your fingers but one and forced the ring onto it. You swiped at him with your other hand and he swiftly caught it.

“Don’t be ungrateful,” He snarled. “I got you all these nice things and you go and spit in my face.”

“No, no, Bucky, please,” You begged.

“Quiet,” He barked. “It’s my turn now. Time for me to open my present.”

He released your hands and grabbed the straps of your dress. You flailed out at him and he snapped the velvet easily. You wriggled weakly and wheezed. You couldn’t breath. Your chest felt like it would collapse.

“Please,” You said. “Bucky… you’re scaring me.”

“You love me,” He sneered. “I know it. I knew it that night. The way you sounded when I touched you. The way you said my name,”

“I was drunk,” You grasped his wrists as his fingers hooked around your shoulders. “Bucky, I can’t even remember that night.”

“Shut up!” He shouted and shook you. “Stop lying!”

You bit your tongue and tasted blood. Your head spun as you felt his weight shift and the velvet tickle your thigh. He tore your skirt up to your waist as he hovered over you on his knees.

“Bucky,” Your voice cracked as you pressed your hand over his. “I still love Peter.”

“No,” He pushed himself off of you. “You don’t” He gripped his head. “You love me!”

“Bucky--”

“I already told you to shut up,” He growled. “So shut up before I make you.”

He gruffly ripped his shirt over his head. His thumbs hooked under the elastic of his pants and he pushed his shoulders back. His blue eyes were dark and sinister as he watched you sit up.

“Keep the dress on,” He shoved his pants down.

You stood as he quickly untangled himself from the flannel. He caught you by your throat and forced you back down to the bed. You grabbed his thick forearm as he knelt over you, his fingers threatening to crush your throat.

“Say it. Say you love me.” His hissed.

“You’re hurting me.” You clung to his arm.

“Hurting you!? I’ve only ever been good to you and you--” He stuttered in rage and forced his leg between yours.

He kept his hand on your throat and lifted your other leg as he placed himself entirely between your legs. He bent your leg around him as he bent over you, almost crushing your neck with his hand.

“I never wanted to hurt you, but you insist on hurting me,” He squeezed as his hand crawled up your leg. “Say it!”

You squeaked as you slapped at his hand. His fingers crept over your thigh and down your pelvis. He pushed his fingers roughly between your legs and felt along your folds. His touch hurt as he forced two fingers inside of you, dry.

He poked in and out harshly and your eyes rolled back as your vision began to spot. He loosened his grip but kept his hold on you. He rescinded his fingers and pressed the head of his cock against you.

You hugged him with your legs, trying to force him away. He slid his tip inside of you and you let out a stifled moan. You hit his thick bicep as he inched into you. You whimpered and scratched at the vibranium.

“Ple-ease,” You rasped.

“Say it.” He thrust sharply and impaled you entirely.

“Buck--”

He thurst again and your voice fizzled with a sob.

“Say you love me,” He pressed his lips to your cheek. “Say it.”

He jolted his hips, each time your whined and felt even weaker beneath him. Your head swam and as your walls clenched around him.

“B--” You could barely breath.

“Say it.” His spit trailed across your cheek as he nuzzled your neck.

He sped up, the bed trembled beneath you. You were crushed beneath his relentless pounding. Each thrust sent a reverberation up your spin and ripples along your thighs. You snaked your arm around his neck and pushed your head back into the mattress.

“Say.” He jerked roughly. “It.”

“I--I--” His hand slipped away as he nibbled at your throat and he cradled your head. “I… love--- you!”

You exclaimed as you came suddenly. You were appalled and stunned by your bodies response to him. He was inflamed by it and rutted into you even harder.

His thick grunts stormed in your ears as his fingers stretched across the back of your head. The velvet was rough between your bodies as he moved against you. He snarled as he spasmed. Your body went limp as he emptied into you.

He stilled and rested his weight over you. You closed your eyes, your face wet from tears and sweat. His hand fell away from your head and he laced his fingers through yours and placed with the diamond there.

“I love you, too,” He cooed and kissed your neck.

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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anonsservice · 4 years

Text

Just text me!

Prompt: Jade doesn't like talking on the phone, but Reader always calls her instead of texting. Reader admits that it's because they want to hear Jade's voice. | or: Two times reader got away with calling instead of texting, and one time they didn't. | Jade x Gender-Neutral!Reader |

-ONE-

Jade hated lots of things, wet door-nobs (but then again, who likes them?), ducks, and this list could go on but then it would take hours to read. And one of the things she hated most was talking on the phone. She never understood why anybody would want to talk on the phone when you would just type and not have to listen to anybody's annoying voice. Hence why she only answered the phone 5% of the time and hung up the rest of the time. By now everybody had gotten the memo to stop calling her, and they did. Only calling when it was an emergency. Everybody but you understood this unsaid contract. You always opted to call her rather than text her, and nine times out of ten she always answered, because anytime she didn't you'd send her voice memos of you pleading for her to answer. She was always rendered powerless to you when you sounded just so sad.

Now was one of those nines times. Jade had been reading 'Animal Farm' by George Orwell when you called. She groaned and went to press the little red button until she saw your face in the contact picture. Her thumb quickly switched course and she immediately pressed the green one instead.

"Hi~ Jade!"

"Y/N."

"So I just saw the cutes-" She cut you off.

"No! Do not start about a cute dog again!"

"But it's just so cute! the owner said his name was Mr.Doodles! Mr.Doodles!"

"This was just something you could've texted me you know." Your line went quiet for a moment before she started again.

"Why do you always call me? I think I've only ever gotten texts from you when we were in class."

"...What's wrong with me calling you huh!? You meanie!"

"I'm not mean! Don't lie you liar!"

"If I'm a liar you're a meanie!"

"I'm no- Hold on. Don't do this."

Whenever you wanted to get away with something you just went off on a tangent and distracted her until she forgot what she was even talking about in the first place.

"Do what?" Your tone was almost sweet and almost innocent. Almost.

"Forget it, but next time you see a stupid dog with an even stupider name, just text me."

You hummed in response and she hung up the phone.

-----------------------------

-TWO-

You always found a way to bypass Jade's no calling rule. You always made sure to curve her questions so that you'd never be lying but not exactly telling the truth. It wasn't like Jade ever truly hated your calls. She did, of course, hate everybody else's but when your number popped up on her screen she'd answer always. She loved your weird squeals, snorts, and giggles you made when the two of you were talking. Everything you did was cute to her. But after a while, she got suspicious of you. The way you'd always call her over the smallest things. As if looking for any reason at all to call her. The way whenever she asked you to just text her you never directly said 'yes' or any time she asked about your calling addiction you just changed the subject.

Right now you had just noticed a bunny hopping along through the long stretch of grass of which you were walking along. You'd often take an afternoon to just wander this 'park' that was really just grass, trees, flowers, and animals. Few children were ever spotted there but you and a few others were frequent visitors. Your favorite thing to do there was just sitting on one of the many benches and watching for any and all animals. One of the animals being bunnies. Animals of which happen to be your newest reason to call a certain loud-mouthed-dark-haired girl.

It only took two rings before her voice came from the phone's speaker.

"Y/N! Again? What is it this time?"

"Bunny!"

Jade grumbled about you wasting her time but you just went on about the small animal you'd noticed. You didn't talk for very long as there wasn't much about the animal to describe. It was fairly small, grey with some brown patches, beady black eyes, ears that stook up toward the sky, and two long front teeth.

"I will ask again, why did you call me for this?"

"Because the bunny was so super cute and you needed to hear about it!"

"Needed, did I?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Then why didn't you just text me."

"What's that Jade?" You started to blow into the mic of the phone.

"You're breaking up! Call you later!"

You stuffed your phone back into your jacket pocket and started the longish walk back to your car.

-THREE-

This time you called her when you were in the supermarket, getting snacks for you and Jade's monthly movie marathon. You two got together monthly to watch movies all night and spend the day together the day after, every last Saturday and Sunday of every month. It started when Jade's parents went on another business trip for the weekend and she had gotten lonely and invited you over for the weekend. Though she would never admit to being lonely, you knew. Anyway, you each took turns buying the snacks. Last time Jade bought them so now it was your turn. And at the moment you were trying to decide between strawberry pocky or cookies and cream. It took you a minute but you ended up deciding to call Jade and ask which one to get.

And, in true whipped sapphic nature she answered almost as soon as you called.

"What!"

"hi, love."

It took a minute but she mumbled a 'hi' in return.

"Should i get strawberry or cookies and cream pocky?"

"Really, Y/N?"

"hm?"

"You call me.. over Pocky?!"

You pouted, even though you knew she couldn't see you.

"Mhm! Now tell me!"

"You could've tex-"

"I know I know I could've texted you, but I didn't, so tell me now which one to get!"

"If you know to text me, then why, why, do you always call?"

"because i- forget it, ill just get Oreos."

You pulled the phone away and went to press 'hang up' but a 'wait!' coming from the small box stopped you. You pressed the phone up to your cheek once more.

"Hm?"

"Get the strawberry ones."

"Okay! Bye-bye, love you!"

you hung up before she could say it back.

--------

It was an hour after the whole pocky incident and you were now on your first movie of the night, which was of course, 'The scissoring'. You always started the night off with some type of horror movie, per Jade's request of course.

She was pulling out one of the four pocky boxes you had purchased.

"Y/N?"

You turned your head from the screen to her.

"Why do you always call me! And don't call me mean, or a liar, or anything! Just tell me the truth. Or I'll end this weekend early. I swear on it!"

At that, you frowned. You were on one hand embarrassed at the true reasoning behind all your calls, but you wanted to be with jade for the next twenty-four hours so you gave in almost immediately after she said that.

"Well I just," you tilted your head down and mumbled out the rest in a confusing sentence. "Ilikehearingyourvoiceandijustiguessitrytolookforanyreasontohearitagain"

"Huh? Speak slower, love. Look- I won't make fun of you, I swear."

You look up at her and nod slightly.

"I said, I call you all the time because I like hearing your voice, so I guess I kinda just started looking for any reason to call you and hear it again. I'm sorry..."

At this, she tried to bite back a smile but in the end, the smile won and she look your face into her hands.

"You don't need to say sorry, Y/N. It's kind of cute."

You smiled once more and nestled yourself in her arms after you gave her a sickeningly sweet kiss.

A/N: *me walking in after not updating for like a month or two* hey yall... how yall doin?.

No, but for real, I just started streaming and I guess it's distracted me a bunch. I took it up after my hamster died cuz I used to talk to my hamster a lot and since she was gone I needed to talk to somebody who wasn't my large stuffed animal collection. Any-who, I'll try to update more! And i wrote this at 3 am after streaming for like an hour soooooo, sorry for the fuck ups.

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Confidentiality - Chapter 1: The Conference Call

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Four months. Four long months that she’s been hiding in lockdown. So when everything starts to go back to normal again, she’s going back to work as Jensen’s handler for the first Supernatural convention after the pandemic.

Chapter Warnings: A little angst, a dash of fluff

WC: 1703

A/N: For this fic, let’s pretend Jensen is single and the pandemic was over and done with after four months. Also I’m sorry ugh, it’s been a while since I wrote Jensen.

Beta’d by: @dean-winchesters-bacon <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

It’s Monday and Y/N is sitting in a darkened room as she starts up her laptop for today’s work meeting. She had drawn the blinds already, hiding her surroundings from her workmates.

The light on the nightstand illuminates the room enough for the people in the video call to see her features. That’s all they need to see, really.

Logging onto her laptop with her password, she clicks open the email client, and selects her calendar. The cursor travels over the highlighted block and she clicks on it, searching for the login link to the Zoom meeting.

It’s 4.56 PM, she still has four minutes left. Wonders if she should click on the link and let the computer connect or if she should wait. She’d hate to be one of the first ones because that’s always awkward. She would spend time talking nonsense with whoever was as eager as her to join a meeting too soon.

4.58 PM. Now is a good time, probably. Not too early and she’d hate even more to be the last one.

Moving her mouse over the link, she clicks on it and a window with the meeting pops open. There’s another click and then she’s there, her laptop camera lights up with a green light, signaling that she too can be seen.

Seeing herself on screen is not something she enjoys. She nervously rights her hair, arranges it so nobody will notice the hickey that she tried to hide with concealer ten minutes before. It’s a fresh one, one he just gave her an hour ago, even though he knew full well that she’s going to have a meeting. It's her own fault because she had let him, always gets so fucking weak when he nibbles at her throat.

Y/N joins as the six people are talking about something. Nonsense, she guesses. She doesn’t really listen.

There should be ten people in the meeting to discuss the upcoming Supernatural Convention. The first convention after the lockdown.

“Hi,” she says and waves, because that’s what every newcomer does and she’s greeted with Hello’s and Hi’s back.

But there’s one guy already sitting in there, looking like he owns the whole fucking internet, and she doesn’t know how he does it with the lighting but he looks downright pretty. It’s not really fair.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jensen greets her by name. Of course he does, because he likes to rile her up. He’s also the only one who’s so abso-fucking-lutely cheery. “How are you?”

She smirks, “I’m fine, thank you. I hope you are too.”

Keeping it professional, that’s what she can and will do.

“Good,” Jensen nods and opens his mouth to say something more but he gets cut off by her boss who’s taking the lead.

Y/N doesn’t say much, doesn’t have anything to say anyway during the first ten minutes of the conversation. Lowering her face, she takes notes because it’s a prep meeting where they get informed how it will work out and to see how the spirit of the people involved is for the upcoming convention — which she’s really excited about. It has been a while.

Jensen and Jared do a lot of talking, as they want to know the details on how to make the experience great for the fans after everyone’s been holed up for so long. And she loves that. She always loved how they actually really care, unlike other show’s leads. There are some points that still need to be talked through and Y/N just sits back and watches. She could watch Jensen talk for days, it’s really mesmerizing.

His hair is long, his beard too. Jensen’s new look is completely different from Dean. It makes him look softer, and rounds up the edges of his jawline. The graying of his beard doesn’t make him less attractive, and that’s also something that she thinks it’s unfair. She hopes they will let him keep it for the convention. Hopes that he won’t let them talk him out of it because ‘some fans might want to meet Dean and not Jensen’. It’s going to be another month until they go back to filming, so it’s actually feasible. She’s sure that apart from a select few, the majority of fans would love to take a photo with this look and she can’t blame them one bit.

It’s going to be weird when the look is gone. Honestly, she needed some time to get used to it herself, but it has really grown on her. Maybe she’ll mourn the loss — just a little.

“So, let’s recap,” Gina, her boss, says and Y/N snaps her mind back to reality, “Jared’s flying in on Friday already because you want to visit some friends, right?”

“Correct,” Jared nods his head in approval. “You did book the hotel for three nights for me, right?” The question is directed to her co-worker, Julian, who’s responsible for the boys' travel arrangements.

“Yeah, I did,” Julian says with a nod of his head.

Gina nods, “Good, so Jensen, I see that you’re flying in on Saturday evening as per usual?”

“Yes.” Jensen says. He looks into his screen and licks his lips. She hates that she knows that he’s looking at her.

“I want you girls to be there on Friday evening at the latest? We’ll also go for dinner on Saturday and go over the Sunday schedule.”

“Uh, yes. I’ll be there,” Hannah and Kristin say in unison. Kristin is responsible for Misha but since Misha is also attending Sunday, she sits into the meeting as a formality.

That’s Y/N’s cue.

“I-I’m, uh, sorry, I’m still in the middle of booking my flight but yeah, I’ll be there on Friday.”

It was a huge issue with Jensen and they’d argued today about the flight. He doesn’t want her to leave until the last possible minute but now she has the confirmation that she has to be there on Friday already.

She sees Jensen raising an eyebrow and hates him for it because he distracts her.

“Okay,” her boss nods, “Jared and Jensen, I’ll have someone picking you up.”

Jared smiles, “Okay.”

“Great,” Jensen huffs out. She can see that he’s a little irritated about something.

The others don’t seem to have noticed, but she does. Jared notices as well, but apart from him clearing his throat, he doesn’t say a word.

“Right, I need to hurry to another meeting. Boys, I’ll see you Sunday!” Gina addresses the boys before waving goodbye, and disconnects. People in the meeting follow her and disappear one by one.

Y/N too, disconnects and is about to shut down her laptop when a skype call interrupts her.

Ugh.

It’s Jensen.

As soon as she picks up, her screen lights up and the view of his face almost blinds her. Honestly, it’s like staring into the sun. Nonetheless, she rolls her eyes because of the things he pulled in the meeting.

“Why are you rolling your eyes at me?” He asks, seemingly oblivious.

She groans with another eye roll, “Because you tried to distract me the entire conference call!”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one who was trying to undress you with my eyes.”

Y/N cocks an eyebrow, frowning at him. There’s a beat of silence until he groans.

“Fine, alright, I did. Sorry, okay? And why didn’t you say that we’re going to fly in together on Saturday like we said we would?” There’s something about the way he looks and she detects disappointment.

“As far as I remember, we did not settle on that because you ended up distracting me again and gave me a fucking hickey. And besides,” she sighs, “Nobody should know.”

“Would it really be so bad, Y/N?”

“Jensen, are we really going to have this conversation over Skype?”

“Fine,” he scoffs and stands up abruptly, walking out of the frame.

Great.

Abandoning her laptop, Y/N proceeds to walk to the window to open up the blinds again. Walking back, she switches off the only other light source, and as if on cue, the door opens.

“Shall we have the conversation face to face instead?” Jensen asks as he barges in, walks to the bed of his guest room, and sits down. He rubs a hand through his long hair, scratches at his beard before he looks at her.

“I rather not have it at all, but yet here we are, huh?” She strides over to stand in front of him and Jensen looks up, his features are so fucking soft, it makes her weak.

“Why don’t you want them to know? And I’m sure they would let it slide if you flew in on Saturday instead of Friday. You’re only responsible for me anyway and we’re a good team.” His hand reaches out for her, tugs at her wrist, uses his strength to pull her onto the bed with him.

Y/N lands on her back with a squeal and Jensen takes the opportunity, looming over her and looking down at her. Her hand goes up, strokes his hair back, fingertips tracing along his beard.

“Because the only reason I’m still employed is because you let them put in the contract that you want me as your handler and no one else. They would absolutely hate it if they found out I was fucking their talent.”

Jensen chuckles, his nose touching hers, “That’s not true.”

“What’s that?”

“If anything, it’s me fucking you.” His irresistible smile makes Y/N melt a little before he kisses her.

He lingers too long, kisses her too softly, too sweetly, knowing what effect his kisses have on her.

Pushing at his chest, she makes him break the kiss, “I should look for a flight.”

“No,” he chuckles and pecks her lips.

“Jensen!”

“Okay, fine,” he pushes himself up, “but only because I have an interview scheduled.”

Right, he does. It’s going to be an hour long.

“You want me to make dinner to have it ready when you’re finished?” She asks while she sits up and walks over to her laptop.

“Nah, I’ll eat you,” Jensen winks before he walks out.

Chapter 2

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#confidentiality #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fan fic #jensen ackles fan fiction #jensen ackles series #nathalie writes

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pitiless-achilles-wept · 4 years

Text

Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries

On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)

There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.

It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.

[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex

p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)

#my life as a cancer patient #cancerversary #stage 4 #mbc #metastatic breast cancer #personal #memories #bex writes #writing invitation #quarantine life

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13-reasons-ideas · 3 years

Text

Can’t Go Back Part 17

A/N: This chapter is pretty fluffy. We get a glimpse at how they are moving forward in their relationship since their fight. I’m planning on uploading a part from Monty’s perspective about what he’s doing Friday after school tomorrow or sometime this weekend. I hope you enjoy. Feedback is appreciated as always and much love. -Em

I spent the next week actively not checking my emails. I was too afraid to even consider if I would get emails about schools yet. It had only been a week. But you never know. In an attempt to keep my mind off of the fact that my entire future was now completely and totally out of my control, I tried to fill my time with normalcy. Things I normally did. Things that Monty and I normally did. That normalcy now included carving out an hour and a half for Monty’s physio three days a week, but we made it work.

I tried to get back into my routine. For the most part, I went to bed at the same time every night. Some days Monty went with me, other days he stayed up and did stuff for a while. But he came to bed every night. I went to the game Friday night. Scott and Charlie came over for brunch on Saturday. Justin came over to see his new best friend, I mean me, on Sunday because he picked up a shift Saturday morning. Monty and I did our own things together in the evenings during the week. I pretended to read while he played video games one night. Secretly, I was just watching him. For some reason watching people play video games was highly entertaining. We just did normal things.

We also went grocery shopping Saturday. “Are you sure you want to come with me?” I asked again.

“Yes, I’m sure Addison. Besides, we are over halfway to the store. It’s a little late to change my mind now.”

“Okay. Remember the list please.”

“I know. There’s a list and we get what’s on the list.”

“Exactly.”

At the store, I grabbed a cart and dug through my purse for the list and my pen. Monty took the cart from me without asking. I feigned an affronted look. He smirked back. Cocky bastard. I can already tell this is going to be so fun. I opened my mouth to speak when we got inside. “List, I know. And yes. I remember you’re going to make us get vegetables.”

“And you have to get at least one that you like.” He pouted. “You like carrots.” I offered.

“Fine.” He muttered. We are in a dramatic mood today. It was so peaceful when I went by myself. But I missed this. Monty went and put exactly five bulk carrots in a bag. Not wanting to fight him on carrots, I didn’t say anything. As usual, I was in charge of the rest of our vegetables.

The aisles were an easier task. There were no evil scary vegetable that I would have to force him to eat. I quickly scanned down the list as we entered each aisle. Carefully, everything was placed in the cart just so. “We need this.” Monty said, grabbing a box of cheese its.

“Is it on the list?” In response, he plucked the list and pen from my hand, and scribbled it on.

“It is now.” I rolled my eyes and grinned as he handed it back to me. His cheeky grin made me blush. I turned my back and pretended to look at something when we got to the fruit snack aisle and ignored the telltale thud of a box, make that two boxes, of fruit snacks being chucked in the cart. He didn’t write them on the list.

We both cringed at the price of meat, as usual. But we needed it so there wasn’t a whole lot we could do. I crossed things off that had been missed as we were filling the cart. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like the store was out of anything. “Oh, we need butter.” I muttered.

“Is it on the list?” Monty smirked. Like he had done earlier with the crackers, I quickly wrote it down.

“Yes.” I grinned. He grinned and stopped to kiss me on the cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now let’s get this done so we can go home and do nothing.”

“Your wish is my command.” There was even a dramatic wave of his arm to accompany his attempt to woo.

“You are so fucking cheesy. I’m telling the guys about that one.”

“Ah, come on Addison. You love it.”

I went to grab a couple of pounds of butter and decided I could trust my adult husband to get some bread and jam on his own. When I found him in the bakery with our cart, I remembered that I married an overgrown child. There was bread. And there was jam. And also, cookies. Four different kinds of cookies. And a thing of strudel. Which, to be honest, I wasn’t that upset about because it’s like the best pastry. But the point is that it was there.

“I asked you to get bread and jam. Not half of the baked goods in the store.”

“But cookies are delicious Addison. And you like their chocolate chip cookies. And for some reason I still don’t understand, plain oatmeal cookies. Don’t even lie and say the strudel was a bad idea.”

“So, the sugar cookies and M&M ones are just to look pretty on the counter?”

“No. Those ones are for me.”

“I married a fuckin’ child.” I muttered softly. We turned when we heard a quiet chuckle behind us. A cute little old couple was watching our interaction with giant smiles.

“Mine still does the same thing dearie.” The woman said to me.

“Remember, we don’t grow up. We just get bigger.” The man smiled.

“I’m beginning to realize.” I laughed.

“See. I told you.” Monty smirked. As if to prove the point they were making, we watched as the man grabbed a container of lemon rolls and placed them in his cart. The woman gave him an exaggerated, exasperated look.

“Wait, how long have the two of you been married?” I asked when they passed us.

“Sixty-five years.” They said together, smiling fondly at each other. Wow. That’s amazing. I was still smiling when we got to the till and checked out.

Our normal routines continued for the rest of the week. School, physio, make dinner, sports, spend time together. The normalcy of it was refreshing.

“You’re scratching.” Monty said offhandedly, without looking up from his notes.

“Am not.”

“You stopped typing five minutes ago Addison.”

“I’m thinking.”

“And scratching.” I rolled my eyes and didn’t respond. I started typing aggressively loud to try and get a rise out of him instead. He didn’t respond at all. Not even an annoyed muscle twitch. We aren’t there yet. Okay. Monty’s phone buzzed on the coffee table beside me. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And then again. Before I could reach for it, he had hobble run over and snatched it out of my reach. I looked at him quizzically. He was trying to think of a reason to be hiding his phone from me. What is going on?

“It’s guy stuff. Jamie is having… girl troubles.”

“Girl troubles.”

“Yeah. His girlfriend but not girlfriend or something is doing stuff.”

“Something and stuff.”

“Yes. So, uh. I’ll be over… over there.” He motioned back to the kitchen table. “You know, dealing with girl troubles.”

“Right.” That was weird. Also, he’s going to pay for the movement in the morning. I went back to my writing and not scratching quietly. Occasionally I would look up over my laptop at Monty. He seemed to be very engrossed in his notes.

“Hey Addison?”

“Hmm?”

“Since the game got cancelled some of us are going over to Jamie’s place tomorrow after school.”

“’Kay.”

“Because girl troubles.”

“Yeah.”

“And stop scratching. You’ll only make the rash worse.”

The next morning, I skipped a shower. Cuddles were too enticing. It was a Friday so I didn’t feel like I had to look all cute. While Monty made himself a smoothie, I grabbed one of his shirts to wear because it was loose enough that it wouldn’t irritate the rash. It finally started to clear up. But now it itches. As though he could hear my thoughts, he called from the kitchen, “stop scratching.”

“Bite me.” I called back.

“If you don’t stop scratching, I will.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He looked up when he heard me come in the room.

“I was going to wear that today.”

“You have like… fifty more in your half of the closet.”

“I know mum is a history professor, but dad is a businessman. I know he taught you fractions. What I have is not half of the closet.” I merely shrugged. He waved towards the bowl beside the blender. “Chunky monkey with smooth peanut butter.” I sat and took a bite.

“Yum. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Don’t worry about washing the blender. I’ll do it after school.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

School was pretty boring. It was the middle of November, so we were in the awkward not quite midterms but not quite ready for a new unit time. I met Monty at my locker after the last bell. He was waiting for me with Justin and Jamie. “Hey baby.”

“Hey babe. You guys have fun tonight, okay?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Jamie saluted. I shuddered. Monty tried to stifle a laugh.

“Jamie. Do me a favour and never do that again.” I placed a couple of textbooks in my locker. “I’ll see you at home. Can you stop and grab baking powder on your way home tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Why can’t you stop? You’re going straight there.” Justin asked.

“I have a date with a bubble bath.”

“Ooh la la.” Jamie laughed.

“I guess. Didn’t shower this morning and a bath is better for my itching.”

“Oh?” Justin asked.

“I’ll explain later.” I muttered. He furrowed his brow and looked at Monty. I kissed Monty goodbye.

At home, I went to wash my face so I could do the expensive face mask I had been saving for a night alone. I did an exfoliating treatment first and ran my bath. A few scented candles were set on our master bathroom counter and I poured myself a glass of raspberry juice. The book I had been meaning to get around to reading was sitting on the toilet for easy access. Okay fine. One of the books I had been meaning to read. It was very relaxing. I had to dig in the cabinet for my body scrub but found it behind a backup pack of deodorant from Costco. Luckily, the bubble bath was also right there. I poured some in to give it time to foam.

With my face mask done and washed off, I undressed and settled in the tub. The water was boiling hot, just the way I liked it. I sighed and sipped my juice, enjoying a night alone. When the husband is away, wife will pamper. The hot water helped to calm my itching skin. The scrub made my legs nice and smooth before I shaved them and exfoliated a second time. Once the necessaries were taken care of, I could start to relax. Picking up my book, I settled in for the foreseeable future. My book was so interesting and immersive, I completely lost track of time. I was still in the tub when Monty got home. “Addison?” He called when he didn’t find me in the kitchen.

“I’m in the bath.” I called back.

“Okay.” He was opening and closing drawers in our room. He poked his head in the bathroom. “Do you want a glass of water or anything? How long have you been in there?” I paused for a moment to consider. How long had it been?

“What time is it?”

“Almost seven.” My eyes widened.

“Really? Then yeah, I’ll take a glass of water. I’m going to get out right away.” He shut the door behind him and I threw my book across to the door so it didn’t get wet when I got out of the tub.

Once dry and moisturized, I left the bathroom in search of my husband. I found him on the couch scrolling aimlessly through his phone. “I missed you.” I bent behind the back of the couch to kiss his cheek.

“I missed you too. You look very cozy in your fuzzy pyjamas.”

“Why thank you.” I curtsied. He laughed happily. Settling next to him, I laid my head in his lap.

“How was your bath?”

“Amazing. Very relaxing. Oh! And I exfoliated and shaved my legs.” I grinned and lifted my pants leg. “Feel!”

Again, Monty laughed and shook his head. He still reached out and rubbed my leg though. “Very soft and smooth.”

“How was girl problems?”

“I think they’re resolved. It wasn’t as major or as difficult as we thought.”

“That’s good.” I peeked at his phone. He was watching football injury videos. Oh Sweetie. “Hey, how’s your knee?”

“It’s okay. Physio has been helping.”

“I’m glad.” He seemed to realize then that I wasn’t just asking for an update on his progress.

“Oh. I’m just watching this because some of them are funny.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah.” He restarted the video and adjusted his position so I could see too. He was right. Some of them were pretty funny.

It was family brunch Saturday the next day. Scott, Charlie, and Justin all came over. As usual, the four young men were more than happy to eat relatively work free. Monty did have to help me reach a few things and our guests helped set the table. But for the most part, I did the work. It was relaxing for me. Monty still felt a little uncomfortable having me do most of the work in the kitchen, but I didn’t mind. It was my choice to do it. I enjoyed it. And it made things much smoother when I was working solo.

Since it was just a casual pancake breakfast this week and just the five of us, I didn’t really feel a need to shower before they came over. As such, I was still in my pyjamas most of the morning. They didn’t mind. We hung out for a while after brunch together. By the time everyone was getting ready to leave around two, I decided it was time to shower and make myself feel like a human again. “I’m running Scott’s place for a bit. We have a couple of things to go over with Charlie for next week’s game.” Monty explained when I was going to shower.

“No problem. I’ll just be here writing or reading or something.” From the bathroom I could hear him putzing around our room. I didn’t think too much of it. He was probably looking for a playbook or something.

After my shower, I wrapped my towels around me, fully prepared to throw on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater for the rest of the day. Instead, I was puzzled to find a large white box in the centre of the bed. There was a bow and a single pink Post it note stuck to the lid. It simply said wear me on it in blue ink. I frowned in confusion but opened it anyway. Nestled inside was a classic, Hepburn-esque little black dress. I gasped and covered my mouth in shock. Gently lifting the dress out of the box I held it out at arm’s length to examine it. It was beautiful. This man is full of surprises. Not wanting to wrinkle the dress, I carefully set it on the bed while I grabbed a hanger.

Once it was hung up, I put on a pair of sweats and an old pyjama shirt. In the kitchen, I found another note next to the coffee machine. This one was on a yellow Post it, also in blue ink. No coffee. Look up. I frowned again. Why no coffee? Looking up on the underside of the cabinet, I found another yellow Post it. This one had an arrow pointing towards the living room. There, yet another Post it. This one was blue. There was another arrow pointing at the coat closet. A green Post it was stuck to the closet door. Be ready at 5:00. Wear your matching black pointy shoes. Now I was even more confused. Well, it says be ready. I shrugged and checked my watch. It was just past two. I rolled my eyes at the coffee note and made myself a cup anyway. I wouldn’t need to be up all night, but note be damned. I wanted coffee. I savoured it while I let my thoughts run wild of what could be in store for my night. At home fancy dress dinner? Going out for dinner? A walk in the financial district in the city? Hmmm. By two forty-five, I had finished my coffee and started getting ready.

I carefully put on the dress after I had washed my face again. I decided to curl my hair in tight ringlets so that when I brushed them out, they wouldn’t fall flat immediately. I let them set while I did my makeup. So, I didn’t get makeup all over my dress, I draped a towel around my neck to cover it. The simple black cat eye and blue red lipstick paired wonderfully with the classic, timeless style of the dress. A neutral blush and light bronzer added colour and balance to complete the look. I carefully brushed out the curls into nice waves framing my face. Using a decorative bobby pin, I pulled my bangs away from my face. Exiting our room after putting on my tennis bracelet-a birthday gift from my Gran a couple of years ago- I looked at the clock on the stove. It was four fifty. I had ten minutes to spare. Slipping on my heels, I went through my wallet and took out my ID and credit card. I had assumed that we would be going out and Monty usually kept my cards in his wallet.

The sound of a car pulling into our driveway pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the door when the car door shut. Monty was walking up to the house in a very familiar white dress shirt and black slacks. Damn, he cleans up good. I thought it every time he dressed up, no matter how often I saw it. His eyes widened slightly, and he stopped to take in my look. I stopped him in his tracks. I blushed and did a little twirl. He whistled through his teeth. “You look. Absolutely amazing.”

“You look incredible. Have I ever told you, you clean up really well?”

“Once or twice.” He shrugged. I smiled widely. He finished his walk up to the house and took my hands in his, really taking the time to take me in. “You really do look beautiful Addison.”

“Thank you.” I blushed again. My engagement ring sparkled in the setting sun. Monty’s black tungsten ring felt cool in my hand. Together, we walked to the car. We took my car, but I let him drive. It’s our insurance. “Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“Nope.” He said as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Okay.” We chatted quietly on the way to our mystery location. Given the time, I assumed we were going to a restaurant. When we got closer to the county limits, I realized we were going into the city for dinner. I watched the cars speeding past us on the highway in the other direction. People were eager to be getting home from spending their days shopping or running errands.

I tried to figure out where we were going once we got to the city based on the turns Monty made. I was familiar with most of the downtown and financial districts due to visiting my dad at work when I was younger. I was a little surprised when he pulled in the parking lot for the new Italian place that opened last month. I wasn’t surprised because I was concerned about cost or anything like that. We just weren’t really fancy restaurant people very often. It was a pleasant surprise.

When he parked, we walked hand in hand to the door. He was a perfect gentleman and held the door not only for me but for the couple behind us. I smiled at him while we waited to be seated. He squeezed my hand. We were seated at a more secluded table, closer to the back of the restaurant. The table was lit by candlelight and dim recessed lighting in the aisle. It’s beautiful. Our waiter came by and introduced himself as Anthony. I ordered a cranberry juice with ice and Monty got a Coke. Anthony gave us a few minutes with the menus. As soon as I saw traditional carbonara on the menu, I had made a firm decision. Monty and I sat in comfortable silence while we perused the menu. Even though I knew what I wanted, it never hurt to look at the other options.

After we ordered-carbonara for me and lobster ravioli for Monty-Anthony left us to our evening. “This is really nice.” I said, after a sip of my juice.

“I figured we deserved nice. Or rather, you deserved nice. After everything… and I know you’ve been stressed about school. So, I figured you could use a night off.” He left the obvious tension between us and the cause for it unsaid. We both knew the reason.

“It’s still nice. And we do deserve it. This dress is beautiful by the way.”

“I thought you would like it.”

“When exactly did you acquire it?” I asked, with a sly raise of my brow.

“About yesterday…” Montgomery began, “Jamie wasn’t having girl troubles.”

“I kind of figured. Have they even decided if they have anything to have troubles over?”

“No. They’re still not together. But they go places together and buy each other things. And have sex. Apparently, there is a lot of sex.”

“But they aren’t dating.”

“No.”

“Maybe he is having girl troubles.”

“Maybe.” He chuckled. Anthony came by with our orders. Unsurprisingly, the food was delicious. Mouth wateringly delicious. My eyes widened in ecstasy. So did Monty’s after he took a bite of his own food. We each shared a bite with each other and smiled. So good. So so good.

We spent the rest of our evening talking and enjoying being with each other. It was very nice. We hadn’t gotten to do the whole going out and just being together thing in a while. I pushed the last of my carbonara around on my plate. I wasn’t bored exactly. I was having a wonderful time. “Hey. Where’d you go?” Monty reached across the table to take my hand.

“Oh. Nowhere. I was just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“This is really nice.” I paused.

“But…?”

“I would honestly much rather be at home in sweatpants watching the new episodes of Law & Order from the other night.”

“Me too.” He giggled. I couldn’t help but giggle along with him. He motioned to our waiter for the bill. The black holder was placed in between us. Monty placed some cash inside and set it down without so much as a glance at me. He helped me with my coat and took my hand after he put on his own. As soon as we got out of the restaurant, I stopped and turned to him.

“Race you to the car.” I grinned before taking off like a bat out of hell. I heard him bark out a laugh behind me. I didn’t look back. Nor did I turn when I heard his footsteps. He wasn’t running because of his knee. They were getting closer though. Even without running, he was able to gain on me because of his gait. Running in heels was not the easiest thing in the world but I managed to beat him to the car. When he arrived with the keys, I was grinning at him, triumphantly from the passenger’s side. “I won.”

“Yes you did.” He was grinning back at me.

When we got home, the two of us changed into our comfiest sweatpants and t-shirts. I threw on my old Tigers hoodie and popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave after taking off my makeup. Monty pulled up the recorded episodes. I couldn’t tell if he wore his grey sweats on purpose or not. We got comfortable on the couch and hit play. From the get-go this episode of SVU had both of us on the edge of our seats. The popcorn was mostly untouched. I teared up multiple times. When it was over, I ripped the remote from the coffee table and scrolled up to the new episode of Organized Crime. I couldn’t stand to wait any longer than strictly necessary. Our eyes were glued to the screen for the whole hour, minus the fast forwarding through commercials. By the end, we turned to each other in shock. “Wow.” Was all I could say about it.

“The new theme song is pretty great.”

“Yes. I don’t know how to process any other thoughts about it though.”

“Me either.”

“Very worth the wait.” Monty only nodded in response. I yawned and stretched. It was getting pretty late. The afternoon coffee I had wore off a while ago.

“Tired Bookworm?” I yawned again and nodded. Monty carried me to bed and tucked me in. I cuddled up beside him.

Before falling asleep I mumbled, “thank you for tonight. Was really nice. Ni’ night.”

18 notes · View notes

themetaphorgirl · 4 years

Text

I wrote this drabble earlier about Spencer spraining his ankle while Emily was supposed to be in charge

so here’s part 2!!!

once again. it’s a lot longer than I planned. I hope you like it though!!

(more about the boarding school babes)

----------

Spencer wrapped his arms tighter around Hotch’s neck and rested his chin on his shoulder. It was a long haul to get up to the seventh floor, and even though he was still attempting to prove to the older kids that he wasn’t a baby, he was grateful that he didn’t have to walk it. And if he was being truthful, he was glad that Hotch was carrying him instead of Emily. He loved Emily, he did, but Hotch was a lot stronger and bigger, and a lot less likely to drop him.

“Listen, Hotch, it was just an accident,” Emily pleaded, trailing behind them on the stairs.

Hotch pressed his hand against Spencer’s narrow back. “I don’t care if it was an accident, Prentiss, it was stupid,” he said sharply. “Stupid and childish. You’re seven years older than him, you should fucking know better.”

He couldn’t quite see Emily’s expression, but she slowed her pace, falling far back behind them. “Hotch, she didn’t do it on purpose,” he said quietly. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done it.”

“We’ll talk about you later,” Hotch said. Spencer bit back a sigh.

Alex was pacing in the seventh floor common room, her arms folded over her chest, still wearing the nice blue dress she’d worn for the senior’s seminar. “Oh my god,” she said, her arms dropping to her sides. “Spencer, are you okay?”

“It could be worse,” he offered.

“That’s not reassuring.”

Hotch set him gently down on the couch, careful around his injured ankle. “It’s a bad sprain, but it’s not broken,” he said.

“He hit the ground so hard,” Derek said.

“Yeah, I definitely heard a crack,” Penelope added.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” Alex said. “How bad does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “Not too much,” he said, offering her what he hoped was a winning smile.

Her eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

Alex made a face at him and started signing instead. Are you lying to me?

He squirmed and signed back a no.

Be honest, she signed. How bad?

Spencer sighed heavily. An eight, maybe?

His ankle really did hurt, the numbness from adrenaline long worn off, but he didn’t want to say anything that might make Emily feel bad. But he’d learned the hard way that it was impossible to lie to Alex; she was the only one who could see right through him every time.

Alex’s expression softened. “I’m sure you’ll feel better soon,” she said, smoothing his hair back. “But you have to rest, okay? Actually rest. No getting up and walking around and saying you’re fine when you’re not.”

Hotch tossed Spencer’s favorite blanket at him. “What she said,” he said. “You’re not moving until classes on Monday morning. And even then, if you’re not doing better, you’re not going to class.”

“But I have a history paper due Monday!” he protested.

“I’ll stop by your class and turn it in for you,” JJ offered.

“See? There you go,” Derek said. “And we’ll pick up all your homework for you.”

“I’ll be able to go to classes on Monday, I know it,” he said.

“Rest first, then we’ll see,” she said. “Don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” he said, his lower lip dropping.

Hotch tapped his chin. “Stop that,” he said. He propped his injured ankle up on a pillow and draped an ice pack over it. “These are the consequences of your reckless actions. Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“It wasn’t his fault, I...I kept teasing him,” Emily said.

Alex didn’t answer her. “Did they give you ibuprofen or anything at the infirmary?” she asked.

“Yeah, and I can take more in a couple of hours,” he said.

Penelope leaned over the back of the couch. “It’s my turn to pick for movie night, but do you want to pick, Spencer?” she asked.

“No, don’t let him pick again!” Derek said. “I am not in the mood for Star Wars.”

“I don’t always pick Star Wars!” Spencer said. “Besides, there’s eleven films and a holiday special to choose from. That’s a lot of variety, right? More if you include the two Ewok films.”

“Spencer, don’t you dare make us watch the holiday special again.”

“Fine,” he said. “I want to watch Singin’ in the Rain.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I thought if Penelope wasn’t gonna pick, I wouldn’t have to watch a musical,” he said. JJ smacked his arm. “Hey!”

“All right, all right, cut it out,” Hotch said. “Who’s getting snacks tonight?”

“I’ll order pizza,” Emily offered. “It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”

Derek pumped his fists in the air. “Yes! Okay, I have some requests,” he said.

The other kids immediately started squabbling about pizza toppings. Spencer reached out and tugged lightly on Alex’s skirt. She turned around in confusion before looking down at him. “What’s wrong, Spence?” she asked.

“Can you sit with me?” he asked quietly.

She blinked, a little puzzled. “Of course I can,” she said. She tilted her head to the side. “Are you all right? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, I’m okay, I just…” He gave up midsentence and shrugged. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words. But Alex seemed to understand. She sat down on the couch beside him and he leaned against her shoulder, huddling under her arm.

“Okay, you guys, enough! Stop fighting!” Hotch said. He picked up JJ around her waist and forcibly moved her away from Derek and Penelope. “We’re going to get what we usually get. Derek, if you really want that abomination of a pizza that badly, you can pay Emily back for it yourself.”

“No, it’s fine, you guys get whatever you want,” Emily said.

“Well, in that case, I-”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Somebody just put in the movie, okay?” he said.

“I got it, I got it,” JJ said.

Spencer shifted around, trying to get comfortable as she started the movie. Even without an eidetic memory, he could probably recite the whole thing backwards and forwards. It was one of the movies his mother had on constant rotation when he was little, background noise while she graded papers- so, overall, mostly good memories.

By the time pizza got there he was actually hungry- unlike lunchtime, when he was so focused on keeping his hurt ankle a secret that he couldn’t possibly eat. JJ brought him his plate, and Hotch took off the mostly-melted icepacks to check if the swelling had gone down at all (t hadn’t, and purple bruising had crept above the line of the bandages) and gave him more ibuprofen and a glass of water with strict instructions to drink all of it.

When the first movie was over, he let Penelope choose the second one, which turned into another squabble, but eventually she picked something else. He watched quietly, still leaning against Alex. Every so often he flexed his left foot, trying to see how much effort it took to move his ankle.

Alex tapped his knee. “Stop that,” she chided gently.

“I’m just testing it,” he said.

“You’re not a science experiment. Stop trying to see how much it hurts.”

“I’m okay.”

She lifted him onto her lap. “Nope, no more,” she said. “Sit still.”

“I’m not a baby,” he protested as he tucked his cheek against her shoulder.

Alex wrapped her arms around him. “I know you’re not a baby,” she said. “Now what did I say about resting?”

Spencer obeyed, curling up against her and hugging his blanket to his chest. He had gone a long, long time without anyone willing or able to take care of him- or allowing anyone to take care of him, for that matter. It was kind of nice to have his friends fuss over him. And Alex cuddled him without making a big fuss about it, or making him feel stupid or childish.

He was almost asleep by the time the second movie finished, his breathing deep and slow and his head resting heavily on Alex’s shoulder. But he was still awake enough to hear Hotch whisper-scold the other kids as he switched off the TV, telling them it was late and they needed to go to bed but they better not wake Spencer.

“Emily, wait here for a second,” Alex called softly.

Spencer kept feigning sleep as the other kids filed out of the common room and Emily sat down heavily on the other end of the couch. “All right, Miller,” she said. “Go ahead. Tear me a new one. This is all my fault.”

“No, I’m not going to tear you a new one,” Alex said. “You’ve been beating yourself up all day already, I’m not going to make it worse.”

“God, can you just not be so perceptive for once?” Emily said. “Just yell at me and get it over with.”

“I’m not going to yell. I don’t want to startle Spencer,” Alex said. Emily snorted. “And besides, I don’t want to yell at you.”

Emily groaned. “I deserve to be yelled at,” she said glumly. “Hotch is right, I should have known better.”

“I mean...yeah, technically,” Alex said. She ran her hand lightly up and down Spencer’s back. “But...okay. This is going to be kind of blunt. When have you ever had someone to be responsible for? Somebody to care about?”

Emily was quiet for a moment. “Well, I mean...my mom…”

“Emily. I’ve heard you talk about your mom. You call her the Ambassador. She enrolled you in first year French because she didn’t remember you were fluent. She makes you call her every Sunday, but half the time it goes to voicemail because she’s busy.”

A longer silence. “All right, so my mom isn’t the best,” Emily said. “What does that have to do with me being an idiot and getting Spencer hurt?”

“My point is that you’ve never had to worry about anybody but yourself before,” Alex said. “You’re a good person, Emily, you’re a really good person. And I know you care a whole lot about all of us. You’ve just never had to learn how to take care of anybody.”

“Okay, now you’ve passed regular perceptive and into super perceptive,” Emily said, but Spencer could hear the hint of a smile in her voice. “Yeah, I guess...I guess you’re not wrong. I hadn’t thought about that before.”

“You’re getting there, though,” Alex said. “I mean, you were the one who took care of Spencer when he got hurt, before you could hand him off to us.”

“That’s true.”

“And in the meantime, you don’t have to be so tough and pretend like you don’t care about anything. You don’t have to act like nothing bothers you.”

“Nothing does bother me, Alexandra, what are you talking about?” Emily teased. Alex poked her in the side. “All right, all right, fine. Jesus. I guess you’re right, at least about some of that.”

“I’m right sometimes, about some things,” Alex laughed. “And besides, let’s be real. All of these kids are kind of a handful. Especially this kid. This could have happened with any of us in charge.”

“I haven’t spent any time with a ten-year-old before Spencer,” Emily said. “So they’re not all like this?”

“Oh, god, no,” Alex said. She reached over and squeezed Emily’s arm. “Really, Em, I know you didn’t mean for him to get hurt. And he knows too. If he wasn’t pretending to be asleep, he’d tell you that too.”

“He’s faking? How can you tell?”

“He’s not snoring.”

Spencer opened one eye. “I wasn’t faking,” he protested, struggling to sit up. “I was sleeping. And I don’t snore.”

“No, yeah, you kind of do,” Emily said. “Cute little kitten snores.” He rolled his eyes, but she took his hand in both of hers. “Can you please tell me you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, I promise,” he said. “A mild sprain can heal in one to three weeks. Maybe six weeks for a moderate sprain. I’ll live.”

She squeezed his hand. “Okay, cool, can you tell that to Hotchner?” she said. “I don’t think he’s quite so willing to forgive me.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Alex promised. “He might hold a grudge, but I’ll get over it, I promise.”

Suddenly Emily leaned over and pulled Spencer into a hug. “You know I love you, right, babe?” she said.

“I know,” he said, startled. The hug was definitely a little too tight, but he had the sneaking suspicion that, just like him, she wasn’t used to having people care. “I love you, Em.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Just wanted to make sure,” she said, letting go and pulling back from him. “It’s late, you probably need to go to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” Alex said. “Come on, let’s go.”

It was slow going for him to hobble to his room and change into his pajamas, and by the time he was done he actually was kind of tired. Hotch stuck his head in his room as Alex was helping him climb into bed. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Spencer huffed as he fell back against his pillow.

“How’s your ankle?”

“Also fine,” Spencer said. Hotch didn’t seem convinced. “I’ll stay off it all day tomorrow, I promise.”

“Yeah, you’d better,” Hotch said. “Goodnight, kid.”

“Hey, Hotch?” he called, and Hotch doubled back and leaned in the doorway. “Can you be nice to Emily, please? She already feels bad about everything. She didn’t mean it.”

“I make no promises,” Hotch said. “But...I’ll try. Goodnight, Spencer. Get some sleep.”

“You think he’ll actually be nice to Emily?” Spencer asked.

“We’ll see,” Alex said. “Lie down.”

He obeyed. “Goodnight, Alex,” he said as she tucked him in snugly.

She swept his hair back and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, darling,” she said. “Sleep tight.”

He snuggled under the covers. His ankle didn’t hurt as sharply as it did earlier, and his favorite blanket was soft and reassuring against his cheek. Alex switched on his little nightlight, and he was asleep before she closed the door.

#au: patron saint of lost causes #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #alex blake #alex miller #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #hotch is the most protective father #alex loves spencer so much #spencer is an anxious little baby who needs love and praise #emily is also an anxious babe and I love her #alex and emily are best friends and I am here for it #faby picked the movie!!#I love spencer and alex signing to each other

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 4 years

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Happy Birthday, kelskels95!

Happy Birthday, @kelskels95! We hope you’ve got a wonderful day planned, with a delicious cake to look forward to at the end! To start your party off right, the lovely @endlessnightlock has written a story just for you!

This fic is part two of something I wrote for Everlarkbirthdaygifts a few months ago- you can find a link to that story here; this part is based on the 1952 John Wayne/Maureen O’Hara movie The Quiet Man, which is set in Ireland during the 1920s.

John Wayne plays a disgraced former boxer who moves to his family’s homeland for peace after accidentally killing a man in the ring. Maureen O’Hara is his tempestuous love interest. It’s a fun, beautiful, very romantic, and funny (she is a real hothead in the film, and they have great on-screen chemistry) movie that I highly recommend.

I hope you enjoy this little homage to The Quiet Man.

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“Ah-ah-ah,” Haymitch stops me in my tracks when he glances over his shoulder and locks eyes with me. The village drunk is certainly the laughing stock of this little sheep-farming bit of countryside where I’ve been living for the last six months, so I wait, fully expecting him to crack a joke and cut the tension suddenly formed between us.

I wait, and Haymitch waits. He doesn’t smile- instead, he stares me down as if I were a thief flinching his best white liquor from his cabinet in the middle of the night and not a man in the middle of courting a young lady, trying to lift her down from the buggy.

I guess even Haymitch takes some responsibilities seriously. I just wished for my own sake it wasn’t this particular responsibility. The confounding traditions these people have are outrageous enough on their own without his overbearing attitude. Back in the States, a guy could just pull up to a girl’s house, honk the horn, and wait for her to run out and meet him.

A fella wouldn’t be forced to sit on opposite facing seats in this “courting buggy,” driven around the countryside by the town drunk, unable to carry on any real conversation with his girl.

Not that I would ever honk for a girl, at least not for Katniss Everdeen, anyway. She is small and beautiful and fiery and has the loveliest grey eyes I’ve ever seen. I might have enough sense not to pull up to her door and honk my horn (I’d have to have a car in this country to do such a thing, anyway), but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to spend a little time alone with her, now that I’m officially seeing her.

Damn it all; there is an honest to God twinkle in Haymitch’s eyes when he addresses me again, but only after I’ve dropped my hands away from Katniss’s waist and stepped away from her. “Mr. Mellark-”

“My name is Peeta if you please. My father was Mr. Mellark,” I remind Haymitch, crossing my arms over my chest and staring back at him. I’m much bigger and stronger than him (I’m bigger and stronger than most men actually, or I wouldn’t have had the boxing career I left behind in the States), but that doesn’t deter him the least.

“Ms. Everdeen is a fine, healthy girl,” he continues, leaning back in his seat and waving his hands at us, his expression knowing, “and she is quite able to climb out of the buggy by herself. So there’ll be no need for any patty-fingers there, Mr. Mellark.”

I frown up at Haymitch and his sly words. There were no, as he implied, patty-fingers involved. I was simply grasping Katniss’s waist to help her get down from her side of the buggy. I know she is an excellent climber; I did just dislodge her hair and hat from a tall tree limb last week in the middle of a disastrous rescue of her sister’s cat.

All three of us are aware that we are doing today is simply an exercise in etiquette.

Katniss and I have spent this evening, our first official “courting” outing, chauffeured down the local countryside’s winding roads. It’s so beautiful in spring’s palates of greens-

(I love the beauty of this land. I don’t think I will ever tire of it- I’ve never seen such shades of green all my life. The land wasn’t like this back home in Chicago, but of course, when you grow up in an apartment above the family bakery, how is a fella to know what nature looks like? Sunday trips for a stroll around the park didn’t quite cut the mustard, either.

Here, the surroundings are a feast for the eyes. Everything is colored in varying shades of green, rolling on for miles and miles: the trees, the pastures, the pretty dress that Katniss is wearing today. It goes so smartly with her straw hat, which, I can’t help but notice, is the same one I had to help her dislodge from a tree branch just last Sunday. This place is serene and peaceful, exactly why I chose to come back to my ancestral home after leaving the boxing ring behind.)

- past neighbor’s farms, and stone fences as far as the eye could see. In his given role as one of the senior men (and the local drunk) in the village, Haymitch has driven Katniss and myself around. We are not to be alone together now that I am courting her- even though she has visited many times at my farm, alone, without any threat of ruination. The “courting” title is the only difference in any of it; I’ve wanted to kiss Katniss’s pert little mouth since the first time I laid eyes on her.

“Patty fingers?” I ask indignantly, although I do drop my hands from Katniss’s waist. A scowl forms on her lovely face, wrinkling her nose adorably.

“Quit your fussin’, boy. Now what I’m doing here, well, this is a good stretch of the road leading into town. I’ll let you do about a mile or so on your own; give you a chance to see how you feel walking together. I’ll be right behind you, so no funny business,” he directs. I move to put my hand on the small of Katniss’s back but am quickly tut-tutted by Haymitch. “Patty fingers!”

Katniss’s and my eyes meet, and she rolls her eyes at Haymitch’s evident enthusiasm for his task.

Ha- see if I’m eager to buy him another pint at the pub!

Instead of speaking, we walk close beside each other, not touching- the only sound the click of her low heels on the packed-dirt road. Once there is some distance between us and the buggy, I hear Haymitch make a clicking sound at the horses and snap the reins, and soon he is moving down the road, following us again.

At least this time, Haymitch is keeping a little distance- I know he is giving us some room to speak with each other, but I cannot think of a single thing to say to Katniss with an audience. We continue in silence, neither of us anxious to speak, which is unusual because I am quite the talker. Katniss, while not overly verbose, is rarely short of things to remark upon when she is alone with me.

Finally, I open my mouth. “You look lovely today, Katniss,” I say, admiring her because it is the truth, and you can never go wrong telling your girl she is lovely to you.

Her eyes skate over my frame quickly before she faces forward again. “Is that your best suit you’re wearing today, Peeta Mellark?” she asks, a grin forming at the corner of her mouth.

I smile at my full name crossing her lips; it reminds me of a prim schoolmistress- I like it very much. “Yes, it is my best suit, Katniss Everdeen,” I answer in kind. “Do I pass muster?”

Katniss’s eyes slide to the side; I catch her watching me. “It does look quite fine on you,” she says softly, glancing forward again.

I hear the buggy come to a halt behind us as Haymitch stops to speak to the vicar, so we stop in the road as well. Katniss faces me, and when our eyes lock, I have an overwhelming desire to be alone with her, talk with her, make her laugh, and maybe earn a chaste kiss. I want to know everything there is to know about Katniss Everdeen, and I cannot do any of those things with our chaperone in tow.

Although I would never say time spent with her is a waste, I am mourning the freedom of those evenings she would visit me at my farm, when we were alone to talk, even if it was only in the manner that friends do.

I sigh.

Katniss shrugs her shoulders. “This is quite ridiculous, isn’t it?” she bites back a smile. I think she’s growing as tired of the proprieties as I am.

“It is.” I agree. Neither Katniss nor I are youths needing looking after. I just passed my 26th birthday, and she is only a year younger than I am. Considering what I’ve been through in those short years, it’s been much longer than one would think since I’ve felt like a boy.

I catch sight of something then- a two-seater bicycle, leaning against the side of the pub, and it gives me an idea. “Can you ride?” I ask, nodding discreetly at the tandem. Katniss glances over her shoulder then, and so do I.

Haymitch remains in conversation with the vicar.

In unison, Katniss and I take off in a dead sprint for the tandem. Reaching it, I hop on the back of the two-seater bicycle, and she climbs onto the seat in front of me. Moments later, the two of us are riding the bike through the village on our escape route out of town, all to the sounds of Haymitch bellering indiscernibly behind us.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by endlessnightlock

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im-bakugous-bitch · 4 years

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Shoto Todoroki - Heartbreak

**A/N Hey guys! I know it’s been a long time since I wrote anything, and I wanted to post something since I haven’t in a while. I have finals this week, and then I’ll be free for the summer and be back to writing for you guys! In the meantime, I originally wrote this as a TodoDeku piece, but changed it to x reader so I could post it here. I hope you guys enjoy!

Shoto had been distant lately.

It was all you could think about. For some reason it felt like Shoto had given up, but he couldn’t have. You still walked that path that brought you close to both your houses and kissed when you parted ways. He was still saying “I love you”. Just because he was distant and busy didn’t mean it was over.

That’s what you told yourself, at least. Deep down, you knew it was all lies. You just preferred to live in ignorance, even only so you could call him yours. You were unhappy with how Shoto brushed you off on a daily basis, but you were willing to put up with it. You loved Shoto, you’d seen the good times and believed you could get back there if Shoto would just put in some effort. He didn’t even have to do much, just show up. You loved enough for the both of you.

When Shoto announced that he was going on a trip for recommendation students, your heart broke. Shoto would be out of the country for nearly three weeks. But the more you thought about it, the better you felt.

Maybe time apart was what you needed. Maybe Shoto just needed some time to himself in order to see just how important you were to him. Then he’d come back and things would be good again, right?

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Shoto had been gone seven days, and you were feeling good. Shoto was having an awesome time on his trip, which made you happy. One day you had sent Shoto a photo that made you laugh, to which Shoto responded with many funny photos of his own.

That small action alone reassured you more than words ever could. Just like it used to be. Everything was going to be okay.

Turns out, you could have been more wrong.

You were talking with Ochako when it happened. “I think it’ll be okay,” you said. “I think when he comes back, we’ll go out to dinner somewhere, then cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. Just like we used to.” As you finished your sentence, your phone chimed. You checked who was messaging you and smiled when you saw Shoto’s contact photo. “It’s from Shoto!”

Look, I’ve been feeling this way for a few weeks and I really just need to do this now. I’m breaking up with you and I’m sorry I’m doing this over text, I feel like an asshole. I just wanted to do this sooner or later because I didn’t wanna give you false hope. I just haven’t been feeling the spark between us from when we first started going out. I’m really sorry, I hope we can still be friends and things can stay mutual between us.

You screamed. You didn’t know what else to do, so you just let out a loud wail. Your stomach dropped as your eyes immediately began to water.

What had happened? Things were going to be okay! It was all going to be okay! Why did he have to quit? You threw your phone down as Ochako moved to sit beside you.

“Shh,” she said in an attempt to soothe you. She rubbed your back gently, watching you scream and shout for the next minute as you came to terms with what was happening. She didn’t even need to read the text to know that you had just been dumped.

After your moment, you wiped your eyes and looked down at your phone. You reread the message again and again, just to make sure you were seeing it clearly. Maybe you were imagining it. Or better yet – maybe this was all some horrible nightmare. You weren’t sure what you’d do if it was real.

You wanted to yell at Shoto. You wanted to scream and cry and hold him close and beg him to stay. Why had he done this? Why were you only worth a text? After nearly nine months together, you had given him your all and Shoto had given nothing. You’d done so much for Shoto to make him happy. Why didn’t you even get a face-to-face breakup?

You’d known it was coming. You said it was going to be okay and tried to trick yourself into really believing it, but deep down you knew the truth.

Shoto had fallen out of love with you.

Not tying and sending the million pleading things you wanted to say was one of the hardest things you ever had to do. You sat there, phone in hand, trying to come up with something to say. You couldn’t just leave that on open. But what does one say to something like that?

It’s okay, I understand. Don’t ever hesitate if you change your mind.

You regretted the message as soon as you hit send. You shouldn’t have said it was okay, because it sure as hell was not. Shoto had become this central figure in your life, the only person you could be around without ever getting tired. He’d become your everything and he just left. He just gave up. He didn’t even try.

Actually, it isn’t okay. I wasn’t expecting this. I’ll be honest, I knew you were going to leave me, but I thought I meant enough to you to at least be worth a face to face – or phone call at least! Video chat! Anything besides a TEXT MESSAGE! Guess I overestimated my importance to you.

You stared at the typed-out message on your phone for three whole minutes. Your finger remained close to the send button, but never came close enough to send it. Eventually, you backed down and erased the message. You were hoping maybe in a day or two, Shoto would change his mind. Maybe he’d realize what an awful mistake he’d made. If you sent that message, you knew there’d be no going back.

You stood up, causing Ochako’s hand to fall off your back. “I’m going for a walk,” you said plainly. You walked away without waiting for a response. It was cold out, but you didn’t bother to grab a jacket. It was getting dark, but you didn’t bother to grab a flashlight.

You walked around the UA campus for what felt like hours. Every passing second felt like its own forever. You’d started crying again at one point, but you weren’t sure exactly when that was. It wasn’t until you heard a voice call out to you that you wiped away your tears.

“Young l/n?” You’d recognize that voice anywhere. All Might, your favorite person in the world. Well, second favorite to Shoto. “What are you doing out here?”

For once, you didn’t want to talk to All Might. You just wanted to be alone. You pushed past your hero’s fragile figure, not giving an answer as you ran off. You could apologize later.

All Might chased after you, grabbing onto your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You felt weak. You were supposed to be training to be a Hero, and instead you were acting like some heartbroken teenager. Even though you were a heartbroken teenager, you shouldn’t have been acting that way. But you couldn’t help it. It was all you could think about. You wiped your eyes and sniffled as you looked up into All Might’s blazing blue eyes. “Sh-Sh-Shoto d-d-d-dumped m-me…”

All Might’s gaze softened as he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Young l/n.” He put a hand on your shoulder, but to his surprise it was just brushed off.

You didn’t want to see anyone. You just wanted to be alone so you could cry. For the last couple of weeks, people had been telling you the relationship was coming to an end. Whenever you’d confide in your friends about your relationship problems, you’d always hear the same thing: “It’s only a matter of time, y/n.”

All Might gently reached out to you again, pulling you close into an embrace. All Might was the closest figure you had ever had to a father, and you was basically All Might’s child. It killed him to see you in pain.

Once pulled into the hug, you lost control. You gripped onto All Might’s white t-shirt tightly as tears streamed down your cheeks and incoherent sobs left your lips.

The rest of the night after that was just a blur.

Next thing you knew, you were waking up in your bed. Not your dorm bed – your home bed. You’d forgotten UA was getting a week-long break and you were going home for the week. Your head was pounding, you could hardly recall the previous day’s events. You opened your phone and typed in your passcode, 74686, spelling out Shoto. When it didn’t work, everything came flooding back. You’d changed your password. You’d changed your lock screen.

With a simple text, Shoto had changed your life.

Fresh tears welled in your eyes, and you buried your face in your pillow. You were determined not to let them fall this time. You had to be strong.

After only a few minutes, your mother knocked on your door. “y/n?” she asked as she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. When she saw you sitting up in your bed, hugging a tear-stained pillow, her eyes filled with sorrow as she rushed to you. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said gently as she held you close, and you cried into her shoulder.

The week carried on just like that. Late Sunday night, you returned to UA. You immediately ran into your dorm and laid face-down on your pillow until you fell asleep.

The following morning was the hardest yet.

You were waking up early to meet Shoto before class. You’d sent Shoto a message; you had some things you wanted back, plus you wanted answers. You planned to ask why he’d done it. Why you hadn’t been good enough. Why you didn’t get a face-to-face conversation. You had a million questions flooding through your mind, and you planned to ask all of them.

But when you saw Shoto approaching, they all disappeared.

You stood up from the bench you were sitting on with Ochako and Tsuyu. You followed as Shoto led you around a corner before leaning against a wall. In his one outstretched hand he held your requested belongings, and once they were taken he crossed his arms over his chest.

You studied him. He looked fine. No bloodshot or swollen eyes, no tear-stains, nothing. He looked totally unaffected by the whole thing, and that hurt more than the initial break-up. Not only did Shoto not care enough to break up with you in person, he didn’t care at all. He looked like he was already over it. Just a week shy of nine months together, and Shoto felt nothing.

Shoto raised his eyebrows expectantly at you, as you were just standing there and staring at him. You had your million questions you wanted to ask, dozens of ways to ask them, but you could only get one word out:

“Why?”

Shoto shrugged his shoulders so nonchalantly that you wanted to punch him. “I just…didn’t feel it anymore.”

The billions of pieces your heart had shattered into even more. Your heart was beating so fast, your eyes were already beginning to water. You couldn’t cry in front of Shoto, but you couldn’t think of any of your other questions. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could you even say to that?

Shoto pursed his lips as he looked you up and down. “I’ll see you around.” With that he walked away, leaving you shattered and broken, standing there with your retrieved objects fallen to the ground and forgotten, as tears raced down your cheeks.

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Everybody Knows You're High, 1/4 (Rajila) - Dartmouth420

“I found myself all alone in the grocery store, more stoned than I think I’ve ever been before.”

Summary: Raja smokes way too much weed and develops horrifying self-awareness, Manila’s there to rescue her but takes none of her bullshit. Maybe, just maybe, they fall in love. A lesbian college AU friends-to-idiots-to-lovers tale based on the song Everybody Knows by Partner. Loosely inspired by Off Limits by V&albatross but like wayyyy dumber :)

A/N: my computer died and I’m in the process of getting all my files back so I wrote this mostly in the notes app on my phone to cope lmao

tw: weed induced anxiety & paranoia

It was a wonderful Sunday afternoon and Raja had been taking massive bong rips for the past two hours because why the hell not.

She sat in a sunbeam on her couch in the living room, deeply at peace with the world. Her roommates were out, and Raja was supposed to be working on a paper for her philosophy class that was due this week. But whatever, wasn’t a big part of college about having fun?

Raja glanced over at her Nintendo controller and stared at it for a good minute before reaching for it and selecting Super Smash Bros. After several minutes of staring glassy-eyed at the screen and trying to beat the computer generated competition, Raja blindly reached over for the bag of chips that usually rested in the corner of the couch and found… it was gone.

Raja paused the game and glared at the corner of the couch, suddenly really hungry.

She got up and went to the kitchen, digging around in the cupboards, reasoning she could always pay Delta or Carmen back for chips if they had some… but to no avail. If Raja wanted chips, she’d have to leave the house.

But that wasn’t such a big deal, the grocery store was a block down the street which was part of the reason they’d picked this house in the first place. Raja knew the route like the back of her tattooed left hand.

So, Raja took another big hit off her bong for courage, enjoying the satisfying bubbles in the dank bong water and subsequent thick smoke that went deep into her lungs.

Then she left the house, lazy in loose shorts and a crop top, yellow-tinted sunglasses to take the glare off the sunny afternoon, and her wallet reliably in her back pocket. What a beautiful day, it almost felt like a movie as she wandered down the street in the golden afternoon light. The clouds were small, fluffy and perfect. It just like how Raja imagined the 90s.

Glancing up at the big three-pane window in the house a few doors down across the street, Raja wondered if anyone was home. A few other students lived there, including Manila, who was one of her close friends. Raja decided not to stop and kept walking, the need for chips overpowering the desire to stop by and visit Manila.

At the grocery store Raja smiled to herself, took a plastic basket and wandered gently down the brightly lit aisles. Mmm, food. She got to the chips aisle and put a couple of different bags in her basket, letting elderly people and families and other folks pass her as she moved slowly. Then Raja decided she might, in fact, want ice cream too and moseyed over to the dairy section.

But as the cool air of the diary aisle hit her Raja began to experience doubt. She didn’t smell like weed, did she? Her mouth still tasted a little smoky, but surely it wouldn’t be a problem…

… and suddenly Raja saw somebody behind the glass in the big wall of fridges, blending in to the little cartons of whipping cream. Who the hell was that?

Raja peered closer, curious about the weird gremlin that lived in the fridge only to realize, with absolute horror, that it was her own reflection.

Long, greasy black hair, a slack expression, yellow tinted sunglasses through which her bloodshot and lined eyes were clearly visible. A twenty-year-old mess.

Clearly and distinctly, a voice inside Raja’s head said, Everybody knows you’re high.

Shit.

Raja looked around slowly, and inched into the corner at the end of the aisle between the shredded cheese and a big granola bar display. Her breath grew shallow as the sudden anxiety swallowed her whole. Oh god, oh no, everybody could tell-

What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

Raja gulped, completely glued to the spot as she watched the other shoppers go by. She needed a rescue mission. She took out her phone, holding on to the basket of chips for dear life.

Raja stared at her phone. Delta and Carmen were both out today and too far away, Shangela was mad at her, Raven was out of the question, who else, who else lived nearby…

Raja hit call.

“Hello?” came Manila’s voice, a little out of breath.

“Manila,” whispered Raja, shrinking further into the corner between the display and the glass fridge, as she realized that everyone in the store knew she was high and could probably also hear her conversation, “I need you to come pick me up.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I’m like… super high,” whispered Raja, anxiety spiking as her too-slow body fought her too-fast mind, “I’m at the grocery store and everybody knows and I’m trapped in the diary aisle and I can’t move.”

“What?” laughed Manila, “Oh my god, how much weed did you smoke?”

“I dunno, I did like… thirteen bong hits,” whispered Raja pathetically, “I needed chips.”

“You are so stupid,” said Manila with affectionate exasperation, “I’m out for a run, I’m just around the corner. I’ll come get you.”

Raja whispered a thank you and hung up and took a deep breath and stared at the floor. The floor was moving a little bit not too badly. Maybe she could just walk down the dairy aisle and people wouldn’t be able to tell how high she was- but no, everybody knew. Someone was probably calling the grocery store cops right now and Raja would go to stoner girl jail and she’d never get to tell Manila how much she liked her…

After what might have three minutes or possibly an hour, Raja looked up and saw Manila approaching from the end of the aisle. Raja breathed a sigh of relief, but found she still couldn’t move. Manila’s curly black hair was up in a high ponytail, her face glowed a little from her run, and her colourful leggings were really showing off her legs…

“Hi, bitch,” said Manila, stopping in front of Raja with a huge, teasing grin. “I can’t believe you did this to yourself. Come on.”

With that, Manila turned and motioned for Raja to follow, her but Raja couldn’t.

“Nnh-“ managed Raja, shaking her head. If she left the corner now-

“Raja,” said Manila, rolling her eyes. She reached out and took Raja’s loose hand, forcefully leading her down the aisle. Very shocked to suddenly be moving, Raja followed her passively, letting herself be led. But when they got to checkout Raja froze again, causing Manila to jerk to a stop. Raja shook her head frantically.

“Are you like actually having a panic attack or something?” asked Manila, concerned, looking carefully into Raja’s expression as Raja suddenly noticed a few loose curls that had come loose from her ponytail, sitting soft and almost weightless on Manila’s head-

“Nope, you’re just really high,” said Manila to herself, shaking her head, and then redirected her. “Self-checkout it is.”

They made it through the self-checkout and paid for the chips even though Raja really didn’t like the beeping machine and kept asking it to be quiet. And then finally Manila led her back outside into the sun. Raja breathed out a sigh of relief, glad to have escaped. They crossed the hot expanse of the parking lot and headed for home. It was rare that weed made her anxious and paranoid like that, but it did happen occasionally.

Manila let go of her hand and Raja immediately missed it, because Manila’s hand was warm and soft and fit nicely in hers. Hmm. Manila always showed up for her, reflected Raja vaguely, she was an exceptionally reliable force in a flakey world. Raja kept walking, gently swinging her plastic bag full of chips as her anxiety faded. Manila said something but Raja wasn’t really paying attention.

“Do you want to come over and play Nintendo?” asked Raja instead. “I’ve got Super Smash Bros.”

“That’s your response to what topic you’re doing for the paper for Professor O’Hara’s philosophy class?” laughed Manila.

“Uh, I’m working on it,” answered Raja, noticing the way the sun caught in Manila’s hair. Had she noticed these things about her before? They’d been friends for a while now, and Raja was pretty sure Manila liked girls too… or was at least willing to experiment. “I’m gonna write about Plato’s Symposium, probably.”

“Yeah, cool,” replied Manila, nodding so that her curly ponytail bounced, “I’ve got about six hundred words on The Republic so far.”

“Are you like dating Alexis?” asked Raja, changing the subject, “Or was that just a casual thing?”

“No,” said Manila, momentarily hesitating, “Well yeah, uh, it was unclear. But we ended it a little while ago, she’s with Yara now.”

“Right, I thought I saw them together. I didn’t realize you two were over.”

“Yeah I mean, you had your own drama going on…”

“Huh?” Raja couldn’t recall any drama in her own life. Raja liked to keep things really chill.

“Uh…” laughed Manila awkwardly, “You were dating Raven and then you broke up with her like super callously right in the middle of that party at Morgan’s and she screamed at you and then knocked that bottle of wine off the table and it broke and went everywhere and someone filmed it-“

“Oh yeah,” said Raja, shrugging and recalling the incident, “Well, she’s a very intense person. I don’t remember you being there, though?”

“I don’t know where you went but I was trying to help Morgan get the stain out of the carpet while she panicked about her damage deposit and Raven locked herself in the bathroom,” said Manila dryly.

“Well,” said Raja, and looked up at her house as the approached, blinking slowly, not sure if she had anything to add to that, “I guess I should apologize to her or whatever. But uh, you should come over anyway, all my roommates are out.”

“Okay, I’ll come up,” said Manila, poking Raja’s arm, “Just to make sure you drink some water and don’t green out on me.”

They went inside and Raja threw herself on to the couch on her side with a bag of chips in her arms, melting down into the cushions with a contented sigh. This was where she was meant to be.

Manila walked in to the kitchen and came back out with two glasses of water, sipping hers and handing the other to Raja.

“Ooh, thank you,” said Raja, half-sitting up to take the glass, and chugged the entire thing, only now noticing she was totally cotton-mouthed and thirsty. Finally hydrated, the munchies were hitting hard and she tore open the bag of chips.

Manila sat down on the couch, shoving Raja’s long legs out of the way.

“Mmm, salt,” commented Manila dryly, taking a handful of chips and shoving them into her mouth. Crunching happily, she wiped her hand on her thigh and asked, “So, where’s the controller?”

Raja pointed it out and Manila picked it up, cancelled out Raja’s long-abandoned game on the screen across from them, and returned to the main menu with a flick of her thumb on the mini joystick. She held the controller with an easy confidence, and it made Raja wonder what else Manila could do with with her hands and how exactly Alexis had benefitted from that…

“Are we gonna play two player or are you just watching?” asked Manila, turning towards her.

Raja considered everything for a moment: the beautiful golden sun streaming in the window, the glorious high she’d relaxed back into, the tasty chips, Manila’s truly beautiful ass that was just about touching Raja’s knee given the way they were positioned, and the fact that, well, Manila was really pretty and recently single and Raja had always preferred casual hookups or friends-with-benefits to relationships anyway, especially given the recent disaster- no, situation, with Raven…

“Do you wanna make out?” asked Raja instead, with what she hoped was a very seductive look.

Manila hesitated for a split second, then burst out laughing and said, “Uh, no?!”

“What, really?” complained Raja. She couldn’t recall the last time a girl had said no to that suggestion. Raven, Mariah, Alaska, Bianca, Shangela, Yvie, Courtney… they’d all been into it, even if just for an afternoon or a night.

“As if!” said Manila, affecting her voice like she was Cher Horowitz before she laughed again and shook her head. Manila leaned forward and flicked through the menus, selecting the single player option, then her character and the arena. With a satisfied little smirk on the side of her mouth, Manila added, “Ask me again when you’re not stoned out of your mind.”

The music played out and Raja sulked and ate her chips and watched Manila play without really seeing it. Being stoned and mildly horny was usually a really fun combination, except when the other person wasn’t interested. Which like never happened! Maybe she’d invite Manila to stay for dinner, let her high fade and they could hang out and maybe things would get interesting a little later in the evening…

“Uh, so,” said Raja again, after watching Manila repeatedly beat the computer generated competition as Pikachu. The screen was starting to hurt her eyes a bit and she put the bag of chips down, craving human contact. Their friendship was platonically affectionate and hopefully that would still be on the table today. “Can I braid your hair?”

“Has anybody ever told you how weird you are?” said Manila in response, jabbing the A-button as she kicked Luigi off the platform.

“People think I’m very cool…”

“Yeah, but that’s what you make them think. I can see right through it, though. You’re afraid of commitment, you’re kind of an anxious bitch and you use weed and the idea of being chill to cover all of that,” stated Manila, “But yeah, you can braid my hair.”

Raja decided to ignore the first part of what Manila had said and sat up, shuffling around behind her until she sat with her legs apart, Manila perched on the edge of the couch cushion between them as she bent forward with her elbows on her knees to play.

While Raja was mentally celebrating the perfect position for hair braiding she’d placed herself in, Manila aggressively jabbed at the controller and kicked the other players off the platform and won the round.

“Sweet,” said Manila, as the victory music played, reaching back and pulling the elastic band out of her ponytail to let her hair spill down her back. Happy and hazy, Raja carded her fingers through Manila’s hair as Manila loaded up another arena.

Manila continued, “Better hope Carmen isn’t mad that I’m beating all her high scores. I’m gonna unlock metallic Peach for her.”

Raja spent an indefinite period of time gently braiding Manila’s beautiful hair in a soothing repetitive pattern as her high slowly faded and Manila kicked ass at Super Smash Bros. Raja hadn’t ever really noticed Manila like this before. They were pretty good friends, and they’d always had a flirtatious undertone, and Manila went out of her way to hang out and even do favours for her… but Raja had always assumed she was just like, nice or whatever, but maybe it was something more that Raja simply hadn’t registered before. Playing with Manila’s hair wasn’t helping Raja feel any less horny, and there a low strum of sexual tension between them that Raja was sure Manila must be picking up on as well.

Suddenly the door opened and Raja looked up, dropping her hands. Delta was in the doorway, calling out a hello. Raja called back to her, vaguely shocked by the existence of other humans in the universe other than herself and Manila.

Manila paused the game and got up off the couch and touched the back of her head, feeling at the multitude of little braids in her hair.

“Ha, I must look a mess,” said Manila, then she stretched her arms over her head, grimacing as her back cracked and continued, “Well, you’re barely high anymore and Delta’s back, so I take it my work here is done. I have to finish that paper tonight, see ya.”

With that, Manila sauntered off towards the door, leaving Raja distinctly abandoned on the couch.

“Uh, bye?” called Raja sarcastically after her as Manila shut the door.

Delta gave her a strong side-eyed look.

“What?” asked Raja.

“Since when are you into Manila?” asked Delta bluntly, sitting down into the couch next to Raja. Delta was keenly observant and it was something Raja admired about her, except when she was on the receiving end of that power.

“Since like an hour ago?” replied Raja, and told her about the grocery store adventure.

Delta laughed and totally roasted her while Raja whined complaints.

“She said to ask again when I’m less stoned, so I’m gonna do that the next time we hang out,” said Raja, with complete faith that the idea would work without any problems whatsoever, “What were you out doing this afternoon anyway?”

“Fooling around with that chemistry major I told you about,” replied Delta smugly, poking Raja’s arm, “I can’t believe you got too high and let a cute girl get away on you, you’re losing your touch.”

“You’re a terrible roommate,” complained Raja, but her smile gave her away, “And she’s not just some cute girl, she’s our friend…”

“Sure, but that can all change real quick if you get intimate…”

“It won’t change anything, it’ll be totally casual,” said Raja, casually, “She’s gotta be into me, she’s always nice, and we’re both like queer or whatever,” Raja flipped her hair over her shoulder and adopted a sexy voice, “So why wouldn’t she wanna make out?”

“You’re so annoying,” laughed Delta, and then shook her head, “Just don’t break her heart, bitch, that’ll make our parties super awkward.”

Then they hung out and made dinner and Raja remembered she was still pretty greasy and took a shower. After that she was really, truly, no longer high and it was time to actually work on her philosophy paper.

But Raja knew that something today had shifted. Maybe getting super high, freaking out in the grocery store and having Manila rescue her had brought something to the surface that always been there. Or maybe the affection and desire was totally new. It didn’t make that much of a difference to Raja. The next time the moment struck, she’d simply ask Manila again if she was interested. If Manila genuinely wasn’t then Raja would leave her alone, they’d remain friends, and she’d move on to someone else. But should Manila say yes… well, that would be super fun, wouldn’t it?

#rpdr fanfiction #everybody knows you're high #rajila #raja gemini #manila luzon #lesbian au #college au #friends to lovers #dartmouth420 #tw weed #submission

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