#I’ve never watched burner in my entire life
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azure1234 · 3 months ago
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My objectober art I did (day 1-3)
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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 1 year ago
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The Things We Do for Love- Part 1
Hero watched the league and the agents put the finishing touches on the superweapon for tomorrow. They sighed, standing up from their spot on the edge of the rooftop. The sound of footsteps behind them made them turn. They saw their lover standing there, a worried expression on their face.
“Is it true?” Villain asked.
Hero looked at Villain and smiled sadly.
“Yeah…it’s true,” they said.
Villain’s expression darkened. They closed the distance between them and held Hero tight.
“I won’t let you do this,” they said, squeezing.
“It’s not up to you, I’ve made my choice,” Hero countered.
“What choice? To die? To willingly go in that thing like a lamb for slaughter? What kind of choice is that?”
Hero pulled away to look in Villain’s eyes.
“It’s the only way,” Hero said.
“No.” Villain shook their head, “there’s always another way, isn’t that what you heroes are always saying?”
Hero laughed ruefully.
“Not this time, Villain…”
“I don’t accept that,” Villain said, “don’t do this. There’s still time, we’ll think of something-”
“Supervillain will have control of the entire continent in two days,” Hero reminded them, “it’s tomorrow morning or never.”
“Hero, please,” Villain begged, “I love you, doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Of course it does,” Hero said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you… I guess the rest of my life is just shorter than we expected.”
A stray tear slid down Hero’s cheek. Villain brushed it away with the pad of their thumb.
“Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?”
Hero shook their head.
“I have to do this,” they said, “I’m sorry.”
Villain nodded, their expression unreadable. For several moments, the pair just stood there in each other’s arms, neither of them wanting to break the silence. Finally, Hero spoke up.
“I’m gonna head to my room,” they said, “…will you join me?”
Villain nodded.
“You go ahead,” they said, “I…I just need a minute.”
Hero nodded back. They left Villain alone on the rooftop. Villain waited until they were sure Hero was gone, then they pulled out a burner phone they hoped they would never have to use. They pressed the call button over the only contact in the phone. Immediately, the contact picked up.
“Supervillain,” Villain said, “I have a proposition for you.”
Part 2
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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog
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thementalshawty · 1 year ago
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My New Beginning (My way out)
(Mentions of disabilities, mental, emotional, physical abuse, S*x abuse, bullying, self harm, suicidal ideation, Domestic violence, be wary before reading).
So where to begin……. This is about familial abuse, so this has been something happening my whole life!!! My “mother” is a narcissist. She bullied me and my sister our whole lives, I am the third of 5 kids, she would pit us against each other and watch us fight to laugh and make fun, most of my insecurities stem from her clowning me in front of my brothers, funny enough she is NEVER ALONE, my father he abused us including her but he left and I thought we were better off for it, I wasn’t wrong but little did I know the monsters she’d allow into our lives after, I was getting molested by older brother and my mothers boyfriend before I even got to elementary school, my brother started when I was insanely young, and I still protected him as I didn’t know what tf was happening, her boyfriend started when I was in 4th grade, he wasn’t a drunk or anything just a pedophile, she knew he was because he got caught cheating on her with teenage girls and yet she still kept him around for a decade so wherever we moved he was there and I started to become angry, rage grew inside my soul like a fire that had no intention of burning out, on top of that he was abusive hitting and bruising me and my siblings who all have disabilities, you know my sister as she’s a tarot reader on here so I’m not going into specifics about them, but she would sit and watch and do nothing, she would hide food with him, have us stand in the corner for hours on end while they are food in front of our faces “mmmm that’s good”. She even forced to drink her breast milk in front of him, she despised us having friends, soo when I would have a friend she wouldn’t let me see them or go out or we would move, I’ve never stayed more than 2-3 years in any place my whole entire fuccin life! I don’t know anything but toxicity when it came to relationships, I tried to kill myself multiple times but they failed so I decided to be a burner, I just burned myself, the fire it was the rage inside me felt outside, I decided to tell my mother about the molester from her boyfriend when I was 15, because I told someone in school he told me I had to tell her or he would so I wrote her a letter, he had a gun in the house and put it to his head and said he was going to kill himself (gaslighting), she kicked him out for a day, brought him back then told me that I had to share her with him, so at 15 and with her knowledge of him molesting me, we all moved to California, we drove there, and that was awful, we all fought and he screams how he didn’t care about what he did to me and he was laughing in front of her, i ended up just sweeping that under the rug because i went to focus on my career I had acting classes so my mind was focused but I met a guy from school and he automatically hated him (the boyfriend) he told my mother and automatically I was told to stay away from him, I didn’t I had got arrested the year before so I had community service and he was helping me with that, I told him what happened I thought we were meant to be but he cheated on me with his sister and I found myself in her another Jerry springer bind but I found that out months after we broke up, but he stood up for me and he was the only one on the outside that actually came and defended my honor as sick as he is I will give him credit for that. A year later we’re moving bacc to NYC, before we did though, they got Into a fight (my mother and the boyfriend), pretending to break up, he went to the gas station filled a gas canister wit gas came back to the front door and poured gasoline on himself, obviously not lighting himself on fire because it was an act, he went to jail a week or two later she invited him back into her life, I already knew that it was going to happen because the shit was predictable at that point, Skipping ahead to 17, we moved back to NYC, we came separately, I came on a plane with my mother and the rest of my siblings drove back with him, because obviously she trusted him with children why wouldn’t she? She already knew what he was capable of, she didn’t care 🤷🏽‍♀️, when we got back to NyC she
Promises me that he’s not coming back into our lives that it’s over this time, I told her he’s going to gaslight her she says not gonna work, fast forward to when they all made it to the apartment, she approached me with the sob story I said he would come in with so she said she is letting him stay, I was going to just walk away, but my sister told me that she fought with him on the drive here, she stood up for me, he yelled at my older brothers and her that he did What he did to me cos he truly wanted to and he’s unapologetic for it, the flame it was uncontrollable and I blacked out I went into the room and I kicked him out myself. He yelled bullshit but he left, she hated me for that, so she started to sneak him in secretly then they started hiding food again, leaving us to literally shake, starve and feel sick, we learned how to improvise with what little we had. I was going to school so I didn’t care, speaking of school I was supposed to be on my last year of school, and I couldn’t graduate because my principal explained because I moved so much my credits were all over the place, so she told me I had to repeat a year that was devasting to me because in California I only had a few credits before I could graduate, I got two jobs because I just wanted to save up money to leave, she told my grandma lies oh she has a whole bunch of recruits that she tells constant lies too about us and what we do never the truth because they already feel she’s sick but they do nothing about it, family tho right? My grandma called me and so again we told her the truth and she helped us kick him out for good, (so that’s the end of boyfriend 1…. For now) I was finally 18!! So again I have no friendships nothing ever stuck, but I had two jobs and I was saving up for an apartment, I shouldn’t have done this but I was so proud of myself! I told her (my mother) that I was going to move out, get my own apartment and live on my own, she didn’t like that, she was saying that it was disloyal and what was she going to do without me and she needed help because most of my siblings have a disability, so I stayed, I couldn’t be disloyal when she needed me, that was a big mistake. A year later we are moving BACC to California because she has found A NEW BOYFRIEND, some guy she met over the phone, guess who helped her move back to California though (boyfriend #1), my brother who molested me left to go into the army, don’t worry he’s not in it any longer dishonorable discharge (it was fitting). So anyways the new boyfriend was some white guy who I felt meant no harm the fuccin dude was quiet and softspoken so I paid it no mind, but I was wrong, he was a drunk, not only was a he a drunk, he was a RACIST DRUNK! Did she care???? NOOOOOOO! Everytime I tried to leave she stopped me, til we fought then she would say to leave knowing I had nowhere to go, if I had a friend to go too she would hate that friend, funny thing is most friends that want to take me away from this be friends she introduced me too, she wanted to be friends with them but they wanted to be my friend yes they are younger people, I don’t have those friends anymore because they were very similar to her go figure right ? I thought I should call the cops, call for help, but everyone I reached out too did nothing INCLUDING COPS! So I felt backed into a corner, well I had my sister my little sister my rock, funny fun fact though, her new boyfriend ALSO LIKES LITTLE GIRLS oh and BOYS! He got arrested and she stood up for him, while he was doing that in her home, she would run away and leave us all my siblings in the house with him drunk calling us the N word, kicking doors down and causing mess, I couldn’t leave my siblings who couldn’t understand what was happening behind all I knew is that they were scared and their mother wasn’t there all she did was make excuses for him she told me I should kill myself, that I was a cunt that didn’t deserve her name, ( I don’t have it, I have my dads last name), that I was going to be nothing more than a whore, by this time………………
She knows about what my brother did to me I didn’t mention that confession because she just skipped right over it. She literally didn’t care and she told me to my face she believed he was only playing with me and I am confusing it all and that I know nothing about it because it happened to her and she the only one who knows pain and my pain doesn’t matter she tried to assault me and again tried to tell family but she already took the narrative so they weren’t trying to hear me out or help, in august of this year, me and my sister left, we went to stay in a motel for a week or two, with the help of my booking agent we didn’t have enough money to stay and the homeless shelters were all full and we’re not answering back, so we had no choice but to go back, we are back and nothing even a week later back to the drunk racist, not eating, starving routine, I wanted to die and I felt like a failure! I couldn’t even get out of bed I felt like I deserved this I got my sister out to end up right back 2 WEEKS LATER?!?!! I fuccin hated myself! He was drunk and again causing ruckus, she came back a morning later and was telling him to leave, he was going to hit her, my brother (diagnosed with MR) was out there with my younger brother (autism) and they were scared and standing up for her and the boyfriend was in their faces what was I supposed to do???? Me and my sister tried to help and she tried to tell us to leave for helping her!!!!! Me and my sister decided to just call the police, they started to fight, and he tried to kill her, the police got him out, and they told her that she was lucky to have her kids here, we cleaned up her room after he broke her whole house apart, I mean EVERYTHING IS TORN APART RN!!!! she decided that she was going to move down to Texas with the molesting brother because he has kids, (oh yeah other fun fact she kept forcing me to have kids she even wanted me to give her my eggs so she can have kids with both of those boyfriends she approached me TWICE ABOUT IT, one she wanted my eggs and the other she wanted me to be pregnant for her!) So now my brother has kids she was like saying she knows I’ll never have kids and I’ll be forever alone, that no one will ever love me, anyways skipping to now my birthday came and left I’m 27 now! The housing program that me and my sister signed up for began to pend and we found a place! We didn’t tell her we found a place and that we were in a program we didn’t even tell her that we went down the city. We ended up getting a random woman come into the house and serve us she was evicting us (my mother) even on the eviction notice it says no fault just cause, she didn’t even tell me, so we have 60 days to leave and vacate her premises! Funny enough yesterday my sister got her APPROVAL NOTICE!!! Mine is still pending but I know that I’m getting approved and if all goes well we will be in our transitional home on SATURDAY! We finally did it, dug our way out, I didn’t think that I could and that I would, I would’ve been opened up to someone if I didn’t believe that it was against the family or that no one would love me like she did, she painted the world as such a unloving place and that this toxicity was normal and for the longest I believed it, but I am waking up now! And I am looking forward to beginning my life AWAY FROM HER! Just me and my rock @silvershiningtarot I AM NOT ASHAMED OF MY STORY, I’m only ashamed I kept quiet for so long, I allowed them to get away with everything and they took control of the narrative but I’m taking my power back! This is the first chapter of my success story! I’m not looking for claps or sympathy or for yky to actually care or anything I just wanted to put my story out there because this shit shouldn’t be in the dark anymore, mothers can be demons, family can be a dark and scary word for people and they’re not family, only relation! And I wanted to make that clear! RELATION DOESN’T MEAN FAMILY
I feel more familial love from you guys on here than I ever did anywhere! My music gave me hope and tarot gave me community
You deserve to know your reader through and through!
Thank you!!! For listening and taking the time for hearing this sad ass story, I hope I didn’t drag your day down! 💋
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shoyoackerman · 9 months ago
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I’ve watched the most life-changing anime ever. Trigun Stampede the fucking amazing show you are. It took me forever to finally actually sit down and watch it. I’d seen enough edits during the time it was being r released and whilst it looked hella interesting I just never got around to it. And placed it on the back burner. But last night decided to get that free trial on Crunchyroll and watch that shit.
Best fucking hours of my entire life. I genuinely cannot fathom nor put into words how this show made me feel. Like it was just absolutely amazing in every way and form. The music? The soundtrack had me like salivating at the mouth. I’m not even lying when I say that soundtracks are probably the second most important thing to me in films and shows. The composer did absolutely fucking top tier shit my dude.
But like all honesty, not a lot of anime’s impact me. Like they definitely leave lasting impressions. Especially if I really, really love it. But this show just sunk its claws into me and brought me in with them. Everything about it was like an art. So beautiful. And the relationship ship Vash has with humans, how he treats them. The good and bad. How willing he is to protect them even when they’ve shown nothing but contempt towards him. Or tired to kill him even after he’s saved them.
AND GOD THE COMPLEX REALTIONSHIP BETWEEN VASH AND NAI 😭 so badly i can understand where Nai is coming from. I really do, I can understand why’d he want to save the plants and say fuck you to the humans. Because i get it. But I also understand Vash, and I can understand the morality he has. Between the love for humans and the love for his own brother. God the last episode was just really the peak of it all.
I’m so mad it took me this long to watch the show. But now i have, i can’t think of anything else. It’s so good I want to watch it all over again. Which I probably will because fucking beautiful shit. And i know theirs an original trigun, which im sure I’ll get to watching. But Trigun Stampede the fucking art you are.
EVERYTHING ABOUT IT WAS FUCKING TOP-TEIR. So bye whilst i hyperfixate on this show for the rest of my life <3
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grimmcheems · 10 months ago
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Rest In Peace Toriyama 🕊️💫🐉
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DragonBall has always had a place in my heart for the way it was ever-present in my childhood. I grew up loathing weekend mornings because my brother would always drag me out of bed to watch it with him. I suppose that’s why it’s extra special for me, it was a simpler time when me and my brother could just sit and watch what came next in the current arc. The days always felt warmer then, but now I’m grown.
I’m glad Toriyama made this series and ignited something in me, though his passing was harsh and unimaginable for most of us, I hope he has found peace in knowing how many people he’s inspired to be better, and the many that he will continue to inspire. I wish his family healing and condolences for their sudden loss.
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.^An extra illustrating what those Saturday mornings felt like. Dragon Soul was my alarm clock for the better part of my childhood. (It’s also my fav op)
I remember we even had a vhs tape of two specific episodes in which the bunny boss ended up on the moon. I always had bulma’s personality embedded into my head whenever I thought of her in that bunny suit.
I never appreciated that time then as much as I do now. Maybe it’s Goku’s loving nature and fatherly care that left an imprint on me and kept me from forgetting him, or maybe it was the way my brother was obsessed with the series, either way he was somehow always in the back burner of my mind. I even remember having to play with my brother when he got Budokai Tenkaichi 3 for his PlayStation. He even bugged me to wake up when Super came out (though we had already graduated and i would be resting on my days off from work, he was also only visiting for the month) and tried to get me to watch it with him, but Super never really had the same appeal to me as the og series.
Perhaps the connection it has to my brother is what draws me to it time and time again, I feel as though I can’t understand him as well anymore after we’ve graduated and he’s moved on with his life and out of the house. I never thought this random shounen series my brother forced me to watch every Saturday morning of our childhood would have the effect it has on me now. It was last year that I decided to rewatch the entire series since I figured I didn’t actually know what was ever going on, I was just always intrigued by the action and the characters. Surprisingly my child brain remembered the arcs pretty well and I could just have it playing the background and know what was going on for the most part.
Did I mention that my brother also collected the dvd series? Lmao. I was so hype when the Broly Movie came out and when we watched it it felt like I regained that connection to my brother momentarily.
It also inspired me to draw when I was in elementary school, though I thought of it as something I could show off rather than take it seriously like I do now. I never thought I’d draw again after middle school until I got to high school and got back into it. It wasn’t until last year that I first drew something dragon ball related since elementary school, and it felt so surreal to look at how far I’ve come in my art journey.
It was never intentional for me to start drawing dragonball, it was just stuck in the back of my head and it wouldn’t leave me alone until I brought my ideas to life by sketching them out. I literally have two drafts DB related as I’m typing this.😅 oddly enough there’s many things I think about when I think about dragon ball, but they are too many to list. There’s just so much I love about it and so many characters I love. The thoughts never leave me alone when I come up with an idea or headcanon for them and it’s actually so hard for me to try and forget them that I always give in and do something with the idea. It will always be a part of me.
I wasn’t planning on making a painting of Goku ever, yet here I am. I don’t really paint either, which makes the time it took me to make this that much more surprising. I wanted to portray an ease in his expression, something peaceful. I hope it comes across that way, he somehow looks like he’s sleeping and it’s funny because I don’t think I’ve ever really seen Goku relax like this at any point.
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andcenterfolds · 11 months ago
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the cast could empathize of course but again if it’s true and they do have to distance themselves for pr manager reasons then yeah what else can they do. And if it’s fucked noah up in a serious level on set and his parents aren’t even there, If I were Noah’s family I would sue the living hell out of the duffers for creating a toxic work environment and treating the kid like trash. like you said they watched him grow up noah spent half of his entire life on that set he got there when he was 10 can you imagine that.
this is why I never hated on the kid I know when this stuff happens it could easily turn disgusting, and the “criticism” would be straight bullying as a tactic. That’s not how you go about things. and being antisemitic homophobic doesn’t help. if anything noah needs a guiding hand and he needs to also be apologized 2 by those freaks who were complicit in the death threats and exposing his private information *ie talking to his past fling whose garbage btw* and the continuous harrasment.
I should’ve properly worded my post, I don’t think the Duffers will impose some rules to stop the cast from interacting with him, although I think there’s a bit of truth that he might be seeing a therapist on set + the cast needs to be more careful with what they post online to protect Noah, which I think the Duffers are also doing because now we haven’t seen Will when he’s the central character of the season.
I completely agree with what you said, that’s why I can’t believe that his team have let some of the things slide especially when his contact number was leaked on Twitter. I also read his dorm number and home address were posted online. I’ve seen they exposed his numerous burner accounts when all the tweets seem to be harmless (still, he deserves privacy like everyone else). Something needs to be done because this isn’t the usual celebrity hate train.
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taterswithranch · 2 years ago
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Breakfast Gone Wrong
Another Jasmine and Dexter oneshot that I’ve had sitting in my docs for a long time hdjsksk
I actually made a doodle for this awhile back hdjsk
Jasmine was usually the first one awake. The owl lady didn’t need as much sleep as the average person. She was always up way before Dexter was, since three in the morning when he asked her.
So it was rather unusual when Dexter woke up at seven and saw that she wasn’t in the kitchen making breakfast like she usually was. He looked around the house, checking the pantry, the bathroom, and the living room. Stella, Jasmine’s pit bull, watched him curiously as he did so.
No Jasmine anywhere.
“Is… is she not here?” he asked Stella. The dog only tilted her head at him. A tangle of nerves settled in the pit of his stomach. Where is she?
He ran up and down the hall, his long tail swishing nervously. Jasmine was always up before he was. Even if she “slept in,” she would still be up a good two to three hours before Dexter.
He bit his lip as he made another round down the hall. Except, this time he noticed the door to Jasmine’s bedroom was open a small crack. He carefully squeezed his head through. Relief flushed through his system as he saw the bulk of Jasmine’s form gently rise and fall with every breath in the darkness of the room.
Okay. She’s still asleep.
She’s… still asleep?
His eyes darted over to the desk in the corner of her room. He could vaguely make out stacks of papers scattered across the surface. Dexter carefully shut the door and returned to the living room.
“Must’ve been a rough night,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot on the floor. “Guess I could make cereal?”
He spared a glance towards the kitchen. Living on the streets his entire life left no opportunity for Dexter to use any kitchen appliances, let alone see many of them. He knew the obvious things like a microwave and frying pan, but other than those he could only name a few of the items in Jasmine’s kitchen: big spoon, bigger spoon, teeny tiny spoon, really flat spoon, and clippy things. But he’d seen Jasmine use all of them so many times with such ease. How hard could it be? Jasmine would be so proud of him. And now he was really craving bacon and eggs…
Dexter grinned to himself and rolled up his sleeves. “Yeah, how hard can it be?”
———
“So, uh, how much does she put in here?” Dexter asked Stella who was standing in the doorway. He had retrieved a package of bacon strips, four eggs, and two pieces of bread, racking his memory on how to prepare them. Stella blinked back at him, but otherwise showed no sign of an answer. He sighed, eyeing the bottle of oil in his padded hand. He had set up a pan on one of the burners.
Dexter recalled Jasmine holding the same bottle and drizzling it over the pan. “Ah, screw it,” he muttered, coating the entire base of the pan in a hearty layer of cooking oil. “The more the better, right?” he said enthusiastically. Stella whined and pawed at her nose. Dexter rolled his white eyes. “What do you know? I don’t ever see you in the kitchen whenever she’s cooking.” Stella huffed at him and returned to her bed in the living room. Dexter gawked at the dog’s audacity before returning his attention to the stove. He turned the dial between the letters “M” and “H.” Whatever those mean, he thought to himself.
He set the bottle down and took out two slices of bacon, nestling them next to each other on the pan. They immediately started to hiss. Dexter flinched back, his eyes wide. Why did it sound so… aggressive?
Doesn’t matter. It’s all good, right? Dexter nodded triumphantly and took the two pieces of bread. Surely he could use a toaster. He’s never actually touched the thing, but Jasmine made it look easy enough. Just stick the bread in the thing and- and… There was a knob near the base of the toaster. “What does that do?” he mumbled. He twisted it a few times to the left, then back to the right some more. Nothing seemed to happen. He shrugged and fitted the bread in each of the two slits, pressing down on the handle on the front. From inside, he could see the metal wiring inside turn a vibrant red. He grinned.
“Ha! See! I can use a toaster!” he declared, confidently turning in Stella’s general direction. He looked back at the bacon and saw the oil bubbling around the strips. Jasmine once told him that bacon didn’t take too long to cook. He grabbed a pair of clippy things from a drawer and carefully pried the bacon off the pan.
Suddenly, something hot singed his arm. Dexter yelped and dropped the clippy things on the counter, grabbing at the spot that burned. But it was gone. Just as it had come, it disappeared just as fast. There was a loud crackle then a pop from the pan, and something hot spat on his arm once more. Dexter inhaled sharply and rubbed at the spot. What? He looked back at the bacon. It bubbled and hissed angrily. “Is- Is this what Jazzy means when she says ‘this bacon is spittin’?” he asked aloud. The bacon was spitting hot oil on him. Great. Just great.
Dexter swallowed hard. This just made things a thousand times harder. He picked up the clippy things and cautiously approached the hissy pan from the side, carefully slipping the clippy things under a bacon strip. He quickly flipped the bacon over and immediately backed away from the pan as a string of loud hissing and crackling gave way. He held his breath, waiting for it to die down. A sigh of relief passed his lips. Man…
Now for the other one. Dexter took a deep breath, reaching for the other strip while leaning back as far as he could. In one swift motion, he quickly flipped the bacon over onto the pan, jumping away as it fizzed and bubbled. The top was entirely blackened. Dexter’s heart dropped. He cursed under his breath at the sight of the charred meat. And just when I was doing so good.
Along with the smell of burned bacon, a new scent lingered in the air, making Dexter wrinkle his nose. He followed the scent and felt adrenaline rush through his veins as he saw a thick stream of smoke curling around the toaster.
“No no no no no,” he murmured as he ran over. He tried to examine the damage, but the smoke burned his eyes too much to see anything. Taking a deep breath, Dexter lifted the collar of his shirt above his mouth and nose, reaching around the toaster and unplugging it. The reddened wiring inside dimmed, gradually fading back to a dull grey. He sighed.
A round of aggressive hissing and popping returned his attention to the bacon on the stove. Dexter jumped and skidded over, grabbing the clippy things and trying to turn the bacon over. His hands were shaky and unsteady, and the strip he had picked up dropped back on the pan, splashing oil in every direction.
And right into Dexter’s face.
The digidevil yelped and tried to wipe where the oil had touched him, trying to grab the counter for support. His hand landed on something hot and scorching, the nerves singing in pain. A loud and anguished scream ripped from his throat as he immediately cradled his injured hand to his chest, falling back onto the floor. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes. His chest tightened as he felt heavy sobs trying to escape. Why was everything going so wrong?
He heard footsteps quickly approaching, a familiar voice calling his name. “Dex?! Where are you? What’s wrong?”
Jasmine.
Dexter could see her entering the kitchen. She gasped at the sight of the burning food and Dexter huddled on the floor. She rushed over and quickly turned off the stove, moving the pan to an inactive burner. “Dex!” She knelt down and brought him close to her chest. “Dex, are you okay?” Her voice was concerned yet calm.
Dexter whimpered and curled into her warmth, unable to stop the flow of tears. Jasmine gently rubbed his back and murmured words of assurance.
“What’s wrong?” she asked again. “You alright?”
Dexter flinched and stiffened. Well, she’s gonna notice sooner or later, he thought. As humiliating as it was, he hesitantly showed her the burn on his hand. A mark of his failure. Jasmine inhaled sharply. Dexter refused to make eye contact, too ashamed to look at her.
She carefully took the back of his hand in hers and looked it over. “It doesn’t look too bad,” she concluded. Dexter looked up at her with large round eyes. Jasmine smiled softly and patted his back. “C’mon. It’ll help if we run it under cold water.” She helped him stand and led him over to the sink. She turned it on and adjusted it so the pressure was gentle.
Dexter flinched and let out a strangled yelp as the water made contact with the burn. But the effect was instantaneous. The water was cool to the touch and eased the angry heat in his hand.
Jasmine rubbed his shoulder. “Just keep it under there. I’ll get you an ice pack,” she said. Dexter nodded and watched as she retrieved the dinosaur-shaped pack from the freezer. She wrapped it in a thin towel and brought it back over, turning off the sink. “Try this,” she instructed, handing the ice pack to him.
Dexter winced as he cautiously pressed it against his palm, but the cold seeped into his hand, settling the aggravated injury. He sighed and looked up at the owl lady. “Thanks,” he said with a grateful smile.
Jasmine returned the gesture and playfully ruffled the thin layer of fur on his head. “It’s no problem at all!” She turned around and surveyed the mess in the kitchen. Dexter tensed, shrinking into himself. “What happened here?” she asked. Her tone held no anger or malice. It was simply a question.
A dark blue blush crept along Dexter’s cheeks. “I, um, I tried to- tried to make breakfast,” he stuttered quietly, shifting his weight in embarrassment.
Jasmine’s expression softened. “Aww sweet pea!” she laughed, hugging him to her side. “Sorry for sleeping in. You should’ve woken me up!”
With his uninjured hand, Dexter fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t want to. You looked tired,” he replied sheepishly. “And I wanted to surprise you.”
Jasmine cooed and hugged him tighter. “Aren’t you just a sweet little thing!” She cupped his face in her hands and planted a small kiss on his forehead, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. Dexter hummed and felt a stupid smile tug at the corners of his mouth, his tail wagging and a warm feeling blossoming in his chest.
Jasmine released his face, and a part of Dexter was tempted to grab her hands and put them back. “I’ll clean up here. You can go sit. Then I’ll make breakfast!” Dexter nodded eagerly and plopped himself down on one of the chairs at the kitchen island, watching as she cleaned up his mess. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it.
Jasmine first looked at the pan on the stove, using the clippy things to peel the ruined strips of bacon off. She wrinkled her nose. “How much oil did you use?” she asked.
Dexter shrugged. “Dunno. Just covered the entire pan.” Jasmine suddenly burst out laughing, and Dexter felt another flush crawl up his neck.
“Sweet pea, you’re just supposed to drizzle a little bit on there. The bacon’s already got a lot of grease on it,” she explained, placing his attempts in a paper towel and throwing them away.
Then, she shifted her focus to the toaster. The smoke had already cleared, allowing her to peer inside. Jasmine tilted her head and grabbed another paper towel, turning the toaster upside down directly above it. Ash poured out of it like black sand. There was no bread left. Dexter could see Jasmine’s shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. She coughed into her fist and put the toaster back down. “You put it on the highest setting,” she stated, unable to contain the stray giggles that bubbled in her chest. She pointed to the dial which was set to a number eight, setting it to a three. “I usually keep it around three or four. Gives it that nice crunch.” Dexter nodded, desperately trying to will the blush on his face to settle back down.
Jasmine leaned on the edge of the counter to face him. “Tell ya what. If you want, when your hand is feeling better, maybe I can show you everything I know about cooking,” she suggested. “Then you can start helping me in the kitchen!”
Dexter straightened up in his seat. “Really?!” he asked excitedly.
Jasmine nodded. “Yeah! Just you and me!” She noticed the eggs left untouched near the stove and grabbed them. She took out a clean pan and turned on the burner, cracking an egg over the pan and letting it sizzle. She pulled out a really flat spoon from the drawer and carefully poked the egg around. “Oh, and you set the burner almost at high. I try to keep it around medium low so it doesn’t burn as fast.”
Dexter hummed and made another mental note in his head.
———
The rest of the morning was relatively calmer now that the disaster Dexter had caused had been dealt with and resolved. Now Dexter lay curled up on Jasmine’s lap in the living room, warm and full of not-burned-and-absolutely-ruined bacon, eggs, and toast. He positioned himself so that his injured hand was cradled to his chest with the ice pack settled on it without aggravating it any further.
He watched as Jasmine had pulled up cooking videos on the TV for them to watch, occasionally asking the owl lady of the different materials and techniques used. She happily answered his questions as best she could (so apparently the really flat spoon is called a spatula and the clippy things are called tongs. Huh).
At some point, Jasmine started to rub small circles on his back. Dexter couldn’t help the purr that vibrated in his chest, but he made no attempts to stop it. He snuggled up closer to Jasmine with a content sigh.
Life was good.
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bakumu-archive · 4 years ago
Text
you already have me
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bakugou x reader
wc: 1.8k
summary: you expect to spend the night relaxing while bakugou spends time with his friends, until game night gets cut short and you become the center of his attention
cw: porn with little plot, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, unprotected sex, a lil cum eating (idk if it counts but just to be safe), he carries the reader (he’s strong, he could carry you), a lil fluff as a treat, aged up characters, established relationship
a/n: posting for third time hoping to show up in the tags ✌
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“DIE, YOU NERDS!”
Chuckling to yourself as you hear Katsuki scream obscenities from the game room, you continue your work in the kitchen making dinner. Standing by the stove and waiting for the water to boil you can’t help but miss his presence, even if he’s only a room away.
Your thoughts drift through various ideas: what are you going to do for the rest of the night, if your favorite fanfic has had an update come out, what Katsuki’s schedule looks like next week… Your thoughts always drift back to him, the love of your life and you can’t help but be jealous of his keyboard right now.
Gaming night with the boys was—as much as he would never admit it—one of Katsuki’s favorite things. He missed seeing his friends every day like back in their UA days, but since becoming a pro hero, getting engaged, and buying a house he has had to shuffle his priorities around. Usually, you spend the whole evening trying to relax as his shouting soothes your eardrums from the other room, but tonight is different as his footsteps suddenly sneak up behind you.
Grabbing your hips, he pulls you back into him. “Hey princess, I’ve missed you.”
His voice is huskier than normal, sending vibrations right to your core. His hands grip your hips tighter and you push your ass back into him.
“Katsu! I thought you were playing games tonight?” Your question sounds whinier than you intended but right now you couldn’t care less.
He hums behind you, grinding his growing erection into you some more before muttering, “Denki had to stop, early patrol tomorrow.”
He turns you around and picks you up so you are sitting on the countertop, hands skimming down your sides until he is gripping at your hips again. Stepping between your thighs to get closer to you, his eyes rake up your body taking you in. Your breathing is heavy, making him chuckle.
“You’re so worked up already, have I been neglecting my pretty girl?”
If you weren’t so turned on, you would have rolled your eyes at him, but all you do is whimper. You pout as he smirks at you, moving his hands under your shirt to rub your soft skin with his thumbs.
How he is able to turn you into a whimpering mess with just a few actions is always a surprise to you, but it has been a few days since he’s given you this much of his undivided attention.
His mouth is just a breath away from yours as he stares at your lips. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you.”
Ghosting his lips over yours, toying with you, trying to drive you crazy. Surging forward, you try to capture his lips, but he pulls away just out of reach. As you beg him with your eyes to kiss you already, he licks his lips and lets out a deep groan before crashing his lips onto yours.
Tongue and teeth clashing into each other, he reaches one hand around your back, pulling you closer to him, while the other traces up your body to your neck. Angling your head, he kisses you deeper. A moan you didn’t even know you were trying to keep down emerges, breaking the kiss.
Feeling entirely too hot, you grab the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your head, quickly following it with your bra. Sucking in a breath as you expose your chest to him, he follows your lead, throwing his shirt across the room. Your eyes watch your fingers as they ghost across his abs before they move slowly up his body, bringing out a shudder from Katsuki. He’s holding his breath, waiting for you to make the next move. When your hands make their way up to his neck, you meet his gaze. His eyes are hungry, consuming your soul. It feels suffocating, but you can’t look away.
He moves his lips back to yours needily. He peppers kisses down your face before starting his assault on your neck. He starts out lightly kissing your skin at your pulse point, but as you moan more, he can’t hold himself back. He sucks and bites at your weak spots, intending on leaving his mark. His lips start to ghost down your chest as he moves his palms from your waist to your breasts, kneading them before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples.
Moans escape from your mouth as your hips move on their own against his cock. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans and your mind goes numb at the thought of him. Your hand reaches down to rub him through the fabric and you feel him pulse under your palm.
“F-fuck. Keep doing that, princess, and I’m gonna cream my pants,” he whispers breathlessly. He must be as frustrated as you if he’s already this close.
Looking down at him, you bat your eyelashes and whisper, “I’d rather you cum in me, daddy.”
A guttural moan leaves his throat. He suddenly turns to the stove - shutting off the burner that you had completely forgotten about with a slam before moving his hands back to your body, gripping under your thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck as he effortlessly picks you up off the counter. Wrapping your fingers into his hair, he resumes his assault on your neck as he makes his way to the bedroom.
He places you down on the edge of the bed and you stare up at him. His body looks like it’s glowing. A thin sheen of sweat on his skin, fiery eyes roaming all over your body, and with some of his hair sticking to his forehead, you think he looks like a god. He slowly starts to take off his jeans, dragging them down his hips slowly. He’s teasing you, knowing that you are getting wetter from watching him.
His cock springs free and you gasp, realizing that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. The sight of it makes your core clench. You desperately wish for it to be in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, honestly anywhere on you at this point.
“If you see something you want, you know you just have to ask for it,” he says as he closes in on you. His body encompasses yours. Looking down from above you, surrounding you in all of his heat, he places his hands on either side of your hips, waiting.
“Please, Katsu. I just want you.”
He lets out a small “tch” before reaching down to pull off your pants and underwear.
“You already have me, dumbass,” he says affectionately.
Your eyes meet and bask in the tender moment before his lips are on you again. Scooting you back on the bed, he climbs on top of you. Your lips meet in a frenzy, swallowing each other’s moans before they can escape. Both of you lose yourself to the kiss, tongues meeting in unison. He pulls away from you and you groan at the loss of contact.
His hand runs down your body, before dipping between your folds. A groan leaves him. “Fuck, baby. You’re already so wet for me.”
He gathers up your slick on his fingers before he brings them up to his mouth. Keeping his gaze locked with yours, he places his fingers in his mouth and moans. His eyes flutter as he sucks them clean. “You always taste so good. Mmm. If I didn’t need to fuck you so bad I’d eat your cunt out for hours.”
You can’t help but feel your empty hole flutter at the thought, but you agree. You are way too needy right now.
“Please, Katsu. Fuck me already. I need you, daddy.”
You can feel his body shudder when you drawl out those last words. He’s losing his composure and it’s exactly what you need right now.
He slowly spreads your legs out wider for him. He slides the tip of his cock against your clit and through your folds, drawing out moan after moan from you. And from the looks of it, Katsuki looks like he isn’t faring any better. He’s concentrating on not cuming already and he’s not even inside you yet. He places his elbows on the bed next to your head as the tip of him slides inside of your wet cunt, stretching you so deliciously. You missed his cock so much, even if it’s only been a few days. He pushes in you slowly and when he finally bottoms out, you both release a small, “fuck.”
His lips move against yours as he slowly pulls out before slamming himself back in, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. You break the kiss, arching your back, not being able to concentrate on anything except how he feels inside of you, as he keeps a steady pace fucking you expertly.
Your walls already fluttering around him and he moves his hand down to thumb at your clit. “Gonna cum for me already? That’s my good girl.”
At his praise, you feel your whole body tense. Your orgasm races through you, causing you to cry out his name like it’s the only word you know, vision turning black as you see stars, and your head swims in your high. His hips stutter as he lets out a string of curses before he pushes his cock deeper into your dripping cunt, spilling his cum into you.
He stays inside of you as he relaxes his body, putting some of his weight on you. Both of you are trying to catch your breath, as he looks down at you and smiles.
“I love you so much, you know that?”
You grin back at him, looking into his eyes that are so full of love and tenderness. “Yeah, I know, Katsuki,” you reply.
You kiss his nose, causing him to blush and you laugh. “Really, you just fucked the life out of me, but one kiss on your nose has you blushing? You’re so cute.”
He pulls out of you, rolling his eyes, and retorting, “Shut up, dumbass.” He climbs off the bed as you laugh. You roll to your side, watching him and following his ass with your eyes as he picks the discarded clothing off the floor. He reaches out a hand to you to pull you off the bed. “Lets get cleaned up and figure out dinner.”
You accept his help, using his hand to anchor yourself while your legs return to their non-jelly form. He kisses your forehead once you’re stable and as you make your way to the bathroom, he slaps your ass.
“Keep doing that, Katsu, and we’re gonna have to go for round two,” you tease.
He pulls you back into his warm embrace and wraps his arms around you. “Oh yeah? If we order takeout, I bet I could get two more rounds in before the food gets here.”
You laugh while he goes to find his phone to order from your favorite restaurant. You can hear him yell from across the house. “They’ll be here in 40 minutes, get back on the bed!”
God, you were in for a long night, but with Katsuki you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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boxesandrings · 3 years ago
Note
I it’s me again I love your stuff. A idea I had inspired a fanart Shane reacting to F!farmer telling him she’s pregnant
( I’m just curious where that would go )
(Hi I promise this is much happier than what the description sounds like!! I think considering Shane’s mental health history life changing news like this isn’t something he’d brush past with no second thought, having a kid is kinda scary to everyone! Promise it’s mostly fluff but wanted to tag anything that could be triggering for others xoxo)
Title: A Father!
Rating: T (mostly for language, but Shane's earlier heart events are mentioned briefly)
Summary: The Farmer shares some exciting news with Shane! He's immediately over the moon, but quickly becomes overwhelmed.
CW: Mentions of pregnancy, Shane's early heart-events, a panic attack(?)
Characters: Shane, F!Farmer, Marnie, Evelyn, Pierre (pretty much all are mentioned)
Words: 3816
Shane took off his boots before entering the cabin, grimacing as he bent to do so. Marnie had needed help repairing some things at the ranch today, and he had spent most of it in a crouch. His thighs were punishing him for it now, sore with every step. Maybe he’d take a bath tonight, let his muscles soak in the warm water and try to relax a bit. Maybe his wife would take one with him.
He waddled into the house, his legs tight and called out. “I’m home! You in?”
The Farmer was often out late, working in the fields or with the animals, or sometimes off mining or fishing at the lake by Robin’s. It had been lonely at first, an empty house was something he’d never experienced, but he had found ways to preoccupy himself. After a month, he and his then girlfriend had a chat, the Farmer promising to be home by 7 every night, or calling and letting him know if something had unexpectedly come up otherwise holding her late.
“In the kitchen!” Shane smiled, making his way toward the room. It was barely 5, a sign for a good night. The sound of music grew louder and the smell of bacon wafted toward him. In the kitchen, he found his wife flipping pancakes but minding another pan on the back burner. She turned when she heard him get closer, waving her spatula before focusing back on the food. Shane walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissed her cheek and rested his head on her shoulder.
“I thought it was my night to cook?” The pair switched who cooked every night, and Shane was certain it was his night. Or had he missed yesterday?
“Hello to you too.” The Farmer twisted her head around the best she could and puckered her lips, which Shane quickly kissed. “It was, but I just wanted to cook tonight. Go sit! I just finished up.” Shane squeezed his wife once more, but made his way over to the table. He groaned as he lowered himself into the chair.
The Farmer tilted her head as she carried a stack of pancakes for the table, watching as Shane rubbed his legs.
“Long day?” Shane nodded.
“Marnie called this morning and said that some pipes in the barn needed repairing, but neglected to mention that it was literally almost every single pipe in the barns, all the ones that carry water to the dispensers.” The Farmer set down the plate of bacon on the table, then slid into Shane’s lap, her arms around his neck.
“Oh, that’s rough.” Shane nodded, tilting his head forward into hers.
“They’re all so low to the ground, I essentially was in a squat all day. My thighs are killing me.” The Farmer nodded, her head moving his. She kissed his temple and stood up.
“I think I have some of that muscle cream lotion stuff that helps with the soreness. I’ll find it after dinner.” She made her way to her own chair, sitting down. “Not all bad though, squats are pretty good for the booty.” She smiled as she picked up a piece of bacon and winked.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Shane shook his head, but smiled as he used his fork to slide a pancake onto his own plate. Yoba, was he hungry. “How was your day?”
The Farmer bit her lip, smiling. “Oh, you know. Same old.” Shane looked up, cautiously eyeing his wife. She was biting her lip, trying to hide an obvious smile and kept looking up at Shane as she made her plate. Shane squinted.
“I feel like you really want me to ask what else happened.” His wife nodded, slightly shimmying in her chair.
“I heard some real good gossip.” Shane couldn’t help but laugh after she said it. His wife looked so pleased with herself, like she could barely handle keeping her excitement inside. She grinned incredibly wide, biting her tongue. Shane picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite.
“Oh, what is it?” He raised his eyebrows a few times, making his wife laugh. After she had calmed herself for a second, she leaned forward, as if the knowledge itself were moving her.
“Someone we know is pregnant.” Shane dropped his fork and coughed. Now that was some good gossip. In a town as small as Pelican Town, secrets among residents were incredibly hard to keep, and something as big as that would have spread easily within a day to the entire population. How had he not heard yet?
“Who?” The Farmer leaned back in her chair, biting her thumbnail.
“Guess.” Shane ran his teeth over his tongue as he mentally went through each of the town’s residents.
“Jodie and Kent? I feel like they could have another, the gap would be the same from Sam to Vincent to this one.” The Farmer watched Shane, her face giving away nothing. Finally, she shook her head, the same shit-eating grin on her face. Shane thought hard.
“It can’t be Demetrius and Robin, he practically yelled from the mountain top when he had his vasectomy. I don’t think Pierre and Caroline even like each other anymore…” He watched his wife’s face.
“Keep guessing.” Shane threw his hands up, but continued to smile.
“You’re gonna make me keep guessing?”
“Come on! You’re getting closer.” Shane sighed.
“Let's see… Maru and Penny are together, so I don’t think they could… Sam is, and no offence to the guy, but the biggest virgin I’ve ever met…Harvey… no.” He looked down at the table, scratching his chin. “Sebastian and Abby could be… Alex and Haley, but I’m not sure if they’re broken up right now.”
He looked up toward his wife, but her face gave away no hints. “I mean, Elliot sleeps with practically every tourist, so statistically speaking…” Shane shook his head, his eyes wide, and his wife snorted. “I don’t know? Emily isn’t with anyone, Leah isn’t, but I might not know.”
Eyes wide, he looked back up at his wife. “It couldn’t physically… Marnie couldn’t…” The Farmer’s face finally broke, a similar look of horror on her own face.
“Oh Yoba no, don’t even—” She made a face, shaking her head. “She’s too old, and not to be mean but I think if your aunt was having a baby with Mayor Lewis?” She shook her head again, faster. “You’d find me in here retching.”
Shane leaned back in his chair and dragged his hand over the bottom half of his face, thinking. The devilish smile slowly creeped it’s way back onto his wife’s face as she watched him. Finally, he sighed.
“Who is it?” The Farmer suddenly stood up and ran to one of the cabinets, pulling out a sandwich bag. She sat back in her seat, and slid the bag across the table to Shane. He picked up the bag and realized there were three white, long sticks in the bag, each one with two pink lines on one end. He dropped the bag.
“Oh, gross, where were these?” He looked up at his wife, expecting the same grin, but was confused to see that it had fallen, a look almost like annoyance on her face.
“Good god, Shane, did you— do you think I’m going around picking up random pregnancy tests?” He paused, his mouth dropping.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. She didn’t find them, she took them. That’s why he hadn’t heard the gossip already, she was the only one that knew.
He jumped to his feet, forgetting the soreness in his legs. His hands covered his mouth, open in shock as he looked at his wife. She nodded at him, the smile returned to her face, hints of tears glistening in her eyes. He turned from the pregnancy tests on the table, pointing at them, to covering his mouth again and looking back at his wife.
She continued to nod, crying definitively now but still smiling. The pair had been married for almost two years, and while they hadn’t made a point of deciding to actively try for a baby, they certainly had been playing it fast and loose. Four months into the marriage they decided that what would happen would happen and stopped using any birth control, the Farmer throwing out any pills she had left. Lately, the couple had stopped even pretending they worried about the possibility of getting pregnant, and Shane had felt that a ‘we should start actively trying’ conversation was weeks away, rather than months or years.
Finally, Shane spoke. “Are… you’re…” The Farmer nodded, sniffling and smiling.
“Yeah, yeah!” Her voice was breathy, joyfully crying through the words.” Shane covered his mouth again and felt his own tears beginning to pop up in the corner of his eyes.
“I— I need you to say it.” The Farmer laughed.
“I’m pregnant.” Shane ran at his wife, scooping her up in his arms, pressing his lips firmly onto hers. She laughed as she kissed him back, her arms wrapped tightly around them as they stood in the kitchen, her tears against his face, or maybe they were his own?
They stood, holding each other, smiling and laughing and kissing, until Shane quite literally swept his wife off her feet, fireman carrying her into the bedroom while she laughed in his arms. He set her down on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, practically attaching himself to her as he kissed her face as she pretended to struggle beneath him, giggling the whole time.
He laid on his stomach next to her, his face turned towards her on the pillow. She watched him back, still laying flat on the bed.
“You’re pregnant.” The Farmer smiled and nodded.
“I’m pregnant.” Shane smiled, scanning his wife’s face.
“We’re having a baby.” She scooched her face closer, kissing the tip of his nose.
“We’re having a baby.” The two gazed at each other, minds racing with nothing and everything at once. Shane lifted himself up and moved closer to his wife, his face only inches away from hers, sliding one arm under her head and placing the other hand on her stomach. Shane bit his lip.
“When do we want to tell my family?” The Farmer sighed and looked up toward the ceiling.
“I don’t know. I want to tell them, but so much can happen in the first few months…” She trailed off, running her tongue over her top teeth. “Maybe in a month or two? Once the pregnancy is past that first little hurdle.” Shane kissed her cheek.
“I get it. Marnie tells Lewis, Lewis tells everyone.” He sighed now. “I mean, you’re only 30, I don’t think you’re high risk or anything.” His wife shook her head and smiled at him.
“No, it’ll be perfect.” She slid a hand over the one he had on top of her stomach. “I know it. Just in the small chance, I don’t want everyone knowing.” She looked back toward the ceiling. “Also, I don’t want all the attention right away. It’s such a small, small town. Something like this will rock the pelican town people to their cores.” She laughed, Shane joining in beside her. “But I promise, when we do tell people, Marnie will be the first to know.” Shane nodded.
“We’ll let her tell everyone else. Makes it easy.” The Farmer snorted.
“Yeah.” She drew circles on his hand with her thumb. “I mean, I guess we have to tell Harvey, for obvious reasons, but I don’t think he can legally tell others.” Shane laughed again, and pulled his hand out from under his wife’s, moving it up from her stomach to her chin. He pulled her face toward his, kissing her softly.
“We’re having a baby,” he whispered, his nose touching hers. The Farmer smiled, and kissed him again.
“We’re having a baby.”
*****************************************************************
Shane couldn’t sleep, far too excited by the day’s news. No matter how long he kept his eyes closed, or tried to count deep breaths, Shane was restless. His wife had fallen asleep over an hour ago and was curled into a little ball by his side, her head on top of one of his arms.
They were having a baby. Yes, it had been something he and his wife had talked about for a while, one day wanting children, but now it was actually happening. He turned his head to look at the Farmer, drooling on his arm, and smiled. They weren’t kids anymore, Shane well into his thirties, and his wife just into them, but it still felt so strange and new and exciting for them to be parents now.
Shane bolted upright, his stomach immediately twisting. The Farmer groaned on the bed next to him, violently awoken by the sudden removal of his arm. She rubbed her eyes with one hand and propped herself up, squinting in the dark.
“Did I sleep through the alarm again?” She yawned. Shane hopped out of the bed, bee-lining to the bathroom. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna be sick.” Shane slammed the door behind him, ignoring his wife’s further questions. He barely had made it to the toilet when he felt it deep within him, the nausea making its way out into the bowl. He didn’t hear his wife come into the room, only felt her hand on his back as he continued to retch. Finally, he laid his head against the bowl, breathing heavily.
“Shane?” He could hear his wife behind him start to speak but pause, unsure of what to say or ask, her mouth just kind of opening and shutting. She laid her head against his back and sighed. “Do you want some water?”
“I’m going to be a dad.” The Farmer chuckled behind him.
“Yeah. I think we covered that a bit earlier.” She lifted her head and resumed rubbing his back. “I’m excited too.” Shane sighed.
“I’m gonna fuck this kid up.” His voice cracked, and he watched as a tear fell from his face. The Farmer paused.
“What?” Shane pulled his arms up onto the bowl, wrapping them around his head.
“I’m a massive fuck-up, and I’m going to fuck up this baby too.” His shoulders shook, an attempt to hold back his tears. “I could barely take care of myself, how am I—” Shane’s voice broke. The Farmer let out a tense breath behind him, and began to rub his back again.
“Shane, no! Don’t say that.” He lifted his head up, and turned to look at his wife.
“I am. I mean, I was worthless. All I did was drink, I hated myself, and for fucks sake, I tried—” Shane paused as he noticed his wife’s lower lip start to tremble and sighed. “I could barely hold myself together until you got here, what, five years ago?” He bit his lip, the tears coming out faster now. “I’m doing good now, but what happens if it all falls apart again?” His voice cracked again, and Shane didn’t bother to hold back a sob.
The Farmer tried her best to pull Shane into her, them both sitting on the floor, but Shane just sat there numb. He wanted to have this life with his wife, a family together, but how could he be a dad? Why did she even want him?
“Shane, please.” He looked over to the Farmer, who was crying, her arms around him. He’d made her cry, husband of the year material! “I think you’re just… you did this when the dog died, too. It’s a lot of information coming in at once, big information. But it’s okay!” Her hands slid down his shoulder, taking his hands in her own. “We’re doing this together.”
Shane let out an indignant snort. “I can’t even handle the announcement, what happens when the baby comes?” His head was spinning. She deserved better. He loved her.
“Shane! You’re okay, it’s okay. We’re in it together, we have each other.” She squeezed his hands, scooting closer to him. “You’re going to be great, okay? You’re not a fuck-up. We all have rough patches, you just didn’t have the support system you needed. Please.” She kissed his temple, but Shane stared straight ahead, toward the wall. He wished he could shrink into a tiny ball.
“I can’t… I can’t mess this up too.” The Farmer pulled his head down to her shoulder, her hands carefully working their way through his hair.
“You’re not going to mess this up, babe. I think you’re just panicking.” She held him close, continuing to quietly stroke his head. “I’m nervous too, but I know I have you.” He loved her, but when she shifted away beneath him, the panic filled his chest again. “I’m going to go grab your anxiety meds. I don’t think you took them at dinner, they might help.” She fully slid out away from him, Shane’s heart beginning to race. The Farmer stood up and stretched out her back. “Now that I think of it, I don’t think either of us even ate.”
Shane felt sick to his stomach, and barely made his way back to the toilet bowl before throwing up again. The Farmer crouched next to him, her hand on his back. Shane could practically feel the concerned look burning into the back of his head.
“Even if I don’t mess up, I’m just passing a damn cocktail of mental illness along.” He sat back on the floor, and used his hand to try and rub away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The Farmer above him sighed and sat back down, and wrapped an arm back around his shoulder.
“Babe, don’t—” Shane choked and leaned forward, wrapping his arms over his head.
“It doesn’t even stand a chance, I’ve just fucked it up from the beginning!” He could feel himself hyperventilating, what did his therapist tell him to do? “It’s gonna hate me, I’ve already ruined everything—”
“Shane!” The Farmer’s face in front of his snapped him out of the almost trance he was in, the distraction what his body needed to get in at least one deep breath. She had tears on her cheeks, but her voice gave away no sadness. “Stop it! Calm down!”
Shane leaned forward into her, practically up on his knees now to wrap his arms around her, holding her tight as he cried. She rocked her body, quietly shooshing as she held him, pressing kisses into the top of his head as she did.
“You’re not going to fuck this up,” she said after Shane’s breathing became more regular. “I mean, we’re going to make mistakes. Both of us! A lot. But we’re going to be new parents, it happens.” He nodded, squeezing his eyes tight. “You’re not going to spiral— I mean, now, yes— but it’s not going to get bad like it was ever again, okay? You have me, your therapist, Marnie, we’re all here for you.”
“I love you.” His words were muffled, his face still pressed into her chest. He felt a rumble, a small chuckle above him.
“I love you too. Also, you’re not the only one afraid of passing on bad shit. I mean, my mom is medicated for depression, and I have ADHD.” Shane raised his head, his face even with hers.
“Yeah, I guess.” The Farmer smiled, and reached on her hands up to cup Shane’s face, wiping away a tear with her thumb.
“Yeah, dummy.” Shane smiled and kissed his wife, before pulling back and biting his lip.
“I’m— I’m so excited, I really am.” His eyes met hers briefly, before he looked away again. “I want this with you, truly, I—” The Farmer leaned forward and kissed her husband again.
“I know, Shane. I get it.” They held each other on the floor, their foreheads pressed together. Shane tried to calm himself, breathing in time with his wife. “We’re in it together, alright? We’ve got it.” Shane nodded.
“I know, I’m sorry.” The Farmer smiled.
“It’s okay, it’s gonna be a big change.” She chuckled to herself. “We’ve got nine months, I’m sure this won’t be the last freak out. That either of us have.” The Farmer stood up, and offered a hand to Shane, smiling. “Good luck to you when I have to start buying maternity clothes.” Shane grinned and took her hand.
“What? You’re cooking up a baby in there, you’re gonna grow.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and wrapped his arm around her.
“Oh, I know that now,” the Farmer said, leading the two of them back into their bedroom. “But I’m sure hormone-y me will have to reckon with that later.”
Shane snorted as the Farmer sat down on the bed, and pulled Shane down into her. He kissed her forehead and climbed over, pulling the covers up on his side of the bed. She snuggled back into him, her head resting on his shoulder, but Shane could feel her squirming.
“You feeling better?” Her voice was quiet. Shane nodded, and wrapped his arm around her head.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Her arm snaked its way over his chest, reaching up to hold the side of his head. “You’re gonna be great.”
Shane smiled, and moved his head to kiss the palm against his cheek. “You too.”
****************************************************************
It took Marnie two weeks to figure it out. Something about the way the Farmer was moving, she had told Shane, was different, and trapped him in her kitchen until he confessed. Marnie was over the moon, and promised not to tell anyone, but Shane ran home and told the Farmer straight away. His wife had bit her lip but shook her head, smiling. “If anyone was going to piece it together, it’d be her.”
In Marnie’s defense, it was almost a week before Evelyn congratulated the pair at the general store. Shane watched as Pierre blushed and ducked behind a shelf, but the Farmer thanked her and moved past, reaching for a bag of flour on the top shelf.
“You know, that was a pretty good run, all things considered.” Shane nodded, agreeing with his wife.
“I mean, that has to be a record! What, five? Six days?” The Farmer laughed, and hoisted the last grocery bag up into the truck. She caught Shane’s gaze, and tilted her head.
“What?” Shane realized he had been staring at her, a dopey look on his face. He smiled, face turning pink.
“Oh, nothing!” He hopped up into the truck, his wife following suit beside him. He looked at her again. “I’m gonna be a dad.” She smiled now, rolling her eyes.
“You’re gonna be a dad!” Shane laughed, and started the truck. The two chatted excitedly the whole way back, discussing the future addition to both their home and family.
148 notes · View notes
emmyhem · 4 years ago
Text
always (l.r.h)
a/n: hi everyone! this is a lil angsty piece i wanted to get up. i just want to say again how sorry i am for not getting anything up for the past two weeks, i’ve just been overwhelmed with some stuff for my classes, but i am starting to get back in the swing of things now. also, this is unedited as i was rushing to get it up in time. i do plan on posting something else tomorrow night and hopefully i’ll be posting pretty consistently from now on. also this does end kind of abruptly but i wanted to leave it like that because i’m a sucker for angst, with that being said i would be happy to write a part two if that’s something you’d be interested in. anyway, feedback and comments are appreciated as always and i hope you’re all having an amazing day/night. enjoy! - emmy <33
pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader 
summary: luke recounts his mistake and hopes he can patch things up with his always. 
warnings:  very brief mention of sex, cursing, mentions of alcohol, luke’s being an asshole, mention of pinching (idk), slight insecurity from the reader, lots of angst :( 
word count: 2.6k
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Luke had always hated the quiet. That’s when his thoughts were the loudest. That must be why he had never really liked being alone with himself. 
Tonight in particular, his thoughts were practically screaming, one word over and over again. 
“Y/n”
For the past two years that name had acted as his most favorite word, one that he would utter whenever he had gotten the chance. Whether it be to brag about your recent accomplishments to his friends, to catch your attention from another room, or falling from his lips with a sigh of pleasure as he reached completion with you laying breathlessly beneath him. 
Now the word seemed torturous, the last time he uttered it replaying on a relentless loop in his head. 
It was your 2nd anniversary. Dinner had been laid out on the table for an hour. Two glasses of wine sat untouched in front of a vase of roses you had picked out at the florist earlier that morning, and there was no sign of Luke. 
You were wracking through your brain as you watched a petal fall from a rose and land lightly in one of the glasses. 
Had you gotten the time wrong? 
But you were sure that the two of you had agreed on 8:00 for dinner, that way you had time to get everything ready after getting home from work, and Luke wouldn’t have to rush to leave the studio. 
Yet somehow you found yourself staring at the now cold dinner at 9:30, with absolutely no word from Luke. You wanted to call, if for no other reason than to check he was still alive and breathing, but your nerves stopped you from doing that, not wanting to take on the role of the overbearing girlfriend. 
Your stomach growled hungrily over the light music that was playing through the house speakers. So, begrudgingly you took a bite of the pasta on your plate before downing your entire glass of wine. 
Luke arrived home about 2 hours later, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. He caught sight of the table, with one setting completely untouched as he hung up his coat, causing guilt to pang in his chest. 
“Baby,” he called out, carrying himself to your shared bedroom.
When no response came his heart rate sped up in fear that you had left. 
“Y/n” he called, louder this time with a sense of urgency clear in his voice.  
That’s when he spotted a person sized lump underneath the duvet. Releasing a sigh of relief he moved towards you, peeling the blankets off and leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder. 
This caused you to stir a bit, eyes fluttering open to meet him. 
“Hi, my love.” he cooed. 
A frown was prominent on your face, and a crease separated your eyebrows as they furrowed angrily. 
“I’m sorry I’m late. We got a bit carried away in the studio, but in good news the album is coming along great. M’so excited for you to hear it” 
You had always tried to be understanding of Luke’s job for many reasons. One being that you both reaped the benefit of his success, you wanted for essentially nothing, had a nice house, the opportunity to travel, and Luke often spoiled you with gifts even if you asked him not to. Another being how happy it made your boyfriend. Music truly was his passion, and he was so talented that you wouldn’t want for him to ever put his work on the back burner for you. 
With that being said, you made a point to take time off to spend time with him whenever you were able to. You had even changed jobs because your last one hadn’t allowed you to go on tour with him, which he had been adamant about, insisting, “There’s no way I can be away from you for that long.” 
And you were happy to do all of those things, because you were in love, and  you felt incredibly lucky to even be a part of his world. But you did start to question things as your relationship went on. It felt like Luke didn’t even consider your job. He only saw it as something that took you away from him. 
You had worked hard to get where you were in the occupational field. Without your job all you would have to do is sit around and wait for Luke to be ready for you, and you just couldn’t live like that. 
Luke turned on the lamp on your nightstand as you slowly sat up in bed. 
“2 weeks Luke, we’ve had these plans for two weeks.” 
“I know baby I tried, but you know how it is when inspiration strikes.” he dismissed while sitting the flowers on the ground. 
“No, I don’t. Do you not think that I have things I could be doing for work? Cause I do, and I choose this over all of that.” you huffed in frustration. 
Luke took a deep breath while subtly rolling his eyes. 
“Y/n, I’m sorry for missing dinner, but you don’t understand the pressure I’m under, from the fans, the label, management, and the band.” 
“I know that you work hard and I know how important this is to you, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m proud of us too and I would’ve liked to have a night for just us.” you tried to explain. “Not to mention the fact that I’m under pressure in my job too and I always find time for you, no matter what.” 
“Yea, you have pressure from a job that you don’t need.” his voice rising in anger with each word as he paced around the room. 
“How many times do I have to tell you Luke? It’s my job, it’s a part of my life and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.” you shouted. 
“Great.” he replied sarcastically. “Then you should understand that I won’t give up my job anytime soon.” 
“I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking for a bit of consideration, and just a sliver of your time.” 
“I’m working to make us more money.” he stated.
“Luke, we don’t need any more money. You should be working because you enjoy it and because it’s your passion.”
He let out a condescending laugh before turning to look in your eyes. 
“Yea, well you don’t seem to mind all the money when you're sitting at home in the house that I bought, and leeching off of my bank account on the daily. D’ya think you could afford all the shit you have just based on your salary?” he spat crudely. 
You physically leaned back as if the words had just actually been thrown at you. They must’ve, because the pain they caused felt far too real to just be emotional. You opened your mouth to fight back, to scream, to do something but the lump in your throat prevented anything to come out other than a sad, and pathetic squeak. 
Was that what he thought about you? 
This had caught you completely off guard. Sure, you were expecting an argument, you’d even say you were expecting a big one, but you would’ve never guessed he would throw this in your face. 
You felt betrayed. It had always made you insecure that you were making such little money compared to your boyfriend. 
Some days after receiving your paycheck you would go out and spend it all on Luke, solely because you wanted to know that you could contribute too. You would do that whenever you got the chance, to reassure that your work was important, and valid. And mainly to show Luke that you appreciated all he did for you. 
He would always reply, “You don’t have to do this, love. I like spoiling my girl.” 
Yeah right. 
“I wasn’t, I m-mean I don’t try to lee-,” you paused, the word feeling too gross to repeat back. 
“Well, you do whether you're trying or not so the least you can do is give me a break occasionally.” he spoke casually, while changing into sweats as if he wasn’t ripping you apart with every word. 
You kept a blank stare at the bedroom door, your eyes already stinging with unshed tears. You wished you could be angrier but his words left you questioning and feeling guilty. 
As hard as you’d tried to provide for yourself and make your own way you couldn’t help but wonder if you had subconsciously started leaning on him, more than you had ever wanted. 
Luke continued getting ready for bed, not taking a second look at you since hitting you with his harsh words. 
“I-I’m sorry.” you croaked. 
“It’s fine, Y/n I just wish you could’ve been slightly more understanding.” he continued, still not facing you. 
“I think that maybe, I mean, um I gotta go.” you were speaking through tears, as you abruptly stood from the bed and hurried to leave the room. 
This caught Luke’s attention causing him to spin in your direction at lightning speed, finally taking in your emotional state.
“Going? Going where? I-what are you talking about?” 
You didn’t reply, grabbing your keys, bag, and shoes as you continued to speed to the front door. 
“Y/n!” he continued, following closely behind you. 
You paused at the front door and turned to meet his eyes. His stressed appearance subsided as you allowed him the opportunity to talk. 
“You’re upset.” he concluded, reaching a hand out to hold your cheek.
You leaned away from his touch and shook your head lightly, “M’not.” 
His features softened and he took another step closer to you, “You are. I’m sorry, I was harsh.” 
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 
“Didn’t know?” 
“I don’t want t-to leech” you stuttered out. 
This rendered Luke speechless, realizing how cruel his words had been. You had taken this as an opportunity to exit the house, quickly running to your car. Luke made it to the driveway just in time to see you drive away. 
“Fuck” he snapped, jogging back towards the house to get his phone and call you in hopes of convincing you to come back. 
After calling you at least 20 times with no response he conceded and decided he should try and get some sleep, that way he was rested enough to get you to forgive him in the morning. 
His body fell naturally to his side of the bed, but his eyes lingered on where you typically laid. 
Rolling onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling he muttered to himself, “I’m an idiot.” 
Eventually he was tiring out, the bedroom ceiling growing extremely boring after staring for so long. He turned on his side to hug your pillow to his chest. As his hand slid under the pillow it came into contact with an envelope that had been hidden underneath. 
He sat up and flicked on a lamp to read the front, “To my Lu” 
He could tell that you had taken your time penciling on your words, each letter was flawless and written delicately. Before ripping it open he hesitated, questioning whether or not he even deserved to see what was inside after the way he spoke to you. The selfish part of his brain won for the second time that night. 
The first thing he saw after opening was two airline tickets situated just in front of a folded piece of notebook paper. 
He held his breath as he brought them into the light, two roundtrip business tickets to Sydney. 
He rushed to read the note you had left with them, unfolding it quickly. 
“Lu, 
Happy two years, my love. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to call you mine for this long. Not a day goes by where I’m not in complete and utter awe of you and everything you do for me. I know how hard you work and how much you miss home and your family while you continue to grow in your music, and in yourself everyday. I know these aren’t the best tickets you’ve ever had by any means or the most extravagant vacation you’ve taken, but I wanted to show you how much I love you and how much I know you deserve, and need a break. We have 2 weeks, we leave tomorrow. I’ve worked it all out with the guys and your label. I know this is just a small way to repay you for the way you’ve taken care of me and the way you’ve loved me so selflessly for so long but I hope it shows you just a sliver of how much I love you. 
Yours always, 
               Y/n” 
He traced the letters of your name repeatedly as he blinked back a few stinging tears, before falling asleep, the note clutched tightly to his chest. 
That was a week, and about 100 missed calls ago.
About two days after you left, your friend had called to let him know that you were safe and staying with her for the time being. It had slightly lessened his worry, but the guilt he felt grew exponentially each day he had no reason to say your name.
He had claimed your side of the bed as his own in hopes that it would bring you closer to him. When he had finally dragged himself out of bed to shower he used your body wash and as embarrassing as it sounds nearly cried when the room was flooded with the familiar rose scented steam. And tonight while scouring through the liquor cabinet and feeling completely sorry for himself he had come across a bottle of tequila that you had purchased on your most recent vacation. 
Luke had put a serious dent in it by the time he was done scrolling through all of his pictures of you, and his finger began to itch with the need to call you. 
Through blurry and clouded eyes he located your contact, a breath hitching in his throat when he clicked the call button. 
With each unanswered ring he pinched his wrist, willing himself to wake up and discover this was all just some horrible nightmare, that he would just roll over and see you curled up next to him, warm, and sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect. 
“You’ve reached y/n. Sorry I can’t get to the phone, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks” 
But it’s not his nightmare that got him here, it’s his mistake. 
“Y/n,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he hasn’t used it much in the past couple of days. 
“I don’t know what to do anymore, I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his heart was pounding and his intoxication numbed him from the feeling of  the hot tears that streamed down his face as he continued. “M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish and I was talking out of my ass that night, of course you’re not leeching. That’s fucking ridiculous, you couldn’t be, I give you nothing compared to what you give me. I just don’t know how to admit I’m wrong and the money is bullshit, it doesn’t matter, we could both live without it.”  his chest felt tight as he took a large gulp of air. “I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby. I need you with me, and I want to fucking give you the world and I know you don’t need me to give it to you. I want to. I just-I want to give you everything, anything. You can have it all. It’s yours. I’m yours, alwa-”  his pleads were cut off by the dial tone. 
“Always.” he repeated, staring at the black screen. 
pt. 2
507 notes · View notes
ceruleanchillin · 3 years ago
Text
5 Day Stay
| Or, Angel down bad for a week |
Angel x F!Reader
Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end
Mon:
Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.
Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.
It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.
His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.
The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.
He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.
“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”
“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”
Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“
He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”
“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”
Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.
“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”
“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”
He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”
He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.
“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.
“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”
You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”
Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.
“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.
It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.
“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”
He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”
The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.
It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.
Tues:
Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.
He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.
It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.
“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.
He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.
He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.
He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.
“Hey hurricane Ulta.”
You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”
He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”
This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”
“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”
You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”
“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”
“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”
“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”
“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.
“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.
He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.
“Ok..”
Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.
“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”
“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.
He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.
“Angel!” you exclaimed.
“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”
“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."
Wed:
“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."
“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.
You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.
He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.
He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.
He loved how much he was learning about you.
As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.
“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.
You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.
He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”
You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”
Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”
“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.
“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”
“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.
Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.
The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.
“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”
“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”
He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.
Thurs:
Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.
The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.
Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.
“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”
He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.
He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.
You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.
Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.
That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.
He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.
He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.
“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.
Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”
“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.
“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.
Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.
“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”
“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.
“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”
‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.
Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”
He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.
Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.
Fri:
It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.
The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.
Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.
You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.
The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.
He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.
Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.
‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.
“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”
“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.
You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”
He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.
“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“
“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.
“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”
“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.
“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”
You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.
“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”
“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”
He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.
“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”
“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.
You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“
“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”
He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”
You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”
“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”
He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”
He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”
He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.
He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.
He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.
He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.
He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.
Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.
“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.
“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.
The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.
You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.
You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.
In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?
He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.
He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.
This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.
The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.
Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.
You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.
“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.
He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.
“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”
“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”
Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.
You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.
His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.
He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.
It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.
“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”
AN:
Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.
No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴
I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)
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theladyofdeath · 4 years ago
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Life As We Know It {Chapter 6}
Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.
Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.
Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelb’s blogs! >> @snelbz​
Life As We Know It Masterlist
Shelby’s Masterlist
Tara’s Masterlist
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The week had passed by in a blur and by the time Saturday came, all Nesta wanted to do was sleep in. 
But she couldn’t.
Sleeping in wasn’t possible anymore. 
Her alarm had been set for seven, but she woke up with the sun peeking through her curtains at 6:45. She looked at the baby monitor on the nightstand. Nyx was still sound asleep in his crib.
With a groan, she covered her head with her pillow and tried to shut out the light, but it was no use. 
She was wide awake. 
May as well enjoy a cup of coffee before Nyx wakes up. Nesta tossed her legs over the side of the bed and tossed her robe over her pajama shorts and tank top. After pulling her long, golden-brown hair back, she was tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs.
Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear noise coming from the kitchen.
The sizzling of bacon being dropped into a skillet.
She had expected it to be Cassian, of course, but what she wasn’t expecting was what he was wearing.
Or, she supposed, what he wasn’t wearing. 
She wasn’t sure if she should go back upstairs, to give him privacy. But he was the one who had chosen to come downstairs like this, in one of the common areas of the house, so Nesta went ahead and walked into the kitchen. She aimed straight for the coffee pot, grateful to see a fresh pot already in the carafe. “Good morning.”
He turned towards her, that broad, muscular chest on full display, thanks to the white towel wrapped around his hips being the only thing he had on. “Morning, Nes. Hope you want breakfast.”
She continued to make her coffee, which was usually easy, considering it was one spoonful of sugar in black coffee, but she was having a distinctly hard time focusing on what she was doing.
She had seen Cassian without a shirt in before, at the few times they’d both been over to swim in Feyre and Rhysand’s pool, but there was something distinctly different about seeing him wearing a pair of swimming trunks and that towel. That towel that was sitting so low on his hips, she knew there could be nothing underneath it.
He didn’t even seem to notice, didn’t even seem to think about her reaction to him standing nearly nude in the kitchen, making breakfast. His hair was still wet, although the ends seemed to be drying. 
She wondered if this is what he looked like in a towel, what he would look like in the shower.
She quickly shook the thought away, even though it couldn’t help but linger in the back of her mind.
“I’ve got eggs, bacon, and toast,” he said, his back to her. She watched his muscles expand as he moved pans around and turned off the burners. “Simple, but it’ll fill you up. We’ll need all the energy we can this morning.”
Nesta cleared her throat and gave him a nod as he turned to face her. It was true, and Nesta was unexcited about it. The two of them would spend their day trying to find a part-time nanny for Nyx for the days that the two of them were both at work at the same time.
They’d had plenty of applicants, some of whom seemed promising. 
Nesta had her fingers crossed.
A plate was set down in front of Nesta, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at it. There was a smiley face made out of a bacon mouth and egg-eyes. Another plate was set in the middle of the table, piled high with toast and jam. 
“What am I, two?” she asked, gesturing to the breakfast face in front of her.
Cassian chuckled. His plate was piled high with bacon and eggs. No room for faces. He sat across from her and leaned on the table with his elbows. “A little smiley face never hurt anybody.”
She said nothing, just picked up her fork and cut into the eggs. She hadn’t even told him she liked her eggs over-medium, but she was glad she did as the semi-runny yolk spilled out onto her plate. Nesta thought about starting something about it, about asking about food preferences before he assumed something, but it was too early and she hadn’t gotten to enjoy nearly enough of her cup of coffee. It was too early to fight. So instead she picked up a crispy piece of bacon and used it to pick up some of the egg, before popping it into her mouth.
Her eyes slipped closed and she tried not to moan.
How could a simple breakfast taste so damn good?
When she opened her eyes again, she assumed she hadn’t been completely successful in stopping her appreciative noises, because he was smirking at her as he brought his own coffee to his lips.
“Told you I make a mean breakfast,” he said, reaching for a piece of toast and slathering it in blackberry jam.
Clearing her throat, she ignored him and continued eating until her plate was completely empty. Just as she was about to get up to rinse it off, he stood, adjusting that damn towel to fit more snuggly around his hips, and picked up both of their plates. She tried her best not to watch the muscles shift in his back as he rinsed the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Tried her best, but found herself staring as she sipped from her coffee cup, but snapped herself out of it and got up as well, making Nyx a bottle for when he woke up.
As she shook the formula up, she asked, “Will you be putting clothes on before the applicants get here, or should I warn them this is going to be a clothes-optional interview?”
He glanced at her over a shoulder, as he began to clean the pan he’d cooked the bacon and eggs in, but turned right back to the sink. “Does my nakedness bother you, Nes?”
Damn him, she could hear the smirk in his voice.
“No,” she snapped. “And stop calling me that.”
“So, you like me in a towel, then?” he went on, turning the sink off as he put the final plate in the drain rack.
“You’re exhausting, you know that?” she asked, turning to face him full on.
He turned to her then, one brow raised as he ran a hand through his nearly-dried hair. “I’m just saying, if it bothers you, I’ll be sure to dress before I come down to slave away for you over the stove. But, if it doesn’t bother you, I have to admit that I like to completely dry before I put on clothes.”
No, it didn’t bother her.
No, she didn’t mind having her breakfast with a view.
No, she wouldn’t mind reaching out and feeling just how hard and defined his abs really were.
No, she would never admit to that.
Instead, she raised her chin and said, “I should wake Nyx up so he’s ready before the first applicant arrives.”
“So formal,” he grinned. “And here I thought we were having a nice, pleasant morning.”
A soft cry came from upstairs and she was immediately in motion, all thoughts of those abs and whether or not water from his shower would well in the defined divots of them gone. Snatching up the bottle she’d set on the counter, she turned and headed for the living room and the stairs beyond. “Put some clothes on,” was all
she called back to him as she hurried for Nyx’s nursery.
*
Nesta shut the front door, falling back against the wood, listening as the final interview made her way down the cobblestone walkway.
She sighed and made her way into the kitchen. She needed a glass of wine.
A bottle of wine was more like it, but a glass would do for now.
She found Cassian already standing behind a chair at the kitchen table, the resumes of each applicant spread out before him. “So,” she said, reaching into the fridge for the bottle of chilled, white wine. “What did you think?”
He blew out an equally exhausted breath, before shaking his head. “There was…a lot of variety.”
He was right. There was a woman who had to be in her seventies, who had brought an entire notebook of lesson plans, with her goal to have the one-year-old fluent in French before his third birthday. Then there was the thirteen-year-old who had lied about her age on the application, but promised she could ride her bike the mile and a half from her house every day they needed her. Just not until after three on school days.
“Too much variety,” she agreed. “That last woman was so boring she literally put Nyx to sleep.”
It was true. Nyx was currently sound asleep in the middle of his playmat in the living room, surrounded by his toys. 
“I didn’t mind the retired librarian,” Nesta said, filling her wine glass to the brim. 
Cassian scrunched his nose. “She smelled weird.”
Nesta scoffed. “I don’t think Nyx will be minding her smell. She was smart and was obviously good with him.”
“So was Viviane,” Cassian said, picking up an application off the table.
Nesta blinked. “Viviane?”
“Yeah, Viviane,” he said, showing her the application. “Smart. Bachelors in early childhood education. Lives three miles down the road.”
“Young, blonde, hot,” Nesta added, taking a drink.
Cassian raised an eyebrow. “So you do remember her.”
“I remember that she didn’t have near enough experience and she only listed one reference,” Nesta replied, taking the application and resume from him. She looked it over again. “She can’t be more than twenty-two years old.”
“What does her age have to do with it?” He asked, leaning down on the chair and looking at her. “She’s got good qualifications and Nyx loved her. She was one of the few he actually laughed and wanted to play with.”
It was true, he’d been extremely uncomfortable around most of the applicants. He cried the second a couple of them looked at him and had even spit up on one of them. But he had giggled with Viviane and genuinely seemed to like her.
“She hasn’t worked at a legit daycare or anything, but she’s been a one-on-one nanny before,” Cassian pointed out, as Nesta was reading the same thing on her copy of the resume. “And she said she could get us the numbers of her previous families. She just didn’t want to give them out without asking permission.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sounds like she’d respect our privacy, too. But go ahead, keep thinking of reasons she’s not a good candidate.”
Aside from her perky tits and ass, I can’t think of any. The words almost came from her lips, but Nesta ground her teeth.
“We have to agree on someone, and Viviane can start immediately,” Cassian continued. 
Nesta stared at him for a moment.
He stared back, watching as she sipped from her glass. “I swear to the Mother, Cassian, if you fuck the nanny-.”
Cassian barked an unamused laugh. “You think I have absolutely no self control, don’t you?”
“I think you’re basing this choice off of what you want, not what Nyx needs,” she said, not breaking their eye contact.
“She may be hot, but fucking her would be a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” he admitted. “And Nyx is half Rhys. Don’t forget that. He liked to appreciate pretty things just as much as I do, and I’m sure Nyx will, too.”
Scoffing, Nesta set her glass down and went into the living room to get Nyx. “He’s a baby, not a grown man, with raging hormones. You’re disgusting.” She picked him up, still fast asleep from hearing about the nuances of the differences in a sitter and nanny from the old crone they’d spoken with last. “Call Viviane, let her know she starts tomorrow at eight.”
Cassian met her on the stairs. “I don’t work tomorrow, I can watch him.”
Nesta shrugged, but continued up, carrying a drooling Nyx to his nursery. She hadn’t noticed how close to his nap time it had gotten. “Think of it as an exercise in self-control then, and a test run. See how she does with Nyx and see if you can keep your dick to yourself.”
“I’ve kept it from you pretty easily, haven’t I?” 
Nesta refrained from responding as she carried Nyx into the nursery and laid him down, cracking the door open behind her as she left. Walking back downstairs, she retrieved her wine, purposefully ignoring him, though she felt his eyes on her the whole time. She wouldn’t answer his question, was doing her best not to think about it, especially compounded with memories of him this morning.
She had no idea the muscles leading down by the hips could really be so defined. She thought the illustrious V that dragged your eye downwards on most male models was photoshopped in. Cassian, though, very much proved it not only existed, but that it was as distracting as she’d imagined it could be.
“I’m taking a bath,” she announced, heading back for the stairs. “Let Viviane know she got the job, but she can start whenever you want. If you’ll be off tomorrow, we don’t need to pay her to be here.”
She didn’t wait for his reply, and was in her room with the door shut a few seconds later. She took her time filling the bathtub with the things she found under the counter. There were oils and salts and bubbles and soaps, and by the time Nesta settled into the bubbly, warm water, the entire bathroom smelled like a spa. She sipped her wine, refusing to let her mind wander back to Cassian that morning, but by the time her glass was empty, her head was swimming and the water had begun to go cold.
She got out of the tub, watching as the water swirled down the drain and began toweling off.
And then, she had an idea, to give Cassian a taste of his own medicine.
She grabbed a clean, fluffy, white towel and wrapped it around her chest. And then she headed down to the kitchen for a refill.
Cassian was lying on the couch, one arm tossed behind his head, the other using the remote to flip through the stations on the TV.
He caught Nesta the moment her feet appeared at the top of the stairs.
Nesta’s heartbeat a little bit faster with every step she took.
“This is a new look for you,” Cassian said, simply, even though his voice had lowered an octave since the last conversation they had. “Especially considering you took the master bedroom so that you had your own private bathroom to avoid such run-ins with me.”
Nesta tossed her long, wet hair over her shoulder. “I figured it was okay since you’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no desire to crawl into bed with me. I deemed it safe territory.”
The glass still dangled between her fingers and she heard the couch creak as she turned the corner into the kitchen. She may have grabbed a towel that wasn’t quite as wide as the rest of them, one that didn’t quite come as far down her thighs. But if he wanted to prance around in nothing but his skin, she could do the same.
They were both adults. She had no interest in sleeping with him - so she told herself, at least - and he’d said he had no interest in her.
She poured what was left of the bottle in her glass and threw it into the trash with a clunk. She hadn’t realized she had so little left, but was fairly sure another bottle was in the wine cabinet.
Which was in the living room.
When she re-entered the living room, the volume on the TV was nearly silent and Cassian was sitting up, rather than laying down. One arm was draped across the back of the couch and the other still clutched the remote.
She could feel his eyes on her and she took another drink before reaching around the back of the cabinet for the key and unlocking it.
Not only did she grab another bottle of her favorite wine, but also a good bottle of whiskey, too.
“Planning on getting wasted?” He asked, quietly. 
“Just stocking up,” she replied, locking the cabinet behind her. “Care for a glass?”
Cassian looked around the room, as if she would be talking to anyone else other than her. “Sure.”
“Whiskey, I assume?” she asked, going back into the kitchen for another glass. 
The television was a little bit louder when she returned, but not by much.
She sat on the opposite end of the couch, and set the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. After retrieving the glass bottles, she poured.
Cassian remained perfectly quiet as she did so. 
“Is this a truce?” he asked, as Nesta held the glass out toward him.
“This is a celebratory drink to commemorate finding a nanny today,” Nesta said, although her voice held no warmth. “No matter how young and inexperienced and doomed-to-fail she is.”
She held up her wine glass.
Cassian snorted as he clinked his glass against hers.
She wasn’t paying any attention to whatever he had playing on the TV, and she had a feeling he didn’t either, not as she could feel his stare burning into her. Enough so that she crossed her legs, unintentionally causing the towel to raise even higher attention on the outside of her thigh. It almost exposed her entire hip, which she wasn’t anticipating, but she had made the decision to come down here, to tease him by showing him what he had done to her. She wouldn’t let him see how much his gaze was affecting her.
Even if it was just the wine.
Or so she told herself.
She was just about to stand, to make some excuse for going upstairs when he set his glass down on the coffee table and cleared his throat.
“New house rule. Clothes are required in the common areas. Kitchen, living room, dining room,” he said, ticking them off one by one. “Bedrooms and bathrooms are the only places where this is allowed.”
He gestured towards her, without looking, to make sure his point was understood.
“Why?” She asked innocently, and then she threw his own words back into his face. “Does my nakedness bother you, Cass?”
“Quite the opposite,” he admitted, adjusting himself.
Nesta pretended she didn’t notice.
“I thought you had no issue keeping yourself in check with me,” Nesta said, her voice low. “I thought you weren’t some untamed male with raging hormones.”
“I’m not,” he said, reaching to refill his glass. “At least, not until a beautiful woman is sitting a foot away from me, soaked, in a towel, pouring me whiskey.”
“I’m not soaked,” she said, without thinking it through. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
When Cassian looked at her, he grinned, but his eyes were dark. “I meant your hair.”
Nesta knew her plan had immediately backfired, either that or she’d had far too much to drink, so she simply nodded and stood heading back for the staircase.
“Nes?”
She turned back to look at him, halfway up the staircase.
He was smirking, that glass of whiskey resting on the arm of the couch. “If you ever do find yourself soaked, you know where to find me.”
She was up the stairs and slamming her door in a flash, trying to ignore his quiet laughter.
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ravennm84 · 4 years ago
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Complicity
Hey everyone! Sorry I’ve been missing for a while, but I’ve had a lot going on and lacking inspiration, until the other day! I know that Lila thinks she’s the smartest person in the room and that everyone else it too stupid to figure her out. So, I decided to let her “think” she’s being smart, but gets caught because she did something stupid. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!
Lila was happy. Since she had become a model, she had acquired a small fan base of people that thought she had beauty and talent. Granted, it wasn’t as large as she thought it should be, but she had only done three photo shoots and had been mentioned in one magazine. But this was just the beginning; soon, all of Europe would know her name and reporters would be clamoring after her for pictures. 
But at the same time she was very angry.
This was because Marinette had been mentioned in the same magazine as her. And where Lila got a single photo that showed more of Adrien than it did of her, Maribrat had gotten an entire article and multiple photos about her designs and the collaboration she was doing with Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois since the woman had decided to stay in Paris. She had even looked at the girl’s website and saw that there was an actual wait list to receive one of her original designs.
Enraged that someone she considered to be plain, talentless, and all around lower in status than her, Lila started coming up with plans. She wasn’t about to share her spotlight with anyone, let alone Maribrat.
She was tempted to accuse the bluenette of stealing her designs and ruining her reputation, but since she had been designing for longer than Lila had been in Paris, that had too much of a chance to backfire. She’s thought of sicking one of her classmates/sheep to break into her house and destroy her commission projects, but that also had too much of a chance to backfire since they would likely blab if they were caught.
No, she needed a different type of plan. Something that would be farther removed from herself so nothing would blow back on her, but harsh enough so that even Maribrat wouldn’t connect what happened to her. It took a few weeks and a lot of planning, but she came up with something that would work. It had been the perfect plan, a way to get Marinette out of her life and the spotlight for good. 
All it took was some sweet talking one of her new followers; a large, burly boy named Henry that was a couple years older than her and not very bright. He would have done anything for her… including going after a “stalker” that had threatened to hurt her. She barely even had to suggest anything before the boy assured her that he would protect her at all costs. It even seemed to be working when Maribrat was suspiciously absent from school for a few days after Henry said he would “take care of it”.
It had been the perfect plan...
Until the police showed up. 
She had just gotten home when the police arrived, saying that she was wanted for questioning in an open case. They had already been in contact with her mother and Greta Rossi had promised them their full cooperation. Rather than risk looking guilty, Lila called her mother to make sure they were telling the truth before grudgingly going with them. 
When she got to the police station, she was met by her very confused and furious mother. This wasn’t the first time she had been in trouble with the law. There had been an incident in Rome where she’d been accused of pushing a boy, Simone, down the stairs, and her mother had been forced to pay his medical bills. She had made it very clear that if Lila caused any more problems at school, it would not be pleasant.
So there she was; sitting with her mother and a couple of police detectives that she didn’t recognize, who were giving her condescending looks. “I am Detective Cooper, and this is Detective Raimus. We understand that you have been made aware of your rights, correct?”
“Yes, multiple times. What is this all about? You can’t just bring my daughter in for questioning like she’s some common criminal.” Her mother said as she stared down the two men.
“Mme. Rossi, we need to ask your daughter some questions in connection to an assault that took place against one of her classmates.” Stated Cooper, a detective with a thick mustache.
“Are you or your daughter familiar with a M. Henry Mortaure?”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Lila lied with a shrug.
“Neither have I, who was attacked?” Her mother asked, suddenly worried about what her daughter might have gotten involved in.
“A Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are you familiar with the name?” Asked Raimus, who looked a bit older than his partner.
Greta Rossi thought for a second before nodding. “Lila has mentioned her a couple of times, said that she was a bully. What about her?”
“The Dupain-Cheng residence was broken into a few days ago by M. Mortaure. He was armed and confessed to be doing so with the intent of killing Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” Mme. Rossi gasped in shock while Lila was attempting to hide her smirk with a look of worry. “The Dupain-Chengs were not harmed, although the same cannot be said for M. Mortaure.” Cooper placed some photos in front of them on the table, gaining another gasp from Greta. Three of the man’s limbs were wrapped in heavy gauze, his face was swollen and bruised from a black eye and a seriously broken nose. 
Lila didn’t flinch when she saw the photos, but was now fighting a scowl at the knowledge that Henry had failed her. And since she was here in an interrogation room, it could only mean that the idiot had blabbed. But that didn’t matter, she could just say that he must be a crazy stalker who had somehow found out that Maribrat was bullying her and decided to take things into his own hands. After all, it wasn’t like she had called or messaged him from her personal phone. She had bought a burner phone with cash just for this occasion. 
“Despite being armed with a pistol, he never had a chance to use it,” Raimus stated as pushed one of the photos towards Lila. “He will require reconstructive surgery on his face from being hit multiple times with a rolling pin. His arms were severely burned when he fell into a fryer, it’s likely that he’ll never have full use of them again. Despite the burns, he attempted to go for a kitchen knife after being disarmed. That knife was turned on him and he ended up with a perforated lung.”
Greta looked like she was going to be sick, unable to look away from the pictures in front of her. But she eventually did, casting a harsh stare at her daughter. “Please, tell me you had nothing to do with this.”
Doing her best to fake her shock, she shook her head and pushed away the photos. “I swear, I had nothing to do with this. I don’t even know why he would do this.”
“We were wondering the same thing and discovered that he’s a fan of yours. He has multiple pictures of you, as well as Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. We suspected that he had been stalking you and came to the conclusion that he thought she was bullying you and decided to protect you on his own-”
“Oh no, that has to be it!” She exclaimed, skillfully faking shock. “Marinette followed me out of school last week and threatened me to stay away from my boyfriend. This boy must have seen her and decided to get rid of her.”
“If that’s the case, why are you questioning my daughter?” Greta pressed, not completely believing Lila but seeming to be coming around to her side.
“As I was saying,” stressed Detective Cooper. “We had suspected that M. Mortaure was stalking your daughter, until we got the warrant for his phone. It seems that someone, supposedly Lila, has been corresponding with him for many weeks. She had been flirting with him, sending him photos of herself, and then Marinette. She went on to tell him that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was a stalker and had threatened her. M. Mortaure seems to have done what he did with the understanding that he was protecting Lila, at Lila’s own behest.”
“I would never do that!” Lila cried before reaching into her purse to pull out her personal mobile and set it on the table in front of them. “Check my phone, I never messaged him.”
“We have already checked your phone records against the one that has been messaging M. Mortaure, and found that the numbers did not match.” Detective Raimus said, and Lila watched her mother visibly slump from relief… but it was short lived. 
“We did, however, track the number to a burner phone that was purchased in cash from a gas station. We thought it was a dead end, but the person who bought the phone made a mistake.” Raimus continued as Detective Cooper pulled out his own mobile and dialed a number. “The person who bought it has kept it on, and it is currently active.”
Seconds after Cooper pressed send, a ringing came from Lila’s purse. Greta Rossi stared at her daughter in shock before yanking the purse out of Lila’s hands and pulling out a second phone from inside. When Cooper cancelled the call, the second phone stopped ringing. 
“What have you done?” She spat at Lila.
Panicking, she shook her head while looking around the room for an exit. “That’s not mine! They must have planted it on me when they brought me here! They’re trying to frame me!”
“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Greta screamed at her daughter, causing Lila to practically fall out of her seat in fear. “You convinced someone to commit MURDER for you! That makes you just as guilty as him!”
“But-but I have diplomatic immunity! I can’t be charged for any of this!”
“Yes, you can,” Greta said, her voice going cold. “I may be a secretary to the Italian Ambassador, which grants me immunity, but that doesn’t extend to you! I told you to behave! I told you to never cause trouble like you did in Roma after what you did to that boy that called you out on your…” Understanding washed over Greta’s features as her expression morphed from anger, to understanding, and then disgust. “That’s it, isn’t it? Marinette never bullied you. She knew about your lies and you set out to hurt her just like before!” 
Standing up quickly, her mother started pacing the room before looking back to the detectives. “I’ll still need to speak with the ambassador, but you can expect our full cooperation in this.”
“Mom, no!”
“What are the charges?” Greta asked, acting as though Lila wasn’t even there. 
“As Lila is a minor, she can be charged with Complicity to Commit Murder, the decision of sentencing is ultimately up to the judge. But seeing as she purposefully bought a burner phone to use and has also lied to the police, I wouldn’t hold much hope.”
~oOo~
The trial took longer than expected. At first, things had been looking up since her followers from class had come to act as character witnesses. All of them saying how wonderful she was, a great friend that did so much for them and everyone she knew,   and that she would never do something so terrible. That Marinette was just jealous of Lila, so it was better to take whatever she said with a grain of salt.
Then, the prosecution started their case. Showing evidence of Lila falsifying records at school, video evidence of her purposefully framing Marinette for assault and theft. As well as the communications between herself and Henry, encouraging him to kill Marinette. 
Her followers had still been a bit sceptical to believe what the prosecutor was saying about her, not wanting to believe that they had supported someone who would try to get another person murdered. But then came her past victims, many of whom her mother had never known about. Simone from Rome, Sara from Florence, Giulia from Venice, Daniel from Viterbo, and Sofia from Palermo. All of them testifying against Lila, many with screenshots of threatening texts from her, photos of ruined property and injuries she had inflicted on them, and all around proof that Lila was the reason behind many hardships that had happened to them. And all because they had figured out that she was a liar and she had done everything in her power to hurt them.
After all that, the judge had not been kind. 
“It is clear, Mlle. Rossi, that you are a very disturbed girl in need of help,” the judge said, not bothering to hide how offput he was by Lila. “I cannot, in good conscious, allow you to roam freely. Having seen that these habits of yours have not only been repeated over and again, but have escalated to attempted murder. I have no choice but to have you returned to Italy where you will be kept in a juvenile detention center until you turn 18, at which point you will be transferred to a mental hospital for treatment for no less than five years. At which point, you will be evaluated to see if you will be able to safely rejoin society.”
Lila was immediately escorted back to Italy in disgrace. Her name slandered across every newspaper and magazine across Europe for what she had done. She was now famous, with most everyone knowing her name and reporters scrambling to take her picture as she did her walk of shame out of the courthouse. She was finally famous, but for all the wrong reasons
In case you are wondering. Henry made the mistake of coming after Marinette when she was with her parents. Tom and Marinette were in the bakery kitchen and Sabine was at the front. Tom saw the gun and hit him in the face with his rolling pin twice. He dropped the gun but was still coming after Marinette, she tripped him and he landed in the frier, which had been turned on to make donuts, and splashed oil all over him. Sabine had rushed back in time to see a bleeding and badly burned Henry grabbing a knife, she did some wicked moves that resulted in Henry stabbing himself. By then, he passed out from the pain and the Dupain-Chengs had called the police. The officers that came were both impressed and terrified by what happened to the boy, but the surveillance footage proved that they were only defending themselves.
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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years ago
Text
The Cold Offends Me
PART OF THE VIPER & THE WILD THING COLLECTION  
A/N: Until like three days ago I had no plans to ever write for Oberyn Martell. But we all know what happens to plans whether you make them or not so here we are. (also, at least 45% of the blame for this is on @something-tofightfor who relentlessly bombarded me with Oberyn gifs one night until I had no choice but to start daydreaming.) Anyway! This will not be a chapter series that follows a plot as much as it will be a collection of related one-shots. I have two more that are brewing on the back burner, but for the most part, this “series” is entirely open to requests and prompts, so if there is anything you’d like to see from this pairing, please feel free to visit my inbox! 
Warning: sex, mention of non-consensual sex, language. THIS IS A SMUT if you are a youngin’ please click away. 
Word Count: 3.6k
Summary: Though you work in one of the nicer brothels in King’s Landing- it could be worse!- your life is not at all what you would have chosen for yourself. What happens when a request for warmth turns into an offer for much more? 
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Seven fucking hells. 
From your place amongst the pillows, you watched the taught, sinewy muscles of his back and shoulders move as he leaned over to set his goblet down. A slight sheen of sweat clung to his body, the light from at least a dozen candles making him look even more like a statue carved from bronze or gold than a man made of blood and bone than he already did, and you couldn’t help the satisfied smile that crept over your lips knowing you had been the one to slick his skin that way. Glancing down at your chest though you saw that he had done the same to you, your soft flesh damp and shimmering in the flickering light. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a laugh from slipping out. It has been a while since the last time anyone’s… 
The sound of the silver cup making contact with the wooden table beside the bed cut your thoughts short as he turned back towards you. You had just enough time to see the darkness in his eyes ignite before his hands were clutching the sides of your face, fingers pushing through your hair as he pulled you into a kiss. He didn’t hold back a throaty sigh as he let you sample the sweet wine still coating his tongue. That’s not all that I taste. You grinned around the thought, a wave of warmth rolling through your belly as he flicked his tongue inside your mouth as though reminding you how that same motion felt when he had done it earlier, between your legs. A small moan made it passed your lips and beyond his as he dropped his lower half down over your hips. 
Gods, why can’t they all be like this? 
You had slept with highborn men before, but once they shed their fancy robes and embroidered silks they looked and felt the same as the common swine you regularly serviced, the only real difference being the smell. And not always. Some things even rosewater couldn’t help. This one though, he smelled of spice and citrus and something else you couldn’t quite place. Something enticing. Everything about him was enticing. 
It almost felt wrong, wanting him to touch you, to use up his body and yours until there was nothing left of either of you. In all the years you’d lived and worked there you couldn’t recall ever feeling anything but forced, false enthusiasm, your cheeks aching from all the strung up smiles. You couldn’t recall a single encounter in which you had chosen to stay mentally present for the duration. Yet since the Red Viper had arrived in King’s Landing a few days prior, you had made it your goal to commit every second spent with him coiled around you to memory, even if it meant sharing him with others. Words flew more swiftly than sparrows in the city, so you had already heard that the Prince and his entourage would be staying for roughly a month, a few weeks on either side of that rat Joffery’s wedding. You knew that if he continued to frequent the establishment as he had been, you’d have plenty of chances to work on that commitment. 
But if you were being honest with yourself, which you rarely were since lying made things more bearable in your line of work, you knew that it could never be enough. He’d fucked you three times already that night, and each time had been different, the man never repeating the same touch, changing his speed and pressure, using his teeth and tongue in bold ways that made you feel as though he was experimenting, using your body as a medium for his art. While you were more than willing to be both muse and material for him, you were less willing to think about what would happen when he left the wretched city. For as much opulence as there seemed to be an abundance of, King’s Landing, seven hells, all of Westeros didn’t have a single artisan who could compare to Oberyn Martell in this and likely many other regards. 
If he was going to be the first and only man who made you feel alive, like your desires mattered, like your body was in fact your own, then you wanted to make the most of it. Taking the waistband of his trousers in your hands, the material bunched tightly, you pulled him even closer, simultaneously grinding your hips up, fitting them against his like precisely placed pieces of a puzzle. 
“You don’t need to be shy with me,” he had told you and the others that he and Ellaria had chosen on their first visit. “We are all here for the same thing. So if you want something,” he had his right arm wrapped around the slender torso of his paramour, palming one of her supple breasts as he spoke. She nuzzled into his side but kept her eyes on you, watching as he reached to take you by the chin with his left hand, pulling you close enough to kiss but stopping with barely enough space between his lips and yours for air to pass between you. You gasped, chest heaving as he smiled salaciously down at you. “Take it.” 
That’s what you were doing now, taking what you wanted. 
He finally broke the kiss, but only to nudge your jaw with his nose, one hand moving your hair out of his way so that he could continue teasing you with the things his tongue could do. You slid your palms over his back, fingers finding the raised ridge of a long since healed scar midway down the right side of his spine. He had a few of them, but they were all old and faded, hard to find with your eyes, easy to feel as you touched him though. A jagged line like a bolt of lightning topped his right shoulder, a stippled round patch marked the outside of his left thigh, and there was a pair of red dots near his left wrist that looked like it had been left behind by a snakebite. All proof of how vividly he lived his life, unafraid of pain or danger, accepting and seeking out every challenge he could find, never compromising until he had squeezed every ounce of juice from each experience he had. 
You would let him squeeze you down to the pulp, gladly giving yourself to someone who actually appreciated the act. Someone who seemed to savor you and not just where inside your body you’d allow him. For Oberyn, there were no limits on your body. 
“Had I known there were precious treasures like you hidden up here in the North,” he purred into the crook of your neck as one hand followed its own agenda, roaming your rib cage, the other still stroking softly through your hair. “I would have made the trip much sooner, if only just to have you once.” Fuck. You didn’t doubt him, and that made it even more agonizing to hear. “You are not at all like any Northerner I’ve known.” 
You bit your bottom lip and let out a small breathy laugh. “True Northerners would be offended to hear you say that, you know. To them, we’re all Southerners.” 
Oberyn blew a puff of air through his lips. “And the cold offends me. I do not care if I offend the lords of ice and snow.” His attention was drawn to the circles he was tracing over your sternum with one bejeweled finger. “They are all so stiff. So frigid.” He flattened his palm over the area he’d just been focused on, deep brown eyes lifting to seek out yours. “Not like you.” 
“I am a whore, my prince,” you reminded him of your place playfully, combing your fingers through the crown of silvery strands that struck through the dark locks near his hairline. “I am paid to be warm.” 
“Is that so?” That menacing glint was back in his grin and you understood why he was associated with the viper, the predator striking with lightning speed and deadly venom just as he was now. One hand traveled down your body to tease the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you gasped involuntarily at the contact. “Then why are you so warm when I have not yet handed over a single gold coin?” He dragged his fingers down between your legs. His eyes narrowed, lips dropping open as he slipped one digit into you, seemingly enjoying the breathless sounds you made. 
Gods, he’s going to kill me. 
He didn’t wait for your answer, perhaps knowing already that you didn’t have one. Instead he touched his forehead to yours, his hair damp against your scalp. “Stay with me tonight.” It wasn’t an order or a demand, simply a confident request, one he had surely never been denied. “Keep me warm.” Adding a second finger, he swirled them in a slow circle and watched you writhe under his touch. “I miss the heat of the sun in Dorne.” Curling his pointer and middle fingers slowly, he went on. “I miss the beauty of the water gardens at Sunspear. But you,” he pulled his fingers from your body then, your hips lurching up to follow his hand. “You have the sun in you.” 
You felt completely helpless as you let out a whine at the sight of him licking clean the fingers he’d just had inside of you, the flutter of his eyelashes as he tasted you the only indication that he was even remotely close to cracking the same way that you were. “The sun?” You hummed as his touch returned, his other hand skimming across your skin. I hardly see the sun unless it’s through a shuttered window. “If you feel the sun when you’re with me my Prince, I can assure you it’s your doing.” 
You knew it was the truth and he didn’t argue with you. 
“Whatever the reason,” he assured you, “l have not been so warm since arriving in this pit of a city, and tonight I don’t want to be cold. Stay with me.”
Your heart slammed inside your chest as he made the request again, your throat tightening with how badly you wanted to say yes. Swallowing, you took a breath and steeled yourself to try to steer him away from the idea. A whole night of this… of him it’s too much. It will be too hard to... Shaking your head, you wet your lips and stretched them into a smile. “I’m sure you’re already sorely missed by someone else, my Prince. Someone who could keep you just as warm I’m sure.” 
You hadn’t been with Ellaria in any meaningful sense of the word- yes, you both had been present on their first day in King’s Landing, but she was preoccupied with some of the other girls while you and one of the young men spent time with Oberyn. But you didn’t need to have been with the woman to know what she was capable of, her ravenous appetite flashing in her eyes with the same intensity that you’d seen in the Prince’s. I’m sure she is-
“We are not each other’s property, Ellaria and I.” He crushed your thoughts, touch roaming your torso, grasping at your flesh to punctuate his words with physical meaning. “We don’t put limitations on what we allow ourselves to do when it comes to pleasure.” You fought to suppress a whimper as you felt his tongue and then his teeth nip at the juncture of your throat and shoulder. All of a sudden you felt him flip you around so your back was to him, his deft hands finding your waist and spinning you with ease. “We deny each other nothing when it comes to our desires.” Sliding both hands up to your chest, he gave a deliberate squeeze and rolled his hips into yours from behind you, pulling you backwards to eliminate any empty space that remained. “Do you understand what I am telling you?” 
“Yes,” the word came out in a breathy sigh, and you weren’t sure if you were answering him or reacting to the way that he was making you feel. 
“No.” He said it firmly but his tone had a hint of excitement. “No, I don’t think that you do.” He let one hand travel down your body to the apex of your thighs, his rings cool against your stomach, the smooth links of the chains and pendants he wore pressing into your back as you gasped. “But I’m going to make you understand.” 
—  —  —  —  
Some time later, after you’d acquiesced to his plea to join him through the entire night, the two of you lay draped over one another, spent but still soaking up as much contact as you could. He hadn’t taken his hands off of you for longer than it took to pour from the decanter of wine or reach for the washcloth in the basin next to the bed. He’d hardly taken his eyes off of you either, scanning every last bit of you. You were surprised when he started talking, asking you personal questions that had nothing to do with your body or his or what he wanted to do with and to and for you. 
“Where are you from then, if not the North?” His eyebrows came together in genuine curiosity as he asked the question. He didn’t look away from your collarbone as he waited for your response, watching his own thumb run along the ridge of it as though he were trying to memorize the place where it dipped into your throat. 
You hummed, unable to remember the last time you actually enjoyed being with one of your clients. But he’s not at all like them. No man you ever had the misfortune of having to fuck had ever asked you what your name was or where you were from or what you wanted from them. They were soldiers and sailors, gutter rats who knew you were one of them without having to ask. “I’m from right here,” you responded, combing your fingers through his hair before catching his earlobe and tugging to urge his mouth down to yours. 
He kissed you- gods, he kissed you like he intended to take you apart all over again using only his tongue- then pulled back and let his exploratory touch begin charting the valley of your chest. “Right here?” He asked, and you closed your eyes as you felt his warm breath hitting the skin he’d just been tracing. “King’s Landing, you mean?” 
Warmth pierced your abdomen as he dropped his lips to your body and you sucked in a breath. “Yes,” you answered, sounding every bit as desperate and dizzy as he was making you feel. You clenched a fistful of his hair, and the small rumble of a groan vibrated against your ribs before he dragged his lips towards one breast without lifting them away, licking at the goosebumps he was raising along his path. But that’s not really what I meant. “King’s Landing, yes, but-” 
He picked his head up then, resting his chin in the center of your chest, his meticulously groomed beard softer than you thought it would be as it brushed your flesh. “But?” He dropped his lips teasingly to your body, eyes still on you as he dared you to continue your sentence. 
He did ask. Since it was the first time anyone had, you figured you owed him a complete answer. “But I meant here,” you let your eyes roll around the room, at the windows draped in colorful fabrics, the tables laden with wine and exotic fruits, the walls, made to look like the building was a palace instead of the prison it had become. “Here, this brothel.” 
You tried to slip your other hand into his hair to join the first as you let your gaze fall back to him, but he caught your wrist and stopped you, reaching up to circle his long fingers around your other wrist as well. “What?” He moved back up the bed then to settle beside you, still holding your wrists. 
The sweep and press of his thumb over your pulse made you suck in a breath, and as you looked over at him, you saw a look of confusion and concern in his eyes. This isn’t what you pay for, Oberyn. Why are you doing this? You shook your head and tried for one of your practiced smiles. “This is my home. It’s where I…grew up. I was born here. My mother was a…” 
“A whore?” He supplied the word but didn’t fill it with the disdain and judgement that most did when they spat your title at you as a reminder of your place in the world. You knew that he didn’t put such meaning into words like whore or bastard. One was a profession, the other a term for a child born of passion, and in his eyes, in the eyes of the Dornish people, those things were not filth to be hidden or ashamed of. With the surname Waters, you fell into both categories. He let go of your far wrist, letting that hand drop to your bare stomach, but his thumb continued to run up and down over the veins of the one he still held. 
You nodded. “Yes. As soon as I was old enough, I worked in the kitchens, scrubbing dishes, cleaning bedding.” You watched his chest rise and fall as you spoke but felt his sharp eyes on your face. “When my mother became too… old to do her job, it became my responsibility to earn our keep. Now that it's just me I…” You shrugged. He asked, you reminded yourself again. “Well, I have no other… no skills or-” 
“You didn’t choose this?” He lifted the hand he had on your stomach to push a piece of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing the outer helix and drifting down to the tender skin just beneath it. “You… wouldn’t choose this?” 
Despite the honesty in his question, the tingling sensation that his touch sent through your bones and the way he was looking at you, you had to laugh. “No,” you shook your head. “Some girls,” gesturing with one hand you twirled it and arched an eyebrow, “some boys? Some of them choose this. But I… was born into it.” 
You didn’t know what you expected to see on his face when you looked back up at him, but it certainly hadn’t been anger. Oh, I shouldn’t have- “That is unacceptable.” What? Before you could ask him to elaborate or try to de-escalate the conversation, turn it back towards pleasure like you’d been taught to, he had your face between his hands, your eyes locked with his. “Pleasure should not come at the cost of anyone’s freedom. You shouldn’t have to-” His nostrils flared slightly then and he took a breath through his nose, eyes falling closed briefly before opening again. “Come back to Dorne with Ellaria and I. Let me take you from here.” 
The thought of it was too good to entertain, too tempting to take seriously, and it made it too hard to breathe. You were property of Lord Petyr Baelish, it wasn’t that simple. Blinking away the shock of his request, you again tried to lighten things with a smile. “So I can be your pet down in Sunspear?” 
“No.” He leaned in and kissed you then, his top lip curling against yours before you felt his grip move to the back of your head and the side of your neck. “I would never put you in a cage like a pet,” he murmured into your mouth. “You are a wild thing. And if you came back with me,” he rubbed the tip of his nose along yours. “You could run as wild as you wanted. Completely untethered.” 
“No one is completely free in Westeros.” You couldn’t help the slight sadness from entering your tone as you told him the truth about your home. 
“They are in Dorne,” he promised.
“And if I came to Dorne,” you mused, playing with the still open drawstring of his trousers, “would I be confined to the water gardens? What would you require of me?” 
“Nothing.” He answered with a shake of his head. “Wild spirits cannot be tamed. When they are, they turn sad, resentful. They grow bitter. They die.” Staring into your eyes, you felt the earnest truth in his words. “I would only hope that with your freedom you would choose to return to me.” 
If there was a free soul in existence who wouldn’t return to him, they were out of their minds. 
“I would return to you as often as you’d have me.” Your breathless response came quicker than you would have liked, but what he was offering you was so tempting even your cautious attempts at reigning in your enthusiasm weren’t enough and you cursed yourself for it. “But what about…” you let out a breath and waved a hand around the room. “What about Lord Baelish? What about-“ 
“I told you already,” he brought a finger up and laid it on top of your still swollen, wine stained lips. “I take what I want. And what I want is to see you as free as you were meant to be.” He leaned in to press his lips to yours, his finger still stuck between. “So you leave that to me, Wild one. Now,” he brought his hand down to wrap around your wrist, pulling you into the bend in his arm. “Show me how you stay warm up here in the North.” 
.
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THANK YOU FOR READING! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list please feel free  to let me know. And like I said up top: if you have any requests or ideas that you would like to see for these two, send an ask and I will see what I can do! 
tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @pheedraws​ @valkblue​ @alraedesigns​ @beefcakebarnes​
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bees--in-my--bones · 4 years ago
Text
Sunset
Character: Natasha x gn!Reader (please note I did write this with a female reader in mind, so I'm sorry if there are unintentional biases but there were no pronouns or indications of gender at all)
Note: soulmate AU where you can only see color when you look at your soulmate for the first time. i hate to admit it, but i did get this idea from tiktok.
Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, major character death, no happy ending
Word Count: 1,859
A/N: This is my first fic ever! I'm actually really proud of how it turned out and I hope you like it and stick around for more! :)
You had never seen your partner.
It was just protocol. The nature of the missions you two worked, it was safer if you couldn't identify each other.
You had been near her, of course, and heard her voice whispering to you in the train station or over the phone. But you had never once laid eyes on her.
You were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, and one of Natasha Romanoff's most important and most trusted contacts.
Over the years of working together, you two had become the closest of friends. Fury had no idea that you two were that close, but what Fury didn't know couldn’t hurt him. If it was any pair of spies operating at your level, a close personal relationship would be a problem, but you two were the best in your field, and more than capable of handling it.
It had taken a while for the two of you to talk, really talk, the extent of your interactions being whispered conversations back to back on a set of park benches, or a flash drive set subtly on a table next to an untouched coffee, but one day, probably the best day of your life, you had asked the question and she had answered.
Every phone call with her, you would ask the same question before hanging up.
"How are you doing, Nat?"
And every time, without fail, you would receive the same, gruff, "Fine."
She clearly wasn't one to talk about the touchy-feely stuff. Which was fine by you, you didn't open up often either, most spies you met didn't, but you still gave her that chance, every time.
Until one day, much to your surprise, she responded, "Not great."
It wasn't much, but it was something different. It was an invitation to keep talking. Containing your excitement at the change in conversation, you kept your voice steady. "What's the matter?"
She sighed, the sound crackling faintly over her phone's mic. "I'm back in a place I haven't been in for a long time."
You had no way of knowing exactly where she was- S.H.I.E.L.D took plenty of precautions to be sure of that- but you could make an educated guess. The information you had passed along to her a few days ago had been about a weapons smuggler currently in Russia.
"You know what?" she said, "I don't really want to talk about it. I'll check in with you when the mission's over."
"Natasha, wait!"
Silence from the other line, but she was still on the call.
"Let's just talk. About something else. I think we could both use some casual conversation."
She let out a small chuckle. "Sure, why not? This is a burner phone and I've got time to kill."
It was a bit awkward at first, but you soon fell into a natural conversation. That night you talked about many things. Small things, like favorite foods, and big things, like plans for the future if you ever left S.H.I.E.L.D.
That's when you learned that she couldn't see color.
You weren’t surprised. You couldn’t see color either. It wasn't uncommon for S.H.I.E.L.D to hire people who hadn't met their soulmate. It was a lonely job, and soulmates were a liability.
It was a small moment in your conversation and you continued talking about all sorts of other things late into the night.
Unfortunately, though, all good things must come to an end.
"I'll have to talk to you later, Nat. I've got a big job tomorrow I need to get ready for."
"Goodnight Y/N, and thank you."
"Let's make a habit out of this, okay?"
"Gotcha, Agent."
You smiled and hung up the phone.
From then on, you always lingered on calls. Never quite as long as that first call, but the two of you were quickly becoming each other's closest confidantes.
Soon you began talking in real life, too. You never turned to face each other, never broke that boundary, but you relished the feeling of her shoulder brushing yours as you watched the pigeons in a park.
You called each other before and after every job to check in on each other. You had drop spots outside of Fury's radar where you left each other small gifts. Your life was lonely and cold, but she gave your days warmth and light.
-----
Around a year and a half after your initial conversation, you met in a smokey French cafe, sitting in nearby booths.
“Nat.”
“Agent.”
“Whaddya got for me?”
“No intel on the current mission, but I’ve got news from HQ. Fury’s pulling us from the field.”
You felt your blood run cold. Spywork was dangerous, but it was what you knew. You were good at it. If you were fired, you would be thrown into suburbia with a fake name and fake past- maybe even fake memories, if Fury deemed you untrustworthy- and you would live the rest of your days out in the rat race.
And worst of all, you would live out the rest of your days without Natasha.
“What did we do?” you asked her, putting a massive amount of concentration into keeping your voice from betraying your panic.
“We did good,” she said, a smile in her voice. “We’ve been selected for an elite team to protect the entire world. You and I, Barton, and if we can convince them, Tony Stark, Steve Rodgers, and Bruce Banner.”
“That gamma radiation guy? Do we even know where he disappeared to?”
“We never lost tabs on him.”
You let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me, Nat. I thought Fury had benched us.”
She laughed. “No, we’re still in the game for now. And when Fury gives the word, we’ll head back to New York and hang out like normal people for a change.”
“That would be nice,” you said, your voice quiet.
You heard her move around a bit, then swear. “I have to run," she said. "If I don’t make this drop Fury'll kill me.”
“I’ll talk to you later Nat,” you said. “Hopefully face to face.”
You waited for a response, but heard only silence. You turned and her booth was empty, like she had never been there.
------
"Hey there, Agent," came her warm voice over the receiver. You couldn't help but smile, remembering how cold her voice had been when you had first been partnered together.
"Hey there, Black Widow," you said, using the alias that some younger agents had been whispering behind her back.
“Very funny,” she laughed, “but I’m no Tony Stark. I don’t need a fancy code name.”
“You never know,” you said, your voice still light and teasing. “We should probably both come up with some cool code names for that team Fury was talking about. I think Black Widow suits you.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“No, it means you’re badass. How did your drop go?”
“Good,” she said. “Pretty standard, didn’t run into any problems. How are things on your end?”
“Not bad. I’ve got one thing to finish up this evening, and then I should be good to go. I’ll meet you at the airport at around 5:45 tonight?”
“I’ll be waiting for you, Agent.”
“I’ll be there, Black Widow.”
-----
You snuck around the corner of the warehouse. It was supposed to be one guy. Take him out, take down the whole operation, but apparently, the whole operation was being run out of here. You glanced at your watch. 5:42. Shit. You were gonna miss your flight. A guard passed by, and you froze in place.
You thought he hadn't seen you, but suddenly the sound of his footsteps stopped, then became louder as he ran back towards you, brandishing a weapon. Ducking under him, you grabbed the gun and twisted it away from you, and knocked him over the head with your own pistol.
Suddenly, a loud sound blared over the intercom. Shit. He had sounded the alarm.
You grabbed his gun and made a break for it.
-----
Natasha glanced anxiously at her watch. 5:50.
She glanced around nervously. You hadn’t answered a single one of her calls. She picked up her phone and dialed Nick Fury’s number.
“Fury? Yeah, I know I’m supposed to be getting on a plane, but Y/N isn’t here. Yes, I tried calling. No, Y/N told me 5:45. A good agent is not late, and Y/N is the best agent I know. Where was the mission at? I’m going in. Fury! Tell me now or so help me God... Thank you, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”
She snapped her phone shut. You weren’t too far from where she was.
------
Natasha pulled up to a worn down warehouse with boarded on one side with a forest. Truck after truck pulled away from the building, and she grimaced as she realized what had happened. This was not a simple job like you had thought. Whatever operation you had infiltrated was now fleeing after being busted, and they were likely on shoot to kill orders.
Suddenly she saw you figure limping towards the woods, and before she even knew she had moved, she was racing towards you.
-----
Pain tore through you.
Your abdomen was on fire. You had been shot before, but this hurt. You struggled to get to the cover of the woods. Suddenly a firm hand was on you back, arms were cradling you, and lowering you down to the ground.
“Shh, don’t move,” came Natasha’s voice. “They aren’t worried about finding us, they’re too busy running.”
You looked into her face, making eye contact with your long-time partner for the first time ever, and the world exploded in color.
The grass and trees became vibrant with life, and you turned to look at the new world around you. When you turned back to look at Natasha, her eyes were filled with wonder.
“You hair…” you said weakly, your voice trailing off.
“They tell me it’s red,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Red,” you said, relishing the word on your lips, the feeling of knowing what it meant. “Red is my favorite.”
She smiled, but tears trailed down her face. “Shh, don’t talk. Save your energy, we’ll get you somewhere where they can fix you.”
Ignoring her, you shook your head. "I'm not gonna make it."
You reached up your hand to touch her face. She grabbed your hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I’m glad it was you Nat. I love you.”
“I love you too, Y/N”
She pressed a gentle kiss against your lips and cradled you against her chest.
“Look at the sky, Nat,” you said. “It’s beautiful.”
The sun was setting, and the myriad of brilliant colors spread over the horizon.
"As far as ways to go out," you said, "it could have been worse."
Nat said nothing, only held you tighter
The two of you sat like that until Natasha saw the sunset fade to black and white and the tears blurred her vision.
---------------
Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it! @love8loki here's one of the reader death stories I was talking about. thanks for your advice lol
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domjaehyun · 3 years ago
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to all my followers who don’t want to see some ignorant, racist piece of shit get spoken to like they’re the stupidest person i’ve ever encountered, i would advise not reading below this read more.
the absolute hilarity of getting two incredibly weak and blatantly racist anons in my inbox yesterday (from the same person, because they love operating under the thought that i can’t tell when two messages come from the same person) and just getting blocked and ignored… then they got :((( upset because their little racist comments didn’t get the attention they wanted. so :o they came off anon !!!
and the blog in question is an empty fucking burner acc….except for one lone rb about NCT’s problematic behavior from 😮 a BTS stan acc….. okay, cool, great, makes total sense to me. perfectly logical argument, void of any flaws at all!
so, since you want attention so bad, here we go: you have sooooo much to say abt nct and you said not to deflect and you have a million and one reasons not to like them, right? but you’re reblogging from BTS stan accounts as if BTS are perfect angels, right? so if you have beef with NCT, why’d you feel the need to come at ME and call me literal slurs….? because you’re so against racism? “racism bad but it’s justifiable when i have an issue with you” …do you see how stupid you sound? how you invalidated your own argument immediately?
also, fun fact—as soon as you jump to racism, you lose any credibility you may have had. because you had nothing valid to say. and you got yourself so worked up about the fact that i am black and unbothered by your idiocy. that your sad little excuse for a brain blanked and all you could come up with was “hurr durr youre black (derogatory)” as if i wasn’t fully cognizant of this… and as if black was an insult…. which, again, is racist. so a racist coming at a black person in the name of “anti-racism” …class, do we see the hypocrisy in the statement?
also? just because i don’t post my opinions publicly for thousands of followers to see, doesn’t mean i don’t have my opinions in private. you, nor anyone else on this blog, have any entitlement to my opinions. i tell you what i want to, and you have no choice but to go grasping for straws to formulate an argument you have no concrete evidence for.
i have never once in my life OR my time on this blog ever defended ANY kpop idol for ANYTHING they’ve done. ever. so if you think that i am responsible for your lack of reading comprehension and critical thinking, you are sorely mistaken. as people like you have made abundantly clear, there is literally not a single social space on this planet where black people—specifically black women—can enjoy themselves in peace and not be subjected to misogynoir. i am allowed to enjoy things and not agree with things people have done.
so, ykw? i’m curious now. if you say NCT is a bad group to stan for black people or whatever, who SHOULD i stan? hm? doesn’t even have to be kpop!! this is YOUR open opportunity for promoting any entirely UNPROBLEMATIC spaces. that would mean the artist or franchise itself and any celebrities involved have never said or done ANYTHING bigoted. that would mean that not a single person in that fanbase has ever said or done ANYTHING problematic in the history of EVER. if you can name some things you think my time would be better spent stanning or supporting, hit me up with a list :) i even left you unblocked so you can say your piece!
however, if you name any franchise/artist and i look them up and find any instance of problematic behavior (from them OR their fanbase), your argument is moot immediately. which means that You Can’t Support Them, Either! which means that you, and i, and eeeeeeeveryone in the world can’t support anything with problematic behavior ever. so we’re gonna have to sit in our houses and twiddle our thumbs and watch paint dry 😍 how fun omg i’m so excited 😍
something i also find interesting is that at no point in my argument here, or at any point on my blog, have i ever fixed my mouth to defend any idol for anything they’ve done. this whole time i’ve been talking at you and being the absolute angel that i am and giving you the attention you want so so so desperately, i have defended myself.
also, babe, if you’re so committed to your lil movement you’ve got going on, go ahead and go find Every Single NCT Blog on this app and go tell them every complaint you’ve brought up to me. reminder, though, that you can’t call white people who follow NCT slurs like you did to me bc they don’t have any slurs :/ so you’re gonna have to get really creative if you wanna bring them the same energy you brought me, because you won’t have the weapon of racism to use against them :/// zoinks :/// let me know how that goes for you!!
i’m realizing now that from the second anon you sent me last night, you aren’t really very intelligent, are you? :( you couldn’t string together a coherent sentence or argument in that message to save your life 😬 so i’m worried now that you might not be able to read any of this, because it seems to be above your intellectual…pay grade, if you will.
so i’ll try and sum it up so even people with the basest level of human intelligence, like you, can understand too!
you: racism bad!! nct bad!! i hate racism and NCT because i hate racism!! so i’m going to fight against racism by being racist!!!
me: if i agree with you that “racism bad” and i decide to stop stanning problematic people ever ever again, can you let me know who you think is entirely unproblematic? both the franchise/artist and their fanbase?
does that make sense, dear? do you understand the question i am asking? if you’re so against racism and the like, which you should be!! good for you!! and you’re clearly so invested in educating me—because that’s what this is, right? 🥺 an attempt to educate me? 🥺 and not just blatantly hypocritical harassment with no basis? 🥺—then help me out, babe! let me know 🥺 i wanna be just like you!! i wanna be 100% perfect and unproblematic entirely !!! just like you!!! surely you can help me do better, right? 🥺
anyway, i don’t have much else to say to you :p let me know if anything here didn’t quite make sense for the fragment of a braincell you have to work with. maybe i can draw you a helpful picture! or speak to you like you’re the literal toddlers i used to work with! let me know, though, because they’re a pretty bright age range, so you might need me to lower the threshold of intelligence a lil more.
so, go ahead, @anaffae !! i look forward to hearing your oh, so wise response!! since you're so dedicated to your message, i'm giving you an open opportunity to speak your piece!! remember though, if you at any point stoop to racism or bigotry in your response, your point is immediately moot. if you at any point make an assumption or incorrect statement about me, proving you haven't done any research about me, your point is immediately moot. if i find any logical fallacies in your argument, your point is immediately moot.
so go, babe! you've got the floor :) good luck !! if i'm feeling helpful, i might even grade your response with a red pen like a teacher so whenever you bring this to the next person, you'll at least make sense and not look as downright insipid as you do.
resources you may find helpful are spell check, grammarly (though even that makes mistakes sometimes), the english dictionary, and google for your linguistic concerns.
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