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kurtie4life96 · 2 years

Text

Criminals / Kurt Kunkle × Fem Reader

Summary: What happens when Kurt's childhood friend comes into play, changing the outcome of Spree?

Content Warnings: MINORS DNI- pnv sex, knife play, blood play, murder, (mostly)Dom Kurt, (mostly)Sub fem reader, no use of y/n, slowburn, angst, fluff, friends? to lovers, slap if you squint, porn with a plot, literally the movie Spree like you know there will be blood

My first smut. Hope you enjoy. Xoxo

♡ you go down just like Holy Mary, Mary on a cross

not just another Bloody Mary,

Mary on a cross

your beauty never ever scared me,

Mary on a cross

if you choose to run away with me,

I will tickle you internally,

and I see nothing wrong with that ♡

Mary on a Cross - Ghost

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

Sitting back against the pillows on your bed, you rolled your eyes as you watched Kurt's overly (and annoyingly) excited face on your phone screen.

Though it's been years since the two of you have seen each other, you have been secretly watching all the videos he posted, all his livestreams, never giving away who you actually were, with a username he couldn't possibly trace back to you. Ironically enough, it was:

kurtie96

No profile picture, no information about you, nothing.

This was ironic for various reasons.

You became pretty close friends at the age of 13, the age he started to become obsessed with the idea of going "viral". And you were his biggest supporter, despite all of his cringyness and stupid ass peace signs. You loved spending your free time with each other. You were even in some of his earlier videos, laughing, pushing each other around, doing risky shit, just being stupid.

When his parents got divorced, you noticed a bit of a personality change in him (to say the least). You watched his soft brown locks begin to slowly plaster to the front of his face with grease over the years. You watched Kurt spend his time becoming more and more desperate to get internet famous, and not spending enough time taking care of himself. Where there was once a charismatic, charming (at least in your eyes) boy, a self absorbed, pathetic, pitiful man took its place.

He's very lucky to still have a pretty face and smile.

You blamed his parents for who he'd become. His dad Kris was self absorbed and narcissistic himself, despite his claims of being Buddhist, and desperately craved attention. Impressionable Kurt looked up to that, and his mom was too busy into her own hippie crystal bullshit, not even caring to notice who her son was turning into.

You also blamed Bobby, the little shit Kurt used to babysit. He became internet famous simply for being a despicable, annoying little asshole. He treated Kurt like shit.

And you used to love him. And there was a part of you that still did.

"What's up guys, it's Kurt here-"

You immediately turned the volume all the way down on your phone. You quickly sent him an encouraging, supportive chat, along with a $100 donation.

You watched his face light up with the biggest grin, reading his lips as he said "Wow! Thank you so much for your donation, kurtie96! Thanks for being my number one suppor-"

You abruptly left his livestream.

Even though you thought his obsession for getting internet famous was gross to watch, you still supported him... out of pity.

Even though you had a falling out 2 years ago.

You had deleted all of your social media, every platform. When Kurt confronted you about it, you told him you needed a break from all of it. He took it to heart, took it personally, and as you watched tears begin to well in his sad, doe eyes, he spat words at you that you'll never forget.

"If you're not documenting yourself, you simply don't exist. Especially to me."

As much as those words felt like a knife twisting in your chest, your stomach feeling like it fell out of your ass, you didn't stop him from walking away. You couldn't tell him the real reason you deleted all your socials. You were required to keep it a secret, your life depended on it.

He broke your heart, but you broke his too. Losing that friendship felt like losing a large fragment of your soul, leaving you forever feeling empty since that day.

A year later, you couldn't help yourself but to make an untracable social media account. Just to see how he was doing. And that quickly turned into watching him every time he went live and every time he posted. And that quickly turned into you becoming his number one supporter. He just didn't know it was you.

Shit, I do still love him, don't I? What kind of love is it? Wait, is it even love, or do I just feel sorry for him? Whatever, doesn't matter.

‐------‐-‐------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, you hear your phone ding. A notification from kurtsworld96.

You sat up to see a new video he posted.

Kurt was still on his #TheLesson bullshit.

You rolled your eyes, and yet tapped on the video.

He had in front of him, a water bottle and a syringe. He began to explain how to inject poison into the water bottle, and how no one would ever notice it had been tampered with as long as it was sealed with a glue gun.

Haha, very fucking funny Kurt. You'll do anything for clout.

You looked at the time.

Well, I guess I'd better get going.

You hastily commented a few words of support on the video, grabbed your belongings, got in your car, and drove away into the night.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------

Later that week, you woke up on a Friday morning. A sigh of relief came from you.

I don't have work to do today, thank God.

As you got up from your bed, you walked over to your kitchenette in your small studio apartment, and made yourself some coffee and a bowl of cereal.

A notification from your phone interrupted your breakfast.

You muttered frustrated nonsense to yourself, and looked at the screen.

kurtsworld96 is live

You downed your coffee and sat back into your bed, wondering what clout chasing nonsense he was doing this time.

You tapped on his live.

You watched as Kurt was yet again livestreaming his Spree riding. Only this time, there was a man in the backseat spewing some nonsense about being proud to be white. Kurt looked visibly uncomfortable.

kurtie96: kick his ass out of the car!

Another chat from Bobby came up. Just him talking some shit, nothing new.

"Don't worry kurtie96 and Bobby."

After Kurt gave a speech about how all races are the same and how racism is toxic, he sped right through a stop sign.

Holy shit Kurt, what the hell are you doing?

Interesingly enough, the man in the backseat seemed excited. He then went to take a drink of a water bottle. Almost instantly, the man began to cough, and his coughs increasingly grew violent as Kurt reassured him that it was just pure water.

The man then slumped over in the backseat. He didn't appear to be breathing. Kurt looked into the camera, put his sunglasses on, and awkwardly threw up another peace sign.

Oh my God.

I wonder what convincing Kurt had to do in order for Bobby to get a man to play a racist, and "die" on his livestream.

You scoffed. This is really hitting a new low. You left the livestream for about an hour before you opened it again. You watched the same thing happen to a total Karen directly afterwards. This was so fake, it was painful to watch, but you sent a quick blurt of support.

kurtie96: $100 donation SHE GOT GOT LOL

You physically recoiled at what you had just typed.

"Holy shit, thank you for the support again kurtie96! A hundred dollars? Where are you getting all this money?!"

If only he knew.

Why the hell do I keep doing this again?

You saw Kurt beam his gorgeous, wide smile into the camera, almost as if he was looking directly at you, and only you.

Oh yeah, that's why...

You felt a bit of butterflies in your stomach. This was a sensation you hadn't felt in a long time. In fact, this was one of the strongest kind of emotions you'd felt in a long time.

You hated it.

You usually were completely emotionless, void of empathy- except for Kurt. And now you're giddy over his smile all over again, like when you were kids. Ugh.

You continued to watch his livestream, as you had nothing else to do. You kept chatting words of encouragement, while Kurt very much appreciated your kindness. You began to feel hot. Physically hot, sweating.

Yuck, what the hell is wrong with me?

You changed into a white tee and some comfy shorts. Much better.

You opened his livestream again to see a man who introduced himself as Mario in the backseat, seemingly harassing another woman named Jessie while Kurt told him to stop.

kurtie96: he's a misogynist. Tell him to gtfo!!

Kurt glanced at your chat, then slammed on his brakes and told him to get out. Jessie then happily obliged to get out instead, throwing water on Mario's face after calling her a bitch. You laughed, then stopped when Mario called him a homophobic slur and to just drive. You felt disappointed in Kurt when he complied.

Mario, shortly after Kurt began to drive again, said he felt sick to his stomach because of how embarrassed he was. Kurt pulled over and told him to get out if he was gonna puke. Mario began to argue back, but Kurt snapped back at him with a crack in his voice, "I need to keep my CAR CLEAN!"

Mario then said he needed to take a piss anyways, and got out of the car, walking behind it and stopped to do his business.

Then that dreaded Gummy Bear song came on. You were about to die from secondhand embarrassment, but then Kurt gave the camera a little smirk and began to reverse quickly. He reversed into Mario, his bloodied body falling over to the front of the car. "Are you guys seeing this?" Kurt said into the camera, ever so nonchalantly. He then apparently ran over Mario again as he drove away. "Fun." he said.

I can't believe the lengths this man will go to for views. It had to have cost him so much money to pay Bobby to get these shitty actors.

But as Kurt drove to a gas station to fill up his tank, you noticed Bobby still talking shit in the live, saying it was fake news. And you couldn't help but notice the blood on the ground and the front of Kurt's car, and how Kurt began to talk quietly when he realized there was a cop filling up his tank right next to him.

Something was definitely not right.

Your stomach sank a little. Bobby definitely has the money to do all this fake shit, yes, but why would he help out Kurt? There's nothing in it for him, he hates him. Something wasn't adding up, but you tried to shake the feeling off anyways.

You pondered for awhile wondering what you should do, if you should do anything at all. You and Kurt hadn't talked in 2 years. Well, technically, that wasn't true, he just didn't know you had been practically stalking his lives and being his number one fan. Whatever. He loves it.

You made a decision and walked quickly to your dresser to put on a jacket, and some sweatpants, throwing your sneakers on before heading out the door with your bag.

Once you got in your car, you opened your phone to see yet again what Kurt was up to.

There was blood all over his windshield. The inside of his car. And a bit on him. He was driving into the car wash. He called Bobby and explained to him what just happened, with much excitement. Asked him if he saw that triple K.O. That his count was up to 7 people. Bobby continued to keep talking shit, telling Kurt that he didn't even get double digit views. He began to honk his horn violently in defeat and frustration.

Your heart sank. This was real. None of it was fake. He really did brutally murder those people. It was all real. And he did it on a LIVESTREAM.

You knew you had to get to him. And seeing him murmuring to himself about how he'll show Bobby... you knew where he was going.

You couldn't let Kurt do this to himself.

--------------------------------------‐-----------------

You pulled up to Bobby's house. In the driveway, was Kurt's car. You quickly pulled out your phone and opened the livestream. Kurt was taking a shower, blood all over him that was obviously Bobby's. He was ecstatic, over the moon, as his stream began to finally go viral. "Do you guys, do you guys wanna see my, boner?"

Really dude?

You clicked off your phone and got out of the car, making sure to close the door quietly. You made your way up to Bobby's front door. Ever so gently, you turned the knob. It was unlocked.

Dumbass couldn't even bother to lock the front door.

You tiptoed inside slowly. You instantly heard Kurt talking to his new followers in Bobby's bedroom. You looked down to see a brutalized body on the living room floor. Bobby. It was Bobby's body.

You snapped your head up at the sound of your own username.

"You know, I wonder where kurtie96 is? They were my number one fan from the start, but I haven't seen them in the chat in a long time. They were there from the very beginning. Anyways, even if you're not watching, shout out to kurtie96-"

"I'm right here."

Kurt snapped his head up, and his eyes widened. His face and body went white, completely obvious to tell since he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Wh- what- hang on- what the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Turn off the live, Kurt."

He gawked at you. Was he seeing things?

"Did you not hear me? TURN. IT. OFF."

He continued to stare at you in shock, before narrowing his eyes and looked back at the livestream. "Hey guys, I'll be back in just a few minutes-"

You quickly smashed the screen on the floor, feeling the adrenaline and rage turn you into a complete monster.

"What the FUCK-"

"You are one stupid little shit, you know that?" you snapped at him, almost growling.

Kurt went silent for a moment. He couldn't believe his eyes. You were standing right in front of him. How? You had been gone for 2 years. How did you know what he was doing, where he was at? You didn't even have any social media...

"Wait, wait... are you kurtie96?"

"Do I really need to answer that question?" you let out an annoyed, breathy laugh, "How stupid can you possibly be, to kill all these people for views and followers-"

"NO!" Kurt slammed his hands down on the table, knocking various things off of it.

You went red in the face. He had never raised his voice at you before.

He continued, with a shaky, low voice, "You don't just get to walk back into my life, at a time like this, you walked out on me-"

"NO, Kurt! YOU walked out on ME!" you raised your voice back, holding back tears.

"No, no, NO!" his voice cracked, "you deleted everything, and told me it was because you couldn't stand me!"

"No Kurt, I never told you that. But..." your tears were threatening to spill down your face, "I let you believe that. I did delete everything, but it wasn't because of you. I HAD to. For my own safety. And now look at this big mess you've made."

He scoffed at you. "So why did you do it then? What are you a- a cop?"

You began to shake and went silent.

Kurt snapped his fingers in your face, "Hello, earth to BACKSTABBER?! I asked you a question!"

You pushed him back forcefully, "I'm not the backstabber here, Kurt! I'm not the one who ended a friendship because of social fucking media. How can you be so blind and ignorant to your surroundings? To my feelings?!"

You caught your breath, while he fell silent for a few moments.

"I just wanted to keep doing what we were doing. We were having fun... and now - wait, you still haven't answered my question. Is... is there like a, SWAT team outside or something?"

You looked up to meet his eyes. Those pretty teddy bear, scared eyes. You cursed yourself for how they made you melt a little.

"No. I'm not a cop, but there will be some outside soon if we don't clean up this mess right away. Find some bleach and an old rug-"

"Why did you delete everything then?"

Your face suddenly went cold, as did your heart. You were going to have to tell him now. You didn't have a choice at this point.

"I kill people too."

He laughed. He LAUGHED at you.

He laughed for a solid 10 seconds.

"If you're going to arrest me, you should have done it already, you- you bitch." He picked up his knife. "I didn't want to have to do this, but you're going to have to die now, too."

You held still, didn't move a muscle, waiting for him to make his move.

He twirled the knife in his hands for a moment, eyeing the details on it, with a melancholy look on his face. He didn't want to kill you, you used to be his best friend. And all this time, you've secretly been his number one fan. There were many times he wanted to give up, but you were there behind a screen, encouraging him every step of the way. Why though?

Before he could finish his thoughts, you had charged at him, swiftly grabbing the knife from his hand. You harshly pushed him into the wall, pinning his arms above him with one arm, one leg between his own legs, and your other arm holding up the knife to his throat. He was surprised by your strength.

You lightly pressed the tip of the knife into the middle of his throat, just enough to nick him and draw the smallest amount of blood. He winced, but then didn't dare move an inch.

"I told you you were a stupid little shit." You said with a menacing voice.

He kept his eyes on you, taking in shaky breaths.

"Are you gonna let me talk now, Kurt?"

"Mhm." He didn't dare say a word, in fear of the knife piercing his throat more.

You eased the knife a few inches away from his neck, and softened your grip on him.

"I kill people too. I'm just not as sloppy as you are."

He continued to meet your gaze. You fell silent. He gained enough courage to ask you a question in a wimpy voice, "Why are you killing people? I mean... my... my reason is obvious, but you don't even have social media. Why are you doing it?"

"Well.. there's a couple reasons. One, I get paid to do it. Two, I do it... because I only kill bad people."

"Bad people? Like what?"

"Like... the 1%ers mostly. The sexists, the racists, the homophobes, all the evil that lives in Los Angeles. I go on dates with them, make them feel comfortable, and then I poison them, sometimes strangle them, if I have to. And after I kill them... I take their money." You had a small smirk on your face as you said it, but quickly shook it off.

You let Kurt have a moment to take in what you just confessed.

"Is that why you were always able to send me those big donations?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Okay..." He dragged out the word. "But why support me so much?"

"Because I still care about you. I mean, I hate you for ditching me because I deleted my socials, I had to do it so I couldn't be traced. I knew you wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. That's why I didn't say anything. But.. yeah. I still cared about you. I couldn't just automatically turn my feelings off like a light switch."

Kurt went a little red in the face. He looked like he was going to.. cry? Laugh? You couldn't tell.

"Feelings?" he said, a little too much excitement in his voice.

"Not those kind, fucking idiot." You quickly snapped back.

You looked down. Kurt's towel was threatening to fall down his waist. And he had a boner. He ACTUALLY had a boner.

You finally released him from his grip. "Put some fucking clothes on, you sick fuck. I'm going to help you. And you should feel lucky that I am."

He nodded his head in agreement, but opened his mouth again, "But what about my followers-"

"Fuck your followers. You can either get arrested and sent to trial for murder, or you can stop this now and be a free, stupid man. And hurry up, we have some cleaning up to do."

He groaned like a toddler who hadn't got his way, but began to walk over to Bobby's closet to find some clothes. You turned to go walk back to Bobby's body, and made another comment.

"By the way, why the fuck is your hair still greasy after taking a shower? Do you even wash it?"

‐--------------------------------------------------------------------

After you both changed your clothes (Bobby's clothes, yuck) and cleaned up Kurt's sloppy work, you two had made a plan. You followed his car to his grandpa's junkyard closely, with the body in his trunk. You couldn't let his license plate be seen. Once you got there, you burned each others old clothes and let the dogs have at Bobby's body. You took Kurt's license plate off his car and discarded it, and also commanded him to throw his phone into the fire as well. He protested relentlessly until you promised him you'd buy him a brand new one.

"Okay Kurt, get in my car, time to go home."

"What? So now everything is magically all better and I just go home?"

"No, Kurt. Not your home. My home...my home."

He hesitantly got into the passenger side of your car, and off you went.

The first few minutes of the drive, there was some uncomfortable silence. Kurt was the first to break it.

"So, where do you live anyways?"

"Skid Row. It's a studio apartment."

Kurt looked at you with a funny, confused look on his face, while you kept your eyes on the road. "How do you have so much money, but then live in a shitty part of town?"

"I have to keep up a certain look for the kind of life I live. Stupid." you spat. You instantly felt a little bad, but didn't change your serious expression.

Kurt then went silent again for a few moments. You glanced over at him to see him staring at you, with woeful eyes. Now you really felt bed.

"I'm really sorry." His voice was almost a whisper.

"It's okay Kurt... just don't ask stupid questions-"

"No, not that. I meant, I'm sorry. Like, sorry sorry. For everything."

Your hands gripped the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry too, Kurt."

You glanced at him again.

God, he looks so defeated. How can I be so mean to him, especially when everyone was so mean to us when we were in school? All we had was each other.

You couldn't help but realize that the only person you had ever felt sorry for, was Kurt... what the fuck?

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

Once the both of you were settled into your apartment, you went into your closet and pulled out a burner phone from a box as Kurt watched you from your bed. You dialed a phone number and put the phone to your ear.

Kurt, jealous and antsy, seeing as how you made him throw his phone into the fire earlier so he couldn't be traced, asked loudly, "Who are you calling?"

"Shush!" You put your finger to your lips and glared at him. You slowly looked away and someone answered the call. "Hey... yeah it's B. I need one... for a Kurt Kunkle... yeah, you'll be able to find him easily... thank you." You hung up the phone and sighed, feeling... sad?

"Your name isn't B."

You shook your head, annoyed that he could be this oblivious as to why you would never say your real name out loud, and ignored him.

"Why did you say my name? Did you just like, tell on me, or something?" He said, getting a little nervous, shifting on the bed.

"No Kurt. I wouldn't clean up after your mess just to come home and 'tell on you'. What are you, 12? I had to make a call to get you fake papers."

"Fake papers? Like, a fake ID?"

"Yeah. And birth certificate. And social security. And passport... a new name."

Kurt got quiet, then whispered, "Why a passport?"

You could feel his fear radiating off of him. "Because Kurt, you killed all those people, live, on your phone, for so many people to see. You'll be recognized any time now. You can't hide in my apartment forever. You'll have to leave the country. Don't worry, when you get to where you're going, I'll have everything all set up for you, a place to live, a job-"

You stopped talking when you noticed him beginning to quietly sob to himself.

God, you felt so bad for him. He thought he was on top of the world, until he realized he wasn't.

"But... I don't wanna leave the country. I wanna stay here."

You walked over to him and sat down on the bed next to him. "I know you don't. And I know it's scary. But I'm trying to help you here... this is your only chance at getting away with this."

He stopped crying, but leaned into your chest, sniffling a little. You were surprised at the notion, but after a few moments, put your arms up, and held him.

How is he gonna cry right now, after mercilessly killing eight people?

"You know Kurt, I know you don't wanna talk to your dad, but if you want, you can make a quick phone call to your mom to say goodbye-"

"I killed her this morning." He quickly cut you off, his statement void of any emotion.

Oh. Nine people.

"Oh... um. Okay. That's okay. That's.. alright then." You didn't really know how to respond.

Yeah, he's 100% insane. Well... I mean, I have no room to talk.

You held him a little while longer in silence, before he sat up again. "So... what happens now?" He looked at you with his glossy eyes. Damn, those eyes.

"Well, now we wait. For your new papers."

"How long is that gonna take?"

You shrugged. "Probably early in the morning. And then you'll go straight to the airport."

He didn't like the thought of having to leave the country... or leave you.

"Okay," his voice getting a little louder again, "what do we do while we wait?"

"I don't fucking know, Kurt, we should probably just go to bed. You're gonna need the sleep. You can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

"No, no, you sleep in your bed. I'll sleep on the floor. Its your place, and you are a girl- I mean, uh, a woman after all. It wouldn't be right." He stuttered awkwardly, then sheepishly smiled at you.

"Well, you're gonna need your rest, so... we can both just sleep in the bed. It's not like we haven't done that before when we were kids."

You both gave a little smile at each other, thinking back on times where everything wasn't so fucked up.

Kurt grinned at you, a bit of light back in his eyes now, "Hey... do you remember when we like... practiced with each other?"

Nevermind. Kurt and I have always been fucked up.

Your face turned hot. You looked away from him and gulped. "Yes."

When you both graduated high school after turning 18, you both got a little drunk, and, seeing as how lonely you both were and only had each other (because you guys were the nerdy, weird kids) you both decided to have... a little fun together.

"Those were the days." Kurt said with a shit eating grin, then instantly putting a serious look on his face when he saw your not so pleased reaction.

"That was one time Kurt. And we didn't even go all the way. It was stupid."

He frowned. "I didn't think it was stupid." he looked down and twiddled his fingers.

You couldn't lie to yourself. Thinking back on that experience made your inner thighs burn. But you couldn't think of things like that. Not after a night like this. Not after knowing he was going to be gone in the morning.

"Hey," Kurt's voice interrupted your thoughts. "Come with me."

"Huh?" You looked at him, thinking there was no way he was serious.

"Come with me. Please." He pleaded with you.

"Kurt, I can't do that."

"But why?" Ugh, he sounded so sad, you hated it.

"Because I don't have to. I have a life here."

"A life of what? Of- of murdering people and... living in this dump?"

"Well, I murder bad people."

He threw his hands up in the air and smacked them back down on the bed dramatically. "Well, so did I, if you think about it!"

You rolled your eyes at his childish fit. "Whatever." You sat up from the bed. "I'm going to sleep now, Kurt, on the floor. Someone will drive you to the airport in the morning." You began to walk away from him.

"We could be a power couple!" His voice cracked.

You stopped and turned to look at him. "Kurt... never say 'power couple' ever again."

"Well, I'm serious! We're perfect for each other!"

"Really?" You scoffed. "In what way?

"Well, we both kill people." He looked at your face with hope.

"Yeah, except I'm good at it, and you're terrible at it."

"Well... I mean, they're dead. So... yeah, I'm good at it."

You were silent for a moment, and then softly said, "Kurt, we're both psychopaths. Sociopaths. Narcissists, whatever people call it. Void of all feeling, no empathy for other people-"

"Except for each other," he now sat up from the bed and walked over to you, standing only a foot in front of you, "...except for each other. You wouldn't have helped me if you didn't care about me. And I wouldn't have had second thoughts about killing you if I didn't care about you."

You groaned. He was right, but it still wasn't a good idea for the two of you to be together.

"I love you." He said, his face red with embarassment from his confession.

What the fuck? Did he just say that?

You stared at him intensely, feeling like there was no possible way you heard him right.

He spoke up again, face still red from his confession, "I... I like... LOVE you love you. I'm.. yeah- yeah... I'm in love with you. I mean I still regular love you, but I'm in love with you. And I always have been." He stuttered through his words.

You couldn't do anything. You couldn't speak, or move. His words paralyzed you. So you just stood there like a statue, feeling like the temperate went up 100 degrees.

He took a deep breath, "Just, just- come here!"

He reached forward and grabbed your face, kissing you, hard. Really hard. He wasn't making out with you, but the passion was there. His lips stayed connected to yours, giving you a 10 second long, desperate kiss, before softly letting go of your face and mouth, and taking a small step backwards, waiting for your reaction. Waiting to see if that was an okay thing to do.

You continued to stare at him, right into his soul, took a step back, and slapped him across the face.

His head stayed turned in the direction where you slapped him for a few moments, before slowly turning to face you again. He put a hand up to his cheek, gazing at you with a pitiful look.

Fuck. I can't take it anymore.

You lunged for him, grabbing his face as he did with yours, kissing his mouth hard, tangling your fingers through his hair. He instantly grabbed your face and kissed you back, with the same force. His right arm snaked under your left, and began to slowly stroke down your back, his hand pausing when it got to your ass. You quietly moaned on his lips, feeling absolutely manic.

You pulled back for a moment, and gazed into his eyes, the both of you breathing heavily.

"I love you Kurt."

"W...what?" He panted.

"I love you too. I love you more than anything."

He continued to gaze into your eyes, putting his right hand back on your face, thumb rubbing the soft skin of your cheek. He pressed his forehead onto yours, the both of you still panting, breathing in each other's scent.

God, he smells so good.

You went to kiss his lips again, hungry for more, but he pulled back. Before you could open your mouth to ask what was wrong, he put a finger to your lips.

"So..." He smiled. "Considering everything, like... you know, how we're murderers and psychos and stuff... how do you want to do this?"

Your lips slowly curled into a smile.

"Anything goes."

"Really? Anything?"

"Anything you want to do, I want to do it too, Kurt."

He grinned wide, before crashing his lips back onto yours again. He was now holding you tightly. He stuck the tip of his tongue out, licking your lips, motioning for you to open your mouth. You happily obliged, your tongue beginning to dance with his. These kisses were hungry, desperate, teeth clashing with each other, noses pressed hard against each other, and yet, these kisses were so wonderfully in sync, like your mouths were made for each other. Like you were made for each other.

You could feel yourself getting wetter every second that passed, when all of the sudden, you felt Kurt bite down onto your lower lip, hard. You let out a small gasp, immediately tasting your own blood. Kurt then pulled his face back from you, leaving a string of saliva between the two of you. He stared at you with a crazed, wide eyed look on his face, before spitting directly onto your white shirt, your own blood and saliva now beginning to slide down your chest. You looked at him in shock.

"Well, now that your shirt is all messy, looks like you'll be needing to get rid of it."

He began to pull his knife out of his pocket.

Wait, I still had that knife. How did he get it back from me? Maybe when I was holding him?

He grabbed the bottom of your shirt taut, and lifted the knife underneath it, traveling up to your neck, the tip of the knife now barely poking at your throat, the same way you did to him only hours before. With a devilish look in his eyes, he dragged the blade down your shirt from the neck of it to the bottom, ripping it in half. He then grabbed either sides of your shirt and snatched it down your arms.

You looked at him in awe. You never thought this was something Kurt was capable of doing, being so dominate, despite being a cold blooded killer.

The evil look in his eyes quickly went away, turning into puppy dog eyes. "Um.. so.. was that okay? I just thought it would be hot if I did something like that... sorry."

You smiled. "It was more than okay."

"Really?" He grinned with excitement.

You nodded your head eagerly. "More. I want more."

He yanked you in for another passionate kiss, this time lifting you up by your ass, and throwing you onto your bed.

He hovered over you, before digging his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, traveling his mouth across until he found your sweet spot. You moaned shamelessly, and felt him smile against your skin. He sank his teeth into that spot, gaining another loud moan from you. You grabbed his hair by the nape of his neck, feeling his hot breath, while he abused your neck, leaving dark bruises across your skin, leading his way down to your chest. He snaked his arm from your stomach to your chest, groping your tits from underneath your bra. You put your arm behind your back and arched, trying to unclasp it for him, but he had another idea. He grabbed your arm and pinned it against the bed. Knife still in his dominant hand, he slid it underneath both of the straps, blade again ripping another piece of clothing. He slid the ruined garment down your body, tossing it over his shoulder.

He then pinned down both of your arms with his left hand, the other putting down the knife for a moment so he could hastily pull your pants off of your legs, throwing them across the room along with the other discarded garments. You were now only in your underwear.

He continued to hover over you, his pupils blown, while he slowly crept his hand down your stomach, and into the front of your panties, sliding his fingers through your soaked folds. You arched into the heat of his hand, trying to stifle back an embarrassingly load moan.

"Wow, already this- this wet, huh? I guess you do... really like it like this."

You nodded your head, arms still pinned above your head.

"Remember all the things we did when we... practiced?" He said, his hand cupping your heat.

"Y-yeah. I do." You managed to respond.

"Like...this?"

He slipped two digits inside of you, instantly curling his fingers to find that sweet spot.

"Oh, fuck Kurt-"

"And this..." He reached his thumb up and began circling your clit, simultaneously fucking his curled fingers in and out of you slowly, just the way you like it. You arched into his hand again, moaning and murmuring his name as he continued, with a giant grin on his face.

You managed to speak through heavy breaths, "Kurt... how do you... remember what I like?"

He gave you a soft, gentle look, stopping his movements briefly.

"Well, because I love you... and how could I ever forget that night?"

He started pumping in and out of you again, only this time with a quicker pace. Your eyes glazed over, tears forming, as your pathetic moans grew louder and louder, feeling that yummy knot in your stomach begin to form. You leaned your face towards his, begging for his kisses, which he eagerly accepted. He began to moan in your mouth quietly, tipping you over the edge.

"Kurt... I'm gonna..."

"Do it. Now."

The knot inside of you released. He kept his pace to ride you through your high, while you became a blubbering mess of his name and expletives.

Once your orgasm came to a halt, he gave you a gentle kiss on your swollen, bitten lips.

"Did you like that?"

You nodded your head, completely dazed. "Yes."

"Good, I hope you like this part too. But it's not something we ever did before."

"Wha-"

He quickly grabbed the knife he had placed beside you, and slashed you across your abdomen.

You gasped in pain, forgetting to breathe for a moment.

"Wow, would you look at that." He smiled, admiring his work, and placed the knife back down to rub his hand over the wound, which was not deep or wide enough to severely harm you, but still stung. He began to spread your blood across your bare torso. He now had the most pure evil look you'd ever seen. Eyes wide, pupils blown so big they were black, a wicked, cruel smile plastered across his face.

You were in disbelief.

You had never seen anything so sexy, so erotic in your entire life. You had never been more turned on.

"Kurt..."

He glanced up at your face, now looking worried, "Yeah babe?"

You couldn't help but feel butterflies at the endearing nickname.

"Do you think you could let go of my arms now?"

He quickly released you from his tight grasp, "Yeah, yeah, I'm so sorry, I really wish I hadn't done that, please don't be mad at me, I'm so sorry-"

You cut him off by sitting up quickly, grabbing the neckline of his shirt with your hands instead of opting for the knife, ripping it in half hastily.

He looked down at his now ruined shirt, and looked back up at you startled, then gradually smiling that wicked, evil grin again. He hurriedly slid the shirt off of his body. You grabbed the crotch of his pants, feeling how absolutely hard he was, silently motioning for him to take those off too.

You sat back on your elbows a bit, admiring his body. He looked so sexy like this. No weird clothes, no bucket hat... just Kurt. You stared at his chest and happy trail in awe.

"It's your turn." You said in a menacingly low voice. You grabbed the knife from beside you and slashed him across his abdomen, the same way he did to you. He physically leaned back in shock, losing his breath. He looked down at his bleeding wound, and looked back at you.

"It's only fair." You said innocently. You rapidly sat back up again, putting your hand on his cut, and began rubbing his own blood all over his torso. You looked into his eyes, looking for some sign of acceptance. He smiled back at you.

You fervently began to latch onto his neck, kissing open mouth, sloppy kisses everywhere, before you began to suck all over, until he let out a wimpy moan. You smiled against his skin. You had found his sweet spot. You bit onto it forcefully, drawing a little blood. He gasped in pleasure, and you began gently sucking on it, as if to make it all better.

You made your way down to his chest, leaving marks and bruises all over him while he swung his head back, panting heavily. You continued until you got to his still bleeding wound, licking and kissing it gently. You began to kiss down to the hem of his boxers, before reaching both hands into them and slowly pulling them down, his bare, hard cock now in plain sight. Kurt lightly gasped. You were pleasantly reminded of his length and girth.

It's always the nerds, isn't it?

You went to caress it, before Kurt's hand grabbed your wrist, motioning for you to stop.

You looked up at him confused, your face covered in his blood, and he began to speak.

"You know... I was actually thinking, uh... maybe we should just, or I should just, focus on you, considering how you helped me tonight... you know, if that's okay."

Why does he have to be so adorable?

You gave him a little smile, "Aw, Kurt, it's okay. I would really like to make you feel good too. It's really not a prob-"

"Actually, you know what? Shut up."

He pushed you back onto the bed hard, nearly knocking the wind out of you. His sinful eyes and smile were back on his face. He had this devilish side to him that seemed to come out spontaneously.

He grabbed the sides of your panties and yanked them down, again throwing them across the room. He hiked your legs up over his shoulders, and without warning, his face went directly for your cunt, not easing in whatsoever, instantly eating you up like you were his last meal.

"Oh, FUCK, Kurt!" You nearly screamed. His hand came down your wounded stomach to abuse your clit once again as he began tongue fucking you.

He remembered this part of our practice too.

He continued to lap you up forcefully, you moaning his name over and over again. You felt him smile against your heat. He then latched his mouth onto your clit, his tongue dancing over it eagerly.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you arched into his mouth, feeling your next high begin to rise up. You grabbed his hair by the nape of his neck, causing him to moan. The vibration from his lips alone tipped you over the edge.

"Kurt, it's happening- oh FUCK!" He dug his fingernails into your thigh as you hit the peak of your second orgasm of the night.

Feeling the high die down again, you looked down at Kurt, his still wicked, evil eyes looking up to meet yours. His face was now covered in your blood too. Your wound had reopened... the sight of his bloodied, smiling face was unbearably erotic.

We really are some sick fucks, aren't we?

He crawled over and kissed you with the most passion, the both of you now tasting each others blood on your tongues.

You never expected in a million years for Kurt to be this dominant, so in control. And he never imagined you being so submissive to him.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he backed away from your face. He grabbed your hips hard, and yanked them up to meet his cock, a yelp escaping from your lips.

"I'm gonna fuck you s-so, hard."

This never happened when we practiced, we never got to this point-

He lined himself up with your now swollen entrance, and rammed all the way into you with ease, bottoming out. You both moaned shamelessly loud. Kurt had to stop himself from busting right then and there as you instantly clamped down on him. This was something he only ever fantasized about.

He began to thrust into you, slow, but excruciatingly hard. It was nothing like you've ever experienced before. You were nearly going cross eyed. He continued this forceful pace before roaming his arms under your back, pulling you up onto his lap. He was now sitting on his knees, while you sat on his dick, immediately hitting that sweet spot inside of you. You both gasped at the sensation, and started grinding into each other, perfectly in sync, over and over again, whispering sweet words of praise to each other.

"Oh god Kurt, you feel.. so.. good-" you managed to say between shaky breaths.

"Fuck, so do you.. babe- you really... really like this?"

"I do, I love it so much, Kurt.. feels.. oh god... you feel amazing."

"Well... I love... you."

"God, I love you too.. more than anything." You gave him a lustful smile and put your hand up to his cheek, caressing it for a moment, before you crashed your lips on his again, groaning into each other's mouths, still grinding down onto him, keeping the same rhythm.

When you pulled back to gaze into his eyes, he was gazing into yours too. Only this time, his didn't look so sinful. They were filled with pure adoration and love for you, tears beginning to gloss over his eyes. He looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. You began to tear up too.

It was an unholy, yet beautiful sight to behold, the two of you covered in each other's blood, sweat, saliva and tears, a squishing mess of wetness connected between the two of you.

The sensation of his stomach hitting your clit as you fucked sent you into over drive.

"Kurt.. I'm gonna-" He grabbed your hair by the scalp and yanked your head back.

"D-do it.. you look so pretty when you cum.. please cum for me, I'm right there too." He stumbled over his words, now picking up the speed as he used his other hand to grab your ass to pound into your walls as quickly as he could manage.

Just hearing his praise and lust-filled voice was enough to send you over the edge again. You screamed his name as you clamped down onto him, having your third, but most intense climax of the night. You felt his cock begin to get even harder as he kept thrusting through your high. You dug your nails into his shoulders and kissed him eagerly, he moaned into your mouth and you bit his bottom lip, drawing blood as he did to you before, and that was it for him.

He threw his head back and loudly moaned a mixture of your name and obscenities as he came deep inside you, absolutely losing his breath.

As you continued to sink down into him through his orgasm, he began to start to steady his breathing a little, until you finally stopped riding him when you were sure he was finished.

He slowly tilted his head forward, and looked at you half lidded, a small grin on his face. He pressed his forehead into yours, breathing in each other's scent, breathing out small, awkward chuckles of contentment.

He wrapped his arms around you, still inside you, and you did the same to him, the both of you leaving sloppy, open mouth kisses all over each others faces, not being able to get enough of each other.

You looked back at him with pure warmth in your eyes, but you face dropped when you noticed tears streaming down his face, sniffling a bit.

"What's wrong? Did I do something? Are you regretting this? I'm so sorry Kurt-"

He put a finger to your lips and shushed you, a small, sad smile on his face. "Come with me."

"What?"

"Please come with me. You..you know.. leaving the country." His face a mix of pleading and hope.

You were silent for a moment, stroking his soft cheek, before smiling back at him.

"Okay."

"Really?" He looked like he was about to start sobbing with joy.

"Really.. I will go with you."

He laid you back down on the bed, finally pulling out of you. He smothered you with small pecks of kisses all over your face, laughing with glee in between. You squealed and ran your fingers through his hair.

He stopped for amount to admire your face, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"What will we do when we leave? I mean, I'll slow down on the 'trying to go viral thing'."

"I have a lot of money, Kurt. We can do whatever we want."

He paused for a moment, before asking, "Do you think we could still kill people? Like, together, you know?"

You nodded your head. "Yes, we can. Only bad people though. And NO livestreaming any of it... I'll teach you."

He lied down next to you, still with a cheesy grin on his face. He gently rubbed his finger along your bruised lips. "Mine. You're mine."

You ran your fingers through his hair again, giving him a goofy smile back. "All yours.. and you're mine."

You both sat in silence admiring each other's bodies for a few minutes, before Kurt sighed deeply, "Well, I guess we should go take a shower and get all this... blood off of us before we leave." You gave him a sweet "Mhm." in agreement.

Another devilish look came across his face. "Maybe we could... round two?"

"Yes... but I'm shampooing your hair first, Kurt."

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Taglist: @sushihousebread @prxttymess

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle smut #spree fanfic #kurt kunkle x fem reader #smutty smut smut #joe keery #joe keery smut #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #kurt kunkle × imagine #kurt kunkle fanfic #kurtsworld96 #smut #spree movie

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thatonebrazilian · 2 years

Text

Hello Darkness ~ Chapter 11

… Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (coming soon)

A/N: Sup everyone! First chap after my impromptu break from social media. I tried giving this a lil more attention since it's been a while since I wrote anything, and let me tell you, I liked the results. This chap has... a lot. From best friend!Tony to dark!Nat to dark!Reader to sweet comforting moments.

Hope you guys like it. Also, if I forgot to tag anyone just lmk.

Summary: You were happy with Wanda until you found Vision on her bed. You loved her, though, you would have forgiven her eventually, but Natasha couldn’t let you throw away your chance at true happiness like that. So she took matters into her own hands.

Warnings: Cheating, Kidnapping, Gaslighting, non-con sex, non-con drug use, non-con alcohol consumption, Stockholm syndrome, soft!dark!Natasha, synthetic cock, forced pregnancy, breeding kink, praising kink, little bit of mommy kink… I think that’s it, lmk if I need to add more. MINORS DNI. You have been warned.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 8000 +/-

The doors to the compound opened just as you were approaching, and out of them came an extremely mad Natasha. There was a mix of rage and fear in her eyes, you felt your chest tighten at the sight of tears in her eyes.

But she was alive, she was safe, and upon finally seeing she was fine, you allowed yourself to collapse.

After leaving Dreykov and the Red Room behind you started to feel your magic dim, it was as if you had gotten that momentary burst of magic from the overwhelming rage you had felt then, but after that, when you finally had your emotions under control, you got drained. Physically, mentally, and magically.

Your knees buckled just as Natasha reached you.

“Y/N!” she yelled when you fell, wrapping her arms around you “Detka, please, stay with me! We’re gonna get you to the med bay, I just need you to stay awake!”

You felt groggy, it was as if all the adrenaline had finally left your body after you got to see that she was really fine, that you had truly managed to save her. But now all you could feel was tiredness.

“You’re safe” you muttered to her, barely managing to get the words out “Yelena too…”

You were too out of yourself to see how desperate she looked at that moment “Yeah, but you’re not!” she cried out, picking you up in her arms and carrying you to the med bay.

You didn’t answer, you were too tired to keep talking to her. Your eyelids fluttered closed and your body practically shut down in your fiancée’s arms. Natasha’s eyes widened and there were tears cascading down her face.

“Someone! We need help!” She yelled!

“What is all this-” it was Tony, he stopped in his tracks and then ran to the two of you “Y/N?!”

And that was all you remembered before your mind followed your body suit, swallowing you into the darkness.

You woke up in the med bay, there was a beautiful mess of red hair atop your stomach; you couldn’t see her face, but it felt… wrong. Her smell was different, the weight atop of you wasn’t right… Just then you realized the hair wasn’t from the woman you were expecting.

“Wanda?” you asked in a weak voice, thoroughly confused.

Her head shot up and she looked at you with wide green eyes. It was not the shade of green you wanted to see.

“Moya solnishko,” she said, a relieved smile gracing her features as she got close to caress your face.

Your brows furrowed and you managed to turn your face away; even though you were feeling better, your mind was still a bit foggy. What happened? Where were you? Where was-

“Natasha, where’s Natasha?” you asked as if suddenly remembering how you longed to see her, how you longed to see with your own eyes that she was ok, that you did manage to save her.

Wanda made a face, the corner of her mouth turning slightly down, a frown marring her features, not that you really noticed, you were consumed by your memories, your thoughts, your need for your woman. You needed Natasha there, you needed to see her, to touch her, to make sure she was ok.

“Y/N!” as if summoned by your thoughts, Natasha appeared, almost breaking down the doors in her haste to get to you. You could feel her presence with your magic, and just like that there was clarity dissipating the fog in your mind.

“Tasha!” you said, inclining your body forward in an attempt to get up and go to her, but the weight of Wanda’s hand on your chest, pushing you back, made it impossible.

“You shouldn’t get up, solnishko” she said with a somewhat sad smile, filled with worry and pity “you’re too weak.”

You gritted your teeth, you were not weak. And you knew she didn’t mean it in a way to demean your power, but with each passing day, there was something in you that made you feel a strong aversion towards Wanda.

No, it was not because she cheated on you, it was not because she messed with your self-esteem, and neither it was because she broke your trust. It was something on a deeper level, it was as if your own magic, your own inner-self, felt uncomfortable by her mere presence.

“Get away from her, Wanda,” Natasha said, almost as if she was reading your mind. She got closer enough to push the witch’s hand away from your chest and proceeded to help you sit on the medical bed you currently found yourself on.

As soon as you managed to sit up, your arms went around her, not caring if Wanda was witnessing it, not caring if anyone was there to call you out on your feelings for your beautiful redhead. “You’re safe,” you whispered against her ear “you’re really safe.”

Nat hugged you back, and you could feel by her trembling limbs that she was holding back in order not to squeeze you too tight. She didn’t want to hurt you. “Of course I’m safe! I’m not the one who risked her life!” she snapped at you in a mix of worry and anger, but then you felt her tuck her head in the crook of your neck, closing her eyes and biting her lip in order to hold all the overwhelming emotions at bay, yet you could still hear the unsteadiness of her voice when she said “I was so worried about you. Why did you do it? Why did you leave them like that to fight on your own?”

You felt a hand on your arm, then, and Wanda pulled you away from Nat’s embrace into her own. She tried using her magic to soothe you, to make you feel comfortable in her arms, and, before everything happened, it used to work, her magic used to mold with yours as if cocooning you in a safety blank, but now your magic protested against it, almost as if it wanted, by its own volition, to be in Natasha’s arms.

“Y/N/N, when I saw that doppelganger disappear, when I realized you had flown away to fight alone…” Wanda said closing her watery eyes, her voice trembling “I was so afraid. Afraid of what might’ve happened to you. I was so afraid I was going to lose you.”

“Wanda, I’m sorry…” you said, and it felt as if she melted against you. You wanted to push her away. “But you lost me the day you decided to sleep with that android and betray my trust.”

Natasha didn’t try to pull you away from Wanda like you half expected her to do, instead, she pulled Wanda away from you, her face hardened with a look you knew all too well. If Wanda didn’t have any powers, you’d be afraid for her life. Hell, maybe you should be afraid for her life even with her powers, because your Natalia was a force of nature, and not even Wanda could stop her if she set her mind to something… But you found you didn’t care.

“Get the hell away from her!” Natasha said, pulling away from Wanda right away to look at you better “Are you ok? How are you feeling? Dr. Cho said you didn’t have any wounds, but you were out for a couple days and she didn’t know why and I was so fucking worried that…” she stopped then, realizing she was rambling. Instead, she took a deep breath and started inspecting you herself to see if she could find anything. “Did they do anything to you?”

And at that, it was as if you finally woke up, your mind filling the blanks of what happened before you got here. The image of the widows’ mangled bodies was the first thing to show up in your memories, then the smell of the blood, the sound of the screams, and bones shattering.

And then Yelena.

You started to cry then; Natasha’s eyes widened when she saw it, Wanda’s too, they didn’t know what to do. You were not someone who cried only once in a lifetime like Nat, but you also didn’t wear your heart on your sleeve like Wanda, you just never cried over trivial matters, so they knew whatever made you cry must’ve been serious.

Your sobs echoed through the med bay, your hands covering your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. And the worst part? It’s that you weren’t crying because of all the people you killed, you were crying because you knew this would hurt Natasha.

You wanted to say you felt any sort of guilt or remorse for what you’ve done, but your wish to have been able to spare Yelena’s life was just that, wishful thinking, because you knew, deep down, that if you had to go back to that moment, you’d do it all over again. You’d do anything to protect Natasha and your daughter. Anything.

“I’m sorry,” you told Nat between sobs, grabbing her hand and squeezing as if you could comfort her before you even told her what happened. You didn’t want to hurt her, that was never your intention “I’m so sorry!”

And then you felt it, a probing in your mental walls, a drill trying to break into your thoughts; you realized Wanda was trying to read your mind. Rage filled you to the brim, you wouldn’t allow her to see anything, there were too many things in there that could compromise Natasha, little Yelena, and yourself. You wouldn’t let her in. You didn’t. Before you even realized what you were doing you had used your powers to throw her out with such a force that her physical body flew to the wall, hitting it hard before falling to the floor.

Natasha’s eyes went wide, a burst of adrenaline made you feel good as new, so you stood from your bed and took a couple of menacing steps towards Wanda, a dark-blue glow in your eyes.

“Never try to invade my mind like that again,” you warned the witch, whose eyes were even wider than Natasha’s.

“I- I was just trying t-to see what happened-” Wanda stuttered, breathing hard. She wasn’t really hurt, you saw the red magic cushioning her when she was about to make contact with the now shattered wall.

“No,” you said darkly, although your eyes were being enveloped once again by a lighter shade of blue “you lost the right to my thoughts when you cheated on me with fucking Vision!”

“Can you please get over that?!” she asked, tearing up. With shaky legs she got to her feet, her face was a mix of anger, desperation, and yearning “I’m trying to make it up to you!”

“Get over that?! Wanda, I loved you! I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you! And you just decided that I wasn’t enough-”

“I never said you weren’t enough! You are! You are perfect and I love everything about you! If I didn’t I would have left you for him!”

“But you left!” you yelled, tearing up as well “In a sense, you left. You let him take a hold of your heart when you had given it to me first.” You shook your head “You say you love me more, but that makes it even worse, cause it just means you traded our love, you traded me, for something you didn’t even want that much.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt the shouting match, ladies” Tony came in at the perfect time because you knew if he didn’t interrupt Natasha would have, and you didn’t want to see what would’ve happened then “but I need to take some blood samples to make sure everything is ok and Y/N here needs to rest.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, but then Tony sighed and walked towards you. You sighed too, sitting back on the bed.

“Ok, I’ll leave her to rest,” Natasha said then with a frown on her face, making you furrow your brows, you imagined she would fight harder to stay by your side, but then you noticed the way she was unconsciously leaning towards you as if she were making a physical effort to pull away “I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

The way she looked deep into your eyes made you smile, for you realized that she was talking about Lena. You knew Natasha wouldn’t leave your daughter alone, but whoever was taking care of her (Loki, you were sure) probably didn’t have much time to spare. You felt your heart soar with love for this woman.

“Tony,” Wanda started to protest, but Nat interrupted her.

“Y/N needs to rest, can you respect at least that?”

“Ok, you two, no need to start a catfight,” Tony said, glaring at both of them, Wanda especially.

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned to leave, shooting you a concerned look before she was out the door. Wanda, on the other hand, lingered for a second, looking between you and the exit as if she was debating if she really should go.

Tony shooed her out despite her renewed protests. He turned to you, then, and crossed his arms, there was a deep frown on his face, and his jaw was set. He was pissed. “I’ve half a mind to tell Wanda to come back and get into this head of yours.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he simply raised a hand to shush you.

“No! What were you thinking?! You saw the damn inhibitors, Y/N, and yet you decided to fly right at the people wilding them?! Do you have a death wish I didn’t know about?”

“Tony, you don’t get it, th-”

“Of course I don’t get it! My best friend simply decided it was an ok idea to fight people who could very easily kill her! Is this because of Wanda? Because if so I swear to god, Y/N-”

“It’s not about Wanda, Tony!”

“Then why did you do it?!”

“Because of Natasha!” you yelled then, not caring if anyone outside could hear you, your heart was racing, you didn’t want your friend thinking you were suicidal because of a woman you didn’t even love anymore, you wanted to be able to tell him everything “It was the Red Room, Tony, I couldn’t let them go, not after everything they did.”

“So you were willing to risk your life, for what? Revenge on her name?” he asked then, still clearly pissed. He took a couple of steps in your direction, his face falling a bit “Natasha doesn’t want any more red on her ledger, besides, wasn’t everything they did to her enough? Why were you willing to add your own death to that count? What do you think it would do to her if you had died and she found out she was the reason?”

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water. Tears sprung from your eyes once more, you felt your chest tighten. You hadn’t thought about that, you hadn’t thought about what it would do to her if something had happened to you. You didn’t think anything would happen to you, thus you didn’t think of any possible consequences.

“They were after her again… I couldn’t…” you said staring at an empty space with glazed eyes, shaking your head as if you couldn’t believe your own recklessness “I just needed to protect her. Whatever it took.”

There was silence, deafening silence. Tony looked at you, his eyes boring deep into yours as if he could see all your truths, as if he could stare at your very soul.

“You love her, don’t you?” he asked, and you were ready to open your mouth to say, yes, of course you love her, she’s your best friend, how could you not love her? But then he smiled a warm smile, walked to you, and grabbed your hand “Not as a friend. You’re in love with her.”

You chuckled through your tears. Of course he’d figure it out. There was no use in hiding this from him, you knew he’d find out sooner or later, Tony was one of your best friends, he knew you too well. And yes, there was a part of you that worried about how much he’d be able to find out, but the bigger part of you was happy, happy because you didn’t want to hide it from him anymore; as maddeningly annoying as he was, Tony Stark was one of the most important people in your life, and you wanted to let him in, you wanted to be able to gush about how incredible Natasha was, you wanted to gossip with her about all the things she does to you, you wanted to tell him how hard she made you fall.

You wanted him to meet your daughter.

You sighed, a small smile showing through your tears “There’s much I gotta tell you, Tin-man.”

Honestly, for a sorceress that could sorta control time itself, the realization that you had completely lost track of it felt a bit infuriating. You spent hours talking to Tony while he examined the charts the doctors had given him and drew some blood for a couple more tests, telling him almost everything that had happened since Wanda cheated on you.

At one point you realized that even if you wanted to hide it from him, it’d be extremely difficult because your medical exams gave away that you had given birth a few weeks prior. And yes, in an ideal setting you could’ve just altered the exams and made him forget the original results, but truth be told… you couldn’t, like, you weren’t fucking capable of it. Your magic has always been instinctive, more emotional than rational, and you had never actually taken time to study instead of just training before your pregnancy, so yes, you were crazy powerful and you could do some scary-ass shit, but you still didn’t know some basic stuff like altering the results of a blood test.

And you couldn’t just make Tony forget, because the memory of the exams was linked to the memory of your disappearance, and if you made him forget one without erasing the other he’d end up remembering, but if you did erase everything he’d realize something was wrong when someone inevitably mentioned the mission. You could always erase the memories of your other team members, but there was Wanda… You weren’t sure how much you could mess with her mind.

So you ended up telling him everything… Well, almost everything. Of course, you left out the part where Natasha kidnapped and raped you because although you knew she was only doing what was best for you, he wouldn’t. Tony wouldn’t understand that, he’d feel indignant, betrayed, just like you mistakenly felt right when she took you for the first time. So you followed in the footsteps of the best, most beautiful liar you’ve ever met (not that she ever managed to lie to you), sticking as close to the truth as possible.

You told him you left of your own volition, you told him that Nat had been there with you from day one, that she spent all that time consoling you, opening your eyes and making you realize you were worth so much more than what Wanda was giving you.

You told him about your feelings, about how you didn’t want to admit how good it felt to be with her because you had just gotten off of a relationship, you didn’t feel ready for a new commitment, but Natasha never stopped showing you her love day after day, and in the end, you just couldn’t resist her anymore.

You told him about how much stronger your magic was getting since she lifted your spirits, and then you told him about the result of your love, you told him about Yelena, your daughter. During the whole of the story, Tony was just there, listening, chilling, as if nothing you were saying surprised him, but when you mentioned Lena his eyes widened and he let the charts fall to the floor, clattering loudly.

“Ok,” he said then, dropping down in the chair nearby, exhaling as if he couldn’t breathe right. “That’s… a lot. Let me process it right.” He rubbed his face with his hand, there was a reddish tone to his skin, as if he was flustered “I – I’ll be honest, you ending up with Nat is not a surprise at all, it’s actually surprising it took so long… but… a child, Y/N?”

“It just happened, Tony, I never planned-”

“It’s still a fucking big responsibility!” he threw his hands up “And how do you even know it’s going to work out? A couple of months ago, blind to your own feelings as you fucking were, you were ready to ask Wanda to marry you!”

“I love Natasha, Tony,” you said with a seriousness that was unlike you, he opened his mouth to reply but you just raised your hand “you don’t get it. I love her, more than I ever loved anyone, more than life itself.” You sighed “T-man, it still amazes me how beautiful she is, inside and out. Sometimes we’re having breakfast, her hair is all over the place, there are bags under her eyes and peanut butter on her cheek, and yet I can’t look away because she still manages to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

Tony sighs again, shaking his head. You don’t let that stop you.

“And I’ve always loved her, you know that, I just never realized it was romantic because in all honesty I never in a million years would’ve thought I’d be able to land someone like Natasha. She’s so out of my league that I’ve never even considered the possibility of her feeling something for me too, so I labeled my love as admiration.”

At that he nodded, Tony has been one of your best friends since day one, just like Nat, he’s seen everything up close. “I know that,” he said with a sweet smile that too quickly turned into a teasing one “I mean, Natasha is out of everyone’s league, it’s Natasha, so I don’t blame you for your lack of belief.”

It twisted something inside you, the confirmation that she was so much more than you, that you’d never be able to just be enough for her. But then Tony opened his mouth again.

“But…” his smile turned soft “you’re the one who comes the closest, you know. You’re gentle and caring; and, recent events notwithstanding, smart; you’re also scaringly powerful, and utterly beautiful.” He snorted “Hell, if I wasn’t in love with Pepper already and if you weren’t exclusively into deadly redheads I’d hit that.”

“Ewww!!!!” you exclaimed.

Tony threw his head back and laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same. When the two of you finally stopped he smiled softly at you.

“I just worry about you two. A child is a big responsibility, Y/N… You know that it’d be ideal for you two to leave the team, right? And don’t get me wrong, I want you guys nearby, but you can’t keep risking your lives like that when you’ve got a child to take care of.”

You nodded and smiled sadly at him “I know. Nat and I already talked about it… That was my last mission, effective immediately I’m not part of this team anymore.”

Tony shook his head, a somewhat sad smile adorning his face. “You two will always be part of this team because this team is a family. Your family. You just won’t be throwing yourselves in danger anymore.”

He got up, dusting his pants. “Well, everything checks, you’re as healthy as they come, and the magical scan we did is great, you’re really getting more powerful, somehow. I’ll chunk that up to the infamous motherhood glow... or is it pregnancy glow? Anyway… Yeah, you’re good to go.”

You got up as well, smiling and taking a couple of steps towards him, trapping Tony in a hug. “Thanks, T-man, drop by my room later, I want you to meet Yelena.”

He laughed at that and started walking towards the door, and then he looked over his shoulder with a teasing smile “Can’t wait to meet my goddaughter!”

You laughed, but then your eyes widened when you realized you could enlist his help to do that one thing you’ve been wanting to do. “Oh, before I forget… Can you do something for me?” you smiled a trickster smile.

You couldn’t wait to make your dreams come to fruition.

The moment you stepped into the room Natasha was on you, her grip strong, her lips reverent. There was a sort of desperation to her touch you’ve felt all but one time, and that was when she finally made you realize how much you loved her touch as much as her soul, when your twisted mind thought it’d be a good idea to leave her behind.

“You’re fine,” she said, breathless, and you were sure she was trying to reassure more herself than you, she had been scared to lose you, you could feel it through her heartbeat thundering against your chest “you’re really fine, you’re here with us.”

“I’m here, Nat,” you whispered back, burying your face in the crook of her neck as your hands gripped her shirt as if it was your lifeline “I’d never leave you, I’d never leave the two of you.”

Natasha pulled back then, her eyes dark, a frown on her beautiful face. “No?” she asked, her tone sharp, and it was as if it finally dawned on her that you willingly dove head first into danger “Then what the hell drove you to face alone people who had magic inhibitors?!” she practically yelled “Do you have any idea how worried I was?! I had half a mind to leave Lena here alone to go look for you!”

You closed your eyes tight remembering Dreykov’s words, remembering the smell of blood that somehow still permeated your nostrils. Remembering Yelena’s body lying there, lifeless, because of you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you felt tears in your eyes, the truth was going to hurt her so much. That was never your intention “I didn’t want to worry you”

Natasha gripped you by your arms, her strong hands pulling you back to her, hugging you tightly once again, but then she pulled away and the hands that stayed on your arms tightened even more. “You know I’m going to have to punish you for this, right?” she asked, her tone serious. You nodded fast, tears streaming down your face.

You knew you needed to be punished; no, more than that, you wanted it. You wanted to feel her touch on your skin, no matter the reason, you wanted to feel close to her, because you didn’t know if she’d want to pull away after you told her the truth.

“Come here, baby,” Natasha said, pulling you impossibly closer “Mommy’s gonna teach you a lesson.”

Her free hand hooked on the collar of your shirt, and then you heard the sound of the fabric ripping apart, buttons scattering across the floor. Your nipples pebbled at the shock of the cool air, the raised buds showing through the sports bra you wore for the mission.

With practiced ease Natasha shoved you towards the bed, turning you around and bending you forward with your head down and ass up. Her hands pulled your pants down, making them pool at your feet, bringing your underwear along and bearing your ass to the cold air. She shifted behind you, her hand closing into a fist around your hair, pushing your face against the mattress.

You let out a whine as she pulled your hair, the burning in your scalp not enough to subdue the guilt you were feeling. You wanted her to touch you more, but at the same time, you felt undeserving of her touch. You felt spoilt, rotten, tainted.

"Knees apart," Natasha ordered, her voice dark, somber, and yet you could hear it trembling slightly, her fear for your safety still lingering.

The moment you complied, she struck. The sound of skin clashing against skin echoed through the room, her slap was immediately followed by another, the first to your right buttcheek, the second to your left.

Despite the mixed guilt and anticipation eating away at your consciousness, you had the forethought to create a sound barrier of sorts around Lena’s crib, to prevent the very loud noises that were sure to echo through the room in a few moments.

Natasha’s focus remained solely on you, she didn’t even realize there was a translucent blue sphere engulfing her daughter’s crib. Her eyes trained on your ass as she repeated the motion. One more slap, then another. And another. Unshed tears blurred your vision, it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough. You needed to pay for what you did, for the suffering you’d cause her as soon as you told her the truth, when you tell her how you killed her sister.

Nat paused then, her cold hand caressing your bottom lovingly.

"Do you know why you’re being punished?" She asked, her voice gentle.

You bit your lip, you knew why you deserved to be punished, she was the one who didn’t. But still, she waited for an answer, so you gave her one. "I put myself in harm's way."

She hit you again, right where your ass met your tight. Natasha was strong, the very few strikes she gave you stung like hell, but you wouldn’t complain. You deserved them. “What else?” she asked then.

You bit your lip. I couldn’t save any of your fellow widows, you wanted to say. Instead, you said "I promised you I’d be fine and yet the enemy caught me."

Another slap. Your ass was getting increasingly red. “And?”

You closed your eyes for a second. I killed your sister. "By putting myself in danger I risked both our lives because I know that there is no you without me."

Slap. Slap. Slap.

You gasped, drawing a deep breath as you felt the sting of the strikes heating up your backside, searing through you, blending your self-loathing and desperation with unwilling arousal.

"What do you say for being so reckless? Making me worry so much?" She demanded with a trembling voice, fisting your hair tightly and pulling your head back a little, making some of your unshed tears stream down your face. “You fucked up, Y/N, I was pulling my fucking hair off, I almost left our child alone to go looking for you!”

"I'm sorry," you whispered out in a broken sob, the ache on your ass creating a different one between your legs. You knew that those words weren’t enough, not for you, not for killing her sister. "I'm so sorry..."

Natasha lifted her hand once again, pulling back further than she had so far, striking hard, firing several quick slaps across your bottom. It wasn’t enough, you needed to be punished, not just for the pain you’d cause Nat as soon as you told her about Yelena, but because you didn’t feel guilty about killing your sister-in-law. Your only regret was the pain that’d cause your fiancée.

"Please..." you begged, your voice desperate, your throat closing up. Your next words died in your mouth and a gasp escaped you as Natasha suddenly drove two fingers inside your pussy without warning, she curled them inside hitting that perfect spot. You closed your eyes tightly, trashing around to try to get away from her fingers. You didn’t deserve to feel good, you deserved the pain.

Nat didn’t allow you that, though, she kept stretching you, pumping her fingers in and out, dragging you closer to your undeserved peak. She let go of your hair, then, the hand previously keeping your head still now took upon keeping up with your spanking.

Your pussy throbbed, and your tights were soaked with your juices. You shook your head as dread pooled in your gut alongside the pleasure and the pain Natasha was bringing you. “No,” you pleaded, “Nat, please, no, I don’t deserve to feel good”.

Natasha didn’t listen to you, on the contrary, she started pounding harder, aggressively fingering your pussy as she mercilessly slapped your ass. You didn’t want it, you didn’t want to feel good, but this was Natasha, and soon she had you screaming, your body writhing as your orgasm ripped through you, your vision whiting out, scorching heat swirling through your whole body again and again as she fucked you rapidly with her delicious fingers.

Against your own will, you spread your legs further apart, earning a couple of spanks directed at your swollen clit.

And again. And again.

Nat withdrew her fingers, they were coated in your slick, gleaming against the bright light of the room. Natasha watched with a somewhat blank expression on her face as you struggled against the spasms wracking your body.

"You've been such a bad girl, Detka..." She said, though her voice was a bit softer than before. She caressed your bottom a little before dealing more blows.

"I have..." you said, more and more tears welling up in your eyes, the pleasure and pain making your legs tremble “I’m sorry…”

"And what happens to bad girls, Y/N?" Your bottom hurt, more and more spanks. Slap, slap, slap. Natasha caressed your ass a little more, stroking you in sharp contrast to the way she’d just spanked you.

"Punished," you whimpered, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the pain, tears running down your face as you suppressed the urge to beg her for more, beg her to fuck you dumb, fuck you raw, because you wanted it so bad, but you didn’t deserve it; you killed her sister “they get punished.”

"That's right..." She nodded, letting go of you and making you shiver, knowing she had something worse in mind “they do.”

"Tasha, what-" you begin to ask, your body thrumming with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Maybe you were too preoccupied with your current situation, maybe you were too focused on the feelings running through your body, maybe you were too distracted by the feel of her behind you, by the guilt that clouded your mind; whatever it was, it prevented you from hearing that sound you knew all too well, so you had no warning before Natasha slammed her cock inside you.

You cried out in a mix of surprise and pleasure. You didn’t know why she was doing this. Yes, you needed to be punished, but this was not punishment, this was good, the feeling of her cock going in and out was so fucking good. This felt more like a reward than anything. But then, even when punishing you Natasha could never help herself, she always had to make you feel good.

The sting of another slap brought you out of your reverie, followed by the smooth feeling of Natasha’s hand caressing your red, stinging ass. She surveyed the damage she’d caused with a clinical look as if she was analyzing if you’ve suffered enough, but no matter what she thought, you knew you haven’t, this so-called punishment was not enough to atone you for your sins.

One of Nat’s hands made its way to your waist, fingers digging in painfully, you were sure there were going to be marks for the next few days. It wasn’t enough, you needed more, more pain, more punishment.

Natasha, as if reading your mind, pulled her hand back and descended it with near super strength you’re your ass. You felt your eyes sting with more tears. But it still wasn’t enough. “Nat-” you pleaded, your fiancée practically growled, bringing her hand to your neck and squeezing, chocking you with one hand as she stuffed her fingers into your ass with the other.

You let out an undignified sound, something that would probably resemble a squeal if not for the fact that her hand on your throat was blocking both sound and air. It was becoming increasingly hard to breathe, but you deserved it.

You didn’t even see it coming, the orgasm bursting through you in the blink of an eye, making you clench down hard on both her cock and her fingers.

“That’s it, Detka,” she panted, still pounding hard into you, her fingers wiggling inside your ass as her cock stretched you to your limits “cum all over my cock,” the hand on your throat squeezed once more, making you whine in pain and pleasure “squeeze my fucking fingers.”

You gritted your teeth, the bruises on your hips throbbing, your ass burning, your throat aching and your lungs screaming. Hot, salty tears ran down your cheeks, you were practically salivating as Natasha brutally took you from behind, slamming her cock inside your drenched pussy, fingering fucking your ass, chocking you.

“Are you sorry, Y/N?” she asked as her fat, oversized cock thrust into you over and over again, hammering away at the entrance to your womb.

The pressure on your throat gave away just enough for you to respond to her. You could feel her cock throbbing inside you, and you knew she was about to cum. A small part of you wanted her to pull out, to cum outside, because you didn’t deserve her cum, but another part, the bigger part, craved it with every fiber in your being. You wanted everything she was willing to give you.

“I’m so sorry, mommy,” you sobbed “I’m so sorry, so sorry!”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she groaned.

“Do it inside!” you said, pushing your ass against her “Please, give it to me, give me your cum!”

“Fuck, Detka, take it, then, take all of mommy’s cum!” she groaned, and you felt her hot seed filling you up, making you cum with her.

As the high seemed to seep away, you felt as if you didn’t have the strength to hold back anymore. You started sobbing. Natasha pulled away from you, looking at you with wide eyes, and you could feel her fear with your magic. She was afraid she had truly hurt you, and by the looks of the bruises on your body, you could see why she’d thought that.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, Detka, fuck!” she came closer quickly and pulled you into her arms, cradling you and rocking you back and forth as if you were a baby. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like this, I lost all sense, I’m so sorry, I-”

“I’m not hurt,” you managed to say between sobs. It was a lie, after the pleasure left your body you could feel only the pain from the bruises, but you deserved it, so it was ok “I don’t want you to be mad at me, I don’t want you to leave.”

Natasha kissed your forehead, wiped your tears, and hugged you delicately “I’m not, I’m not mad, I’m sorry I did this to you, it’s just that- I was so worried, and I… I had never felt fear like that, not in my whole life.” She said, and you felt even guiltier because for her to say she never felt fear like that, it was something else altogether, after all, she had grown up in the red room, fear was all she knew when she was a child, to the point where few things scared her nowadays.

“It’s not…” you stuttered, trying to gather the courage to say the truth to her face “I had to…” you sobbed once again. You wanted to just kiss her, tell her how much you loved her, how relieved you were to finally be by her side again and then go to bed, but you couldn’t. You’d never lie to her, not even by omission, that was never an option “Your sister… I had to kill your sister.”

At that Natasha drew away from you, brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and disbelief. You instantly missed her warmth.

“What?” she asked, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips “This is not a funny joke, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes tight, more tears falling. This time she didn’t wipe them away.

“The people who took me… They were black widows, it was the Red Room.” You said, fiddling with your fingers, itching to touch her, but afraid to do so. Afraid she’d pull away. “They were still operational, Dreykov was still alive.” You said and she backed away from you, looking at you with a mix of fear and rage in her eyes.

“That’s not possible, I killed Dreykov when-”

“Budapest, I know… But he survived somehow,” you said with red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks “I had to… I had to do it, I needed to keep you and Lena safe.”

“Y/N, what-”

“I had to kill her, he was inside her head, he was controlling her” you sobbed, Natasha’s eyes widened and she shook her head, getting away from you.

“Y-you… You killed Yelena? You killed my sister?!” she got to her feet and started walking back and forth, hands in her hair, her hardened eyes looking at you with betrayal.

“I had no choice! I read his mind, there was no way to free her-”

“What the fuck were you thinking?! Did you-”

“I did it to protect you!”

“Don’t you fucking dare pin this on me!” She said, her voice full of rage. She shook her head in disappointment and started walking towards the door as if to leave you.

Something broke in you.

You wouldn’t accept that, you couldn’t allow that, so you did the only thing you could to stop her.

Natasha froze, her limbs not working anymore, almost like she’d been petrified. She floated to you as if she was a mere doll. The desperation, sadness, and rage in her eyes turned into something you’d never imagine seeing on her face, not directed at you. Fear. “Y/N, let me go…”

“No,” you said, shaking your head desperately “you need to listen to me, you have to” your hands tangled in your hair and you rocked back and forth.

“You killed my sister!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face “I don’t have to listen to you, there’s nothing you could say-”

You shook your head, your breath came in desperate puffs of air, and you were beginning to hyperventilate. She must’ve thought you were a mad woman, but you didn’t care, you needed her to understand. She couldn’t leave, you wouldn’t allow it.

She was yours. Forever.

You brought her to you, your blue magic darkening as it swirled around her. And then she was on her knees right in front of you, her teary eyes looking into yours with a mix of anxiety, fear, and, despite everything, love.

You kneeled in front of her, your foreheads touching, you brought your hands to cup her face as your breaths mingled with each other.

“I’m gonna show you,” you said, because the words ‘I killed your sister’ could never truly explain what happened.

Your eyes glowed blue then, a light blue, in contrast to the rest of your magic. Natasha’s eyes took the same color as she went almost limp in your grasp. You pulled her body to yours as your memories invaded her mind, showing her everything that happened from the moment the quinjet landed.

You could feel every little reaction of hers as your magic took over her, almost as if you were experiencing them through your own body. The moment you showed her Yelena you felt her heart speed up, you could feel her throat closing up and her eyes stinging; the moment Dreykov showed up there was bile in her mouth, and her palms became sweaty, her heart sped up even more.

You showed Natasha the moment you read Dreykov’s mind, you showed her the moment you realized it would be impossible to bring the true Yelena back… And then you showed her what you did, you felt her whole body tense up, her heart skipped a beat and she held her breath.

When it was finally over, she didn’t try to get away from you. It was already a win in your book.

“She was coming after us…” she said more to herself than to you.

You pulled in a hug and she settled in your embrace, looking deep into your eyes.

“You saved her,” she said, her voice hoarse “from a life imprisoned inside her own body”. Natasha burrowed her head in the crook of your neck “Thank you for giving her a quick death.” You pulled her even closer to you, you could feel her warm breath on your collarbone “You were just protecting us. If she had come I’d never suspect her, she would’ve taken Lena,” she sobbed, looking at your daughter’s crib “I’d never want her to go through that, I’d never want her to deal with what I had to” she hugged you tight “you did the right thing. For Lena, for me, for my sister.”

“I’m so sorry, but there was no other way,” you said, wishing you could take her pain for yourself, spare her all the suffering “I read his mind, he was telling the truth, Yelena would never be herself again, I couldn’t risk it, I couldn’t risk you.”

She looked deep into your eyes, and you caressed her face “I’d do anything to protect you, Natalia. Anything. And I’m sorry for the pain it caused you, but I don’t regret it, because keeping you safe is always gonna be my top priority.”

Natasha nodded, her nose brushing against your pulse point. You brought your lips to the crown of her head. “Can you forgive me, my love?” you asked, barely above a whisper, your heart beating fast, fear of rejection coursing through you. You couldn’t live without her. You couldn’t.

Nat pulled away and you felt your stomach drop, your heart stopping for a moment. She looked deep into your eyes and caressed your face, wiping a stray tear with her thumb “You did what you had to do to protect us,” she muttered, and you could see all the love and devotion she felt for you swirling in her beautiful green orbs “besides, there’s nothing you could do that’d make me love you any less. So yes, yes, I forgive you.”

You touched her forehead with yours, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment, the sudden lightness you felt at knowing that she still loved you. “We won’t have to deal with any of this anymore,” you told her then, caressing her cheek with one of your hands “the Red Room’s gone for real, and that was my last mission. We’re officially retired. The only things we’ll have to worry about are which schools are going to be able to hand a magical child.”

“Or… we could homeschool her,” Natasha said, a smile on her lips.

“Or we could homeschool her,” you agreed, your heart feeling lighter and lighter. That was all you’d have to worry about from now on.

“Do you think Loki would like to teach her about Asgardian culture? I think it’d be nice for her to learn more cultures than just ours.” She asked, looking at the crib where your daughter slept peacefully, unaware of all that just trespassed between her mothers.

“Yeah, and… Tony would love to teach her all about robotics and engineering and business” you said with a cheeky smile “he’s her other godfather after all.”

“Y/N what did you do!?” she scolded, but there was a smile on her face. You smiled back at her. You couldn’t wait to start living the rest of your life together.

------

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @strangegardentaco, @madamevirgo, @Lovelyy-moonlight, @agent99galanzo

HD Taglist: @romanoffsgal, @ministark, @liladoesfanfics, @wandanatvoid, @inlovewithfaberry, @kermy48, @fabgronsky, @natashakink, @strangegardentaco, @im-stilltired, @blinkmuch, @wandanatblogs, @blackwow34, @a-grinch, @proudmorning, @nuianced-tck-enby, @gayformaximoff, @tati3001, @sav06nat, @milfloverslut, @halobaby, @yomama010101, @raqelacevedo, @1uthina, @coxmicbabygirl, @olicity-boo, @screechcat, @savethecookie, @beenicejoy, @simpforflorencepugh1, @watashiwaglr38, @myplaceofsolace, @wildnightuniverse, @limelight111, @whore4nat, @mrsdanversluthorplease, @silveeer-duuust, @natflough04, @kiaranatsslut, @raniellee, @inluvwithfictionalwomen, @lenam07, @officialbriiiisworld, @grxvitye, @natasharomanoffswife17, @rice-wiife, @justagurlwholikes, @daddynatasha

273 notes · View notes

deepspacedukat · 1 year

Note

Ok, but what about gentle s** with our favorite blue boy because we’re sad as f and we need this man riding us

I can totally do this, but you really don't have to censor words on this hellsite. This webbed site is where you can say all the Forbidden Social Media Words™ and have no consequences. Welcome from Instagram or whatever site trained you to censor yourself. It's much more fun here lol.

Also, I haven't posted about Thy'lek since JANUARY??? WHO AM I?? I'M SO SORRY, COMMANDER, I STILL LOVE YOU!! 🥺💙

*ahem* Anyway, here's your request, nonny! 😇

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Solace

Thy’lek Shran (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Human/Andorian sex, soft!Shran, unprotected sex, gentle sex, non-graphic sex, Thy'lek is good at comforting his lover.

~*~

He’d been good to me - a perfect gentleman who held me as I sought his comfort. From the moment I returned to our quarters, Thy'lek knew something was wrong. He could always read me like a book, even if I never said a word.

"What is it, sweet girl?" He'd asked as he got to his feet, but I couldn't make myself answer. I didn't need to, though. He knew exactly what was wrong. Like Captain Archer, he had his fingers firmly on the pulse of the ship's crew. Whispering soothing little words to me as he pulled me into his arms, the Commander placed a soft kiss on my forehead.

The tears started slowly, but once they had, I couldn't stop them. I was so tired, and this mission was weighing so heavily on me. Nearly the entire crew had been pulling double shifts, and none of us were sleeping well. We desperately needed a break, but until this mission was complete, we couldn't afford to take one.

I'd made so many more mistakes on my last shift than I normally would have. Being berated by my section's commanding officer didn't help my mental state. All I wanted now was to bury myself in bed with Thy'lek and sleep for about a decade.

Moods like this didn't happen very often, because missions that were as demanding as this one were extremely rare. Still, Shran was incredibly patient. He never once told me that I was being silly or that I should just suck it up and move on. Instead, he rubbed patient little patterns on my back and allowed me to ride out my emotions. At some point, he'd carried me to our bed and tangled me carefully in his arms.

When the last sniffle finally escaped me and I took a deep, steadying breath, a soft smile stretched his lips.

"There, now. Did that help a little?" He nuzzled my nose as he asked, and I nodded my head. "How can I make the rest of it better?"

I didn't even need a moment to consider my options. Tilting my head slightly, I placed kisses across my lover's jaw. When my mouth finally reached his, the Commander hummed, sliding his hands down my back to my hips. As the kiss grew gradually more heated, Shran pulled away far enough to look me in the eye.

“Are you sure this is what you want, pretty girl?” He was always so careful, so respectful. God, I loved him.

“Yes. Please, I need you,” I breathed brushing my nose along his. He needed no further encouragement. With a gentle, burning sort of passion, he held my head in place and kissed from my lips down to the dip between my collarbones. I couldn't keep from whimpering at his sweet ministrations.

“Shh, let me take care of you,” Thy’lek murmured nibbling lightly at a hickey he'd left beneath my jaw a few nights before.

“You always do.” He smiled as he started unzipping my uniform, and soon our bodies were entwined in a familiar, intimate dance.

Soft, careful nights like this felt like a sacrament - a convergence of two souls alongside that of our bodies. Slow and steady, leisurely and deliberately we drank of each other. This game of give and take sent shivers up my spine in the wake of his gentle, seeking fingers. For a fighter like Thy’lek to be so unhurried, so painstaking about every touch...it always brought tears to my eyes, and tonight was no exception.

"Am I hurting you?" He whispered as he flipped me onto my back, but I shook my head. Wrapping my arms around him, I surrendered to the sensation of his body melding with mine and his love surrounding me. By the time we fell asleep, we were both out of breath and very much a part of each other.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @horta-in-charge @toebeans-mcgee

#deepspacedukat fic #thy'lek shran x reader #commander thy'lek shran #commander shran x reader #established relationship

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uelden · 3 years

Text

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

#maneskin #måneskin #vanity fair #italian #translation

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soramei · 3 years

Text

Intentional - Part 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 7.3k

Masterlist

A/N: hey yall this is my first ff im posting on tumblr :D im kinda scared to post but i hope anybody who stumbles on lil ol’ me will join me along the way :) also important!!! i made oc/reader asian cus i am lol (and this whole thing is basically a glorified self insert) so plz keep this in mind when reading!! oh god i didnt realize how slow this first part was sry...

The cold silence of the room felt like stabs at your inside. You commanded your feet to stop bouncing up and down as you unconsciously started to bite off the dead skin of your bottom lip. The white corporate light from above reflected off your brand new lanyard hanging delicately from your neck. You felt the coarse blue fabric rub against your neck as you mindlessly fiddled with your lanyard; the newly printed photo of your face stared back at you with a smile.

The creak of the door to your left was what broke you from your nervous fidgets. Whipping your head up from your lanyard, you immediately stood up ready to bow to whoever came through that door.

It was a girl. She looked around the same age as you, if not older. Her attire was what gave her away. Her appearance essentially mirrored yours: hair tied back into a ponytail with a white blouse and black work pants. She also had the familiar blue ‘JYPE’ labeled strap hanging from her neck.

“Hello,” you spoke meekly, scared to disturb the cold silence that had a hold on the room you were in.

“Hello,” she replied. “My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern and today is my first day.”

This is so relieving, you thought, another newbie to share the stress with me.

“This is my first day too,” you perked up, “I’ll be starting as the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.”

Getting the acceptance email from JYP Entertainment was definitely a high point in your life. The feeling of butterflies swarming your insides as you clicked the email open only to see your acceptance was immediately locked as a core memory. All the years of memorizing thousands of Korean and English vocabulary flashcards, the panic attacks before your finance exams, and the many, many late night coffee breaks were worth it the moment you received your first legitimate job offer, and from the esteemed JYP Entertainment company no less.

“Chinese marketing?” Na-eun asked. “So you aren’t from here, I take it.”

You shook your head. “I am from China. I completed my degree a while ago with a major in Language and a minor in Business. To be honest, I’ve done internships back home, but it’s been my dream to move to a new country.”

All of what you said was true. Up until now, your surroundings have never changed in all of your twenty-three years living. From the walk with your grandmother to daycare to the vast campus of your university, the view of your city has never changed. Your social circle stayed stagnant since you were able to talk and your love life was — for a lack of a better word — uneventful.

It wasn’t until the day you decided to start applying for careers outside your home country that you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could find an escape from your inert lifestyle and escape the burnout and stress that has been building up over the years. And so, on a day when you were feeling unusually confident, you gathered up the courage and spent hours sending out applications to organizations all over Asia that pertained to your specific degree. The applications were mainly for small jobs at small companies, however, your strange spike of motivation gave you the confidence to apply to the everso esteemed JYP Entertainment located in Korea. Of course you knew about this company — you and your friends played songs by ‘Twice’ nonstop back in highschool — but you didn’t realize the full power that this company had on the entertainment market until you did your full research. To say that you thought you had no chance was an understatement. This application was so far of a reach that you purposefully forced your mind to erase all memory of even applying.

However, with your education, your work experience, and whatever tiny bit of luck you had, you somehow made it through the initial application process. Then the next. And the next. Then the interview. And now, you were nervously sitting in this white painted room with Na-eun, in a completely new country, waiting for your manager to come greet you.

“So you’re from China? You’ve got to teach me chinese sometime.” Na-eun smiled.

You giggled in return while nodding your head. You were relieved that you’ve met a potential friend so early in your career in this company. This was one of your big worries. With your social circle being so stagnant for the majority of your life back in China, you rarely had the opportunity to meet new people, much less make new friends.

You were about to inquire more into Na-eun’s life when the door to your left abruptly opened. In the blink of an eye, three new people strutted in — two women and one man. They seemed to be higher status than you and Na-eun judging by their attire. All three were styled in some type of blazer and dress pants and there was no lanyard to be found on any of them.

“Hello new employees,” the man greeted. Judging by his face, he looked to be in his late thirties at the least. His hair was styled back neatly and his lips slanted up, giving him a fox-like appearance. “I am Executive Manager Kim. Joined beside me on the left is Social Media Manager An and to my right is Marketing Manager Chen.”

Both you and Na-eun immediately stood up to bow and introduce yourselves.

“Hello. My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern.” Na-eun said.

“Hello. My name is y/n, I’m the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” You repeated after her, copying exactly what she said. You did not want to screw anything up on your first day, especially your first impression.

Manager Kim reached over to Na-eun, introducing himself and giving her a firm handshake. He then slowly moved over to you, and reached for your hand.

“Y/n,” he gave time for your name to settle on his tongue as he gave a sly smile. “You’re not from here, aren't you?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No, sir. I’m from China where I studied language and business. I hope to do well here as the Chinese marketing assistant.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so timid.

“I’m glad to hear,” Manager Kim chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll treat me and your other managers well.”

You felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you as he brushed his thumb along your hand before letting go. This feeling was excused as nervousness, after all, this was your first day and your first time meeting your higher-ups.

You introduced yourself to Manager Chen, assuming that she would be the one you were to assist in your time here at JYPE. Judging by her last name, you presumed that she was Chinese as well.

“Forgive me for being so straight up Manager Chen, but are you Chinese?” You asked.

“That is alright, y/n,” she smiled, “I’m not. My Husband is, but I’ve lived in China for more than half my life. I don’t want to brag, but my mandarin has gotten proficient over the past decade or so.”

Proficient? It’s amazing. You thought. This first day was turning out better than you thought. Other than the weird feeling you received from Manager Kim, everything was turning out splendid. A potential friend and a manager that could speak your first language.

“Since it’s about noon right now,” Manager Kim took a look at his watch, “What do you all think about some lunch?”

The other managers nod their heads in agreement and gestures for you and Na-eun to follow them out of the waiting room you were in for so long.

The whole building seemed so clean. With every corner lit, by natural light or artificial light, you could clearly see that every room, every piece of furniture and decor had been purposefully placed. You couldn’t help but have a stupid look of awe plastered on your face as you mindlessly follow your superiors over to the cafeteria.

You turned your head over to Na-eun and gave her a tilt of the eyebrow, silently saying wow, this is where we work.

With the turn of a corner and several silent strides, your little group made it to the cafeteria.

The difference between your claustrophobic waiting room and this vast room was astonishing. With countless tables and romantic yellow lighting, this place almost resembled a five star restaurant. You’ve never seen a cafeteria as extravagant and clean as this before. However, to be fair, you’ve never had the experience of working with such a large corporation before.

The managers led you to the serving station where you grabbed yourself a tray and proceeded to spoon small portions of rice and side dishes onto your plate. This cuisine was different to what you were used to, but nonetheless looked delicious. You were prepared for the small cultural differences, especially with the food, but from everything you’ve witnessed so far, the culture shock would be easier to overcome than what you’ve anticipated.

“Have this soup y/n,” Manager Kim’s grating voice came from in front of you, interrupting your inner monologue. “It’s good for your complexion.”

As Manager Kim hands over the bowl of soup, you feel the sleeve of his blazer brush up against your shoulder, causing the pit of your stomach to drop.

First day nerves. That was what this feeling was. You thought.

You quietly thanked him with a small nod and walked briskly from the service line, trying to find where Na-eun went with the other two managers. Thankfully, they were just a step away and you quickly made your way over to the comfortable spot beside Na-eun. She gave you a small grin and you both followed your way to a table right in the middle of the room.

Soon, all five chairs of the table got filled and sounds of chopsticks tapping and scraping against plates and bowls filled your ears. An awkward silence dominates your table as you start to pick at your food.

“So,” Manager Chen cleared her throat, “after lunch I was thinking we should go to a meeting room and discuss Miss. Y/n’s role in our new project.”

“I was thinking the same for our new Intern Choi.” Manager An cut in, “What do you think, Manager Kim?”

“It all sounds good. I will be accompanying Manager Chen to her meeting room as I wish to also further discuss the preliminary steps for our project.” Manager Kim looked from Manager Chen over to you.

“Project?” You ask.

“We’ve had a very successful year with our idol groups and we wanted to ride this success and start marketing in China. Recently, we’ve noticed a very large and growing Chinese audience for this group. I’m sure you’re very curious now, however we can discuss further details once we are in the meeting room.” Manager Chen replies while taking a sip of the water in her glass.

Manager Chen appeared to be a very professional and respectable woman. With prominent collarbones and wide shoulders, she easily looked the part of a confident and adored manager. She needed minimal makeup to highlight her tall cheekbones, and even with a short heel on her feet she seemed to tower over you. However, her warm and comforting voice was what broke her intimidating demeanour. Just listening to her voice felt like you were back in your high school classroom with your favourite teacher explaining the motif of a sad love poem.

After some more awkward conversations mixed with a few work discussions, the five of you finished the delicious food on your trays.

“Please excuse me whilst I head to the restroom” Na-eun spoke up after your group finished clearing the table.

“Please excuse me as well.” You quickly followed, bowing as you both ventured off to the washrooms.

I should get her number so I’m not completely a loner in this place, you thought to yourself. And so, after a quick inner struggle to speak up, you finally decided to ask.

“Hey, should we exchange contacts? I don’t wanna look like the newbie eating in the cafeteria alone after today.” You chuckled.

“Totally!” Na-eun beamed. “I was actually thinking the same thing…”

And so, you both quickly exchanged each other's contact as you made your way to the restrooms.

The hall of the washrooms were narrow, hidden away from the main cafeteria. You walked in, deciding you only wanted to retouch your hair and makeup before your first official meeting. You carefully fix the loose hairs that somehow escaped the confines of your elastic and dab on a fresh layer of foundation before applying your lipstick which rubbed off while eating. Looking over at Na-eun, you see she’s quite in the zone redoing her mascara.

“Hey, I’ll just wait for you in the hall.” You said.

Na-eun gave you a disinterested nod back as she kept focusing on her mascara.

You walked to the end of the hall, leaned against the wall, and pulled out your phone. Smiling, you opened the virtual Tamagotchi app and saw your little friend staring back at you, bouncing up and down. The bundle of virtual pixels happily bounced as you fed and bathed it, making you happier in return. Playing this game, you were so entranced with your phone that the abrupt closing of the washroom doors broke you out of your hypnosis fast, causing you to flinch and drop your phone.

You looked up, only to see a brown haired man wearing a long sleeved black shirt. The hem of his sleeve fell, covering his hand as he bent down to pick up your phone. He stood back up, fully facing you now and you immediately recognized who he was. You weren’t a fool, of course you did all your research on the artists of JYPE before applying for the job. Looking down at you right now, holding your phone in his hand, was Bang Chan of Stray Kids.

The wispy tufts of his brown hair bounced over his forehead as he stepped over to you. He smiled, his dimple poking out of his cheek, and handed your phone back to you. “I think you dropped this.”

Blushing tomato red, you embarrassingly accepted the phone, trying not to make your shaking hands noticeable. It seemed like that failed, however, as you noticed him glance at your hands and dimple grow deeper.

“Thank you.” You meekly chirped and lowered your head, still in awe that you somehow bumped into a JYPE idol in the bathroom hallway of a cafeteria.

“It’s good that there’s no cracks.” Bang Chan said, looking in your eyes.

You looked back into his eyes. His smile never left his face, and you physically felt the warmth radiating off his body like rays from the sun. Some boring, objective part of your brain knew this interaction only lasted a fraction of a second, but you swore that time froze.

“Hyung!” A distant voice called.

Your trance was broken as Bang Chan looked over to the person calling his name. He turned back to you, politely bowed, and casually sauntered over to the man who called him.

What just happened? Your inner monologue ran, still trying to process the embarrassing interaction. The scent of his cologne lingered, swirling the atmosphere around your body.

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on this interaction as Na-eun finally opened the washroom doors and was making her way toward you.

You and Na-eun trailed behind the managers until you reached the set of elevators. It was there where you had to unfortunately separate from your comfort work buddy as she hopped in the elevator across from yours with Manager An. The other two managers led you to the elevator at the end and pressed the button for your destination floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. You stood there, fiddling with your nails.

Once the elevator gave the ding of arrival, the three of you headed down a hall where you presumed had the meeting room.

Manager Kim took a look at the watch on his wrist. “We are a minute late, everybody should be there already. Enter silently and respectfully.” He said in a stern voice.

You reached the frosted glass door of the meeting room and entered through the already opened door. The managers followed behind you with Manager Chen being the last one in and closing the door.

Your eyes widened at whom you saw.

There was Bang Chan, who sat in all his glory, staring right into your eyes with his mouth ajar. His shocked expression didn't last long, however, as he quickly composed himself to fit with the professional atmosphere of this room.

But why was he here? You thought. He’s an artist, isn’t this a management meeting?

Your inner monologue was broken by Manager Kim’s stern voice. “Y/n, why don’t you sit with me for today?” He asked with a slight tilt of the lips. His hand was hovering above your back, almost guiding you to the seat just right of the head chair.

Your heart rate quickened. There was no way that you could handle sitting right beside a high position manager on your first day. You barely knew what your duties entailed, you definitely could not handle the pressure of this seat today. You whipped your head around to look for Manager Chen. She was already sitting in her seat, looking like she was right at home.

“Manager Kim, if you don’t mind, I would like to sit in this position for today, '' a voice spoke up, “I have a lot of new ideas I’d like to share that are written in my notes.”

Bang Chan.

He paused a brief second, eyes switching between you and Manager Kim, and raised his iPad to show the screen filled with words.

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.” Manager Kim monotonously replied. He then made his way to the head chair.

You looked over at Bang Chan, trying to subtly send the most grateful facial expression over to him. He returned your look, slightly grinning as his fingers tapped on the screen of his iPad and sat down to the right of Manager Kim. You looked over to see Manager Chen gesturing you to sit in the chair beside her and swiftly made your way over. At your seat, she handed you a notepad and pen, both adorned with the JYPE logo.

“Now, as of 1:02 p.m., September first, the meeting will officially begin.” Manager Kim clasped his hands together on top of the table. “As most of you already know, we are in the preliminary stages of planning a Chinese debut for our artist group ‘Stray Kids’. All we have right now is the estimated timeline, which is four months. We have a basic grasp of the concept we are working towards, however, as you all know, trends are always changing and growing. While we are working to create a new and original concept for Stray Kids, we also want the concept to gather as much audience reception as possible.”

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Your hands struggled to keep up with writing down what Manager Kim was saying. You knew this relatively new group was really starting to explode in the past year, but a debut in another country? This group must work really hard to even have the company consider a step as risky as this. So this is why Bang Chan is also involved in this meeting.

You peaked your head up from your notepad. Bang Chan sat across from you, one hand on his chin and the other one holding the pen to his tablet.

Manager Kim then carefully discussed the duties that each group in the room would take. Many of the jobs were directly involved with developing the concept itself, such as producing music, concept art, and theme development. Your pen never took a break from gliding on the notepad as you hurriedly jotted down everything that Manager Kim said.

Eventually, Manager Kim’s delegations moved to Manager Chen. “Manager Chen, I’ll let you take over from here.”

“Thank you Manager Kim,” Manager Chen cleared her throat. “While my main job here was to market Korean comebacks towards the Chinese audience, this new project changes things up a bit. Now, not only will I be in charge of marketing to the Chinese audience, but I will also be directly in charge of the concept itself. I will be working carefully with our team in China to monitor the trends which we can incorporate into our debut.

“This is my new assistant, y/n,” She turned and gestured to you. You politely nodded your head. “She will be gathering information on useful trends and reporting back to me, as well as some translating. Please report any ideas that you deem useful to her by the end of every week for her to sort through and deliver to me.”

You almost want to call Manager Chen crazy for giving you so much power, after all, you were only starting out as her assistant. Despite this, however, you were determined to go above and beyond with the new responsibilities given to you, after all, you knew that choosing to work in an organization as big as JYPE would take blood, sweat, and tears.

After some clarifications given by Manager Chen and a few more questions directed at her, Manager Kim took the reins back in his hands.

“Now, as I’m sure you all know, this is Bang Chan: the leader of Stray Kids. Although our management team is in charge of this debut, we like to include the opinions of artists whenever possible. He will make an appearance whenever he can and act as a representative of Stray Kids, sharing their ideas and opinions.” Manager Kim explained.

Bang Chan politely introduced himself, and quickly went on to express some concerns of his members. He made sure that each concern was answered thoroughly by Manager Kim before moving on to the next.

“As for our concept ideas,” Bang Chan’s soft brown eyes met yours, “will I have to report to y/n?”

You felt your ears redden.

“You could, yes,” Manager Kim straightened his back, “but if you find the weekly deadlines too much of a problem, you may just report to me or at any subsequent meeting.”

“No worries sir,” Bang Chan’s eyes lingered on yours for a fraction of a second more before grinning at Manager Kim, “I’m always punctual.”

The rest of the meeting consisted of more introductions and preliminary plans. After about an hour, everybody seemed satisfied with the contents of the meeting and were starting to pack up all their clutter on the table. You looked over at Manager Chen, silently asking what should I do next?

Manager Chen smiled. “Let's head to my floor. I can give you a quick tour, you can get settled at your desk. I have some paperwork that I’m almost done with; I’m sure you’ll have no problem finishing it for me.” She already was standing up and straightening over the creases of her jacket.

You stood up as well and followed behind Manager Chen like a lost baby duckling. You both made your way over to Manager Kim to bid farewell. You politely thanked him, said your goodbyes, and were about to leave when he stopped the two of you.

“Manager Chen, let’s go out for drinks tonight.” Manager Kim took a look at the intricate watch on his wrist. “With our whole team, of course. It’ll be a welcoming night and we can get to know the people on our team better.”

“That’s a great idea, Manager Kim,” Manager Chen nodded at his idea in approval. She turned on her iPad to quickly get a glimpse at her schedule. “What do you think y/n? Can you make it tonight? I know this is very last moment, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for you to get to know your coworkers better.”

“I should be able to make it.” You definitely could make it. You had no plans anyways.

“Am I invited to this top secret party you’re all having?” A now very distinguishable voice came from behind you. Bang Chan stared at Manager Kim with a very mischievous expression.

“Would your manager allow it?” Manager Kim questioned, knitting his eyebrows.

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t drink alcohol or eat anything,” Bang Chan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance, “but I want to be as involved as I can. Just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean I can’t help behind the scenes as well.”

“Very well,” Manager Kim nodded with a fixed expression, “Let’s all meet at that restaurant about a block away west. I’ll go tell the others.” And with that, Manager Kim left you, Manager Chen, and Bang Chan to stand in awkward silence.

“Well,” Bang Chan cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I’ll get going as well to do some work now, but it was nice meeting the both of you.”

“You as well.” Manager Chen replied for the both of you and Bang Chan left soon after.

Manager Chen then led you to the elevators again and you headed up yet another few floors to reach your destination. You nervously fiddled with your hair as you silently waited behind your boss, looking up at the smooth lines of her blazer every few seconds. The elevator doors dinged, letting you know of its arrival. The two of you swiftly headed out the elevators and walked to what you presumed was Manager Chen’s office area. You kept following behind Manager Chen in silence before you stopped in front of a set of doors that looked identical to the ones at the previous meeting room. Manager Chen opened the doors for you, and you headed in.

You paused a step in, looking wide-eyed at the interior. The office was clean. A big glass desk sat right in the middle of the vast room in front of a huge set of windows. There were a couple of soft looking chairs placed right before the desk with a huge rug right underneath it. Over to your left, you spotted a water dispenser with a kettle right beside it. You stared at the room a bit longer before realizing you must have looked very stupid with that astonished look on your face.

“Is this your office, Manager Chen?” You asked.

“Yes. It seems that you like it,” She chuckled. You felt the heat rise to your ears.

“Since you’ll be working so close to me, I’m sure you’ll be happy to come here more often.”

“Thanks.” You awkwardly laughed. You blamed your bad response on the fact that you still weren’t familiar with the language, not your blatant awkwardness.

Manager Chen made her way over to her desk, picking up a small stack of papers. “These are some letters I’ve received from several designer companies in China. Since we are still in the very preliminary stages of this project, we would like to keep our options open for the stylists here.” She picks an annotated letter from the pile. “I’ve translated and created a summary of the main points of this letter. There are a few more left which I believe I can trust you with. Just do as I did with this letter and add the sample pictures along with it.”

You quickly complied, taking the stack of papers from her hands.

“I’ll show you to your new work space.” She led you out of your office and over to a cubicle that wasn’t too far away. It was considerably smaller compared to Manager Chen’s office, but you thought it had a certain coziness to it. Plus, working close to your coworkers could also boost your motivation. “Here is your desk, it’s not the most exciting thing, but you may bring photos or whatnot to decorate it. Now, I’ll let you settle in and get started on your work. You can meet me at my office around six, I can double check your work before we leave.”

You thanked her before she left and immediately got started on your work. You diligently translated the whole of the letters before picking out the main points that matched with Manager Chen’s example. After this was done, you included the photos that came with each letter and slipped them into their own cozy folder. This work was monotonous, sure, but it was something you needed on your hectic first day here.

You were so captivated by your work that you completely forgot about the time. The sun was starting to set, and you only remembered to look at the time after you tucked your last letter neatly in its folder. You briefly panicked, praying that you weren’t making your manager wait. Thankfully, it was only a quarter until six. You took the next fifteen minutes double checking your work, making sure to also check the time every once in a while. At exactly six, you left your desk and scurried over to the big doors of Manager Chen’s office.

Knocking a couple times, you waited patiently to be let in.

“Come in.”

You let yourself in, handing the papers to your manager, then sat quietly in one of the chairs before her desk, crossing your fingers together. You fiddled with your thumbs, patiently waiting for Manager Chen to speak up.

“Not bad, this is some decent work.” Manager Chen announced as soon as she finished glossing over your work. “I’ve noted some places that you can either fix or improve. I’ll scan them and hand you a copy tomorrow.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A tidal wave of relief washed over you as you let yourself relax further into your chain. Not bad, this is some decent work. You proudly repeated this moment in your brain. Although you were disappointed with the mistakes that you let slip through, to get somewhat of a compliment on your first day meant a lot to you.

“Shall we get going now?” Manager Chen asked.

You grabbed your bag and stood up. “I’ll let you lead the way.”

_______

It seemed like all you were doing on your first day was following Manager Chen around like a lost puppy. The situation right now was no exception either, as you tried to copy her confident strides over to the restaurant a block down. You watched the busy rush hour streets and sidewalks fill with people, some people going home after a long day, some people going to party just like you.

Soon, after a few more minutes of walking, the both of you arrived at the small wooden doors of the restaurants. It seemed like the both of you were a bit late as Manager Kim was already waiting in front of the entrance with the rest of the team. Bang Chan was also there, head down looking at his phone.

“Sorry we’re late, have you been waiting for long?” Manager Chen somehow sounded confident despite making everybody wait on her.

Her voice seemed to have caught everybody’s attention. You watched as Bang Chan swiftly turned his head up from his phone, his eyes making contact with yours. You immediately focused your eyes somewhere else, trying to casually play off the fact that your eyes subconsciously drifted to him.

“We’ve only been waiting for a couple minutes.” Manager Kim gave a tight smile. “Let’s go in before you all get too cold.”

Your little group of around ten people slowly entered the doors, filling the restaurant. Manager Kim called over a waitress, signaling that you had ten people in your group, and let the waitress lead you all to a long wooden table.

The restaurant was nice, nothing too fancy, but that’s how you could tell the food was good. With dim lighting and tightly packed tables, it made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside.

However, your thoughts on the restaurant were soon broken by a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with me?” Manager Kim’s lips curled up, “After all, this is a work gathering, how good of a boss would I be if I didn’t even treat my newest team member to a drink?”

Your brain was in shambles. You seriously didn’t feel comfortable sitting with him all night. However, the logical side of your brain was saying something different. He’s just being nice as a boss. You don’t know how people in this country act anyways, stop being paranoid.

It seemed like your inner turmoil was taking longer than necessary, as you heard another familiar voice speak up.

“Manager Kim-” Bang Chan called out.

“You don’t need to sit with me here, Bang Chan.” Manager Kim chuckled as he stared directly in Bang Chan’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about work outside the office.”

You watched as Bang Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, looking back to you in reluctance. You smiled at him before turning your attention to Manager Kim. It was just one night, right? Plus, there’s no harm in establishing a good impression with your boss.

“I’ll sit with you, Manager Kim.” You smiled, “thanks for offering.”

And so, you took your seat next to Manager Kim at the table. Bang Chan, who was to your left, looked askance at Manager Kim for a brief second before his facial expression did a complete 180. His familiar, boy-ish smile was plastered on his face like it was the most natural thing.

When the menus came, everybody at the table — including you — started to order onslaughts of food and alcohol. After brief moments of casual chatter about topics such as the weather or how good the food was here, everything that was ordered arrived at your table.

You grabbed a can of beer and started sipping on it. You’ve drank before — of course — with your old friends at university, but it’s been at least a year since you last did. Better ease myself in. You thought.

However, your preconceived plans were ruined when a small glass of clear liquor got pushed in front of you.

“Y/n, surely you aren’t going to sip on that can all night.” The ends of Manager Kim’s lips curled up.

“Wasn’t planning to, sir.” You replied while tipping the glass up and into your mouth. The bitter liquid burned your throat as it went down. You took a moment to recollect your surroundings. Seems like your tolerance was higher than you thought.

“Bang Chan, do you not drink? Why not eat something then?” Manager Chen pointed to the food on the table.

“No can do ma’am, I’m on a strict diet. My manager would kill me.” Bang Chan pointed to his glass of water.

“In that case,” Manager Chen filled another glass, “Y/n, have another drink.” She slid the glass down the table in front of you.

You gladly accepted your second drink, downing the alcohol in one go. Your eyes instinctively squeezed together as you felt your throat burn. From the tips of your ears to the ends of your toes, your whole body felt warm and alive.

You lost track of the time. As your conversations got livelier, your head got fuzzier. You stopped counting your drinks after four, especially since so many people were eager to offer the new employee a drink. Although your vision was starting to blur, you could still think straight. I can still think, you thought to yourself, still — what a powerful buzz.

Your thoughts ran rampant in your mind as you stared at the lightbulb across the room. What a pretty light. So bright. Warm.

“Y/n.”

Was the light calling your name?

“Y/n!”

Your eyes focused again and snapped away from the lightbulb. Where was the voice coming from? You slowly turned your head. Bang Chan.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Hi.” He smiled back. So bright. Warm. “It’s been hours and I haven’t even offered you a drink yet.”

You tried to focus your eyes on his face as he slid the glass over to you. One more drink wouldn’t hurt your buzz, right?

You gladly accepted, slowly moving your hand over to the glass to pick the clear liquid up. It went down in one go just like all the others.

Huh? Was this water?

You struggled to focus your eyes on the person who offered you the drink. “That was yummy.”

“I bet it was,” the talking blur chuckled, “How about another one?”

You nodded, then took the glass he slid towards you. It’s funny how water flows even when in a cup. Water. You needed to pee.

“Hey,” your words dragged out, “where’s uh, where’s the washroom?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.” Manager Kim stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You didn’t want to take it, but it seemed like nobody was noticing his offer.

Reluctantly, you took his hand and stood up, only to stumble down again. Did your knees not want to listen?

“Whoa there, better hold on.” Manager Kim said.

“No, I can walk. I-I can walk.” You let go of Manager Kim and tried to focus all your brainpower on moving your feet in a straight line. This tactic only worked for a second, however, as your knees gave in and you stumbled down.

“It’s obvious that you can’t.” Manager Kim’s lips turned up. “It’s time for you to go home. I’ll take you back.”

What? No. You didn’t want Manager Kim to take you home, not after all the awkward events of today and the general vibe from him. You tried to express your thoughts, but nothing came out of your mouth.

“Manager Kim, you’ve been drinking!” Bang Chan’s voice came from some part of the room. “It’s not safe to drive, I’ll call a taxi for you.”

“What about Y/n here? I’ll get a taxi for us both.” Manager Kim said.

“I called my manager earlier to pick me up, we can drop her off along the way. It’s not a good idea to put two drunk people in a car. I’m completely sober right now, so let me do all the work.” Bang Chan grinned, patting Manager Kim on his shoulder.

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” Manager Kim glared.

You dizzily nodded.

“Alright. In that case, I can call my own taxi later.” Manager Kim grimaced.

“Stay safe, Manager Kim.” Bang Chan smiled. He turned to you. “My manager’s been waiting outside for a while now, do you want to leave now?”

You nodded. You tried to start walking again, but your damn knees just wouldn’t listen.

“Do you want to hold on to me?” Bang Chan knitted his brows together and held out an arm.

“I,” you slurred, “can walk.” You tried to start your feet again, only to end up stumbling down.

“I know you can,” Bang Chan said as he reached his hands out to stabilize you, “but — ah — I’m really tired after today. Can you hold on to my arm so I won’t fall out of exhaustion?”

You agreed to help him. Bang Chan waved to everybody still at the table before leading the two of you out to a black SUV. He allowed you to stumble your way in the back seats first before sliding in himself. He asked you for your address, which took many tries for you to accurately type it into his phone.

You leaned your head against the window, staring at passing blurred lights as Bang Chan’s manager started driving. Just being away from the loud and bright environment seemed to have cleared your head a little, but the pounding would not stop. You cursed yourself for being so irresponsible on your first day, especially because you were still alone in this new country.

“Hey,” you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “want some water?” You looked over to see Bang Chan holding out a plastic bottle with the lid screwed off.

You languidly reached your hand out for the bottle and gulped down as much water as you could in one breath before handing it back to him. The street lights started getting blurrier as you tried to fight exhaustion, the muscles in your eyelids starting to get more and more uncontrollable.

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there. Ten more minutes.”

You couldn’t hear anything after that, however, as you felt your eyes give up on you and your body fall into a deep sleep.

“Y/n… Y/n.” A familiar voice called.

You fluttered your eyes open, your head pounding. Not knowing where you were, you surveyed your surroundings in a panic. It seemed as though you were in the back of a car… Parked outside of your apartment building?

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” Bang Chan’s voice entered your ear. It all came rushing back to you; the restaurant, the drinking, entering the SUV.

“How long have we been parked here?” Your groggy voice sounded inhuman. You had to clear your throat a couple times.

“It’s only been twenty or so minutes. I’m not allowed to leave the car, are you able to get home alone? I can ask my manager to go with you.” Bang Chan scratched the back of his neck.

“I should be fine.” You mumbled, a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep in the car of a person you just met that day. This wasn’t even his car, it was his manager’s.

“Hey… can I put my number in your phone?” Bang Chan avoided your eyes. “Just so you can tell me when you get home.” He quickly added.

“Okay.” You awkwardly handed him your phone with your contacts already opened. He quickly typed his phone number in before handing it back to you.

“Text me when you get home. Remember to lock your door, okay?”

You thank both him and his manager before hurrying back to your apartment. Your head was still pounding unrelentlessly as you pressed the elevator button for your floor. The events of today were still unprocessed in your brain. You met a potential friend, which was a highlight. However, you also met two higher up managers and an actual idol, only to get hilariously drunk in the presence of. At least it’ll make a good story to tell my mom. You thought.

In no time, you made it in your apartment and locked the door behind you, remembering what Bang Chan told you in the car. You texted the new number in your phone.

Y/n: Hi. It’s y/n. I just entered my apartment.

Not even a minute later, your phone lit up, signaling a new text message.

Bang Chan: great!! remember to lock the doooor hahaha ( ◕ω◕✿ )

You subconsciously grin at your phone. Cute. Throwing your phone haphazardly on your bed, you begrudgingly began your night routine. After washing up and throwing on a random shirt from your closet, you fell on your bed ready to sleep. You were about to close your eyes when your phone lit up again with a ding. It was another text.

Bang Chan: Hey… Just so you know, if you ever feel unsafe around the office just tell me okay? I’ll always try to help you in whatever way I can.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan smut

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isamijoo · 3 years

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[Fic Claim] Love Shot

Here is my fic for HP Quidditch Fest 2021! This was my first attempt at writing a Non-Magic AU for this fandom/pairing. It was such a challenge for me. Thanks a million to my alpha reader @itsjamethyst and my beta reader @curlyy-hair-dont-care - I couldn't have done it without them! @aceveria-art also made a gorgeous art for this!

I have a lot to say about this fic, but I'll put that under a cut. Thank you so much to those who have read and left comments.

Title: Love Shot Author: Isami | isamijoo Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 16022 Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Remus Lupin/Sirius Black Tags: College/University Muggle AU, Slice of Life, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Basketball, Volleyball, Falling In Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, POV Alternating, Athletes, Boys Kissing, Getting Together, Harry Potter on a Motorcycle, Harry Raised by Remus & Sirius Summary: Harry and Draco meet on the first day of university. Harry has his eyes on the basketball player, while Draco thinks there's nothing exciting about the volleyball Harry plays.

Excerpt:

“Volleyball?” For the first time since meeting Harry, Draco felt disappointed. “I expected something more exciting.”

“Ouch, that hurt my feelings,” Harry remarked, grinning. He drew himself closer and asked in a low voice, “What were you expecting?”

Draco felt his neck getting warm, but he could not look away. It felt like a challenge; breaking eye contact would mean defeat. “Surely basketball is more challenging.”

“Watch me play. You might learn something.”

“I can’t imagine learning anything worthwhile from a beach game,” he retorted, amazed at the fire that burned in Harry’s green eyes in response.

READ ON AO3

Read more Behind the Scenes info that is just me sharing my thought processes about this fic.

This was my first attempt at a Drarry Non-Magical AU. I encountered many challenges and learned a lot from the entire process.

Choosing the Era and Tone

I chose to follow the characters’ canonical age and set this story in the 1998-1999 because I didn’t feel I was up to writing a Modern AU, with all the social media and smartphones and the lot. I found it was challenging (in a good way) to write how the boys would have communicated back during that time period, when social media was not widespread and not everyone even had mobile phones.

I’m sure some of us can recall the old times when we talked on the phone for a long time with our friends/crush/lover. Some of us even used pay phones and landlines, and had to fight with our siblings who wanted to use the (slow) Internet. Smartphones and social media not only make communicating so easy, they completely change the way we communicate. This story would have been vastly different if it’s set during modern (post 2010) times.

Even so, I wanted to make the story light. Although I acknowledged the period-typical homophobia, I didn’t want to focus on or dissect that, because I didn’t feel I was up to it.

On the Cutting Room Floor

A lot of details were left out from the final product. In my first draft, I had five paragraphs of Hermione explaining the game of basketball, the positions and stuff to Harry, but my alpha reader advised me to cut most of it out, so I just left one paragraph.

A lot of details were left off the fic to keep things simple, but they helped me imagine the scenes and to write them.

I have a google docs where I list the names of each player in the Draco’s team, Harry’s team and even the Rosenberg team, their respective positions and heights in centimetres. I also had simple notes on what programmes/courses the characters took.

Anime that served as inspirations for aspects of this fic.

I claimed this prompt because I used to really love this one basketball anime, Slam Dunk, but in order to research for the fic, I watched the first season of “Kuroko’s Basketball” (I think the direct translation from Japanese is “The Basketball Kuroko Plays” — which explains why the summary is worded oddly, I wanted to pay homage to the anime).

If you’re familiar with these two anime, you’d know that I based Draco’s ‘special skills’ on both Kuroko and Mitsui (from Slam Dunk). I already knew early on that I wanted Draco to have high accuracy, making him a great a shooting guard, but it was only after I watched Kuroko (and fell in love with that blue-haired blue-eyed boy) that I added that layer to Draco’s skills and overall story as well. (So this answers a question by one commenter. It’s not a reference. It’s “inspired by”.)

In response to the commenter who mentioned Kagehina: that was never my intention but I can see why you’d think that. I hope that’s a good thing and boosts your enjoyment while reading.

The ONLY reason I didn’t include this info in the Author’s Note while the fic was still anonymous is because it’d give too much of myself away. This isn’t and won’t be the only time I take inspirations from anime to write fics =D

Number 11

Regarding the numbers on Harry and Draco’s jerseys, I picked number 11 for both of them simply because of their birthdays. Draco’s birthday is on June 5th, so 6 + 5 = 11. Harry’s birthday is on July 31st, so 7 + 3 + 1 = 11.

It is a complete coincidence that Kuroko Testuya of Kuroko’s Basketball wears the number 11 jersey. It is also another coincidence that in Haikyuu (an anime about volleyball), player number 11 is Tsukishima Kei, who wears glasses and gave me the idea of Harry owning multiple kinds of eyewear.

(Basically more than one good character wears the number 11 jersey. In Slam Dunk, #11 is Rukawa Kaede.)

(Speaking of Slam Dunk, #10 is Sakuragi, who has the same hair colour as Ron and shares the same jersey number. This is not a coincidence.)

I attempted to make Harry as hot as reasonably possible

Exhibit 1: He wears a black leather jacket, has a motorcycle, wears leather gloves and sporty glasses while he’s riding the aforementioned motorcycle.

Exhibit 2: The entire scene where Draco watched Harry play volleyball for the first time. (I would fan myself too if I were Draco!)

Exhibit 3: I find people who confidently and honestly compliment their crush/lover without caring about sounding cheesy/corny attractive. (So yes Harry, please keep telling Draco how brilliant he is.) Raise your hand if you headcanon Draco has a praise kink.

My own experience

It’s common to take something from our own life as inspiration when writing. I myself studied something in uni according to my parents’ wishes, despite not being interested in it. That served as a stepping stone in constructing Draco’s feelings towards Lucius.

The only sport I play and have competed in uni tournaments with meagre success is chess. I played tennis in high school but was bad at it. I don’t have any personal experience playing basketball or volleyball. I actually have anxiety playing any team-based games, especially basketball or netball, games that involve close physical contact with other players. I applaud people who can play sports! Good for you!

Did you read everything? Well, good job! Thank you so much!

#isamijoo #draco malfoy x harry potter #drarry fic #drarry #draco x harry #fic claim #quidditch fest

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a-lil-perspective · 3 years

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I have been silent for some time now. I have refrained from exhibiting any plaguing thoughts that might warrant me the label of “that person”, but I’m at the point where I’ve had my fill.

Ramble under the cut so as to not... offend or inconvenience anyone. There’s absolutely no obligation to read this. It’s Tumblr. You can block/ignore me. The option to do so is readily accessible.

I’ve been a Bad Batch fan since day one. While I didn’t start creating that very same day, it was relatively close. Point being, I’m a long-time dedicated fan. As the premiere to their series draws closer, I feel like there is going to be a great shift, rift here. That being said, I figured now is as good a time as any to make this post.

I love those boys beyond words. They’ve been the one constant in my life amidst a rapid and debilitating change. I love getting to give them life, even if my interpretations aren’t the most accurate.

Yes, I am a new Writer and yes, I am new to Tumblr, as I am sure both of those things are painfully apparent.

I get that it is impossible to please everyone. It’s something I’m learning more and more with each passing day. It’s something that gets harder to swallow, even more so.

I’d like to say that being here has been a largely positive experience, with all of these great connections and opportunities. But honestly? It’s been more isolating than anything. I’ve actually never felt more isolated than since I joined a year ago.

As a content creator or even just a general blogger, I don’t ask for much. I don’t ask for anything, in fact. I consider myself very low maintenance. I don’t demand/harass/play the martyr for reblogs. I have never mentioned it once, and never will. Some people on here are so damn passive-aggressive about it, and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. It’s very stigmatizing. While I completely understand the frustration surrounding the like-to-reblog ratio, I think it’s neither tasteful nor reputable to threaten to call people out for not reblogging your fics. I wish I could say I was joking on that one. But I’ve seen it profoundly. Not cool.

And yet, no one says anything or raises any concern there.

Yet I make metas, harmless rambles, and I get shot down? Seriously?

—I need to “chill”, it’s “overkill”, I’m “overthinking”. I and my content are apparently just so damn arduous to interact with.

If you don’t like me, please just move on. There are plenty of other Bad Batch creators for you to enjoy. You know that. My work is absolutely not the final say, and I’ve never claimed it to be.

What is so wrong, with sharing one’s thoughts? Why do people inherently have a problem with other’s creative efforts? I see it time over again. Why do I feel like if I was making a bunch of smutty posts it wouldn’t be as much of a problem, that it in fact would be infinitely more welcome? (Absolutely NO shade to people who create smut, okay? I’ve made my own share. I admire those bold enough to do so regularly. I absolutely love them. Please teach me your ways).

This ramble really has nothing to do with the most recent event regarding my contributions. Rather, it’s a culmination of experiences over the past several months that have brewed and festered to the point where I can no longer keep downplaying it.

Social media, at its core, is one big popularity contest. It always has been, it always will be. But I’m not here to win. That’s never been my objective. That’s not what I’m about. Surprise (or not), I am not a popular blog. Not by a long shot. I’ll never claim otherwise.

I don’t ask people to view/interact with my content, I’m not an activist, I can’t even fathom exuding that kind of confidence. Even though I, admittedly, crave it. I suspect I crave interaction as much as the next creator. It’s a nice feeling. Yet there’s never been any obligation for it, especially with me, so I don’t understand what the problem is. As I’ve said, there are ample ways for you to block/avoid me. It’s the internet. In this day and age, there’s no excuse for viewing anything you don’t want to.

I came here in the hopes of finding like-minded individuals, uplifting and interacting, and exercising some otherwise stunted creativity.

All Tumblr as taught me is that creating and contributing is largely a thankless, empty endeavor. You can give and give and give and be reduced to nothing. There’s a profound imbalance between “giving” and “receiving”, and in regards to both ends of the scale, it’s became apparent to me that if you don’t cater heavily and in unreasonable degrees or get “noticed” by a popular blog, you get nothing, and your efforts are null and void.

Truthfully? I constantly feel like I walk on eggshells here, and it’s all I can do to not crack under the pressure, even though it’s my blog and my headspace. I should feel comfortable and free to express myself here, and I don’t, and I’m unsure of how to achieve that sense of stability. To be completely honestly I feel like a constant bother and a nuisance. When I post, I literally feel like there is a collective eye-roll that comes with people receiving a notification from my blog. Even though I know, rationally, that can’t be true, that’s an absurd level of thinking. I can’t say I can pinpoint exactly where it stems from.

But regardless: I hardly ever talk about/create the things I actually want. I only recently just got ballsy enough to share some metas, and we all know how well that’s going. I try not to have smut out of respect for my asexual/minor mutuals, even though the tag to blacklist is very much an option. I try not to bring up conflicting topics, Tumblr, political, or otherwise, even though with proper tagging I could. But I try not to even bring that into existence. Even though it’s my right to, I don’t.

I don’t actually feel like I fit into any narrative here, especially in the Bad Batch fandom; even though we are all basically the same steadfast group of bloggers. We all know who we are. We all coexist in the same space. It’s nearly impossible to be unaware of each other, at this point.

And yet, I’m not in a bunch of Discord servers or backed by a team of beta readers and all that jazz. It’s basically just me talking to myself out here. It’s very isolating.

Part of that—most of it—is my own crippling social anxiety, and the genuine belief that I don’t deserve to be in the same space/servers as all of these brilliant creators. Because I’m just me, and there’s not a whole lot of value there. With that mindset, it’s hard to actually feel like I belong anywhere. I know that is a mindset I have to conquer alone.

My excitement over my creations has largely dwindled into nothing. I seldom ever bounce my ideas off of others—another issue that stems from the fear of presenting as a burden—and even though I try to write for myself, even that fire has pretty much died out. I’m not even sure how or if I could even reignite it, at this point. It’s really quite sad. It makes me very sad, actually. All I wanted was to safely ramble, project all my thoughts and creativity that has otherwise been repressed through prolonged detrimental circumstances.

More than anything, I wanted to find and hold onto something that makes me feel useful, meaningful, happy. More and more I wonder if that’s even possible. I don’t think it is, not here. I often wonder if joining and sharing on Tumblr was a horrible mistake. I miss the innocent joy of when I first started creating. It was so simple. I’m trying to find that simplicity again.

But I’m burned out. I’m running on fumes. I have been for some time.

At this point it goes beyond just “taking a break” from Tumblr. It’s the fact that it all feels like this meaningless, monotonous cycle. I wonder every day if I am an isolated case in experiencing these emotions.

And yet, come tomorrow I will still be here, business as usual.

I’m not asking for sympathy or playing the victim or attacking anyone or trying to guilt-trip into more interaction. I am very aware of my shortcomings and incorrect mindsets. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. I feel very disconnected from everyone here and it’s lonely. This took a lot for me to share. I will most likely delete this because anxiety will eat me up, as it does with everything I post. Yes, everything.

#personal #lil rambles

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haddocknumber3 · 3 years

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Why the Supernatural Finale was Bad and Misguided

(This is the script I wrote for a video essay I uploaded to Youtube so that’s why there are lines across the page at points because it was broken up into sections that I could record individually)

The Finale of Supernatural was bad.

There, I said it. Now I know the finale was pretty divisive and there’s a lot of people who really loved it and that’s absolutely okay. I do understand most of the viewpoints that have been made to defend the finale. First though, I want to give a brief history of me and the show.

I started watching Supernatural in Feb 2019 when a friend recommended it to me. Like so many other people who have fallen in love with the show, once I started watching I couldn’t stop. I absolutely loved it and luckily I started watching at the perfect time because I was able to watch the final season live with everyone else which is an experience I will always cherish, regardless of my opinions towards the finale.

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When 15x19 was released, I was on holiday and while I thought of waiting till I got home to watch it along with the finale, I decided to jump into it. Sadly, I was a little underwhelmed going into it because I saw a minor spoiler on Rob Benedict’s Instagram with him posing with Jared, Jensen and Alex saying “That’s it for me. What a ride. Thank you again to this amazing cast, crew, and group of writers past and present. And to the best fans in the world. My life is forever changed.”

Regardless of that though, I still really enjoyed the episode. It felt rushed but I was still really satisfied with it and I was pumped to see where the final episode would take things…

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In the week leading up to the final episode, I deleted all social media and stayed away from anything that could possibly provide spoilers for the finale. I was so damn excited. I was just as excited about the finale of SPN as I was about Endgame the year prior, which I’ll also be doing a video on soon. So when I finally got home from holiday I jumped straight on the CW website and watched the finale.

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Guess what? I absolutely loved it. I couldn’t have asked for a better finale. I cried my eyes out and I had never felt that level of heartache towards any piece of media ever, besides maybe Schindler's List and Life is Beautiful. But as the final scene played, I sat back with incredible satisfaction. I was so sad but so happy at the same time. However when I started reading the reviews I was taken aback by the negativity towards the finale. I genuinely didn’t understand and took the stance of ‘Oh these people just don’t understand the show they're watching and they just didn’t get it.”

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Yeah…I was one of those people. I read into a few reasons why people didn’t like the finale and I sort of understood their stance, but I still remained firm with my opinion. However, over the last few months my opinion had begun to change.

It’s now May 2021 as I’m writing this and I can firmly say that the finale of Supernatural is bad. Actually, it’s really bad.

Not only have I now changed my opinion on 15x19 which I now consider to be a good, but not that great penultimate episode, but I genuinely believe that this finale, 15x20, destroyed the progress of 15 seasons worth of character development and story for a simple and misguided finale. In this video I’ll be breaking down why that is, and an ending of my own that would hopefully satisfy all fans. Here’s how to flush 15 years and 15 seasons of television down the drain:

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Title card: ‘Thematic Inconsistencies’

A REALLY great video by Media Buzzkill called ‘The Fiction of Free Will: A Supernatural Video Essay’ breaks down the final episode along with the final season exceptionally well and I’ll link that video in the description because they go really in depth with the concept of meta and how it fits into the show’s narrative and man, I keep re-watching it because it’s brilliant and an almost perfect summary of my feelings towards the finale.

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The thematic inconsistencies present in the finale are quite astounding to be frank because the penultimate episode was the perfect way to set up the final episode, simply with the thematic question of: What do Sam and Dean do once the story is over? What do they really want out of life now that they have finally escaped the hamster wheel.

By the end of 15x19, there are a few thematic through lines that are present that should have been followed through on in the finale in order to make a satisfying conclusion to the story:

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- The concept of freedom for the Winchesters and what that means for both of them as individuals. (I’ll talk more about this during the character section of the video as I’ve got a lot to say about it and I want to talk about other things first.)

- Family don’t end in blood (this is made clear by the extensive and frankly amazing montage at the end.)

- Meta narrative

Thematically, it’s clear from the Season 14 finale that the final season was going to be focusing on the brilliant meta narrative that the show had already been toying with for over a decade, ever since Chuck was originally introduced.

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In my opinion, this was the only direction for the show to go in during its final season as they would have been able to tie up all the loose ends the show had whilst making the season feel grand and conclusive. By doing this, it makes the entire show feel much tighter as a result. Why? Because, in retrospect it’s made very clear where the show is heading, and it also bolsters the concept of the meta narrative which then only really allows for one type of ending that would feel satisfying. That is; Sam and Dean defeating Chuck and gaining their freedom from the story.

Thematically this is pure genius, and it seemed like we were going to get that ending after all… *sigh*

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Sadly, in the finale, everything that had been set up beforehand was utterly destroyed in one single episode. Instead of leaning into the thematic question of; what do Sam and Dean want now that they’re out of the story, the finale goes the opposite route and has them continue hunting. The exact same thing that they have been doing all their lives. It also strays away from that thematic question by doing exactly what shouldn’t have happened. Thematically, the finale stated that even though Sam and Dean had defeated Chuck and overcome his story, they still ended up meeting the same fates that they had previously wanted or desired. However, that’s another thing entirely that I’ll go into a little later.

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Again though, the finale states that no matter what conflict you may overcome, no matter how hard you push to gain the freedom you never thought you could have, you will never achieve it because you're destined to the fate you previously desired/thought you deserved at the start of the story. This is genuinely the worst possible ending as it directly conflicts with the concept of the meta narrative that they had been building throughout the entire final season.

A common defence of the finale that many people have given is that the show began with two brothers, so therefore the fact that it ended with the two brothers is narratively and thematically perfect. In some ways that is true and I’ll get into why that is later, but the way that was executed in the finale and how that concept was used, was terrible.

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The show did start with the two brothers, alone on the road hunting the evil supernatural beings of the world. In the beginning, the themes were pretty clear. Family and love will triumph over any evil, and nothing is stronger than family, hence the phrase “Family don’t end in blood”. These themes were presented narratively through the brother’s relationship and how far they would go for one another to protect each other, even sacrificing themselves. However, this ISN’T how the show should have ended. Yes, those themes are still relevant and should’ve remained consistent even until the final episode, but to say that it’s perfect for the brothers to start the show alone and end the show alone with the same mindset and thematic outlook as the beginning is ridiculous.

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To have the finale only centre around the brothers is a good idea, but the thematic choices along with the character’s fates was incredibly contradictory and awful to everything that had been set up before, but again I’m going to delve into this aspect a little bit later.

For the writers to revert the narrative of the final season back to the first season in the final episode is monumentally wrong and misguided. As a result of this, the final episode feels like a strange nostalgia trip, until you realise that it is an episode that literally belongs right in the middle of season 1. If Supernatural was only ever a 1 season show, then this finale would have been practically perfect. But it’s not. It’s a 15 year long show with characters that undergo incredibly difficult character struggles that allow them to change for the better. So for the ending to chuck them right back to where they started is frankly stupid and kind of insulting.

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Title card: ‘Characters’

Before I dissect the characters of Sam and Dean and their role in the finale, I’m going to lay out a brief thought process that I’m going to use when analysing them. You may have heard this in other formats but if you haven’t then I’ll reiterate it here.

Most characters must have two things in order for a story to be strong, compelling, and satisfying. Those two things are WANTS and NEEDS. When a character wants something, that’s what drives their motivation throughout the story and what guides their decisions. It also affects how they relate and interact with other characters.

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A need is the thing the character must face and come to terms with, in order to complete their character arc and satisfy the requirements of the story. By learning that what they want is either not achievable or goes against what’s truly important to them, they must satisfy that need for the benefit of themselves and the people around them. This makes for a satisfying and logical ending to the story as the character is no longer driven by something they want, but is driven by their need, depending on what it is.

Now, let’s go back to Supernatural shall we?

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In the beginning of the show, Sam and Dean started off wanting separate things since they were individuals who had their own goals, aspirations, and motivations.

Sam wanted to live a normal life; go to college, meet a girl, get a job in law, and hopefully start a family of his own. This changed however at the end of the Pilot to Sam wanting revenge against the demon that killed Jess.

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Dean wanted Sam back in the life of hunting with him as he didn’t want to go off to try and find their Dad alone. Dean also wanted to keep hunting as he felt like it was all he was good for and his only purpose in life. Also, its made quite clear during the first season that Dean has incredibly low self-worth. As pointed out in Castiel’s confession scene during 15x18, Dean thinks of himself as “destructive, angry, broken, “Daddy’s blunt instrument.” As a result of this, he’s made it clear that he wants to die. How does he WANT this to happen? Blaze of glory, going out on a hunt, dying bloody, the way he’s always thought he deserved, and due to his low self-worth, he has accepted that and come to terms with that fate, hence his macho manly man facade he puts on in front of people. That is what he wants at the beginning of the show. Even though he has died over and over again in gruesome ways, his permanent death was supposedly destined to be going out on a regular hunt, blaze of glory, saving people, hunting things, the family business. At least that’s what he thought he deserved…

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However by the end of the series, he’s gained enough self-worth to realize that’s not what he wants anymore. *play the clip from season 1 where Dean talks about retiring on a beach* also *play the clip in 15x19 where Chuck calls Dean the ultimate killer and Dean responds with that’s not who I am”.

This is a really good penultimate stepping stone in terms of Dean’s character arc and how it wraps up because he has finally gained a proper sense of self-worth, not by defeating Chuck, but by realizing that who he truly is, and who he really wants to be isn’t dictated by the story that Chuck had written.

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Media Buzzkill mentions it in their video but something the final season really dropped the ball on was the parallel between John and Chuck; both abusive and neglectful fathers who tried to control their children’s lives. For Dean to finally overthrow Chuck and gain his freedom, thematically he could have gained his freedom from the path his father set him on ever since he was a young kid. But since the season didn’t lean into that parallel, this wasn’t officially a thing that was going on. However I still like to think of it that way. Back to the point though.

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As a result of Dean gaining his freedom from Chuck and finally claiming his own autonomy, he is now able to complete his character arc as he has put aside his WANTS that he had at the beginning of the show (dying young on a hunt, always having to protect Sam no matter what the personal toll it takes on him) and fulfilled his NEED to achieve a status of self-worth and self-actualization in order to benefit himself and the people around him. Another point to affirm this is the fact that this couldn’t have happened without the meta story being involved. In my opinion this makes it all feel like a very logical, consistent and satisfying story for Dean.

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The reason why I mentioned this as the perfect penultimate stepping stone for Dean’s character arc is that the question raised at the end of 15x19 still hadn’t been answered yet: “What do Sam and Dean want now that the story is over and they’re free?” I also know what you're going to say. “But isn’t it all about wants and needs? If they’re free from the story then shouldn’t they need to learn something instead of just getting what they want?” You may have a point, however due to the fact that the show has surrounded itself in the concept of meta narratives, then this is where the wants and needs don’t necessarily apply. The reason is that the finale should have followed through on what Sam and Dean needed, which was, by the time the finale started, to figure out a life that was beyond the confines of the story.

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Dean

I’m going to focus on Dean first because that’s the main thing I have an issue with in the finale, but I will talk about Sam afterwards.

By the time the finale started, Dean had finally fulfilled what he needed, which was a stable life that was beyond the story. He wasn’t dictated by some grand plan anymore and he finally had the freedom he deserved. Yes, he wanted this, but he also NEEDED to realize that in order for him to truly break the cycle and get off the hamster wheel, he needed to achieve a proper sense of self-actualization. If he wasn’t able to do this, then he truly would always have felt like he didn’t belong, even if he had gotten what he wanted (getting freedom from the story.) The reason why, is that after learning everything he had about Chuck, his manipulations, how Chuck had been controlling them their entire lives, for him to defeat Chuck, but remain in the status quo of what he’s always known, it would naturally cause him to feel unsatisfied with life and therefore would make us feel unsatisfied at the way the series ends…

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Yes, I know that his identity is tied to being a hunter. I’m all for that because yeah even though Chuck had been controlling them their entire lives Dean still loved hunting even towards the end. But for Dean to not even consider any other kind of life outside of “the life” is strange because it seemed like that was the only direction for the story to take…But no, he stays with the life and decides to continue hunting and serving the role that he had been placed in from the time he was born; saving people, hunting things, the family business. The role he had been forced into his whole life, destined for nothing more...

Back to the events of the finale…

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Dean has continued hunting and he continues to live alone with Sam in the bunker. Yes, the pie scene was perfect. Well, not perfect, Sam bringing up Cas and Dean barely reacting and just sort of hand waving it was...a big yikes. But this video isn’t about Dean and Cas’ relationship (p.s I do support and like Destiel but I’m not going to delve into that in this video as people like Media Buzzkill have already done that really well in their own separate videos, which I’ll link in the description.)

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When Dean and Sam go on that final hunt and Dean gets impaled on the rusty piece of rebar, it was random, out of nowhere and confusing. Some say that this was perfect because they weren’t being dictated by the story anymore and accidents can happen to anyone for any reason. That’s just a part of being human. Right. Okay. Well, yes that may be true that they aren’t invincible now, but my god does that spit in the face of everything the characters had fought for. To say that even after defeating Chuck, even after escaping the story that had been written for them, after 15 years of defying their destinies, A CORE THEME OF THE SHOW FROM THE BEGINNING OF SEASON 1, to say that Dean just ends up dying on a random hunt, alone, with only his brother by his side and no one else from the family that he and Sam had built over the years, and that despite his current needs, he is still ultimately rendered to be the self-destructive, suicidal-idealist, “daddy’s blunt instrument” that he was at the beginning of the show is incredibly disrespectful and in some cases quite dangerous to the viewers of the show who have suffered from mental health issues. Why? Because the finale, along with Dean’s death, states unintentionally that you will never break out of your cycle, you will never escape your original fate, you will never achieve freedom, you will never achieve happiness in life, and possibly the worst sentiment of the entire ordeal is that you can only find peace in death.

What a fucking waste. What a disgusting travesty of a finale. My god.

*sigh*

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I understand the nostalgia behind it all. I get the nostalgic feelings of a classic Monster of the Week. When I originally saw the finale, I loved it, as I’ve previously stated in this video. I’m pretty much a nostalgia junkie, trust me, I can see it. I got all the references and little nods to the rest of the series like John’s journal, that random Jenny vampire chick, Dean’s love of pie, “I can’t do this alone, yes you can, well I don’t want to,” when Dean tells Sam that he stood outside his dorm for hours before the Pilot, Carry on My Wayward Son playing as Dean drives in heaven, Harvelles Roadhouse, OG Bobby,

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WAIT. HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE. Record stops (say that quieter)

When Sam brings up Cas and how he misses him at the Pie festival, Dean addresses it by saying “That pain is not gonna go away, right? But if we don’t keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.”

I actually don’t know what the fuck happened, but the writers are not dumb...They knew Dean would be dying in this episode right? SO WHY HAVE HIM SAY THAT IF THEY DONT KEEP LIVING THEN ALL THAT SACRIFICE IS GONNA BE FOR NOTHING UNLESS THE WRITERS WANTED IT TO MEAN NOTHING.

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I...I have no words. This fucking ending man. OKay, sorry, let’s carry on with the video because I’m legitimately mad now and just want to get through this.

To finish my point about Dean’s ending, he needed to leave the hunting life in one way or another. If he didn’t, and stayed in the life just like in the actual finale, then I have no doubt that he would begin to feel unsatisfied with life and eventually quit hunting at some point down the road. What I’m trying to say is the only logical ending for Dean Winchester, the man who’s entire identity is centered around hunting, needed to leave that life for something better. This wouldn’t have worked in a regular story where there wasn’t the concept of the meta narrative because if Dean just randomly decided to leave the life, even though he was already firmly a part of it then it would indeed be out of character for him. But since this is a meta story, Dean needed to achieve a sense of self-actualization that was beyond the story that had been written for him since he was born. Few, sorry, okay, onto Sam now.

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Sam

So I don’t have as much to say about Sam than I did with Dean but I still think that this was the wrong ending for him. It isn’t actually too bad if I’m being honest, but it is still regressive and quite similar to Dean’s ending in many ways sadly. But there’s a core idea at the centre of Sam’s ending that I do think was a good idea, but it’s buried under so much crap and nonsense that it was deformed into something misguided, even if the idea itself isn’t bad at all. I’ll start with that first.

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Sam being forced to witness his brother’s death is nothing new. But now that he is experiencing his supposedly final death, this causes him to leave the life entirely and go live an apple-pie life. It’s clear from this that he has finally learned to let go of his co-dependency issue with his brother. He has moved on.

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The idea of Sam letting go of his co-dependency with Dean is great and it’s something I’m going to use in my own ending that I’ll detail later in this video. However, this issue is that the decision to let go is forced upon him through Dean’s death. It’s not a choice Sam makes to move away from Dean and let each other live separate lives, therefore bringing forth their individuality which is something Dean desperately needed this whole time. By omitting Sam’s choice to let Dean go and live a separate life, he is robbed of his agency and therefore makes his ending feel unearned and forced upon him. You may say that this would be out of character and strange for the brothers to do. They love each other so therefore they have no reason to not be in each other’s lives. That is correct, but I didn’t mean that they aren’t in each other’s lives in some form, just that they are separated and living different lives than each other. I’ll go more into detail when I give my pitch for an ending.

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The next point I want to make about Sam’s ending is that he also regresses to what he previously wanted back in the early days of the show. Yes, I remember that he already lived a normal life back in Season 8 which could be evidence to support the idea that he still wanted that in Season 15. But no, that was almost half the entire length of the show ago. Sam has moved on from the idea of an apple pie life; living with a wife and kid, owning a home, having backyard barbecues, you get the picture.

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How interesting would it have been if he actually decided to stay in the life in some way. Maybe not actually hunting, but working from the bunker and helping other hunters with lore or other aspects like that. Maybe Eileen is there too? Maybe they're working together as a couple, not hunting, but being a safe haven for hunters where they can access all the lore they could dream of and find safety there. Almost like an upgraded version of Harvelle’s Roadhouse. Just an idea, but that would’ve been much better than what we actually got.

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Title card: Stray thoughts

When you look at Season 15 alone, there's quite a lot of things the finale failed to conclude, address or clear up.

Cas’ grace was failing

This could’ve been a really great plot point to play throughout the season because it would cause Cas to contemplate his uses and worth whilst stressing about the whole situation with Chuck as well as the Empty deal looming over him. But they didn’t address it at all. It just kinda...faded away and wasn’t brought up again. It wasn’t a massive thing but it would’ve been cool to see how that could’ve played out.

Ruby asked Castiel to save her from the Empty (15x13)

The demons rising up against Rowena (15x13)

Dean doesn’t ask Jack to bring back Cas from the Empty (15x19)

Sam forgets about Eileen in 15x20

No closure for Dean and Castiel

We never see any of the side characters again who got Thanos snapped in 15x18

Jack’s explosion in the Empty made the Empty loud

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Those are the main points that the final season and the finale failed to address and even though they are minor points in the grand pantheon of issues with the finale, they still add up for me and are quite frustrating to think about.

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Title card: My Ideal Finale

So, after all that I think I’ve made it pretty clear how I feel about the finale. There’s a few other points I wanted to make about the narrative of the final season as a whole in conjunction with the finale but I feel as if I’ve already said what I need to say.

I’ve seen so many other people give their take on how the finale should’ve played out so now I want to give my version of events that would’ve given the show the proper send off it deserved, and the send off it was seemingly setting up.

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My finale would start with the same hunt that happened in the real finale. However, the opening scene is them fighting the vampires. As they’re fighting, Sam is wounded and needs to be taken to hospital. After he’s treated there, they return to the bunker. Sam wakes up from a nap and talks with Dean. They talk about how that was a pretty close call. Dean mentions that it should probably be their last case. Sam looks confused, and doesn’t say anything. Dean seems hesitant to discuss the prospect of that being their last case but he begins anyway. He mentions that he feels as if he’s been given a chance at a new life now that they’ve defeated Chuck. He states that if he keeps doing the same old, same old, then he’s afraid that he’ll waste his chance at freedom. Sam understands but points out that if they don’t do this, then who does. Dean ponders this for a second, as he’s done so many times over his life. Should he continue to sacrifice his chance at happiness and freedom so other people can live safely?

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Obviously this question has popped up a lot throughout the show, and they’ve always chosen to stay with the life. Maybe hunting was a part of who they were, but they now had a chance to try something new. With Chuck not writing their story anymore, they get to write their own. Going wherever the story takes them. Finally free.

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After this scene, the pie scene from the actual finale happens pretty much exactly how it originally happened, except for a few changes of dialogue and the scene would be extended to incorporate a visit from Bobby and Eileen. When Sam brings up Cas, instead of Dean saying what he said in the actual finale, he would say something along the lines of this:

“Yeah, I miss him too.”

Sam notices Dean is looking quite sad and asks him what’s wrong.

“He sacrificed himself for me.”

“It came out of nowhere. We were trapped and Billy was banging on the door trynna get in when he…he said that he made a deal.”

A tear rolls down Dean’s face. Sam notices, and moves closer to Dean and looks at him with a classic empathetic look from Sam.

Dean blinks a few times and wipes the tear away.

“Ah, I’ll tell you later” said Dean, as he began to tuck into a pie from the box on his lap.

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Bobby then pulls up with Eileen. Sam and Dean go and greet them. They talk about Sam’s wound, Jack defeating Chuck and how he’s the new god, Sam and Eileen, who steps out of the car and Sam and her kiss. Bobby also asks what they’re going to do now that they’re free from Chuck. This leads into the question of whether or not they’re still going to continue hunting. Eileen looks inquisitive at the brothers too as she also wants to know what Sam wants now that Chuck has been defeated and he’s free. Sam says he wants to stay in the life and that he’s open to see what happens. Dean says that he’s not sure. Sam glances over at Dean, who notices but doesn’t look back. It’s clear to both Bobby and Eileen that this is a conversation that both brothers need to have in private before they could properly reveal anything to them.

_______________________________________________________

Bobby tells them that everyone is going to have a big get together in the town of Kansas at a pub the following afternoon. Sam and Dean agree that they’ll be there. While Bobby waves to them goodbye and gets in the car, Eileen gives Dean a look, indicating that she wants to talk to Sam alone. Dean obliges with a little smile. Eileen asks Sam if he’s feeling okay after the wound from the previous hunt (they would’ve already texted about it.) During this conversation, Eileen asks if he and Dean are okay but Sam says he’s not sure. She questions him a bit more and Sam reveals to her that Dean wants to quit the hunting life for good. She can tell by the look on Sam’s face that he’s bothered by this, but she can also see a slight hint of understanding too. She smiles at him warmly and places a hand on his cheek. They lock eyes. Sam begins to smile.

_____________________________________________________

Dean is back in the driver’s seat of the Impala and is watching Sam and Eileen with a sad smile. He looks down at the drivers wheel and the smile fades. He closes his eyes and after a few seconds, he whispers “Jack? Hey man, hope the new job is treating you well” Dean smirks, but it fades quickly and his face resorts back to the grim look of...despair. “I know you said you wouldn’t be hands on, I get that, and I thank you. Another Chuck isn’t what we need right now. But...Cas, he didn’t deserve what he got. I didn’t ask you this before you left because everything was so crazy and we had just defeated Chuck you know, and I know it's only been a few weeks but, please, please can you bring him back. He didn’t deserve to die for…

___________________________________________________________

Dean stops praying. He looks back to Sam and Eileen, who are still talking. Suddenly Jack appears next to Dean, just as a tear rolls down his face.

Jack greets Dean in usual fashion. Dean looks surprised and shocked, but glad to see him. Jack tries to explain to Dean that he can’t meddle in the Empty’s affairs as they’ve already poked and prodded it enough. Dean refutes this point by reminding Jack of what Cas would do, what any of them would do if one of them was in the same position. They continue to discuss Cas and the Empty and how it could work, but by the end Jack doesn’t speak. Both of them sit in silence.

_____________________________________________________

After a while Jack turns to Dean and says “I’ll do what I can, but if it’s not possible then I’m sorry.” Dean nods his head but before Jack disappears, Jack says “Dean, I know it might be hard to understand right now but there is so much to be done in the universe. Things that have to be put right, Chuck messed up and now me and Amara have to balance things out. I know that sounds like I’m interfering but we aren’t. We are ensuring that things are allowed to be as they are, instead of them becoming something else. That’s why I have to leave this world very soon, I only have till tomorrow afternoon for me to try and get Cas back. After that, it will be a while before I can return, and even then I don’t know when exactly I’ll be back. I also can’t stay too long in the Empty either after what happened before. I still have to respect it’s power and the fact that I don’t have any real control over it. I’m sorry, Dean.” Jack disappears before Dean can say anything else. Just then, Dean notices Sam walking towards the Impala and wipes away the tears. As Sam sits down, he asks Dean if he’s okay, and Dean responds “Yeah, all good here.” They drive off.

The next scene is Dean sitting in his room on his laptop, a few beers by the side of the bed. He looks toward his table on the other side of the room. A paper lies on top. Dean appears conflicted, but decides to go over and pick up the paper. We see it’s a job form.

______________________________________________________

Sam is sitting down at the table in the library. He’s also on his laptop and seems very focused on something on screen. Suddenly he grabs his laptop and stands up. He walks through the bunker to the door of Dean’s room. He goes to knock but pauses. He looks back to the laptop, where we can see a news posting saying that three people have turned up dead with their throats ripped out. Sam and Dean both sigh at the same time (Sam would be seen sighing and then quickly cut to Dean sighing too.)

Dean grabs a pen and goes to write on the job form, just as Sam knocks on the door. They greet each other, and both are a little startled. Sam asks Dean what he’s doing and Dean briefly looks at the form, but ends up saying it's nothing. Sam tells him about the case he’s found and Dean’s face tenses, which Sam notices.

______________________________________________________

“Or not, if you didn’t feel like it.” said Sam.

“No. No, it's fine” says Dean, who sighs, stands up and then asks where it is again. Once Sam finishes telling him, Dean looks back at the job form.

“Sammy, I don’t think I’ll be going” says Dean

“Oh, okay, no worries, I’ll just call one of the other hunters” says Sam

“I don’t think I’ll be going on any more hunts.” Dean finally says.

Sam doesn’t respond and is taken aback. Neither of them talk for a moment. (There would be a wide shot from inside the room, showing them standing still and silent.)

_____________________________________________________

Dean takes the job form from the table and hands it to Sam, who looks at it. He doesn’t take his eyes off it.

“I applied a few days ago, and I’ve got an interview the day after tomorrow. But, it’s in Denver Colorado. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t know how you’d react” said Dean.

“Dean, I...I mean, I’m happy for you. I am. It’s just...I don’t know, it’s a big thing you know. But I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other, I thought we were over that crap” said Sam.

_____________________________________________________

“This was different,” said Dean plainly.

“How?” asks Sam.

“Me, the guy who was destined to hunt till the day he dropped. You know this, that was who I was. Going out in a blaze of glory, bloody on a hunt” said Dean, “But now, everythings different. I realize now that...that isn’t who I am, and I can’t be destined for just that. If I was, then Chuck should’ve won. Because I’ll be damned if I let that be my ending. I’ve gotta write my own, and now with Chuck gone I finally have that chance. I can’t waste it Sammy.” As he says those last words, a few tears have fallen down his face.

_______________________________________________________

Sam ponders Dean’s words for a few seconds then asks.

“What about me? What am I supposed to do?”

Dean doesn’t respond.

*a soft rendition of the piano solo in Americana plays, similar to the one played in 15x18, but softer and less solumn*

Dean looks sad, but also confident in his decision. Sam looks uncertain.

Sam says:

“I can’t do this alone”

Dean responds with a sad smile:

“Yes you can”

Sam says:

“Well i don’t want to”

_______________________________________________

Slowly, through facial expressions, Sam recognizes those words, and remembers that fateful night when Dean came to pick him up from college; when Dad was on a hunting trip, and he hadn’t been home in a few days. His face turns into a sad smile. A tear rolls down his face. Dean now has a tear underneath his eye too as he looks at Sam.

Sam slowly hands back the job form to Dean (This would be a close up on the hand over process to emphasize the choice Sam is making through the motion of handing back Dean the job form) He puts his laptop down, and the two brothers hug. The two of them stand there together. The two have tears rolling down their cheeks.

_________________________________________________________

*piano solo ends*

*fade to black*

*fade in on the Impala outside the bunker*

Sam is leaning against it and is texting on his phone.

Text appears at the bottom of the screen saying its the next day

Dean exits the bunker and asks if Sam has got the address of the place where everyone is getting together and Dean confirms he does and that it's on the edge of town. He mentions that Bobby had been working on it for a while before the whole Chuck thing and he said that it was a surprise. Whatever that means.

__________________________________________________________

As the brothers are driving into town, Sam asks what time the interview is and Dean says that it's at 9am the next day so he will have to leave that night if he’s going to get a good sleep and be up early the next day. The time at that point would be around 3pm. Dean then asks how he and Eileen are, and Sam says that they’re going good, but mentions that she was a bit shaken from being Thanos snapped (he wouldn’t actually say Thanos snapped but something like it.)

The two sit in silence for a while, until Dean puts on the radio. ‘Back in Black’ starts playing. The two smile and look at each other, before turning back to the road. They continue driving.

They finally reach the pub and get out of the Impala. As they stare at the exterior, a gentle rendition of the first section of Americana plays (the opening minute) but this time it’s slower and almost sounds distant, and wistful. The two brothers look at each other before approaching the door. Dean checks the time, and looks concerned. Before they can open the bar door themselves, Charlie opens it and looks gleefully at the two before embracing them both in a group hug.

____________________________________________________________

“I’ve been waiting for you guys!” says Charlie.

“Hey Charlie, how’s it hanging?” asks Dean

“Come have a look” she says with a smirk, before leading them inside. The bar is revealed to be one that resembles the old Harvelle’s Roadhouse. There is already a crowd of people, friendly faces and some unknown people. Sam and Dean reunite with a lot of fan favorite characters, however, Dean still looks slightly pensive. Sam takes notice of this and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder. They look at each other just as the lights in the bar begin to dim and a piano solo starts playing. The song being played is the exact same version of Carry on My Wayward Son that was played in Season 10 Episode 5 titled Fan Fiction. This time, there isn’t any vocals, it’s just the piano solo. It continues until the part in the song where it would say “...don’t you cry no more”, then suddenly the doors open and Jack slowly walks through. The outside light shines through and is almost blinding to Sam and Dean who are covering their eyes with their hands. The music stops, and Jack steps aside to reveal someone. Dean lowers his arm and sees a friend standing before him. Someone who had been there for Dean through thick and thin. Someone who loved him no matter what Dean had though of himself.

__________________________________________________________

“Cas?” he murmurs, before running to him and embracing him with a tight hug. Jack closes the door and the light adjusts. Suddenly a male voice starts singing from the stage. Everyone but Dean and Cas look. The voice is the lead singer of Kansas, who begins singing the classic version of Carry On My Wayward Son.

_________________________________________________________

Dean and Cas lock eyes, and as the words “lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more” are said, Dean and Cas place their foreheads together and smile while holding each other. Sam looks at them with a smile, just as Dean turns to him. The song kicks in at that moment with the instrumentals. Everyone is dancing now just as Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack all reunite together in one shot. They all sing along to the song with everyone else. It then cuts to different shots of them standing and laughing as well as interacting with other characters like Jody and Bobby or Eileen. In one of the shots, Sam and Eileen kiss and Dean looks at them with pride. The next shot is his hand, and someone else’s hand interlocks with his. It cuts back to Dean’s face smiling, as he turns to Cas, who is also smiling.

__________________________________________________________

When the song finally comes to a close, Sam and Dean are both standing out front. They are leaning against the Impala.

“I guess that was one hell of a curtain call” says Dean.

“I wouldn’t call it that” says Sam with a chuckle.

“Even if this is the end for now, at least it’s our ending. Not Chuck’s, not anyone else’s”

“Damn straight”

Dean smiles, and checks his phone. From here, the exact same scene on the bridge at the end of the real finale would play out. But in this version, instead of walking up to the railing and looking out over a valley, Dean would hug Sam, then get in the Impala and begin driving off. The music would also be identical too.

________________________________________________________

As the guitar riff is playing the main theme (like in the original scene, its when it cuts to a wide shot and pans out) It cuts to a close up of Dean and it slowly zooms into his face smiling with a tear in his eye, then it cuts to a medium shot of Sam standing tall and proud. Bobby, Cas, Jack, Eileen, Jody, Charlie, Donna, Garth, walk up next to him as the music rises. Then it cuts to an extremely wide shot from up above, showing the Impala driving away down the long road with the sunset in the distance as well as Sam and the rest of their family standing outside the bar watching Dean drive off. The End.

________________________________________________________

So that was my ideal finale. It’s not perfect by any means and there’s no massive final confrontation, and the emotional arcs could be more fleshed out and explored. Also, the explanation for how Jack convinced the Empty to give back Cas would also need to be explained but I didn’t want to give a massive exposition dump in this already long video.

I hope you liked it and I hope that it was at least a bit more satisfying than the actual finale.

________________________________________________________

To conclude, I genuinely believe that Supernatural had the opportunity to give it’s audience a revolutionary kind of conclusion. It had the chance to be one of the most satisfying endings to any TV show ever made. It had the chance to be something more...and yet, it utterly failed in everything it attempted and sadly destroyed 15 years of build up, progress, and intricate character development for a finale that squandered not only the limitless and amazing potential it had, but it also squandered many fan’s passion for the show itself. At least that’s how I feel. If the show had even ended on Episode 19, then it would’ve been an incredibly rushed and convoluted conclusion but it would’ve been satisfying and I’m sure in time the people who didn’t like the episode much would have eventually come around to it.

But at the end of the day, if you liked or loved this finale then I am happy for you. Regardless of my feelings towards this finale, I know what it feels like to love a piece of media that most people hate.

__________________________________________________________

That’s me with HTTYD 3. But that’s a topic for another day. What I want to say is that if you do love this finale then all the power to you. While I personally hate it, that should not take away from your love towards it.

#spn #supernatural #spnfinale #supernaturalfinale #dean winchester #sam winchester #pie #cw #spnessay #finale #seriesfinale #bidean #cas #thiswasashitending #badfinale

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thequeenkrys15 · 3 years

Text

His Woman

This fic is dedicated to Miss Nadia, aka @flamediel

First off, I would like to apologize to you Queen, because this took much longer than I imagined, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

About a month ago, Miss Nadia underwent a lot of unnecessary hate for no reason. Really all hate is unnecessary, but it was hate nonetheless. I would like to remind everyone who reads this fic that it there is never a good reason to be malicious to someone, and that it is always better to spread positivity. In my eyes, we are all kings and queens and should treat each other as such.

Miss Nadia, please know that to me, you are awesome. You are amazing, and marvelous and every positive word in the dictionary in every language. You are a queen, an empress a GODDESS, and if anyone tells you differently they can kick rocks because they’re peasants and queens don’t have time for peasants. And if no one has said it today, I LOVE YOU! And so does this man right here!

Pairing: Zabdiel de Jesus x Nadia!Reader

Word Count: 2950

Warnings: Slight Angst, Smut, 18+, minors DNI, protected sex (no glove, no love), fondling, fingering, oral (female receiving), fluff, and google translated spanish

Without further adeu, Miss Nadia sweetie, enjoy!

Dating a musician was hard for anyone, especially when that musician was in a famous band like Nadia’s man. CNCO was often doing promo and concerts, sometimes it was hard to find time. And it didn’t help that the two of them were in a long-distance relationship. Some of the guys trying to hit on her in Cairo were so rude. And Nadia could only imagine all the women making themselves look “too available” for Zabdiel. But alas, he always made sure to silence her insecurities. “You’re the only one for me, Nadia, mi amol”, he would say in that thick Puerto Rican accent that always made her swoon. They always Facetimed each other every day and flew out to see each other when they could. They say time apart makes the heart grow fonder, then the two of them must be infatuated, because Nadia and Zabdiel were in love.

Time seemed to align perfectly for Zabdiel and Nadia. CNCO got some vacation time to relax, and Nadia saved up enough sick days and vacation days two get a whole two months of paid leave. How would the two choose to spend this newfound time? Why with each other of course! Zabdiel put everything in motion the second he knew she was coming. He wanted this time off to be stress free and be filled with love and romance for his woman, Nadia. The next two months were about to be the best she has ever had.

After getting off the plane in Miami, Nadia was overrun with happiness and joy, and just in a few moments, she would see the love of her life. As she approached Baggage Claim, it’s like the world stopped. Zabdiel had been searching for Nadia for the past 15 minutes, and once his eyes locked with hers, a huge smile spread across his face. It started as a sprint, and then a full-blown dash as they ran to each other. When the two finally had their arms wrapped around each other, a wash of calm and clarity overcame them both. This felt right, this felt like love.

“Hola mi amol, estoy tan feliz de que estés aqui”, he whispered into her ear.

“I missed you so much, baby”, Nadia cried into his shoulder happily.

Zabdiel and Nadia broke apart after a few more minutes, wiping their eyes and walking hand in hand, grabbing her suitcases, and striding out of the airport. The two headed to his car and put the bags in the trunk. Zabdiel opened the door for his woman, and the two of them climbed in and started their ride home.

“Te amo mi cariño”, he kissed her hand.

“And I love you”, she said sweetly.

Nadia knew that these next two months were going to be a blast.

Time Jump

These two months were going nothing like Nadia thought it would. Don’t get her wrong, Zabdiel was treating her like a queen in every sense of the word, from feeding her fruit, to afternoon massages, to late night lovin! When it came to Zabdiel, Nadia was on cloud nine, but it was something else that was bringing her down more than usual: the fans. Now in the beginning, the CNCOwners were ecstatic about the relationship Nadia had blossomed with Zabdiel, and for the most part, they still are. There are positive messages in her inbox from the fans all the time, and they always lift her spirits when she’s down. But lately, somethings been off with them, or at least some of them. It started when Nadia was giving weekly updates to the fans about what Mr. de Jesús was up to. Even though the band was on break, he still did somethings band-related, like producing music. Sometimes when he’s in his element, she likes to get a video of him because she knows the fans would love the content. Or when you catch him doing something cute like playing with Appa, she knew the fans would swoon. Even though most of the fans were showing her love, some were showing her hate. Like HATE, hate. Like hate to the point where they were telling her to kill herself. Like, who does that? At first, she didn’t pay them any mind, because of course there were always the nay-sayers. But the comments started getting worst, like to the point where they were making her cry. She couldn’t believe there were people like this on the internet. She tried to keep this from Zabdiel as long as she could, this time was supposed to be about them, not some asshats that were trying to bring her spirits down. But of course, Zabdiel knew his woman way too well for her to keep a secret like this.

Zabdiel had just got home from a dinner run when he walked in and noticed the apartment was eerily silent.

“¡Nadia, estoy en casa!” he shouted through the home to place her. She didn’t respond.

He placed the food in the refrigerator and went in search of his girlfriend, finally finding her in the bedroom.

“Nena, ¿me has oído? Why didn’t you respond?”

He turned her around in the bed, just to find she was crying her eyes out.

“¿Por que estás llorando? What happened?”

Still trying to save face, Nadia pushed it aside to change the subject.

“Everything’s fine honey. What did you get to eat?” She was totally lying in his face, and Zabdiel was not having it.

Before Zabdiel could ask again what had her in distress, her phone lit up with a notification, and before she could redirect his attention, he snatched her phone away.

“What is this, Nadia?” he tapped on the notification.

“It’s nothing Zab. Please don’t open---”

But it was too late. He had opened it, and what he saw made him bubble with anger. Countless negative comments on her social media degrading her, berating her, calling her names and how she was worthless. One he scrolled past literally told her to kill herself. Are they serious? He could not believe that his so called “fans” were the ones harassing her like this. Oh, he was going to put a stop to this once and for all.

“¿Por cuánto tiempo ha estado sucediendo esto?” he asked in sorrow.

“Zabdiel, please.” She just wanted to forget about it, but he wouldn’t budge.

“How long, Nadia.” His tone was firmer, and because she knew he wasn’t going to leave it alone, she conceded.

“A few weeks.” She sighed. He huffed in frustration but spoke to her in a soft tone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in curiosity, not understanding why she would keep something like this from him.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry, okay? This time together was supposed to be about us, not some mean fans. I just shouldn’t have let it get to me so much.”

At the sound of her blaming herself for this nonsense, Zabdiel wrapped Nadia up in the tightest hug he could muster, quieting her claims.

“Escúchame mi amol. None of this your fault, and I am sorry this has happened. Those are not my fans; they are just evil people with nothing better to do. I’m gonna put a stop to this in the morning.”

Nadia tried to protest, but he shushed her concerns, leaving no room for discussion. He kissed her forehead.

“If this happens again nena, you have to tell me so I can fix it. I can’t help if you don’t let me. Okay?” he held her face in his hands as she nodded, showing she understood.

He kissed her lips tenderly, savoring the taste of her. It started off slow, but the kiss grew hungrier, more primal than anything before. His tongue slid into her mouth, dancing around each other, until Nadia’s tongue gave in to his, accepting his dominance.

“I’m gonna make you forget all about them hermosa” he whispered into her ear.

He laid her down on the bed as he began to kiss under her jaw, moving toward her neck and shoulder juncture, suckling her pulse point. She moaned, knowing that tonight was going to be a long one. His hands held her waist, as he slid her shirt up, exposing her stomach. He kissed and nipped along the sides her tummy, forcing her shirt up. He pulled away for a split second, finally pulling her shirt off, getting frustrated with the fabric. He was mesmerized by the way her breasts looked in her black bra; he was practically salivating at the mouth.

“Eres exquisita” he leaned down to kiss her neckline, traveling to her cleavage, nipping at the rise of her left boob, and then the right.

“You have too many clothes on” Nadia said as she slid her hands under his shirt, desperate to feel him as he was feeling her.

He pulled away to get his shirt off, as Nadia threw her bra across the room. Zabdiel was back on her in seconds, sucking her left nipple into his mouth while he fondled the right breast in his huge hand. His warm mouth was doing wonders for her body, and all the pleasure she felt was shot straight to her core. He kissed the valley in between her breasts and down her stomach, knowing exactly where he was headed. Undoing her zipper, he worked her pants off her body and tossed them to the side of the bed, leaving her in her black underwear. He sniffed between her legs, nuzzling her nub which sent a jolt up her spine.

“Hueles dulce” he sighed as he pulled her panties off her body, leaving her bare.

He pulled her legs over his shoulders, gripped her thighs, and licked a long stripe up from her slit to her pearl, making her gasp.

“But you taste even sweeter.” Zabdiel was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

If there was one thing people knew about Zabdiel, it was that he had an oral fixation. He always had something in his mouth, whether it was gum, a lollipop, or in this case, her pussy. And he was an expert with his tongue, knowing just where to lick to get his woman stimulated. He licked in between her lips, just so she could get a feel for him. He then licked at her clit, drawing her favorite star pattern, sending her to another galaxy. Nadia was a moaning mess, her hand flew to where his head was, physically telling him not to move an inch. But Zabdiel wouldn’t dare, he was enjoying this just as much as she was. Knowing that it was him causing his woman so much pleasure, made him painfully hard in his pants. But his woman had to cum first.

“Do you want more, my love?” Nadia was gasping for air, nodding her head frantically, but that wasn’t enough for him.

“Usa tus palabras, hermosa” he breathed into her core as he licked down her slit.

“Yes! Baby please, I need more!” she begged, desperate to chase her high.

Zabdiel inserted his middle finger into her hot channel, and then his index, massaging her inner walls. He found that one spot inside her that made her back arch, hips rising off the bed. This action made Nadia’s eyes roll in the back of her head; she was gripping the sheets for dear life, whining. She was so close, he just needed to say it. And he knew it too.

“It’s okay nena, I got you. Dale” he sucked her pearl into his mouth, hard.

That one word and one action, lit her body on fire. Her orgasm was explosive, mind and body in the clouds, she didn’t think she would ever come down. Zabdiel worked her through her orgasm until she returned to earth, drinking up everything she had to give him. He sat up, and peering at his face he looked like a glazed donut. He hopped off the bed for a split second, getting his pants and boxers off in one push. Nadia would have had to seen it a thousand times, but she will never get tired of seeing just how magnificent Zabdiel’s penis was. She reached out to grasp it, but Zabdiel pushed her hand away, leaning over her.

“No nena, tonight is about you. Relájate” he said as he nestled in between her thighs.

He kissed her first, slow and sensual, pouring out all his emotions in one action. He leaned over to the side to grab a condom out of the night drawer. Once he put the condom on, he lined himself up at her entrance, and ever the gentleman, he peered up at her to make sure she was okay. Holding on to his biceps, she nodded, and he eased the head of his cock into her tight channel, taking the breath out of both of their lungs.

“Carajo nena. Eres tan apretada” he gasped into her ear.

Once fully seated, he took a minute to let her adjust. No matter how many times they’ve had sex together, his girth always took her by surprise. Zabdiel could feel Nadia hips moving slightly against his, signaling him to move. He drew back his hips all the way, leaving only the tip in to tease her, then he slammed himself back in, to the hilt. His thrusts were slow, making love to her through his actions.

“Eres perfecta” he whispered into her ear as he kissed her neck.

She felt euphoric in every sense of the word; not only was he making her feel good physically, he was also making her feel good emotionally. Every stroke he took pulled all the negative comments out of her mind and replaced them with deep and utter bliss. She was on cloud nine, but she needed to get to the moon. She wanted to forget, and Zabdiel was the only way how.

“Faster, Papi” she pleaded, begging him to take her pain away.

It was like a switch flipped inside his head. Nadia knew if she wanted a different side of Zabdiel, a more aggressive side, that was the one word that would do the trick. “Domdiel” appeared in a matter of seconds, gripping her hips harder, and his strokes started matching the speed of a jackhammer. Nadia felt him everywhere, from her neck down to her core. She knew there would be bruises in the morning, but she didn’t care, all that mattered was this moment right now.

“Papi, I’m close!” She held on to him for dear life, nails running down his back so hard they almost broke skin.

Zabdiel was in the same boat, as his thrusts were starting to lose their rhythm. He reached down between her legs, drawing a nice figure eight on her bundle of nerves, sure that it will help her reach a final high.

“Cum for me, Nadia.”

That was all it took. Her body arched and convulsed off the bed. She screamed out in pleasure as her orgasm washed over her. A white-hot light flooded the back of her eyes, leaving her in a state of pure ecstasy. Zabdiel wasn’t far behind, getting three more pumps in before he stilled, spilling himself into the rubber. He collapsed onto her, but she didn’t mind, welcoming the warmth. After a few seconds Zabdiel got up and retreated to the bathroom to throw away the rubber. He returned to Nadia with a washcloth in hand, leaning down to clean her up, being mindful that she was still very sensitive. When he was finished, he tossed the rag into the laundry hamper, and crawled into bed, snuggling up to his woman.

“Te amo, mi vida” he whispered as he drifted off to slumber.

“Te amo, mi cariño” she said back as sleep overcame her.

In that moment, Nadia felt at peace. Not anger, not sadness, just simple peace.

Time Jump

When morning came, Nadia found herself in bed, alone. Finding Zabdiel’s discarded shirt, she slipped it on and made her way to the living room, in search of her boyfriend. The sight that she came across almost made her cry. Zabdiel was on the couch with his phone in hand, going completely off on the fans that were spewing hate towards her. He said that he was disappointed and angry that some of his so-called “fans” would go so far as to hurt his woman intentionally. He also said that true fans would want to see him happy, and that if they were real fans, they would either show you two some love, or just simply be quiet. He saw Nadia out of the corner of his eye and decided to end the video there.

“Ahora si me disculpas, voy a salir con mi mujer.”

He motioned for her to come sit with him, so she did. He placed her on his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I could have gotten over it.” She said as she leaned against his chest.

“You shouldn’t have to. Tú eres mi mujer, and I’m not gonna tolerate any disrespect, no matter who it’s from.” He kissed her on her forehead.

The two stayed like that for a moment, just basking in the peaceful silence, until Nadia spoke up.

“So the day has just started, what do you want to do?” She looked into his eyes.

“How about my woman decides for today?” He gave his signature dimple-filled smile.

“Your woman? I like the sound of that!” She cheesed as they hugged each other tightly.

Yeah, their relationship was hard sometimes, but being his woman, makes it all worthwhile.

#cnco #zabdiel de jesus #flamediel #loveoneanother

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Note

I know requests are closed but I’m obsessed with this Olympic ice dancing duo, they’ve been skating for 20 years since they were 7 and 9 and the guy is always saying she’s his favourite person and how beautiful she is and their chemistry is so intense and their body language just says they’re in love but it was announced that he is engaged to another woman and I’m sad and waiting for them to realise they’re in love! I was wondering if you could write something along these lines with Tom? Ily 💙

I love this idea. I pulled inspiration from Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue interviews and from Little Women.

One Man Cult

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You and Tom are inseparable ice skating duo who aren’t as inseparable as you thought

Masterlist

“This unrequited love, to me it’s nothing but a one man cult.” - Frank Ocean

Tom had been your ice skating partner for 20 years now. You’d come a long way from the frozen pond behind your house to an Olympic ice skating rink. The way you two skated was pure art. You moved impossibly in synch as you floated over the ice together, winning competition after competition together. Tom had never once dropped you or let you down due to your powerful connection to each other. He was always there to lift you, dip you, spin you, and you carry you around the ice as you danced to the music. Your undeniable chemistry and endearing friendship made you and Tom the most popular team in the Olympics on social media, but it was your powerful skating that made you the most decorated skaters in history.

After every competition, with the medals you wore around your neck clanging together, Tom always picked you up bridal style to carry you off the ice. He’d been doing it since he was nine and he’d do it until the last day he ever skated. You were always met with a rush of cameras and microphones from journalists who wanted to know just as much about your relationship as they did your performance.

Your most notable interview was when you appeared on Ellen together after winning gold medals in the Olympics. Your fans campaigned for you to be on the show and Ellen happily complied. Despite the large couch, you and Tom sat practically on top of each other. He had one arm secure around your waist and the other resting on your knee. In return, you had both hands on top of his, giving them a gentle squeeze whenever you felt butterflies in your tummy.

“Y/n, Tom, how did you two meet?” Ellen began the interview.

“We met when I was 7 and he was 9 because we were neighbors. We formed this unbreakable connection and we’ve been best friends since then.” You answered, looking at Tom for most of your speech. “I honestly don’t even remember my life before him. We started skating on the pond outside our houses and realized we both had a love as well as a talent for it.”

“Wow. That’s 20 years now.” Ellen nodded in admiration. “You guys must be very close.”

“Oh, definitely. I know everything about him and he knows everything about me. I can’t imagine not being with him everyday. We’re a family.” You smiled as Tom squeezed your hip, feeling the nerves melt away at his touch.

“Yeah, we’re very very close. I live for Y/n.” Tom chimed in and the audience melted.

“And there was never a romance? No feelings for the other?” Ellen asked skeptically.

“Uh-“ Tom scratched his neck, looking at you.

“Nope. Just a really close friendship.” You nodded.

“Does Tom know that?” Ellen teased and both your faces flushed as the audience laughed.

“I ask because you guys clearly have a lot a chemistry together as we see on the ice but your fans see a little more than just chemistry. They see a romance between the two of you.” Ellen said as a picture of you and Tom flashed on the screen. It was a photo of your last performance, and you were sitting on his knee with your hands pressing his forehead against yours. He had one hand around you waist and the other gripping your thigh. The audience laughed and ooo’d at the picture and you hid your face in Toms neck for a moment.

“Oh shoot. Maybe we are a couple.” You joked and felt Tom laugh beside you.

“Did you know we were a couple? That’s crazy. I had no idea.” Tom teased back. You laughed at his joke and he smiled at your laughter, throwing an arm around your shoulders and kissing your temple.

“So you are a couple?” Ellen asked as a different picture came on screen, a close up this time. You had both hands on Toms face and he had his firmly on your back with your legs wrapped around his waist, lips almost touching. The audience laughed again and Ellen’s point was made.

“No. We’re not. We’re just a really great team.” Tom confirmed as he looked at you. “Y/n is my favorite person in the world. There is no one I admire or love more. I mean, I’ve loved this girl since I was 9. We have such a deep love for each other and an unbreakable connection that I know I could never find anywhere else. She’s my soulmate, really. I’m so lucky I get to spend 23 hours a day with her.”

“What’s the other hour?” Ellen asked.

“Icing wounds and bathroom breaks.” You and Tom said in unison, earning a chuckle from Ellen and the audience.

“We really do take it as a compliment though. If that many people see us performing and think we’re a couple in love, then I think we’re doing something right.” Tom continued. “I think all the romance rumors speak to our chemistry and ability to portray a romance as we skate together.”

“Exactly. And we really do love each other.” You said as a third picture came up, you and Tom hugging tightly after a performance. You and your arms secure around his neck and he was lifting you off the ground. “We’ve spent the last 20 years building this partnership and it’s so rewarding to see where it’s taken us. I’m just really lucky I could go on this journey with Tom at my side. My favorite moments are always after the performance, when the crowd is cheering and the music stopped and it feels like there’s no one in the world but me and Tom.” You said as you gazed into Toms eyes. He couldn’t resist kissing your forehead, in no way helping the conversation.

“So you are a couple?” Ellen repeated and the audience chuckled again.

That’s how interviews often went, but some reporters wanted a different story.

“Where’s your other half?” A reporter asked when Tom came off the ice rink alone. He was met with a dozen more reporters and took a seat on a foldable chair to answer the questions.

“I know!” He laughed. “She’s getting changed. It feels so weird to be interviewed without her. Don’t worry though, she’ll be here shortly.”

“While we have you, we do have some questions.” Another reporter spoke up.

“Go for it.” Tom smiled.

“What makes Y/n a good partner?” They asked.

“Y/n is honestly just a perfect person. I love everything about her. She’s my best friend in the entire world. She’s so beautiful and so so dedicated to our work. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” Tom said sincerely into a camera.

“You never considered trying you luck as a solo act?” A different reporter tried to instigate drama and Tom quickly shut him down.

“I couldn’t go solo because I myself am not a solo act. Y/n is my other half on and off of the ice. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.” Tom replied suavely.

“Hi! Am I interrupting?” You asked as you walked over to Tom. He smiled happily as the sight of you and reached out a hand to guide you over to where he was.

“Here, we can pull up a chair for you.” A reporter offered but you politely held up a hand.

“That’s okay.” You shook your head as you sat comfortably on Toms lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“We were just asking Tom if either of you ever considered going solo?” You were asked.

“Oh, never.” You laughed. “I don’t exist if I’m not with Tom. We’re connected. I could never not be with him.” You turned over your shoulder to look at him and he smiled at you before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You two seem very close. Y/n, you wouldn’t date him?” A reporter asked and you laughed in surprise.

“Maybe.” You shrugged to appease them.

“Wow. I’ve known her for 20 years and we’ve been getting interviewed for maybe 10 now and that’s the first time I’ve gotten a “maybe”. Must be my lucky day.” Tom joked and squeezed you tightly. His answer seemed to satisfy the reporters and they left you alone.

A rough patch of ice and a broken ankle sent you to the hospital for a week and benched from the ice for two months. Unfortunately, the injury came in June, right as Tom was scheduled to return home for a holiday with his family. It killed him to leave you alone, but he knew with his busy schedule he’d never be able to reschedule.

“Go. Your family is counting on you.” You promised him from your hospital bed. He shook his head at you.

“You’re my family.” He insisted.

“I’ll be fine. Go. Be with them.” You told him, but he still looked unsure.”

“I’ll miss you. Can’t you come with me?” He whined. You laughed at his childish behavior.

“The doctor said I can’t fly with my cast.” You reminded him as you looked down at your bright pink cast. It had one signature, Toms name is a big heart. “It’ll be okay. We’re not attached at the hip. We can handle a few weeks apart.” You assured him.

“I don’t know if I can.” Tom laughed sadly and took your hand.

“You’ll survive.” You touched his cheek and he leaned into your palm.

“Without you? Impossible.” He smirked and pressed a kiss to your palm.

The three week vacation was extended by four weeks when Toms grandmother fell ill. Still not able to fly with your cast, you had to result to FaceTiming at 4 am just to get a hold of him. Being without Tom was strange enough, but he was acting stranger. His brothers told you he went out most nights and came back at odd times. His mom told you he wasn’t looking well, but brushed it off as a minor cold.

“I’m sure he’s just used to you keeping him in check, making sure he’s hydrated and getting enough sleep and all that. He’s probably just overwhelmed and being without you is making it harder. I wouldn’t worry too much.” His mother assured you but you still worried. It’s been 7 weeks since you’d seen him and you hated every second of it.

The day your cast was taken off, you got on the first flight to the UK. You didn’t get to Toms house until late, but Harry told you he was home. You climbed into his first story window and he jumped in surprise when he saw you

“Y/n?” Tom asked in shock at the sight of you.

“Hi Tommy.” You kept your voice low so you wouldn’t disturb his family as you jumped into his arms.

“What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t fly?” He asked as he held you tightly, taking in your scent once again.

“Doctor cleared me this morning.” You held up you healed foot with a proud smile.

“I didn’t know you’d gotten your cast taken off.” Tom said, a little disappointed he wasn’t aware of all the details of your life anymore.

“Well, it’s been pretty hard to get a hold of you lately.” You said a little sadly. “God, what’s it been, like two months? I’ve missed you so much. Sit, tell me everything.” You guided him to his bed and sat down with him.

“My grandmothers doing a lot better. They’re gonna release her from the hospital soon.” Tom said and you noticed he was beginning to sweat.

“That’s great Tom. I’m so happy to hear that.” You ignored his stiffness and rubbed his shoulder.

“Thanks.” He sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, looking incredibly torn with himself. “Y/n-“

“I’m really happy to see you, Tommy.” You interrupted him. “I know I was the one saying we could stand being apart for a few weeks, but I honestly couldn’t last another day of this. I never realized how much I wanted to see you everyday. You’re a huge part of my life and it’s been so weird not seeing y-“

“I’m engaged.” He blurted, cutting you off. You blinked in surprise at his sudden announcement.

“What?” You laughed shortly, trying to read his face but the room was too dark.

“I met her over the summer when I came home and she fell in love with me. She asked if I wanted to get married and I said yes.” Tom continued in the same flat, emotionless tone. “She’s going to be my wife.”

“What?” You repeated, still not believing him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but my mind is made up.” Tom continued as if he wasn’t telling you the most outrageous thing you’d ever heard. He stood up, unable to look at you for a moment.

“I’m sorry, can we go back a second?” You got up as well and walked to him. “You’ve known her what, two months? Three?”

“One. We met in July.” Tom said quietly and you scoffed.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” You said gravely. Tom wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded.

“I am.” He told you, a sad gleam in his eyes. “She wants to be married by Christmas.”

“Well what do you want?” You asked, looking for a different answer then what you were getting.

“Whatever she wants is fine by me.” He said robotically and you felt nauseous.

“I’ve never even met her.” You pointed out. More importantly, she’d never met you. You exactly a minor note in Toms symphony. You guys lived as a duet and now he was trying to rewrite the chorus without asking you first.

“You will. I’m going to introduce to her everyone. My family, my friends, you. You’ll get to know her.” Tom said as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“Oh so your family hasn’t met her either?” You laughed bitterly. “Do they even know she exists?”

“I’ll tell them.” He said, and you knew he was ashamed.

“Tom, what?” You asked gently, going easier on him now that you know he was upset. “Your family doesn’t even know? What’s going on? This isn’t like you.” You tilted his chin towards you and made him look at you. As soon as his eyes met yours, they filled with tears.

“What, just because I’ve never had a girlfriend before means I can’t have one now?” He asked with a defeated shrug.

“You have had girlfriends before.” You reminded him and he shook his head.

“Have I?” He laughed sadly. “I’ve tried, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t date anyone else knowing that they’d never…”

“Never what?” You stroked his cheek lightly, pleading with him for an answer to his madness. “Tom.” You urged when he hesitated to answer.

“Never compare to you.” He gripped your wrist as teared ran down his cheeks. You looked at him in confusion and tried to search his face again. He was making less and less sense.

“What are you talking about?” You whispered and Toms lip trembled.

“If you’re gonna stand in front of me right now and pretend there hasn’t been something between us for the last 20 years then you might as well just leave now.” Tom said through gritted teeth. You felt the wind knocked out of you and took a step back, withdrawing your hands and holding yourself tightly.

“Thomas…” You breathed.

“I can’t find another my heart will beat for. I can’t do it.” Tom cried in pain. “I have loved you since I was nine years old and it’s killing me. I can’t move on. I can’t think, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. This unrequited love is destroying me.” He sobbed. “And I swear to you, I will never love anyone more and nothing has to change between us as partners but…” ,his lip trembled as he hesitated, “but I’m lonely! We spend all day together but I want to spend the nights too. I’m in love with you, Y/n. We have something incredibly rare between us. Can’t you see that? Please tell me you see that.”

You stayed silent as tears slipped out of his eyes, not having any clue what to say.

“Please?” He whispered at your silence.

“I do see it.” You touched his cheek lightly and he smiled in hope. “I see a beautiful and loving friendship between two people, Tom I’m sorry-“ he threw your hands off his cheeks and turned his back to you.

“I thought you felt the same. You’re always going on about the connection we have. Every friend of mine, all my brothers even your own mother told me there was no way you didn’t feel the same.” Tom sniffled. “The whole world sees something between us. They’ve seen it since we were kids. How is it that everyone sees it but you?” He looked at you over his shoulder.

“I just don’t, Tom. I’m sorry. If I could change it, I would.” You put a hand on his back and rubbed his shoulder blade with your thumb. “I love you so much, but not in that way. Not in the way you want me too. Not in the way you deserve.”

“You tell me I deserve it but then tell me not to marry this girl?” He turned around again and you saw how red and puffy his face was. You tried to reach out to him but he pushed your hands away.

“You don’t deserve a half baked engagement to some girl you met a month ago.” You said. “You deserve someone who knows everything about you, little things and big things, and someone loves you deeply and unconditionally. Someone you have a connection with.” You were as upset as he was now.

“Is that not you?” He cocked his head.

“Of course it’s me. Just not romantically. You have all my love, Thomas. I swear to you, my hearts beats just for you. Is that not enough?” You cried and he looked down at the floor.

“I would have you.” He said in defeat, nodding his head as he looked up at you. “If it were enough, I would have you.”

“You’re always gonna have me-“

“-I love you.” He cut in.

“-maybe not in the way that you want but that doesn’t mean-“

“-I love you.” He said again, as if he was accepting it.

“-we can’t continue being friends. You’re still my favorite person-“

“Just not the person you want to be with?” He asked with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could give him.

“Don’t be. My bad for assuming, right?” He shuffled his feet and you felt more tears rising in your eyes.

“Can we talk about this? Please?” You begged, worrying if you ended this conversation it’d be the last one you ever had with him.

“I’ve said all I’ve had to say. What about you?” Tom shrugged and wiped his eyes.

“We need to be adults about this, Tom.” You grabbed his hand to keep him in the room. He looked down at your hands for a long time before squeezing yours and looking at you tearfully in the eyes.

“I can’t be anything but in love with you.” He said with a sad smile.

“Then why are you marrying her?” You asked him desperately.

“Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone.” He told you.

“You’re not alone. You have me.” You held your intertwined hands against your chest, kissing the back of his hand.

“Do I?” He asked and dropped your hand, slamming the door behind him as he left the room.

The next few months leading up to Christmas had an ice between you and Tom that chilled the country. The distance between the two of you wasn’t noticeable enough to hurt your scores on the ice, but it was unbearable when you weren’t working. He wouldn’t talk to you, wouldn’t even look at you. Conversations never lead back to that night in his bedroom, no matter how hard you tried to lead them there. Tom went on as if it never happened, as if he never confessed his feelings for you.

You on the other hand, were given plenty of time to reflect. In those few months, you realized you’d never love anyone as you loved Tom, and in return, no one would ever love you the way he always had. You’d been so consumed in being his best friend that you hadn’t realized you wanted to be more. You knew there was no one in the world you could imagine spending the rest of your life with other than Tom. He was your soulmate, and you were his. Your heart broke as you knew you came to the conclusion too late. He was engaged to another girl. He was happy now, or so he claimed. So instead of confessing your feelings, you kept your mouth shut and let him distance himself from you.

It was different on the ice. Neither of you could conceal how you felt. Your chemistry was still evident and radiated off every leap and turn. With your newly realized love for him, your skating became even cleaner and more passionate. You were at the lowest point in your relationship but at the highest in your careers. You spend endless hours with Tom, practicing, performing, and being interviewed. Interviews turned awkward fast whenever Toms engagement was brought up. The rest of the world was as confused as you were.

“So Tom, you’re engaged?” A reporter asked and the room quieted down.

“Yes, I am.” Tom said stiffly. You tended up at his side and faked a smile.

“And not to Y/n?” The reporter joked. You felt your face flush, and not in the wya it usually did when you were questioned about your relationship with Tom.

“I was just was surprised as you were.” Tom said with sad laughter. You wanted to place a hand on his knee but decided against it in fear of rejection.

“How did you react, Y/n?” The reporter asked you.

“Yeah, I was surprised too. When I thought about my future with Tom and all the milestones I imagined we’d reach together, this was never a apart of the plan.” You laughed nervously. “I never saw this coming.”

On December 19, the church was set for Toms wedding. You sat in your seat with your leg bouncing nervously as his bride walked down the isle.

You couldn’t handle the smug look she gave you as she passed.

You couldn’t handle the stares of pity from everyone around you.

You couldn’t handle the somber look Tom had on his face as his eyes bore into yours.

You really couldn’t handle the feeling inside of you that told you you were making a terrible mistake.

Unable to handle being silent about your feelings anymore, you stood up. You locked eyes with Tom and gave him the most sincere look of an apology you could give him. He nodded and you took that as your cue to run out of the church.

“If anyone has any objections as to why these two should wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The priest read.

“I do.” Tom blurted.

“No no, you don’t say that yet, son.” The priest chuckled.

“No, I do. I object.” Tom said and dropped the girls hands like they were poison. “I can’t marry you, I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” His bride, no longer to be, demanded. Tom looked at the priest apologetically and then at his family.

“Because I’m in love with someone else.” He said as he stared at your vacant seat. There were no gasps of shock, just sighs of relief.

“I’m sorry everyone.” He said and then gave one last look at the girl. “I’m so sorry.”

Tom ran down the steps on the alter and out the doors, laughing a little as he went.

“Y/n? Y/n, wait!” Tom screamed once he was out of the church. He slowed down to a halt and looked around for you, but didn’t see you anywhere. He blew out a breath of defeat, knowing he was too late. You didn’t wait. You hadn’t run for him. You just ran.

Tom dragged his feet as he made his way to his car. There was no way he could go back into the church. His only option was to go home. Once Tom approached his car, he could hear someone jiggling the door handle on the passenger side. Suddenly, an all too familiar friend of his popped up from behind the car.

“What took you so long? We gotta go.” You urged in a panic. Toms entire face lit up at the sight of you. He smiled fondly, just taking you in.

You had waited.

But it didn’t seem like you could wait much longer. Tom unlocked the car and hopped inside. You bunched up your dress and did the same. Tom started the car and you drove off without another word. Once you had left the church parking lot, he looked back and laughed.

“I can’t believe I just did that! I left a girl on the alter. ” Toms smile quickly faded. “Can you imagine how that must feel? She must be devastated. Oh my God, should we go back?” Tom was experiencing excitement, confusion and guilt all at once.

“You can turn back if you want.” You said calmly. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you’d do it for him.

“No. No of course we can’t go back. I can’t marry her just because I feel guilty.” Tom said mostly to himself. “Especially when I don’t love her.”

“You don’t?” You asked, having already suspected that he didn’t.

“I never did. And I don’t suppose she loved me either.” He laughed softly. “We were just two lonely people who didn’t want to be lonely anymore.”

“You don’t have to be lonely ever again.” You put one of your hands on his thigh. Tom looked at you before picking up your hand and kissing the back of it. You smiled slightly as he continued to drive.

“Can I ask you something?” Tom said, breaking the silence.

“Anything.” You replied.

“How’d you know I’d run after you?” He wondered. “I could’ve gone through with it. I could’ve married her. You must’ve waited by my car for a reason. How did you know I’d come after you?”

“It was that look.” You admitted. “I saw it in your eyes when you were on the alter. You know how we always say we have a connection?”

“Yeah?” He asked with a shy smile.

“That was it. It was our connection. You knew I’d run. I knew you’d follow.” You explained before quieting down. “Why did you run?“ You asked timidly.

"I couldn’t have what I really wanted, so I settled for whatever girl let me put a ring on her finger.” Tom confessed as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I see.” You nodded, also looking ahead.

“What about you? Why did you run?” He snuck a glance at you.

“I guess I couldn’t have what I really wanted either, and I couldn’t sit around and pretend to be happy for someone else when I was miserable.” You told him. “It hurt too much. Especially when it was my fault that I was miserable.”

"What is it that you really wanted?” Tom questioned and you looked out the window.

“Poor girl is probably so embarrassed.” You mumbled, feeling genuinely sorry for the girl he left at the alter. “The whole country was rooting against her and they won. She didn’t get what she wanted either.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Tom said, feeling his heart pick up speed when a tiny smirk appeared on your face.

“What was it again?” You asked, shifting to face Tom. If he wanted to go all those months avoiding the conversation, you weren’t gonna let him have it when it was finally convenient for him. He needed to work for it.

“You said you couldn’t have what you really wanted, so you were miserable. What was it that you really wanted?” Tom asked, looking at you for answers. It was the first time you had made and held eye contact since you both ran.

“What I wanted was you.” You confessed, and Tom slammed on his breaks.

“Get out of the car.” He ordered.

“What? Why?” You asked as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Out. Now.” He repeated.

You hastily got out of the car, seeing that he had stopped at a small elevated platform that looked over a river. You walked over to the railing and waited for Tom as he slammed his door shut and made his way over to you.

“Look, Tommy, I didn’t mean to upset you and if you could just let me explain-” Tom cut you off by wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into a long awaited kiss. You froze at this unexpected sign of affection, but quickly put your arms around his neck, where they belonged. Tom hugged you closer until there was no space between you.

You only broke apart to gasp for air. Tom smiled and pulled you into a hug, pressing a light kiss to your temple and holding you tight.

“I’ve missed you.” He said softly into your hair.

“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry we fought.” You cried into his chest.

"Me too. I shouldn’t have sprung all that information on you at once. And I’m sorry I got mad for expecting you to figure out your feelings right away. I should’ve given you time.” He sniffled as he rubbed your back.

“I’m sorry too. And I do feel the same.” You pushed away from him a little so you could see him. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.

"Let’s put that in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is you and I, here and now.” Tom answered as he brushed your hair off your forehead.

“You look great, by the way. I never got to tell you that.” You complimented Tom as you fixed his tie.

“Thanks. I was more excited for the suit than I was for the wedding. It’s a shame it’s gonna go to waste.” He laughed lightly as an idea popped into your head.

“It doesn’t have to.” You realized.

“What do you mean?” He asked curiously.

“There’s a chapel about five miles from here.” Was all you said. Tom knew exactly what you were thinking. You grabbed his hand and you both ran for the car. Before you took off, Tom ran back to the railing and threw the flower in his lapel into the river, the flower that matched the brides bouquet. You laughed and applauded him as he got back into the car.

An hour later, you were officially married. You were slightly disappointed that your families couldn’t be there to see it, but Tom promised you that you could throw a huge wedding reception to celebrate your newly realized love later on. Before getting back into Tom’s jeep, you pulled your husband into a hug. Tom smiled and put his arms around his bride. You stayed in each other’s embrace for as long as you could, swaying gently as Tom hummed your favorite song. You were used to performing the most elaborate dance routines together, so this simple slow dance was nice. He was about to pull away when you hugged him tighter.

“Wait. Don’t let go.” You said and Tom put his arms back around you.

“I won’t.” He promised. “I won’t ever.”

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x yn #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #peter parker x reader #spiderman #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x skater!reader #scott moir #tessa virtue #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland angst

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

Text

A Christmas Bride || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: I mentioned a Christmas wedding..so here’s a Christmas wedding. Shoutout to everyone who helped with details like nicknames, the dress, and everything else and to those ladies who let me use their names for bridesmaids. See ‘tagged/037′ for inspiration post and first dance song.

Warnings: I honestly don’t think there’s anything here I need to warn you about.

Word Count: 6,914 (~250 of which is a reading attributed to its author as mentioned)

~~~~~~

Sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV your fiance was driving, you took in the city lights of Calgary as they slowly disappeared into the rearview mirror. It was three days before Christmas and the Avs had just defeated the Flames on the road. Cale’s parents had left you behind to wait for their son, declaring that they would see you at home soon. When Cale appeared from behind the locker room doors, he was all smiles. With his arms wrapped around you, he’d kissed you softly and then asked if you wanted to go for a drive with him.

“Well, you’re kinda my ride so I guess so…” You’d teased, leaning against Cale’s side as he took your hand and guided you to where the second car his parents had driven was parked. You had no idea where you were going, but you trusted that Cale did and just relaxed, his hand in yours over the center console as he drove, Christmas carols playing on the radio.

You’d been on the road for about an hour when you saw Cale glancing over at you.

“Hey sweetheart, do you trust me?” He asked. You made a face because of course you did, but you were confused as to why he was asking.

“You know I do…” You simply replied. It was only then that Cale released your hand for a moment, opening one of the many small compartments in the vehicle to pull out something which he dropped onto your lap.

“Put this on for me?” He requested and when you picked up the item you realized it was a blindfold.

“Cale?” You murmured, even more confused now as to what was going on.

“Just trust me and put it on okay?” He insisted. “I promise it’ll all make sense soon and that nothing is going to happen to you.” And because you trusted Cale with everything, you complied, pulling the blindfold over your eyes before leaning against the door again. Moments later Cale reached for your hand and you sat in darkness with him rubbing patterns over your palm just softly singing to the carols playing. About eight songs later you felt the vehicle stop and Cale squeezed your hand in his.

“Go ahead and unbuckle and sit up.” He instructed. “But don’t touch the blindfold. I promise we’re almost there.” He added. You followed his directions as the sound of his car door slammed shut and then a blast of cold air hit you as your door opened. “Alright, sweetheart...come here.” Cale breathed, offering a hand out to help you from the car and onto your feet. Two more car doors slammed before his hand was taking yours again.

“Alright. Just come with me. I promise I won’t let you trip. Just a short walk and then I swear you can take the blindfold off.” You were beyond confused and anxious, but the feeling of his hand was soothing as he indeed started guiding your steps. It was a little more than a short walk, but that was only a minor point and after three doors, an elevator ride, and just a few minutes, you were finally stopping, Cale’s hand falling to your hip.

“Can I take this off now?” You pleaded softly and Cale’s chuckle filled your ears before his fingers drifted up to pull it off of your face.

“Yes, but just look at me.” He teased, his features appearing across your vision in the dim space.

“Where are we...what the hell is going on Cale?” You inquired next and Cale ran his fingers across the back of his neck before handing you a wrapped box.

“Open this...it will explain everything,” Cale promised, his hands cupping your cheeks to pull you in for a kiss that you melted into, your brain swimming. “But I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Stealing one more kiss, Cale moved back through the door that was behind him, as you called his name trying to understand.

Left alone, you panicked and immediately reached for a light switch. When the lights turned on and you turned around you couldn’t help but gasp. In front of you, off to the left was a jacuzzi tub and a few more steps into the room revealed a king-size bed tucked behind a dividing wall to the right.

Running your fingers through your hair you made your way over to the bed and plopped down. Remembering the box in your other hand that Cale said would explain everything, you looked at it, quickly pulling off the envelope attached to the top. Inside was a letter and you felt yourself holding your breath as you started to read Cale’s familiar handwriting.

Y/N,

I’m pretty sure it was on our first date that I learned just how much you love Christmastime. And it wasn’t long after that before your friends and family were telling me about how you’ve always dreamed of a Christmas wedding. Watching you light up this time of year is one of my favorite things about you.

I know being with me isn’t always easy, I know what my career has caused you to give up, will cause you to give up in the future. Yet through it all, you’ve stayed right by my side. I can’t express to you how much that means to me.

When I proposed, I promised to make all of your dreams come true if you’d just let me make you my wife.

But since that day I’ve watched you struggle. I’ve seen the pressure of supporting me and taking care of our home weigh on you. I’ve seen the tears you cry when the media is critical of my play or when people who have no business in our personal life butt in on social media. And I’ve seen you struggle to pick a date, decide on a venue for our wedding. In order to make things easier on me, you’ve been trying to wrap your head around a summer wedding, even though we both know that’s not what you want.

So...without me rambling too much...I know you have questions. Likely, where am I and what the hell is going on?

Where are you? The Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel in Banff, Alberta.

What the hell is going on? Open the box now.

Tossing the wrapping paper to the floor, you opened the box, pulling out a cotton robe from the tissue paper. Turning it over, you held it up, the words ‘Mrs. Makar’ staring back at you in a forest green script. Under that, in a similar deep red script, was ‘12.23.20’, and suddenly swallowing was a lot harder. Picking the letter up again you continued reading, tears forming quickly and streaming down your cheeks.

I took note of tonight’s game against Calgary on the road from the moment the schedule was released. And it stayed in the back of my mind until that night at Gabe’s where Mel and Courtney grilled you about wedding planning and you came home and cried yourself to sleep.

Y/N...it absolutely killed me to know that planning our wedding, one of the happiest days of our lives, was making you so upset. If you’ll recall, the next morning I told you to take a break and that it would all work out.

That morning, I called my mom and your mom on the way to the rink and told them that I wanted to make this particular dream of yours come true. With both our families on board and a very limited date window I started making some calls and with a name drop or five, some luck, and a LOT of hard work, here we are.

I suppose I should briefly apologize for my slight manipulation of you with insisting you go dress shopping, come up with your half of the guest list, and taste cakes with me but I hope all of that will be quickly forgiven when you see the results of my efforts.

I love you Y/N and all I’ve ever wanted was to see you happy because from that first day on UMASS’s campus that’s all you’ve ever made me.

So relax. Everything is taken care of. You just sit back and enjoy.

Anxious and extremely excited,

Your soon-to-be husband

P.S. Text your mom when you pull yourself together so she can bring you your bag.

P.P.S. Shower tonight. Breakfast will be brought at 7:30 with your hair and makeup artists arriving around 8:15.

Cale was truly the absolute best guy on the planet and it all still felt completely surreal. Just yesterday you were stressing over how you were going to get through Christmas with everyone asking about wedding plans and now..now tomorrow you were actually getting married.

A quick text to your mom and she was there, wrapping her arms around you after setting your bag on the bed. You hadn’t expected to see her until Cale’s first road trip after the holidays when you had plans to fly home and have a belated Christmas with your family.

“This is really happening?” You found yourself questioning, still unable to shake the shock you were feeling.

“Yeah, baby girl.” Your mom assured you. “You found yourself a pretty incredible man who would literally give you the moon if you asked for it.” Once again you were blown away by the weight of Cale’s love and though your eyes still watered, your smile was quickly growing.

After your mom caught you up to date with a few more details, ones Cale’s letter hadn’t provided, she bid you goodnight and told you that she would be back for breakfast in the morning, urging you to try and get some sleep.

Keeping in mind Cale’s advice to shower tonight, you quickly but carefully ran through an extensive beauty routine in the shower. Since you were still too anxious to sleep, you only quickly dried your body before moving to the jacuzzi tub. Tucked into the warm water with jets soothing your muscles you texted Cale, unable to help yourself.

You’re insane and incredible and I love you so much. Also...I can’t wait for you to see the dress. xoxo Your Bride.

You weren’t expecting a response, so you set your phone aside and just tried to relax knowing that morning was already creeping up on you. Feeling your skin start to prune, you finally climbed out, dried off, and crawled into bed. Though your mind wouldn’t stop racing, you did eventually drift off.

___

The sound of your alarm going off pulled you from sleep and it took you a moment to remember where you were. Suddenly it hit you that you were getting married today and wave after wave of nerves crashed over you. It was an excited nervous but one that almost left you feeling dizzy all the same.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you threw on some sweats, just in time for a knock to sound at your door. Moving over to it, you saw that it was your mom and you let her in, hugging her again.

“Did you get any sleep?” She inquired a warm but nervous smile on her face as well.

“A little.” You replied. “My mind won’t stop racing though.” You admitted.

“You’re worried about all of the details…” Your mom mused. “I’m sure Cale’s note already told you this but relax and just enjoy your wedding day baby, Cale has everything under control and he didn’t forget anything. I have never seen a man so detail-oriented regarding his wedding before.” She laughed and it made you giggle as you fell even more in love with him.

Any further discussion of your nerves was interrupted by the door again and this time it was in fact breakfast. Within minutes of its arrival, your best friends and bridesmaids arrived and wrapped you up in so many hugs, their joy infectious. Catching up with them over breakfast made your heart flutter because it had been too long since you’d seen them.

“We need to find us men like Cale.” Your college roommate, Rachel, mused a wistful look in her eyes.

“Good luck with that. He’s kind of one of a kind.” You smiled. “But I mean I can introduce you to his teammates, I think you’d get along well with Andre.” You teased, sending her a wink.

Breakfast had included mimosas, which was working wonders to take the edge off of your anxiety, causing you to be your usual open and bubbly self. As you finished breakfast your bridesmaids disappeared to grab their own robes to change into as well as to grab their dresses. While they were gone you slipped into your robe as well, your mom already starting to tear up at that sight alone.

As your bridesmaids returned, dress bags in hand, the hairstylist and makeup artist arrived. They both got to work on your mom, and you turned to your bridesmaids a curious look on your face.

“So...I know I didn’t pick these dresses. Do I at least get to see them?” You asked. Each of your bridesmaids zipped open the dress bags revealing different style dresses in the same dark forest green color.

“Cale suggested the color to us and then told us to use our best judgment.” Your childhood best friend, Anne, explained. “We think he was right on point but what do you think?”

“I think I’m going to have some pretty hot bridesmaids to set up with my hubby’s teammates.” You joked. “I don’t know anything really about this wedding but I’m sure they’ll be perfect.” You added, taking a deep breath to calm the next wave of nerves.

For the next few hours, you bs’ed with your girls while each, in turn, got their hair and makeup done. At some point, a photographer and a videographer arrived popping in and out of the suite. Before long it was your turn to sit in the chair, and when a mirror was handed to you when they were done, you almost burst into tears at the woman staring back at you, hardly believing that it was yourself.

“Wow…” You whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

“Cale isn’t going to know what hit him.” Your best friend from your major, Moni, declared.

“Yeah...you look smoking hot Y/N.” Rachel agreed. It felt like everything was a blur as you finished eating a quick snack before watching your bridesmaids slip into their dresses. When your mother returned, Cale’s mom was with her, both dressed and ready to go.

“Oh, sweetheart....you look stunning.” Cale’s mom declared, pulling you into a hug. “He’s gonna lose it. He’s fully admitted he’s sure he’s going to cry.” She laughed.

“Should we get you dressed?” Your mom inquired and with the photographer and videographer on standby, they helped you into your dress, settling the straps onto your shoulders before zipping you in. It fit like a glove and your friends all gasped, having not seen it before.

“Y/N…” They murmured, each having tears form in their eyes.

“You aren’t allowed to cry or I’ll cry.” You chastised, feeling yourself get emotional. This was the day you’d been waiting your entire life for and so many different emotions were swirling through you. Taking a sip of water, you tried to calm your racing heart as you carefully sat on the edge of one of the chairs in the room. Fanning yourself, you saw Laura grab two small boxes, handing them to you with a smile before she took the seat across from you.

“Cale sent the top one, says it’s your something new and blue. The other is from me and it’s your something borrowed.” Laura explained. Your mom quickly came over with the necklace Cale had given you last Christmas, an eight-sided snowflake so that you would always have a piece of him, or at least his jersey number, with you.

“Cale suggested this as your something old.” She declared, fastening it around your neck. Opening the box Cale had sent, you couldn’t help but laugh. Inside was a blue and maroon colorado avalanche garter.

“Oh boy.” You breathed. “Yeah, I guess that works.” Your expression caused everyone else in the room to laugh as you shook your head, working the garter onto your leg. “If this is the only inclusion of the avs besides as guests, I suppose I should be happy.” You teased, dropping your dress back down to hide the garter. Finally, you took the box that Laura had brought and opened it to reveal a diamond tennis bracelet, worn with age.

“That was my mother’s, she gave it to me when Cale was born, and I plan to give it to you someday.” She expressed. “But I think you should borrow it for today because it just feels right.” Leaning over, you wrapped her in a hug as you thanked her.

“I hope you know how grateful I am for the man you birthed and raised.” You murmured, trying not to cry. “He is...he is everything I ever could have asked for and I know so much of that is because of you.”

“Oh honey, you’ve taken the man I raised and made him an even better man. I am so grateful to be able to call you my daughter.” This moment with your mother-in-law was so special and you had to take another sip of water to pull yourself back together. “Now I’m gonna go check on my son because I think it’s time for your dad to come see you. We’ll see you downstairs.” Her words were full of excitement as you hugged her and she squeezed your hands before leaving the room, taking a load full of things belonging to your bridesmaids with her.

Your grandmother made her way up to the room just before your dad and when she arrived she immediately started crying at how beautiful you look. By the time your dad knocked on the door, you were just trying to keep distracted so you wouldn’t start crying, telling stories about dates with Cale and how you knew he was the one almost right away. You hadn’t expected your dad to cry, but he did get a little emotional as he wrapped you in his arms. With all of these moments captured in photos and videos you knew you would certainly fully cry over them in the future.

As the clock ticked closer to the ceremony time, you felt more nerves roll over you in waves, slowly becoming overwhelming. Looking at your mom and dad you let out a shaky sob.

“I...I know Cale doesn’t want to see me before...but I...I need to at least hold his hand for a moment...please?” You requested, now noticing that your hands were shaking. You weren’t getting cold feet, that certainly wasn’t what you were feeling, it was all just so much emotion in such a short amount of time.

Nodding, your mom reached for her phone and stepped into the hall. After a minute she returned and motioned for you to follow her, your bare feet padding down the hall until you reached an alcove.

“Cale is on his way up.” She assured you, kissing your head before stepping away to give you some privacy. Nodding, you just focused your breathing until footsteps approached from the hall to your right.

“Hey, sunshine, what’s up...you’re not getting cold feet on me are you?” The sound of Cale’s voice was music to your ears and you reached a hand out around the corner.

“No...no cold feet.” You promised. “I just…” You started but paused feeling Cale’s hand lace in yours. “I...I needed this.”

“Mom says I’m going to lose it when I see you.” Cale breathed. “I’m so excited to finally marry you.” His words in combination with the feeling of his hand around yours, soon had you feeling like yourself again, some of the overwhelming emotions lessening.

“So I told Rachel I’d set her up with Burky.” You chatted, loving the sound of Cale’s laugh in reaction to your words.

“I’m sure he’ll have no complaints about that,” Cale replied. “You okay now?” He whispered. “Or do you need a hug because I can just close my eyes.” He offered.

“I will never turn down a hug from you.” You said smiling. “But I am better now…” You added.

“Come here then. Quick hug and then scurry along because we’ve got a wedding to get to.” His voice was happy and light as he pulled you around the corner and into his arms, his eyes closed. The hug was quick but settled all of your remaining nerves and when you pulled away you stretched to press a kiss to his rosy cheeks. As you scurried down the hall you noticed the red splotch on his face and called back.

“Take a rag to your cheek. I love you!”

Letting yourself back into your room, you noticed that it was basically cleaned out of everything from getting ready.

“Better?” Your mom asked though it was clearly visible on your face that you were.

Nodding you moved to slip your heels on, ready to get the show on the road. Now that you had pushed back all of the excess emotions, you were bouncing in excitement and you couldn’t be told fast enough that it was time to head downstairs. When you got there, you were handed a bouquet of red roses and greenery. From the hallway outside the venue, you could hear music playing and you hugged your mom one more time, wiping at her tears before handing her off to Gabe who was escorting her to her seat.

“He’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you Y/N.” Gabe winked. “You look incredibly beautiful.”

Cale’s mom was being escorted by Matt Calvert and once both mothers had been taken to their seats, it was time for your bridesmaids to make their way down the aisle. Left alone with just your dad you let out a deep breath.

“Are you ready for this?” He questioned and you immediately nodded your head.

“I’ve been ready since the moment I met him.” Wrapping your arm around your dad’s, you took one more steadying breath as the music changed. Then the doors opened again and for a split second your mind took in how beautiful the venue was before you turned and were facing a crowd of smiling faces, Cale all the way at the end. Pacing yourself, you walked toward him, his face the only thing you could really focus on. He was crying, just like he’d said he would, and you blinked back tears of your own. When your dad handed you off, you squeezed Cale’s hand, giggling softly when he murmured to the officiant that he needed a moment.

Once Cale had pulled himself together, you proceeded, his hand now holding yours more firmly as he stared at you with nothing but affection and love.

“Today we are gathered here to witness and bless the marriage of Y/N and Cale.” You were half-listening and couldn’t help but focus on Cale as he mouthed a ‘wow’ in your direction.

“Who has the honor to present Y/N to be married?” Your father answered that he and your mother do and hearing his voice you glanced over at him with a reassuring smile. Moni reached over to take your bouquet from you and with two hands free, you held both of Cale’s, smiling up at him.

“Now close friends and family tell me that this day was only a matter of time from the moment Y/N and Cale bumped into each other on the campus of the University of Massachusetts Amherst. I’m told that right away both secretly expressed that it was the best first date they’d ever been on and that they could see this relationship being one that lasts.” You could remember your first date like it was yesterday and you remembered even then having never felt like you just clicked with someone the way you did with Cale.

“Speaking with Cale I can see the amount of love and affection he holds for Y/N. I’m sure most of you are in the loop but Cale is the one that planned this entire thing in order to give Y/N the wedding she always dreamed of but was willing to give up to marry him. His teammates tell me the effort included a lot of time on the phone while on the road and even some missed team dinners.” Some chuckles went up in the crowd from the direction of Cale’s teammates and you smiled because you loved that rowdy bunch so much.

“And though I haven’t gotten the privilege to speak with Y/N...I can see now in the way she looks at him that all of that love and affection is returned. And while I’m sure that there’s more that could be said about the two people standing in front of me I’m pretty sure they’d both like me to just get on with things.” The whole space filled with laughter and you nodded your head like ‘yeah kinda’ as you continued to smile over at Cale.

“After speaking with Cale, I searched for a reading that seemed fitting of the relationship with Y/N that he described. In the end, I decided on “Blessing for a Marriage” by James Dillet Freeman.” Your officiant paused before launching into the reading.

“May your marriage bring you all the exquisite excitements a marriage should bring, and may life grant you also patience, tolerance, and understanding.

May you always need one another — not so much to fill your emptiness as to help you to know your fullness. A mountain needs a valley to be complete. The valley does not make the mountain less, but more.

And the valley is more a valley because it has a mountain towering over it. So let it be with you and you. May you need one another, but not out of weakness. May you want one another, but not out of lack.

May you entice one another, but not compel one another. May you embrace one another, but not out encircle one another. May you succeed in all-important ways with one another, and not fail in the little graces.

May you look for things to praise, often say, “I love you!” and take no notice of small faults. If you have quarrels that push you apart, may both of you hope to have good sense enough to take the first step back.

May you enter into the mystery that is the awareness of one another’s presence — no more physical than spiritual, warm and near when you are side by side, and warm and near when you are in separate rooms or even distant cities.

May you have happiness, and may you find it making one another happy. May you have love, and may you find it loving one another.”

By the end, the feeling of Cale’s fingers brushing patterns on your palm was all you could focus on. Lost in thought, you just watched him until he started speaking.

“I love you, Y/N(Full). You are my best friend.” Hearing the sound of his voice, you realized that he was repeating after your officiant one sentence at a time. “Today I give myself to you in marriage. I promise to encourage and inspire you, to laugh with you, and to comfort you in times of sorrow and struggle. I promise to love you in good times and in bad, when life seems easy and when it seems hard, when our love is simple, and when it is an effort. I promise to cherish you and to always hold you in the highest regard. These things I give to you today, and all the days of our life.” As he finished, he squeezed your hand and you let out a deep breath.

Repeating the same vows to Cale you laughed at using his full name ‘Cale Douglas Makar’ and then swallowed down the lump in your throat as you attempted not to cry as you continued. Once you’d shared your vows, your officiant asked for the rings and you watched as Cale’s brother handed them over.

This time, they started with you and you took Cale’s left hand into yours sliding on his wedding band.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” You stated confidently. Cale struggled just a bit to slide your ring on and you giggled as he spoke those six life-changing words as well.

“Well...we’ve made it through the vows, you’ve exchanged rings, so I suppose there’s just one thing left to do.” You officiant declared, causing Cale’s teammates and friends to start hooting and hollering. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Go ahead and kiss your bride.” Your officiant spoke over the cheers and as soon as he finished, Cale’s arms slipped around your waist and he leaned down to kiss you breathless.

“It is my honor to present to you, Mr. & Mrs. Cale Makar.” Taking your flowers back you walked back down the aisle with Cale, leaning against his chest as he kissed you once you were back in the hall.

“So this is what I could have seen earlier if I agreed to a first look huh?” He inquired, spinning you around so that he could take in all angles of the dress.

“Mmhmm.” You agreed, your arm wrapped around his as you smiled up at him contentedly. “But I’m kind of glad you didn’t.” You admitted.

“Me too.” He clarified. “But you’re so gorgeous.” He murmured, stealing one more kiss.

While your guests hit the cocktail hour, you, Cale, your immediate families and the wedding party headed to have photos taken. Your jaw ached from smiling, but every time Cale looked at you, you couldn’t help but feel your smile grow. You were his wife. You were going to get to spend the rest of your life with him.

Thankfully, as your stomach started to growl, the photographer announced that you were done with photos. You had to make a quick detour with Cale to sign the marriage certificate but after that, you returned to the same ballroom following your bridesmaids and groomsmen inside as once again all of your friends and family went nuts. You settled into your personal table with Cale and immediately reached for the glass of water, taking a long sip. As you waited for food to be brought out, you leaned into your husband’s side, your hand resting on his knee.

“So how did I do?” He whispered in your ear and for the first time you took a true look around the venue. There was a Christmas tree on either end of the room in front of the large windows and every balcony was strung with lit greenery. The tables were draped with white, red, or green cloth and the centerpieces were either red roses or poinsettias. It was absolutely beautiful and screamed Christmas.

“I’d say this is probably the equivalent of scoring a hattrick.” You replied, pressing a kiss to his jaw. Cale kissed your head in return and the two of you sat watching as your friends and family mingled as food started to come out of the kitchens. Sipping at your wine, you devoured the delicious food quickly, more hungry than you had realized. When your plate was empty you watched as Cale picked his up and used his fork to transfer his mashed potatoes to your plate.

“I had a heavy breakfast and lunch.” He insisted between bites. “Go ahead I know you’re still hungry.” Nodding, you quickly finished off the additional food your husband had provided you before snuggling back into his side to digest. Now that they had noticed you were finished eating, Cale’s teammates, particularly Gabe and EJ, got obnoxious with the glass taps trying to get you to kiss. You complied the first half dozen times but then just rolled your eyes and glared, enjoying just being tucked into your husband’s side.

After Cale’s brother gave a speech, your three bridesmaids tag-teamed one, and soon it was time for the first dance. Cale took your hand and led you onto the dance floor as Sam Smith’s version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas began to play.

“Now you’re just outdoing yourself.” You whispered pecking Cale’s lips as he swayed you back and forth. This...this was everything you had ever dreamed of right here. “And I don’t think I’ve mentioned it but you look very very sexy today.” Almost immediately, Cale’s cheeks took on a deep flush and you giggled running your hands down his chest. “I love how easily I affect you.” You grinned, squealing softly as he dipped you as the song came to a close.

“You’re a brat.” He mumbled, kissing you again gently before handing you off to your father for the father-daughter dance. Wrapped in your daddy’s arms he asked about you being happy and you couldn’t help it when your smile grew even wider.

“I’m so so happy.” You assured him. “You know Cale has always been good to me, good for me.” He nodded, agreeing that he knew that but wanting to make sure you knew that you were always his little girl. As you turned slightly, you saw Gabe dancing with Linnea by their table and immediately your brain dashed to the idea of Cale dancing with your daughter someday. You were both young and not ready for kids just yet but sometime in the semi-distant future, you were certain he’d be an amazing dad. Kissing your dad’s cheek as the song ended, you watched Cale drag his mom onto the floor for their dance. While he danced, you stopped to hug your mom before making your way over to Gabe, Mel, and Linnea.

Immediately Linnea reached for you and though Mel tried to discourage her, you eagerly reached for the toddler.

“She’s fine Mel.” You insisted. “Thanks for sticking around in town to be here today.” You were sure this was only the first of many times that that phrase would leave your mouth in the next few hours.

“Like we would have missed it. Cale has been talking about it non-stop for months. We all wanted to see what he was able to pull off.” Gabe smirked.

“Eh, just his bride’s dream wedding..no big deal.” You declared grinning.

“Plus now we can all chirp him for months for crying when he saw you,” Gabe added and immediately Mel smacked his head as the two of you in unison responded.

“No, you will not, Gabriel Landeskog.” Gabe threw his hands up in defense and chuckled softly. The DJ announced that this next dance would start with just the wedding party, then family could join in and by the end everyone else and you bounced Linnea on your hip, looking to where Cale was already working to get Z’s daughter to dance with him.

“I’m stealing your daughter, you can have her back at the end of this song.” You announced, cooing at Linnea who was enamored with you. Making your way onto the dance floor, you rocked Linnea around, making her laugh. Cale was doing the same with Sophie and when the two of you met up in the middle of the floor you smiled at each other, your shared look communicating the same thing. Someday.

The next few hours were a blur of mingling and dancing, though you certainly did more of the latter while Cale did the former. There were moments that stood out in your head though. First, you remembered how hard you laughed when you introduced Rachel to Andre and saw the expression on his face. You’d threatened him not to break her heart and while you weren’t certain it would be a long term thing, it certainly seemed like they would both at least have a good night tonight.

Second, you remembered cutting the cake and the rush of heat that ran through you as you licked the icing off of Cale’s fingers as he fed you. You’d both been nice, neither smashing it into the other’s face like Cale’s teammates had been egging you to do all night. Then he’d held you as you shared a full piece making your way from table to table to talk to people that you hadn’t yet. You weren’t so worried about your immediate families, your grandma mentioning that Cale’s family had invited everyone to stay through Christmas to do one big family thing. But teammates, friends, you wanted to make sure you stopped and told each of them how much you appreciated them being here given that it was so close to the holiday.

Finally, you remembered being pulled onto the dance floor by Matt Calvert. Not only had he and Courtney opened up their home to Cale, but they had also opened it to you, allowing you to spend time with him during a period where everything was changing so quickly that your relationship very easily could have cracked. In addition to that, Courtney had been a lifeline in helping you navigate your way through the life of a better half.

“You know...when Cale first mentioned you, I had my reservations,” Matt admitted. “But then I met you and I immediately knew it wouldn’t be long before we were standing here. The two of you complement each other so well. I truly don’t think he could have found a better match.” Hugging him, you expressed silently how much those words meant to you. As you continued to dance, you watched Cale with Courtney, his cheeks flushed from alcohol and the day as a whole. To their right, Moni was dancing with Matt Nieto and you giggled to yourself as your eyes went wide. Over by the tables, Josty, who had caught the garter, was chatting up Anne, who had caught your bouquet, making her laugh probably by saying something completely ridiculous because he’d had quite a few drinks today. And though deep down you already knew it, today had proven one thing. You belonged in Cale’s world just as much as he belonged in yours. The two of you just blended seamlessly and it was probably one of the most important reasons as to why it just worked.

Like your feet had tired hours ago, eventually, the rest of you started to tire as well and you tucked yourself into Cale’s side, leaning against him.

“Should we make our rounds and say goodnight?” Cale whispered softly in your ear and when you nodded, he started to guide you around the room. Soon, you had said goodnight to pretty much everyone who was left and then Cale grabbed your shoes, walking you up to your suite.

Popping the door open, Cale lifted you bridal style and carried you over the doorstep, setting you down gently on the bed.

“Today was perfect, but I’m exhausted.” You breathed, already feeling like you just wanted to melt into the mattress. As much as you wanted to consummate your marriage you just weren’t sure you had the energy. Cale paced around the room for a few minutes and when you finally pulled yourself to sit up, you saw that he had changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and was walking toward you with a makeup wipe in his hand.

“Let’s just get you ready for bed.” He proclaimed, gently wiping as much of the makeup off of you as he could so that washing your face would be easier. “We have all the time in the world.” He continued. “So let’s just get some sleep and then maybe we can take advantage of that jacuzzi in the morning since checkout isn’t until noon.”

“I like the sound of that.” You murmured, sitting still as Cale worked to take down your hair so that you could actually sleep on it. When all of that was done he pulled you to your feet, helped you out of your dress, and then into one of his t-shirts. Pulling him close you kissed him, your lips melding together lazily. “I love you. Thanks for everything today.” Your words were muffled against his lips but Cale groaned softly at them all the same.

“You deserve all of it. I can’t believe you’re my wife.” There was a glint in his eyes that you loved so much and you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Believe it buddy...because I fully expect you to make love to me after we get some sleep.”

“Tomorrow...for the rest of our lives...whatever you want is all yours.” He agreed.

“How about we start with some cuddles and go from there?” Tucked into Cale’s arms, you felt your body settle and start drifting off to sleep.

Though you’d received a lot of Christmas presents in life, you were 100% sure that being married to Cale was forever going to be the best Christmas gift you could have ever received.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #cavalanche #037

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Text

There’s Something About Mary

A day in the life of our crusty Mr. Goore

Mary POV chapter bc I want to and I can.

⬅️ Previous

*public masturbation, kinda*

Mary wakes up horny.

He must have been having a pleasant dream, because his cock is hard and throbbing where it rests heavy against his thigh. He shoves a hand down into his undone jeans to give his cock a squeeze—just for a moment of relief—and, as the touch wakes him up fully, he realizes he can hear the distinct sounds of sex from one of the rooms. A thump thump thump and a squeak squeak squeak, all punctuated with blatant moans.

Fuck it, he thinks, and he begins to jack it to the sex orchestra going on, not 10ft from where he lies on the couch. Once a place they sometimes took turns on, the couch has become Mary’s de facto room—a subtle punishment for his supposed defection. So, he has no qualms about masturbating in his room, and if any of the other guys have an issue with it, Mary has no problem making his display more public, just for spite.

He pauses only to spit in his hand when his dry palm begins to chafe. It doesn’t even matter when the noises from the other room cease (and later Mary will have to tease them about their staying power), Mary just scrolls through his mental Rolodex until he brings up the memory of his dick in between Suey’s tits, how they jiggled despite being held together, how shiny they became once covered in his jizz, and how she looked up at him as she contorted one to bring it up to her mouth to lap some off.

“Shit, shit,” he exclaims as the memory of her pink tongue lapping up his cum causes him to release. Some shoots up his bare chest, but most of it lands and pools in his belly button. Eyes still closed, his free hand shoots out and fumbles for the box of tissues on the table, encountering instead a stack of thin takeout napkins.

As he does his best to clean himself up with the napkins—whose integrity is suspect—he can hear the low rumble of male voices and a high, feminine giggle from the sex room. Just to be a jackass, he gets himself up so that he can have first dibs on the bathroom.

Making sure to lock the door behind him, Mary turns on the hot faucet, willing the water to warm up sooner than later. He takes the opportunity, while he waits, to piss in the toilet; it’s already open—toilet seat up—even though it’s supposed to put it down when they have guests. They’re out of TP again, so a roll of paper towels rests on the lid of the tank.

Once the water is warm enough, Mary uses a couple pieces from the roll to clean off the jizz drying and to give himself a brief wipe down. His face is still half crusty with makeup, and he’s tempted to just add to it, but he’s learned from hard experience how that can fuck up your face, so—even though it’s a goddamned pain—Mary washes his face. He even uses the harsh Dial hand soap, even though the acrid smell will get up into his nose for hours.

He thinks of the nice-smelling scrub Suey has and her drugstore face cream he sometimes rubs into his skin.

In the soap- and toothpaste-speckled mirror, he starts to apply his “Day Face” (as Suey calls it) from the communal box of makeup (his better stuff is in his backpack): a light dusting of white powder; some eyeliner all the way around; a dull, red lipstick; and black shadow on his cheekbones.

He’s just starting on his hair when there comes a pounding on the door

“Fucks’ sake. C’mon, Goore.”

Mary turns his head upside down in the sink basin so he can haphazardly splash some water into his hair.

“Fuck off, douchebag.”

He starts to work his fingers into his locks, coaxing the glue already in it to activate.

“She’s gotta pee, man.”

He fluffs his forelock in the mirror as his other hand searches for the blood tube in the box.

“We have a kitchen sink.”

A small voice tells him not to take his annoyance with his friends out on the girl, and he sighs.

“Stop being a di—”

The voice cuts off as Mary swings the door open. Brendan's angry face smooths into one of minor irritation. The girl—Lisa?—stands, thighs crushed together, in an oversized kitten t-shirt. She looks at Mary, wide-eyed; her gaze darts to his bare, wet chest before snapping back up.

“Lis,” he says, winking as he saunters out.

Her face crumples a little.

“Lizzy,” she says, and Mary’s stomach swoops a bit when he realizes he’s probably slept with her before.

He makes himself smile as she moves past him to the bathroom.

“That’s what I said: Liz.” He shoots her a finger gun at her as Brendan scowls at them both. When the door closes and Brendan is still glaring, Mary lets out a “What?”

“You sticking around for breakfast, man?”

Mary rolls his eyes. “I’m here, ain’t I?” He starts to paw through the plastic shelving drawers next to the couch for a shirt.

Brendan shrugs. “Thought your pussy-whipped ass might need to get back to that uptown princess of yours.”

He glares at Brendan. “Stop being dick.”

“She’s fucking slumming it, dude. I’m warning you.”

It’s not a new argument, so Mary just ignores him, instead trying to apply a bit of blood to the tip of his forelock using the heart compact Suey gave him.

Titus emerges from the shared room, yawning, in his terrible leopard print robe that’s way too short.

“Morning, asswipe,” he says to Mary as he walks by. “What’re we bitching about?”

Brendan says “uptown girl” as Mary says “nothing.”

Titus sighs.

“Jesus, Brendan. You gotta get over that. That’s Mary’s mistake to make.”

“You know what? Fuck this shit.” Mary starts getting his backpack in order.

“That’s right! Blow off another band meeting!” says Brendan, and Mary spins on his heel to stomp back.

He jabs a finger into his chest. “I’m here all the goddamned time, more than I am at her place. I come to every meeting you tell me about.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you about anything. You should just be here. You should be committed,” hisses Brendan.

“I’m going to make some toast,” says Titus as he swishes toward the kitchen.

Mary rifles through his plastic draws and slams a notebook and loose papers onto the table.

“There’s mine, dude. Lyrics. Composition. Where’s yours?”

Donnie and Jamie wander out of their room.

“Not this shit again. It’s too fucking early,” says Donnie.

Brendan vibrates. “What about funds, man? A social media presence? You think all that happens by magic?”

“So I’m supposed to write, and compose, and do the budget?” snarls Mary.

“Guys,” moans Jamie.

“And our Insta is shit, by the way.”

“Fuck. Can we not?” moans Donnie.

Mary again jabs a finger at Brendan. “Then tell him to can it. I’ve already been exiled to the couch. I don’t need him picking fights because he doesn’t like my girlfriend, who—by the way—has never fucking done anything wrong.”

“You haven’t been exil—” Jamie starts.

“We were supposed to fucking share those rooms,” Mary hisses as he gesticulates. “I pay the same amount of rent, and yet I come home one day to find all my stuff in a pile in the living room. I have to wait for you guys to stop playing video games because ‘this is shared space’ to fucking sleep.”

“We all agreed—”

“No. You guys agreed. I didn’t get shit to say about it. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not too fucking keen on being pleasant.”

They all stand there, glowering at each other until Donnie says, “I need to take a goddamned piss,” and finds the bathroom door locked. At his soft The fuck? the lock clicks, and Lizzy opens the door cautiously.

“I’m sorry. It just. Seemed like you guys were getting into it.”

Brendan sighs. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get your stuff.”

The fight isn’t a new one, and—with no resolution in sight—they all drop the subject so they can get on with the breakfast of eggs on toast Titus brings out and the subsequent band meeting. The Brick—a cheap, overworked laptop—is brought out so they can go over band business: the budget; the van maintenance and parking costs; the gig and practice schedule is outlined so that they can align their work shifts; new merch ideas are bandied about; and they talk about how to improve their digital sales.

Mary’s leg jiggles impatiently.

The meeting breaks nearly 5hrs later; Jamie goes back to sleep because he’s got the night shift at the Quik•Mart; Brendan heads out for his afternoon shift at Target; it’s Donnie’s day off, so he cues up Mario Kart; and Titus decides he’s going to go pound on the drums in the practice space they rent, since his dad pays his bills.

Mary has been saddled with stopping by the local record stores to see if any of their physical CDs have sold to prove he’s “committed,” even though he’s got the closing shift at Sixes & Sevens.

As he’s leaving the building, he encounters Brendan, who is leaning against the brick, smoking a cigarette. Mary’s fingers twitch.

“So you’re not coming back tonight, then.”

“We have band business?”

“No.”

“Then, no.”

Brendan lets out a puff of smoke.

“You think I’m being a dick, but that girl does not care about you. She’s a tourist. Us—the band. That’s what’s real, Mary.”

Mary knows he should keep walking, but even after counting to 10, he’s still pissed, so he spins on his heel.

“You don’t know anything about her or her goddamned life.”

“Neither do you.” He finishes the smoke, then tosses it to the pavement to grind under his combat boot. “We’ll be here when it all explodes in your face, Goore. But you’re going to have to rebuild a lot of bridges.”

And then he’s off down the sidewalk. Mary stands there, seething, waiting until Brendan disappears round the corner since he’s also headed in that direction.

He’s not really in the best of moods when he hits up the first store, but by the 4th, he’s back to his plucky repartee. The owner of his favorite shop intimates that a vinyl version of their LP might sell much better than their DIY CD, and Mary enthusiastically thanks the dude as if it’s the first time such a concept has been considered.

The whole route honestly doesn’t even really take that much time at all—maybe 2 hours—so he chances stopping by Suey’s. Worst case, he’ll take a nap; best case, she’ll be there to bitch at him.

Like everything else today, however, circumstances are just not on his side, and he opens the door to her tiny fucking apartment to find it empty. The mail is bad again, and he rifles through it, plucking out anything that’s obviously junk to toss and anything that looks like a bill to put on her counter. There’s only a bowl in the sink, so he leaves it.

He’s hoping that she comes home before he has to leave—maybe she’ll even give him a blow job—as he wraps himself up in the afghan that smells slightly of her.

She doesn’t.

His alarm wakes him up at 4:15pm for his shift at 6. Groggily, he stumbles to the fridge to see what there is to eat, and finds a pot crammed in haphazardly amongst the other food items. Mary’s not really sure what he’s looking at—Suey tends to just throw shit together when she can’t be bothered, but most of the time it’s edible.

It ends up being some sort of cheesy potato stew and actually isn’t that bad. He eats the whole thing out of the pot before scrubbing it and the lone bowl clean. He waits as long as he dares to watch her come clomping tiredly through her door, but he really does have to leave. He leaves a kiss on her mirror after he reapplies his lipstick. (He should probably redo his face but: eh.)

Work is work. It starts slow—with Mary taking down the chairs and wiping off everything with the disinfectant spray. Sometimes Mary finds this kind of Zen—a time to hum out chords and roll around lyrics in his head—but today he’s just tired. It gets a little better when Mickey and the other bartender show up to do citrus prep. It’s a weekday, so there’s only a moderate crowd, and Mickey leaves them to it so he can do business manager-type things in his office.

And then there are the girls. Most of the girls who come to Sixes & Sevens aren’t the type to be put off by Mary’s whole shtick—and there are obviously the ones who come here expressly to flirt with him—so he has no qualms turning on his charms. Mickey lets him do it because customers are customers, and if girls want to come and spend money on drinks while they purr at Mary, who is Mickey to stop them? Len or Mika don’t give a shit because tips are pooled.

Used to be Mary could have his pick of a warm body for the evening—some girl (or occasionally some guy if Mary deemed him beefy enough) who’d take him to her nice-smelling, clean apartment … who’d let him spend the night on her soft, downy pillows after he pounded her into next year, before kicking him out at dawn. But now he’s got a girlfriend—one who makes sure he eats and yells at him to wash his face—waiting for him in her stale apartment with her flat, polyester pillows, and Mary hopes he’s not fool enough to fuck that up.

Not that his dick has gotten the memo.

No matter how many times Mary tells that fucker that he’s not going to fuck any of these women, his dick still twitches in interest whenever plump lips are wrapped around straws or fingertips trail over his hand. Tonight is especially bad for some reason, and Mary has to stick close to the walls of the bar so that no one can see his semi. A girl in a furry, white shrug seems particularly on his dick, and he does his best to flirt just enough for a good tip, but not enough for a proposition.

When he gets his break, Mary takes it out back in the alley by the dumpster. The air is chill, but it feels good after the humidity of the bar. He was hoping maybe his dick would go down, but it’s like it’s trying to spite him. Leaning his head back on the wall, he can’t help but close his eyes and run his palm lightly over the outline. It’s a fool’s errand—it’s not like he can get off without it showing on his pants—but that doesn’t stop him from touching.

A voice clears, and Mary startles. He’s out here by the rancid garbage so he can be alone, so he wasn’t really expecting to find anyone else.

“I can help you with that,” says the girl with the white fur that may or may not be real. She’s standing across from him, and he can see that she’s in a dress so simple that it must be hella expensive. She’s holding an unlit cigarette.

Mary jerks his hand away from his crotch, shifting so that he can surreptitiously adjust his jeans.

“The fuck are you doing out back here?”

She shrugs. “Needed to get away from my bitches. I love them but: drama city. You got a light?”

He knows it’s a ruse, but he still fumbles out his Zippo because he’s a goddamned gentleman. She, shockingly, takes the opportunity to move in closer to his body as he holds out the flame … close enough to blow the smoke of the first drag in his face.

“So,” she says, eyes darting down to his semi. “You want me suck that?�� She gesticulates with her chin, posture nonchalant but eyes hungry.

His dick gives an answering throb, but he shrugs. “Nah. I got a girl.”

She looks at him, assessing, before half crossing her arms and taking another drag. Smoke pours out her nose.

“She’s not here.”

Mary doesn’t respond immediately, not knowing how to get out of this. She hasn’t said anything untrue. He’s horny, Suey’s not here, and she wants to suck his cock.

He reaches his hand up and taps his breast where he thinks his heart is.

“She’s here,” he says, and he’s glad Suey’s not present because hoo boy would she give him shit for that winner.

The girl just tilts her head at him, this time blowing smoke out the side of her mouth after she inhales. It occurs to Mary that he wants her cigarette more than his dick wants to be sucked. If she thinks this is some kind of elaborate game of hard to get, she’s sorely mistaken.

“You got a picture?”

“A … what?”

She gesticulates impatiently. “A picture. Of this girlfriend.”

Mary thinks, then pats around for his wallet, even though he only ever puts it in his back pocket. When she sees the wallet come out, she laughs.

“An actual picture? That’s old school.”

He shrugs as he rifles. “I’m on my break.” He doesn’t tell her that his ancient flip phone doesn’t take pictures. Well, not good ones.

The photo of Suey he has is relatively new—slipped in behind the old, worn one of his mum—but its edges are starting to soften. In the image, Suey stands, hip popped, as she gives him the finger with a snotty look on her face. She’s in one of her weird 90′s outfits—a micro mini and tied up band tee—and the cute pudge of her belly hangs over her waist band a little. Her hair is pushed back from her face because she’s just lifted up her sunglasses—there’s still a little mark on her nose where they were resting.

She hates this picture, but her attitude makes him smile.

“You gonna ogle it all night, Mary?”

Mary’s attention snaps back to the alley. He ignores the intimacy. Carefully, with a stern look on his face that he hopes conveys how much the photo is not to be fucked with, he hands the picture over.

White Fur looks at the picture for a long time. Then she looks up at him. She gives the image one more glance before handing it back to him.

“Yeah, ok,” she says as she crosses her arms again.

Mary tucks the photo back into his wallet.

“The fuck does that mean?” he scowls. He’s just about had it with people insulting Suey today, and some random-ass girl in a back alley is the last person he’d let get away with it, even if she is a fan.

She takes her last drag before flicking the stub in the direction of a dumpster.

“Dunno. You seem like the type to have some scene girl with more legs than brains hanging off your arm.”

Mary thinks that’s a little uncharitable: he’s always been an equal-opportunity lay.

“She seems legit though,” the girl continues. “Makes sense.”

“Uh. Thanks?”

“Yeah, no problem.” She heads for the door, but stops to smirk at him. “Looks like I helped after all.”

As she swings back inside, Mary looks down to realize his hard-on is gone.

Mickey doesn’t cut him early, but he doesn’t make him stay past closing either. Even so, it’s still after 3am when he gets to Suey’s. The bills are gone from the counter, but there are no new dishes in the sink. He opens the fridge to find a pizza box crumpled into the top, balanced precariously on the other items. Mary takes it out and inhales the cold pizza right from the box; he knows they’re all for him because Suey fucking hates pepperoni. (Though it doesn’t escape his notice that she’s put one piece of pineapple in the center to mess with him.)

He leaves the box by the trash (he’ll flatten it tomorrow), and then makes his way to her bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, lest he incur her wrath.

When he finally wiggles into her twin bed in his boxers, he’s bone tired. His dick still kinda wants some action, but Mary thinks he’d probably just fall asleep in the middle, and Suey really would bite his head off if he woke her up for no reason. He wishes she’d just sleep nude, but finding her in one of his well-worn shirts is the next best thing. He doesn’t mean to wake her up, but he can’t help himself from running his hands all over her—this girl who sees him and not his “image.”

“Mare?” she says in a quiet, sleepy voice.

He kisses her head.

“Go back to sleep, baby doll.”

She doesn’t speak again, but she squirms around until she’s sprawled across his chest. He’d prefer to have her caught up in a little spoon, but having her pressed into him—body sleep warm—is nothing to wave a stick at.

This is all he wanted, anyway.

Next ➡️

#mary goore #feral cats fic #gutter punk #mary pov #my writing #original post

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yekistraight · 3 years

Note

Hey, could you explain what being a feminist means? I’ve heard all these terms before, and there’s this huge stigma around it. So do you think there’s a way you could clarify at least what your beliefs are, and what you believe it to be? I’m simply trying to study stuff and see what it’s become or is. Thank you.

Sorry I wrote so much i just wanted to make it comprehensive:

General definition of feminist is someone who believes in the socio-economic equality of the sexes. In the beginning this was a straightforward ideology to follow. Women needed to be equal to men. It’s only fair, there’s no reason not to be. But sharing power is not something the ruling majority particularly enjoys so there’s been some bumps in the road. Decades and decades of bumps.

The feminists of the past started this push a long time ago with one message: “we want to be taken seriously, we are humans too and we need rights that benefit us and protect us from you[men]” and they were right. Sex based crimes against women were happening at an alarming rate. So much so that it had become part of some cultures and traditions, meaning it would be defended and men would be protected while women basically died, physically and socially. Women lived in fear and helplessness, being sold a dream of subservience promoted by religion and ego in exchange for protection from men. What about the women that still, despite the odds, wanted to choose a different path? Well, they were brave enough to step out of line and others followed. They exist throughout history, inspiring other women will their bravery and confidence, proving that it was possible to have the power and authority that men had. Now imagine giving every woman that access to power? They’d have everything right? Well feminism didn’t start like that (it was racially exclusive actually) but fortunately the ideologies spread out through cities, across oceans and into continents where women wanted, no, NEEDED such power; the power to change their destinies that had been set upon them by another mere human being.

So feminism is like a sisterhood, where we’re only related by a common goal to protect each other while trying to defeat our common enemy. Here’s where the simplistic ideology begins to mutate based on strategy and cultural progression.

Feminism is a sisterhood, but not a monolith. There’s been different waves (eras) of feminism where each sisterhood used different tactics to achieve their goals for equality. Its like making a new checklist after the old one gets checked off. However there’s been one item that still needs a lot of work before ticking off and that’s dismantling gender roles. Gender roles are the root cause of every.single.thing. Toxic masculinity, performative femininity. Gender roles were created to control humans and keep them in their place. For a feminist to push her way into male dominated spaces, she must first acknowledge that gender roles have been constructed to work against her and break through it. So take note, everything is the way it is because of gender roles.

In this era, the sisterhood has been split into two major groups, two warring tribes if you will: libfems and radfems.

Liberal Feminists accept everyone. They use the tactic of assimilation, where they water down feminist ideologies to make it inclusive for everyone. They follow the lead of oppressed minorities who reclaimed slurs and instead reclaim methods tused to oppress women that past waves of feminists fought to dismantle. Remember what I said about gender roles? These women are bringing it back and think they’re reclaiming it. How do you reclaim something that hasn’t been dismantled yet?The only power they’re concerned with is the feeling of superiority that comes from thinking bowing down to the patriarchy is their idea. Their feminism tackles issues like rape, victim blaming and misogyny, things that affect them personally, while taking on the burden of other marginalised groups as their own, pushing their own goals to the backseat while feeling a self-righteous high. Basically, they’re activists who have lost the plot but would keep pushing blindly than admit it. The second group was born from libfems that wanted more than a feel good pat on the back from the patriarchy for not being too interfering.

Radical feminists are still following the original objective of their predecessors. They still have their eyes open to sex-based oppression and are aware there’s still a lot of work to be done. They don’t put the opposite sex’s needs above their own or let other group’s ideologies influence theirs and because of this, other groups as well as libfems have dubbed them as enemies to progress. Ironic isn’t it? The group that still fights for sexual equality has been silenced by none other than their own. Of course hatred for this group of feminists didn’t come out of nowhere. Radfems and their female-only values are presumed to hurt trans women, as trans women are biologically male and don’t have the same sex based experiences as biological women. Trans activists took these as transphobic fighting words and ostracised radfems, silencing them and their ideologies, claiming that everything they fought for was an attack against the trans community. Conservative americans also share some radfem values, basically the one on keeping the movement focused on female only issues, and because the right is notoriously bigoted (ironic because conservatives are the ones who uphold the gender roles feminists fight against so a conservative feminist is paradoxical) this is enough to tell people that radfems can’t be trusted. That they’re all racist, transphobic white supremacists. Because all groups that share similar ideologies are bad. The public, not wanting to be on the Unpopular Opinion side of history, shifted away and further pushed radfems into the background while libfems and their blind acceptance values were hailed as the patron saints of feminism.

So what feminism was and what it is now are vastly different. It started as a movement in different countries with different goals, then it graduated and took on more serious topics. It was like a game where every level gets tougher to prepare you for that last boss, the one who holds all the power you need to physically change your reality.

Today in the year 2021, young girls are being told that it’s feminist to enjoy selling their bodies for money. That it’s the same as working in a mine (a common comparative statement). That it’s feminist to look as womanly as the gender roles men created dictate. That it’s feminist to watch porn and be happy your romantic partner watches it to; this means you’re sexually liberated. Grown women go to Tiktok full of minors in the style of pimps to show off stacks of money they’ve made from pleasing men. They say “i did it because i wanted to and so should you”. Minors are all over twitter trying to lure men with financial dominatrix tags. They can’t wait till they become legal to start selling their nude bodies to men. They were told it would make them feel powerful. People who are skeptical are shamed into silence, because the popular crowd is always in control and no one wants to be the odd one out.

Now compare that to women who spend time researching horrifying news of sexual violence still happening today. Women still having to sell themselves to survive in 2021 is a clear indicator that we’re still not taken seriously. Sex buying, pimping and displaying women as commodities is the reason little girls are being stolen off the streets and shipped off to a disgusting dreg who think he’s owed sexual satisfaction.

Radfems want to end child sex trafficking, sex slavery, wedding night virginity checks, honour killings, femicide, sewing up little girls vaginas to avoid them exploring their sexuality before their wedding night and bring attention to way more hardcore shit being run by top dogs who are cooperating with the old powers that influence the governments.

Whose side do you think the media will be on? Whose side is worth not risking ruffling feathers?

Feminism has become many things now. You can choose the one that reminds you of the cruelty of man or the one that creates a comfortable fantasy of false empowerment while women’s violence continues. Both get stigmatised anyway.

If it wasn’t obvious already, I’m a radical feminist.

I’m an autistic radfem living in a backwards country where the lgbt community can’t thrive so there’s no pride parades, no trans movement, nothing that can be publicised anyway. I can’t create a fantasy where everything works because nothing works. Women are dying around me everyday for being female, my best friend is trapped with an abusive father who hates her for being a female firstborn (something babies get killed for), I’m not worthy of basic respect without a husband, a poor woman from a muslim state gets death threats from her fellow muslims for wearing a backless top while a rich married one gets praised and women can’t apply for anything important without a man’s permission.

Now why on earth would i want to pamper the gender that made and uphold those laws? The battle here is still greatly a battle of the sexes. Despite this stale level of progress, our movement, like many others have allies. Male allies are great, allies are great, we need them to push buttons yes but also remember they can never fully understand what we feel. All they can do is try their best to help and in return we give them acknowledgement and support; so no we’re not supposed to be misandrists or transphobes. We just hate anyone who uplifts what we and our ancestors have been fighting to destroy.

That’s all

#radfems do interact #radical feminism #feminism #terf

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