#it’s hard to stay clean i’m a year sober but what’s going to fucking stop me from using except for having no money

[censoredsecret]

Can I get a read more in here pls why is this so hard on mobile

Tw for Daddy issues related to mental illness, addiction, divorce and death

….

Yeah you know what I can’t believe my fucking dad who was there for my birth didn’t consider me worth getting a grip on his mental health issues when he had care in all places for him, which also led him to not stay clean or sober

My mom had to leave his ass to get away from that shit and keep me and my sib not to see how bad he was plus he was taking out money of her bank account and stealing money and cards shed hidden in the house and had cameras watching him to see him do it….

Yet he tried to be in our lives still bc of how much I loved him and he came down and tried to get better but then he was asking me for gas money and I didn’t want my mom and stepdad to know so I would give him some from my allowance/studies I did for childhood anxiety that’d pay me for literally crying my eyes out every night thinking of him and going through the worst separation anxiety in my life

He stopped being okay. He disappeared. He didn’t have any good advocates or he didn’t listen to them and lost their help. I wish he’d get better. But he’s already so far gone. But he sounds so seeet and loving and he was asking money from me and my sib again when we got back in touch years later and I was going to invite him to ny wedding but I felt like he must be doing something to abuse his money which his funds handler was managing for him for his own sake and he’d spend it on anything but shelter…. Why wouldn’t he stay somewhere. Why. Why, why when he has the money from social security to pay for everythigg is he asking me to help him pay for a hotel bc he doesn’t have an apartment anymore bc bc bc bc it’s the guys fault every time or they haven’t done anything to help them and didn’t listen to him but yet he can sit there and talk all day about himself on the phone and I know he knows how to make himself heard so I can’t tell anymore what’s the truth or lies from him does he even love me enough to stay in touch because once I didn’t invite him to the weddigg n and didn’t want to keep giving him money and set my boundaries but said I’d like to be friends and work this relationship out and come see you sometime and he’s ghosting me now. Maybe he can’t afford a phone on whatever budget plan he seems to be doing….

There’s the honest possibility that a lot of this is bc he didn’t get the right help at the right times or he doesn’t have the right resources or the right resources are ableist and classist so it’s not helping more than hurting and wow I just don’t know anymore how to be healthy and have s relationship with this man who I think of so much now and wonder if he’s sitting there depressed because he can’t be my dad and so he’s driven further into self destructive behavior and addiction

I’m going to have to ask him one day. Before he dies, and I lose the chance. I’m already grieving my step dad dying from cancer in front of me as I stayed away for uni and had to watch his suffering st the very end…. It was so much and this man isn’t even trying to console me for it not once and my mom was the one I called and she was always there for everything even after my stepdad and her divorced and after she got sober after many relapses and I just….. she is so strong. She is working so hard. She’s struggled with addiction since she was a teen. Why didn’t he get a grip. He had a wife and kids and a great job and ptsd and bipolar and it wasn’t in him to get a grip enough to stay in our lives…

Why can’t I even remember why he stopped being in our lives. He used to pick me up for softball. He was there for middle school then for my sickness during sophomore year and then idk… idk what happened after that. Is that my brains way of helping me, or just me honestly not caring enough. I’d detached so much of my love of him from me that it hurts so much to dip into ever again. Meanwhile I would trade time with him for time with my stepdad—my real dad.

#seca venting #seca speaks #addiction tw #divorce tw #death tw #just so sad that I have these #daddy issues tw #not ashamed #just crying

[easyrev3nge]

i’m this 👌🏻 close to fucking losing it, my mom and i have been looking for 2 months now to find a child therapist for me, but our insurance is shit and doesn’t have good competitive rates, and lots of therapists won’t take me because it’s court ordered therapy and has been deemed to much of a legal liability. i’m so angry i just want help and i just want to be able to move on and heal from the shit my dad has done to me, and i just want this. i’ve wanted therapy since i was 13, and now that i can get it, we’ve come to a stop.

#carter talks #self harm mention #in tags #i’m so fucking close to just doing something to myself so i get committed somewhere but i don’t want to do that to my mom #im just at this point where it’s too much to just stay still #i’m full of paranoia 24/7 i don’t eat i can’t shower i just did laundry for the first time in a month today #the only thing i’ve been able to keep up on is brushing my teeth #i cant sleep without having disturbing nightmares that i can’t ever seem to wake up from #my aunt has listened to me at length for years and she told me i have a lot of the symptoms of c-ptsd #i take her opinion with a grain of salt because she’s diagnosed with c-ptsd #it’s hard to stay clean i’m a year sober but what’s going to fucking stop me from using except for having no money #just came to terms w the fact that a lot of what i do in my daily life is self harm so i’m fucking angry at myself #and i had to deal with my sister visiting who always manages to trigger my anxiety and then i detach from everything because i can’t #physically remove myself from the situation #and i just now realized i didn’t fucking apply to college today jesus fucking christ

[mythiccheroacademia]

What You Fight About

part 2

A/N: just something I thought about

Headcanon: what you two would fight about the most

Warnings: toxic behaviors, yelling, cursing, angst

Midoriya Izuku:

his absence

being the number one hero is demanding

it’s also been his dream since he could remember

you understood that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate you when he’d disappear for days at a time

izuku tries to balance his job and home life

but it isn't enough

~~~

You and Izuku don’t fight much. In fact, you never really do. You’re both so compromising that disagreements rarely happen.

But when your kid is involved, that complacency slips away. Even when it comes to one another.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Honey, why won’t you just listen to me?” he begged, but the irritation in his tone gave it more sharpness than he intended. “[S/N] doesn’t need the tutor. It’s just the teacher.”

You began to pick up the leftover toys from floor more so to expel pent up energy rather than to simply clean. You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?” Midoriya snipped. His eyes followed you as you discarded the toys and crossed your arms beside the couch, finally giving him your attention. “I think I know my own son, Y/N.”

Izuku cared so much for your child and you knew that. But that underlying message your brain processed within his words pissed you off.

“And you think I don’t?”

“I just don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

An incredulous laugh left your lips before they moved into a frown. “He’s failing 4th grade, Izuku. We can’t move him to a different classroom every time he gets a bad grade. At some point, we have to take responsibility! He needs the extra help!”

“You just don’t understand,” the hero muttered, running a hand through his hair.

What he said shouldn’t have set you off, but it did. Everything suddenly flooded your head. All the stress you had to deal with alone bubbled up your throat and exploded.

“No, you don’t understand!”

“Yes I do!”

“How!? You’re barely in his fucking life anyways!”

It went silent shortly after that.

The outburst felt good, but the aftermath made your squeeze with guilt. Izuku’s frown softened into shock before melting into something deeper than pain.

Once your words finally processed through your head, you immediately tried to take it back.

“Izuku, I didn’t mean that—”

“Yes you did.”

You thickly swallowed and averted your eyes to the floor. He was right. You did. You’d been wanting to say it for so long, but this wasn’t the way you planned to deliver those thoughts.

Your gaze moved back to your husband once he gathered his duffle bag and slid on his shoes.

“Baby,” you sighed, your voice much softer than before. It was almost insane how easily the anger left you. “Where are you going?”

You wilted with his next words. “I’ll stay over at the agency. To give you some space. We’ll talk more after we’ve both cooled down,” he sadly smiled.

Despite the hurt silver-lining his green eyes, Midoriya softly held your chin and kissed your forehead. Something he always did when your disagreements didn’t end on a good note. As if to reassure you that, even though he was upset, he still loved you all the same.

And that just made you feel worse.

“’Zuku—”

“Don’t worry about [S/N]. I’ll take him to school tomorrow.” He paused to look you in your eyes. “I love you, always.”

“I love you too,” you quietly resigned and watched him disappear behind the front door leaving you to let your head fall into your hands.

Bakugo Katsuki

his jealousy

bakugo is confident in many areas of his life

it’s one of his qualities that won you over

but he still had those tiny insecurities that showed up in large ways

aka losing you

and he had no idea how to handle it

~~~

The alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea considering Bakugo was already noticeably pissed on the way to the house party. But everyone assumed it was just another one of his moods he’d get over sooner or later. He wasn’t a drinker, but a beer or two usually loosened him up.

However, your friends looked at each other with worry behind the door to the room you two were in. Despite the party lights and booming stereo, they could hear the angry muffled yelling you two were doing.

You were 100% drunk, but you were 110% sure this man was telling you to stay away from your friend. Your best friend.

“If it’s one thing you have, it’s the audacity,” you sassily quipped.

“I’m not fucking playing around with you, Y/N,” Bakugo snapped with too much bite than you cared to hear. “I want you to stay away from that two-bagged eyed bastard!”

“You always do this! Shinsou’s my friend!”

The redness in his ears wasn’t only from the drinks as his nostrils flared with barely contained irritation. “Friend my ass. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, and that fucker had the nerve to grab you in front of me!”

“He was moving me out of the way!”

“He fucking felt you up is what he did!”

You smacked your teeth, entirely done with the argument. You weren’t getting anywhere. “Now you’re just being delusional.”

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out in a desperate attempt to calm himself. A feat even he was surprised about considering the situation. He tried so hard to not be as explosive, to reign in his emotions, for you. But his jealousy burned hot within his veins.

“Y/N. I’m asking you, as your man, to put some distance between you and Shinsou,” he lowly warned.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but the words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Like hell I will. Hitoshi’s been here longer than you have by years. I’m not gonna drop him just because you feel insecure.”

That withered away any form of self-restraint Katsuki had left. He felt exposed and hurt. And dealt with that the best way he knew how.

His hazy brain clouded over with anger and he went on the defensive.

“I bet you want him.”

“What? No I don’t?”

“You’re probably sleeping with him behind my fucking back,” he dryly laughed. “Am I not good enough anymore? Is that it?”

You were quickly sobering up. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? Of course not! I’m not a cheater!”

“Then why won’t cut him off, damn it!?”

Your voices rose in volumes too high for comfort. The crackle in his palms didn’t scare you one bit, but it was enough for Kirishima and Mina to come in and try to separate you two.

You ignored their pleading and the two of your found each other in the other’s face.

“Why are you so jealous!?”

“BECAUSE HE’S TAKING YOU AWAY FROM ME!!”

“NO HE’S NOT!

“IT’S SO EASY FOR YOU TO DEFEND HIM AND PROBABLY JUST AS EASY FOR YOU TO SPREAD YOUR FUCKING LEGS—"

A resounding slap cut him short. That seemed to snap him out of whatever alcohol induced rage he was in. However, Bakugo only had a moment to register your expression of disgust before Kirishima pulled him away.

“Fuck you, asshole” was the last thing you said before Mina lead into the hallway.

Kirishima watched his friend’s breathing turn ragged with each puff.

“Come on, man. Let’s just—”

“FUCK!” Katsuki roared before throwing a nearby water bottle to the floor. He fisted his hair and clenched his teeth.

He messed up. Big time.

And as upset as he was with himself, he couldn’t help but be even angrier at the thought of who you’d run to first.

Todoroki Shouto:

how blunt he is

he was a bit socially inept and you loved him for that

but sometimes, you get frustrated

todoroki does too because 9 times out of 10 he doesn’t understand why

when you get angry, he completely shuts down bc he doesn’t know how to handle it any other way

and it didn’t help that he was petty asf

~~~

“Okay.”

You looked up and folded your lips in a tight line. It was the same monotone answer he’d been giving you all day and it was getting on your nerves.

“Sho, baby, can you at least try and act like you somewhat care about this vacation we’re planning,” you said as sweetly as possible.

Although you were annoyed, you understood that things flew over your boyfriend’s head sometimes and, hopefully, a little nudge would point him in the right direction.

“I’m listening, prince(ss),” he dimly responded.

He didn’t bother to look up from the papers he was reading at the table and it made you huff. Folding up the magazine, you just stalked your way out of the kitchen.

“You know what? Don’t even bother. I’ll do it myself.”

That made Shouto look up. His brows furrowed in confusion and he caught your hand before you could completely pass by him. Why were you suddenly upset? He told you he was listening.  

“Hey, wait. What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asked.

You let him pull you in between his legs. He looked genuinely lost and it was enough to soften your exterior.

“I just feel like you don’t care sometimes,” you said, deciding to just be blunt.

“Huh?” he hummed. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know…it just seems like you don’t have an interest in anything I have to say if it doesn’t involve hero work, your family, or something like that.”

Todoroki took offense to that. Of course he cared about what you had to say. He loved you. Just because he wasn’t gripping on to every word you spoke in mundane life didn’t mean he didn’t care.

There were ways to express his thoughts, but Shouto wasn’t always the best at gently doing it.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t agree,” he said.

You looked off to the side for a second before looking down at him. “Well that’s how I feel,” you retorted.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re wrong.”

You watched him for a moment, waiting for him to explain himself. However, he just stared back at you as if there was nothing else left to say. The silence was sickening.

You snatched your hand out his grip. “Okay, Shouto,” you bit and left.

He hadn’t heard his first name in a while.

Your boyfriend dumbly blinked already feeling more lost. He didn’t understand why you were so angry.

He called Midoriya about it and was told he was being intolerant. The entire conversation honestly made him feel like an asshole and Todoroki didn’t like that at all. So he gave you some space before finding you in the kitchen again, this time equipped to right his wrongs—even though he still wasn’t entirely sure what he did.

He called your name once and instead of responding, you just kept going about your task. That sort of miffed him, but he tried again. This time, you hummed back but the tension behind it made him feel defensive for some odd reason.

“Can we talk about this morning?”

“What? Are my feelings suddenly valid to you now?” you sarcastically replied.

Todoroki raised a sharp brow at your attitude and decided he was over it already. Here he was trying to apologize, and you were being difficult. He wouldn’t fight with you over something so insignificant.

“Fine. When you’re done with your little tantrum, we can talk about this like adults.”

You’d never spun around so quickly. “Really, Todoroki?”

Last name basis. Petty.

But he was even pettier.

“Yes, really, [L/N].”

His half-lidded bored stare made your scalp prickle.

“Fine. Me and my little tantrum are gonna go somewhere and you can plan the vacation all by yourself like the adult you are.”

“Fine. I’d probably get it done faster anyways.”

You let out an offended gasp. “Fine!”

“Fine!” he tsked, crossing his arms.

You two looked away from one another and stomped out of the room in childish anger.

#bnha headcanons #mha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #izuku x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #todoroki shouto #bnha #mha #bnha bakugo x reader

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don��t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

[quack42069]

Safe Inside - Philza

Philza x Daughter! Reader

Safe Inside by James Arthur is the song inspiration!

Philza remembers when you and Tubbo first came into his life. Your father, Schlatt, was a good man. He always said that, and he loved you both, but his alcoholic intake was becoming far to unsafe for you children so Philza decided to take you and your brother under his wings. You were around ten, close to Wilbur and Techno’s age and Tubbo was around five or six, close to Tommy’s age. He remembers the day like it was yesterday.

[FLASHBACK]

“Dad! Please! Stop!” You yelled, holding Tubbo’s head into your chest, trying to not make him look at your father who was yelling at you both. His slurred speech was making it hard to tell what he was saying and Tubbo’s tears were soaking your shirt. Eventually, your father settled down, collapsing onto the couch with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. You went to the kitchen, shakily dialing Philza’s number. Your best friends, Techno and Wilbur had told you to call him in case you needed them or if you needed another adult. You never thought you had to use it. With Tubbo behind you grabbing onto your shirt, staring at your father on the couch you heard a ring and a “hello?”

When Phil heard your soft and scared voice he immediately went to your house. He told the boys to stay put in his house and when he finally reached your front step he saw you and Tubbo. You slouching tiredly and Tubbo asleep on your lap. You looked up at him, your dark and puffy eyes brighten a bit and his heart broke. He had to do something. He told you to pack everything you needed and what was important and you did. Packing two bags for you and two for Tubbo. You wrapped Tubbo in his yellow blanket as Phil and Schlatt argued in the living room. You handed him his bee your father had given him and kissed his forehead.

“Y/n, where are we going?” Tubbo asked, following you into the bathroom to grab your toothbrushes.

“We’re gonna go with Tommy for a while!” He smiled as you continued to grab more of the essentials you both needed.

“This is no place for children. Once you’re clean you can come and try to rekindle the relationship!” Phil yelled.

“Those are my kids! You can’t fucking take my kids! I love them to death!” Schlatt yelled, his voice cracking a bit.

“If you loved them you wouldn’t be doing this to them.” Phil said coldly. You walked out with Tubbo, holding his hand.

“Y/n baby. My beautiful girl. Stay with daddy. You wanna stay with daddy right?” Schlatt said, the alcohol hitting your face. Your lip quivered and you hugged him. You were always a daddy’s girl. Tubbo loved him as well but was a bit more disconnected from him. He hugged you back firmly.

“Y/n. We have to go, come on sissy! I wanna see Tommy!” Schlatt went to grab Tubbo and pull him into the hug.

“My beautiful babies. I’ll get better okay. I promise.” He said, his eyes watering.

“Come on guys, the sooner we leave the sooner you can see Techno, Tommy, and Wilbur.” Phil said grabbing the bags and grabbing both your hands. You cried and cried the whole way to his house. Even if you were little you knew that it was going to be a while until you see your dad again. At least you were with your brother.

[Flashback Over]

Phil shook his foot anxiously. He stood up once you stumbled in.

“Oh hey Phil! Sorry for um-” You giggled. You were intoxicated, that was obvious. His worry left his body and his anger got the best of him.

“Where the hell were you?” He yelled. You hiccuped slightly and shook your head.

“Nowhere. I’m going to bed.” You slurred, you tripped over your foot and Phil caught you quickly. He helped carry you into your room, before you ran to the bathroom, throwing up. Once you were done he placed you back in bed, he went to make a tea and grab a cold washcloth for you and when he came back you were sound asleep, soft snores coming from your mouth. He sighed and walked to you, he placed the washcloth on your head and moved your hair out of your face, he placed the tea down and started to wash off the makeup you had on. Once he was done he kissed your forehead.

“Goodnight daughter.” And with that he went to bed. He smiled as he remembered when you were younger, the way you would crawl into bed with him and sleep with him, it stopped once you turned fourteen. Then fifteen came and you got your first sip of alcohol and now it’s like he never sees you. He understood you were growing. All his kids were but he didn’t like the way you were following into your biological fathers footsteps. Is this how it is having a fifteen year old? Let alone a female fifteen year old? He never had experience and there were no other parents around. You were a bright girl, and he knew you were going to be okay. At least that’s what he hoped.

Once you hit eighteen that’s when you went to Phil and told him sorry, how you wanted to stop and how you were sorry for putting him through that. You didn’t want to be a dead beat like your father, and Tubbo had yelled at you so many times to stop drinking. It wasn’t until he said he wasn’t going to talk to you until you were sober that made you open your eyes. That’s when your life started changing. You became friends with many. Your best friend and your lover being Quackity. He had met Phil and Tubbo and Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy and they all deemed him perfect for you. He helped you with your sobriety and he loved you, and you loved him. Although he didn’t have much family, he did have his boss, ‘Big Man’ and asked if you would like to meet him. So you did, let’s just say it didn’t turn out the way you thought it would.

Masterlist

#jschlatt #schlatt #dadschlatt #philza #dadza minecraft #dadza philza #philza x reader #quackity x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #tubbo

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 8

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 5816

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

TW: Mentions of torture, r*pe, and abuse.

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You had to squint one eye closed in order to focus hard enough to clean up Dabi’s wound. Upon further inspection you realized it hadn’t been that deep but there was something nagging at the back of your mind that you were just too drunk to grasp at right now.

He didn’t even flinch as you dabbed it with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. You were seated between his legs on the floor as he sat on the couch. You were eye level with his injury and close enough that if you wanted to, you could lick his abs. You suddenly found yourself fantasizing about pulling his cock out and letting him fuck your face. You shook the thought out of your head. You were a horn dog sober, and when you were drunk it was even worse. You must have been staring because Dabi’s fingers wove through your hair. “What’s going on through that drunk little head of yours?”

You leaned into it his hand a little and sighed, “I’m not drunk!... Anymore… And nothing appropriate.”

You felt him vibrate with soft laughter. “Oh yeah? I’d love to hear about it.”

You blushed, “No thanks.” You gently smoothed a bandage over his abdomen, fingers lingering a little longer than necessary.

He placed his free hand on top of yours and held it to him. “Sometimes I wish I had your quirk so I could always know what you’re thinkin’.”

Your eyes traveled up to meet his. “Well I do have my quirk and I still don’t know what’s going on in your head most of the time.”

He smirked at you, “Well that’s just because you’re nicer than I am. You never use your quirk on me without permission.” The fingers that were still in your hair tightened as he forced you to look at him. “But that’s because you’re such a good girl. You’d never do something without permission would you baby?” He glanced at the coffee table at the empty wine bottles. “Well I guess that’s not true huh? Looks like you helped yourself to some of my wine without asking first.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You weren’t here to ask!” His hand that had been on top of yours started moving towards his crotch, dragging yours with it. “You left me here all alone without even talking to me about it first. It was scary!”

You started to pout, and it was honestly one of the cutest things he had ever seen. That sweet look in your eyes pierced his heart. He continued pushing your hand closer and closer to his semi hard cock. He was so warm and you wondered if it had something to do with his quirk. “I know and I really am sorry about that. I didn’t think it’d freak you out like that… But thank you so much for patching me up anyways.” His eyes softened a bit. “You’re such a good little nurse.”

You beamed at the praise. “You take care of me all the time. The least I can do is put a bandage on you when you get stabbed.” You gave him a pointed look, “Even if you won’t tell me why you were stabbed to begin with.”

He chuckled at you. “Well you won’t tell me what naughty thoughts you’re keeping to yourself either. Looks like we’re both guilty of hiding things.”

You chewed on your lip in thought. The action drew his eyes and he hummed. He brushed his calloused thumb over your bottom lip making you release it. “You can be such a tease you know that.” You quickly nipped at the tip of his thumb, and leaned closer to him. “For the love of god what are you linking about?”

“I’ll tell you…if you tell me what happened tonight.”

He groaned, “Bribing me huh?” He saw a seductive spark in your eyes that had him intrigued. “Okay but you first.” He pulled you closer so your head was basically laying in his lap. “And don’t leave out a single filthy detail…”

You got up on you knees and placed your hands on his thick thighs. “Well… At first, I was wondering what it would be like to lick your abs.”

You felt him begin to tense up. “Oh yeah? And what did my naughty girl want to do next?”

You licked your lips. “I wondered what it would be like if you…” You paused and you could feel your blush spreading over your cheeks.

“Yeah? What it would be like if I what?” He resumed playing with your hair in encouragement.

“What it would be like if you fucked my face…” Your eyes shot to his to gauge his reaction and what you saw lit a fire in your stomach.

You squeezed your thighs together and the feral look his gave you. A low growl left his lips as his hand came down to squeeze the back of your neck. “Such a dirty girl with such a dirty mouth.” He brought a hand up to your chin, “Open…” You obediently opened your mouth for him. His eyes practically glowed with hunger. You heard his zipper, but your eyes remained glued to his. “Law thirteen?”

You nodded but he just squeezed your chin. “Law says verbal or written consent. Use your words princess.”

“Yes… sir.”

He hummed as he brought his dick to your lips and paused for a brief moment. “You won’t be able to use your colors with my dick in your throat. If it gets to be too much, I need you to tap my hip twice to check in three times to stop completely. Confirm that you understand.”

Gasping at his words you could feel your thighs getting slick. “I understand sir.”

Before you could say anything else he was shoving his dick in your mouth. His hands scooped your hair out of your face, and he started his pace out slow. “There’s something so hot about knowing what a fucking bad ass you are. Yet here you are… sitting so pretty for me on your knees with my cock in your mouth.

You hummed in approval and you felt his dick twitch in your throat. His hips snapped forward and it took everything you had to stay still. Your fingernails dug into his thighs and you felt tears start to leak out the corners of your eyes. “Shhhhh relax your throat baby.” He brushed away your tears and his snapped forward again. “I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you look at me like that.” His pace picked up a bit. “Looking at me with those sweet, devoted eyes.”

The force of his hips left you unbalanced and now you really had to brace yourself on his thighs as he set a brutal pace. “Oh fuck yeah!” His hand was at the back of your head slamming it down to meet his thrusts. Your throat burned and it was getting harder and harder to breath.

He continued pounding into your throat relentlessly. “That’s it. Take.. it.. all.”

You reached down and started to rub your clit but Dabi didn’t seem to appreciate that. “What did we just say about asking for permission huh? Did you ask if you could play with my pussy.” He shoved himself to the back of your throat and held it there. “Because it is mine. And I don’t think there’s any way you could have asked when you’re practically gagging on my cock.” He pulled out all the way and you gasped for air. “On the couch, on your back. Now.”

You quickly complied and he swatted at your ass as you stood up. “Atta girl.” He pulled your head to hang off the end of the couch. He had a better angle now as he slowly pushed his dick past your lips. “At least this way if you’re going to play with yourself, I can have a better view.” He chuckled as he saw your hand dart between your legs.

You immediately started moaning around his dick making him growl as his fingers dug into the couch. “Baby girl, you better finish quickly because I’m almost at my limit and I can’t promise I’m going to have enough energy to get you off after.” He leaned over pulled your shirt up to expose your breasts. He started tweaking and playing with your nipples. “Come on… I know you’re close… I can see your legs shaking. Just fuckin let go already!”

Your fingers sped up and he gave one of your tits a hard slap. You orgasm came unexpectedly and had you practically screaming around his dick. “Fuuu---”

When he was finally ready to finish he shoved his dick all the way to the back of your throat and held your face to his him. He shot thick ropes of cum down your throat, but still he held you in place.

The lack of oxygen started to make you feel dizzy and you quickly tapped his hip twice. You just needed to breath. You needed to breath before you started to panic.

True to his word he pulled out immediately. “Shit… what’s wrong? You okay, was I too rough?”

You sucked in a huge breath and coughed. “N-no…” You took a second to regain your composure. “It’s just… too similar to… you know.” Your eyes cut to the pool and when he followed your gaze he stiffened.

You saw something like regret pass over his face. “That makes sense.” He looked flushed and absolutely worn out. You were honestly surprised he came so quickly. His injury must have taken more of him than he was letting on.

You crawled into his lap as he tucked his dick back into his pants. This close you could see how sweaty he was and how pale he looked. “Dabi… you don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

His breathing was more like wheezing and he had to clear his throat before speaking. “I’ve been better. After that orgasm though, I’m sure I’ll be better in no time…”

His eyes started to flutter shut and you remembered that nagging feeling from earlier. You put a hand to his sweaty forehead and pushed the hair that had stuck there out of the way. “Are you always this hot?”

He chuckled but his eyes remained closed, “Thanks for noticing, you’re not too shabby yourself.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Are you this warm because of your quirk or do you have a fever?” You felt for his pulse and didn’t like how weak it felt. “Dabi, I did what you asked now it’s your turn. I need you to tell me what happened tonight.”

He moaned, “I got stabbed… and it hurt. What else do you need to know.”

If he wasn’t fading fast you’d slap him. “Dabi I’m not asking anymore. I need to know what happened. I think you were poisoned you idiot.”

“I was looking for somebody and I found him. He did a very bad thing and I personally made sure he paid the consequences.” He coughed a few times. “I just didn’t expect him to have a friend.”

“Dabi who was it? Who did you go after?” He weakly shrugged his shoulders, but you had had enough of his childish behavior. “No shrugging asshole.” You placed a hand on either side of his head and activated your quirk. “Open your eyes Dabi. Let me see your eyes please.” You watched as your words sunk in and his eyes snapped open against his will. You looked deep into them and connected with his mind. “Good boy, you’re doing great. Now show me what happened. I need you to remember what happened earlier tonight when you were stabbed.”

You could feel a light resistance on his end, but in the end he was too weak to put upmuch of a fight for long.

The memory came flooding to you. You saw the back of a man’s head and one of Dabi’s scared arms reaching for his shoulder. When the man turned around your heart froze. You knew that face. He was the last “mark” you had before your agency kidnapped you. It was a set up. He was supposed to be another guy for you to interrogate. Except when the time came you were the actual target that night.

You watched as Dabi sent a flame between the man’s legs and he howled out in pain. “As far as I’m concerned real men don’t behave to way you have. So, you don’t deserve to keep your ‘manhood’.” It was Dabi’s voice, but it didn’t really sound like Dabi. It sounded dark and sinister. It gave you goosebumps and made you grip his face even tighter. “I’ve been looking for you for quite some time, but you see I have both heroes and villains in my pocket. There’s nowhere for you sick fucks to hide. You fucked with the wrong person and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

He brought a hot hand down to the man’s face and branded a line from his temple to the base of his neck. “There. Now you’re just an ugly son of a bitch with a crispy dick that doesn’t work anymore.”

“WHY?!” The man wailed and screamed. “WHAT DID I DO?”

Dabi punched him in the jaw, “You had the fucking audacity to touch what was mine. Now I’ve branded you for her… and when she’s ready I will fucking help her hunt you down.”

You sucked in a breath at his words. You should be disgusted, you should be appalled, horrified. But you felt a thrill shoot down your spine at the idea. You felt a barely conscious Dabi hum beneath you at the shared feeling.

You went back to watching the memory before you got carried away. Dabi was hurt and you needed to focus.

Dabi heard feet scurrying towards him but he didn’t have enough time to react before a knife sliced him across his ribs. With a hiss he turned around to look a tiny weasel of a man that you knew all too well. His quirk was called venom. His spit was unique. It caused hallucinations, fever, nausea, and in some extreme cases… death.

You had taken the man down when you were playing hero, but you had a lovely reunion when you were captured. He was a regular at first. They liked to use his saliva to try and torture you into submission. You would be sick for days, in pain, and having the worst hallucinations and fever dreams. You honestly never knew the difference because it was so hard to tell when you were awake and when you were asleep.

You pulled away from Dabi and heard him whine at your absence. “Shhh Dabi. I’m here, I didn’t go anywhere. Can you hear me?”

He nodded with a mumbled, “Loud and clear”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

His fingers found your shirt and gripped it trying to anchor himself to the here and now. “Rip the band aid off babe.”

You sighed and rubbed circles into his arm. “You did get poisoned. And I’m not going to lie the next few days are going to suck.” He groaned and his grip on your shirt started to weaken. “But the good news is you’re not going to die… Probably.” You could feel him slipping off into a dream. “But I’m here and I’m going to do everything I can to help.”

You activated your quirk and laid on top of him releasing as much happy, content, and relaxed feelings as you could. It was all you could do for him. You knew right about now he was probably having some kind of twisted nightmare. You knew they came in waves. You would just have to wait here until he woke up.

So, you did. Even though all you wanted was to pass out on top of him. You were tired and your head pounded but you continued to try and comfort him. Every time he twitched, every time he cried out you would just hold him tighter. It wasn’t until several hours later that you felt him start to wake up.

You picked your head up to look into his confused but pained eyes. “Y/n? Why does… why does everything hurt?”

He gulped and tried to sit up, but you pushed him back down. “Stay here. I’ll be right back. Please don’t move.” He wanted to argue with you but one look at you had him biting his tongue. You looked absolutely spent. Dark circles under your eyes and your face etched with worry. So instead he just nodded as he watched you struggle to get to your feet and walk into the kitchen.

You wobbled a little as you made your way to the fridge. You pulled out two sports drinks and a whole ass loaf of bread. You filled a bowl with cold water and grabbed a clean rag. You made your way back and took a seat next to Dabi who was now looking like he was going to puke. You sighed and grabbed the small trash bin that had been behind the couch.

“Okay. I need you to get as much of this down as you can before you get pulled back under. You’re going to throw up. It’s going to burn like a mother fucker. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do about that.” You adjusted a pillow under his head to help him sit up so he could try and eat. “I brought you a cold towel to help with the fever.” You placed it on his forehead and his hand grabbed your wrist.

“You need to eat something too. Law number-”

“Seven. I know. Three full meals. I’ll eat, I promise.” Your hands started to fidget uncomfortably. “Speaking of laws… I know Law two is no drugs… But I know you’re in pain. Whatever you want. Whatever you think will make you feel better.”

He gulped and nodded before giving you directions on where to find where he had hidden all the drugs and pills. You found the little orange bottle he had described and brought it back to him. You were happy to see he had eaten some bread and drank almost a whole bottle of Powerade.

You sat next to him and pulled his head in your lap. “I promise when you wake up next, I’ll have better food.” You ran you fingers through his white hair that was soaked with sweat.

“Thank you… I’ve never had someone… care like this. Not since my mom.”

You were glad he couldn’t see your face as a single tear flowed down your cheek. “I’ve been in your shoes. I know how awful it is. I would be a monster to make you go through this alone.”

His hand came up and found yours that was in his hair. “I would understand if you did. It would be what I deserved.” He lurched like he was going to be sick. You rolled him over onto his side and rubbed his back as he threw up into the bin.

“Don’t say that. I know you have a difficult past. But if there’s anything I’ve learned since being here is that you are worth trusting, and you are in your own twisted way a good person.”

He didn’t answer and for a while you both sat in silence. You rubbed his back as his breathing got slower until he fell asleep. You had a few minutes before the nightmares started so you quickly made your way to the kitchen and made some soup. You hoped it tasted good, it had been a while since you made it. It was an old family recipe. Your mom had convinced you that it was magic when you were younger and that it could cure anything. You prayed to your ancestors that just this once that were true. You brought the spoon up to your lips to try it when a loud sound from the living room made you drop it.

You rushed back into the living room to see Dabi shaking and crying. “NO! I can’t do it! Why won’t you believe me?” His words almost broke you. From your limited knowledge of his past you knew it had to be about Endeavor. You spooned him from behind and repeatedly kissed his back between his shoulder blades. “It hurts! STOP! I can’t DO IT!”

You did your best to calm him down, but you knew you were basically helpless. He just needed to ride this out. So, you sat there and listened to his pain and his sorrows and held him as you used your quirk the best you could. “You’re okay. I’ll hold you until you feel better. Nothing to be scared of.”

A routine was set after that. You ate whenever he ate. And you tried your best to take naps in between his nightmares. He was pretty out of it for most of it. There were only a few times he was actually lucid enough to know who you were. But even those moment were hard because all he did was apologize and try an convince you to leave him alone.

You had no idea how long it had been, only that it had been several days. The exhaustion was weighing on you, but you trained your whole life to be a hero, and this is what heroes did. They helped people. You knew it should be over soon. The past few times he had fallen asleep had been relatively peaceful and he had been keeping food down well enough. You felt like it was safe to doze off for a little while.

You curled up into his side and entered a thankfully dreamless sleep. You didn’t come too until you felt a tingling between your legs. You gasped as your eyes snapped open. Your hands reached out and found soft white hair. “D-Dabiiiii.” He sucked your clit into his mouth as two of his fingers pumped in and out of you. “What- FUCK- What are you doing?”

He groaned into you before pulling away, “Trying to enjoy my breakfast. Can I help you?” His fingers continued to pump in and out of you as his devilish blue eyes connected with yours. “I just want to show how appreciative I am.” He gave a quick lick that had your back arching. “I’ve been so patient waiting for you to wake up, but I couldn’t wait any longer. You’ve been asleep for almost two fucking days.” It was then you realized you had been moved. You were in his room, which wasn’t somewhere you were all too familiar with.

He continued to eat you out like he was starving, and you couldn’t do anything other than sit back and enjoy it. He hooked his arms around your thighs to pin you to his bed. You tried to squirm as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching but you couldn’t budge. You closed your eyes and moaned so loud it echoed off of his high ceiling. Your thighs clamped around him as you came hard. He didn’t slow down as he just continued to lap up your juices as you came.

When you came down from your high, he was snuggling up to you, nose buried in your neck. “I don’t like how little you look. You look like how you did when you got here. You look tired, hungry, and sad…”

You hugged your arms around his neck, “That’s probably because I am tired, hungry, and sad. My whole body hurts. It’s been so long since I’ve used my quirk that consistently.” You flinched, “Speaking of my quirk… I’m sorry… for invading your privacy. I looked in your head without permission.”

His hand cupped your cheek. “Forget about it. Under any other circumstances I’d be fucking pissed, but you needed to know so you could help me…. Just… Don’t do it again.” He grumbled as he sat up. “Now get your ass out of bed, you need to eat something before I lose my fucking mind.”

He stood up and aggressively threw you over his shoulder as he stomped off to the kitchen.

“DABI! Put me down! You need to rest you idiot.”

He slapped your ass. “Shut up, I’m fine. If anyone needs rest, it’s you.” He set you down on the edge of the kitchen counter. “And that’s exactly what I plan on doing. All day. Just laying around doing nothing with you. But first you need to eat real food.” He kissed your forehead and turned to started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

You watched his naked back flex every so often as he cooked for you. It felt oddly familiar to the dozens of times you had watched Katsuki do this exact thing. You waited for the guilty feeling to overwhelm you but surprisingly it never came. You loved Katsuki in a very different way. Whatever this was with Dabi… it was just different. You don’t know if you’d be able to heal the same way you have been, if you were with Kats.

Katsuki loves you. You know he does. It’s because of that love that you don’t want him to be burdened with you at this stage of your life. There’s a lot of things you need to work through, on your own, before you can give him the kind of love he deserves. He’s a good man. A great man, and he doesn’t need to have someone like you weighing him down. You know he’d try and fix you. He’d do everything in his power to be your own personal hero. But that’s not what you need right now.

As bad as it sounds… you don’t have those concerns with Dabi. He’s somehow equally as fucked up while also capable of being supportive in the way you need. He’d let you be as crazy as you wanted but he’d also make sure you took care of yourself. He definitely had a tendency to dominate you, but if you were being honest you loved it. Neither of you have talked about what it is you are doing, or if it has an expiration date. But for the time being you were okay with it.

You must have been lost in thought because Dabi flicked your forehead, “Earth to idiot. Your breakfast is ready.”

“Hey!” You rubbed the sore spot on your forehead. “Was that necessary?”

“Well considering I called your name several times… yes. You’re lucky I didn’t bend you over my knee.” He held a fork out to you that had a bite of egg on it.

You rolled your eyes and took the bite. “I was just thinking about stuff. It’s not like I was ignoring you or anything.”

He placed a plate of food down next to you and moved to stand between your legs. “Yeah well I don’t like fucking repeating myself. Besides I have something I need to talk to you about and I need your attention.”

The color drained from your face. He rarely sounded this serious and it made you nervous.

“After what happened last night… I think its obvious we have a lot that we need to talk about.” He put his hands up in defense, “And before you start to nag, I’m not talking about the status of” He gestured between the two of you, “Whatever this is. I’m talking about just talking. I literally just experienced my worst nightmares on loop for days while feeling like I was dying. And knowing that’s only a fraction of what you went through.” His fists clenched and you could smell smoke coming off of them. “I just think we need to start talking.” You took your hands in his to help calm him down. “Reliving some of that shit made me realize I’ve never talked about it. I know there has to be things you need to get off of your chest… It might suck. But I feel like it would help.”

You nodded. “I think I understand what you mean. Just know that some of the things I have to say might make you look at me a little differently.”

To this he had the audacity to laugh, “And you think my shit isn’t any worse.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be lucky if you don’t lock yourself in your room again after learning about me.”

Dabi hid his face in your neck and you wrapped your legs around his waist. “You’ve literally drowned me before. I don’t think you can sink much lower than that.”

He was about to snap back at you when someone cleared their throat making you jump.

He groaned but didn’t make any attempt to move, “Oh yeah… Your friends here.”

You noticed the emphasis he put on the word friend as Katsuki rounded the corner.

You shoved Dabi away and hopped off of the counter. “Kats! What are you doing here?”

Katsuki’s eyes seemed distant as he made his way towards you. “You guys really haven’t been watching the news? It’s all people have been talking about recently…”

Dabi snickered, “We’ve been uh… busy lately.”

Your hand flew out and smacked his chest before looking back to Katsuki who looked murderous. “Don’t listen to him. Dumbass got himself poisoned and I’ve been working around the clock the past few days to keep him alive.”

“And what an excellent job you did.” Dabi’s tone was teasing. You knew it was more to piss off Bakugo then anything else. “She overdid it though. Ended up having to sleep it off. So I wasn’t lying to you last night when you were throwing your little tantrum.”

“Tantrum?” You looked between the two men who seemed to be consumed with some kind of staring contest.

Katsuki was the first one to break to look at you. “I have something important to tell you. I came over last night and he wouldn’t let me see you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “He was the one acting like a possessive child. Treating you like some kind of toy he doesn’t want to share. He locked you in his room and told me to fuck off. If anyone was throwing a tantrum it was him.”

You could feel heat beginning to radiate off of the both of them. Dabi snorted, “That’s hilarious coming from the guy who demanded I wake you up even though I told him you were exhausted and needed sleep.” Dabi’s voice lowered as he took a step forward, “And just so we’re clear, she may not be a toy… but I still don’t fucking share.”

You put a hand on either of their chests. “She can fucking speak for herself thank you.” You shoved them both towards the living room. “Okay, what did come all this way to tell me?”

Katsuki gave you a sad look and handed you his phone. “Your agency came out with an official statement about where you’ve been.” You looked at the screen and saw an article and at the top was a black and white security cam photo of you straddling a man in a hotel room with a knife to his throat.

Katsuki cleared his throat, “They told everyone that you were secretly working with several villainous organizations. They’ve pretty much blamed you for every missing hero and assassination in the past few years. They’ve labeled you as dangerous and a top priority, person of interest.”

He looked at Dabi with a little annoyance. “It seems some people have been targeted lately, and it looks like it scared them into taking action.”

You continued to scroll through the article in silence. Picture after picture of you doing their dirty work. You didn’t even know they had pictures like this. But it makes sense. Of course they would want an insurance policy. You knew too much.

You shoved the phone back into Katsuki’s phone. “So that’s it then? I’m what? Enemy number one? A villain?” You felt angry tears pool in your eyes. Why was it so easy for these people to ruin your life. “All I wanted was to be a hero. I just wanted to help people… And they… they fucking ruined my life and for what? I’ve been used, kidnapped, raped, tortured, and for WHAT!?”

Katsuki reached a hand out to you but you flinched away. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” You knew it wasn’t his fault, but it was so hard to look at him when he had everything you wanted. He was a hero. He was respected and feared, and he was just a part of the system that was currently ruining your life. No one would ever dare try to do to him what they’ve done to you.

You could feel yourself shaking with rage. The world you knew, the system you believed in was crumbling around you.

“Maybe they’re right… My whole life people have said I have a villainous quirk. And I was so desperate to prove them wrong that I did exactly what they thought I would. Maybe I was doomed from the start…”

You wanted to be alone, you stood up and went back to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a seat at the bar with your back to the men behind you.

“Listen she’s just going to need to digest this in her own time. She’s found out what I’ve known for years. The whole heroes vs. villains thing is bullshit.” You heard them shuffling towards the front door. “I may hate you, but I promise… as soon as she’s ready to talk to you I’ll have her call you.”

You knocked back shot after shot until you started to feel numb.

“I have a feeling you aren’t going to be a cute drunk this time huh?” Dabi took a seat next to you with a shot glass.

You silently filled up your shot glass as well as his. “Well I guess that just depends on you.” You raised your glass to him. “Are you going to make me talk about it right now? Or are we just going to get fucked up and deal with it tomorrow?”

He lifted his glass to yours, “I vote we get fucked up. I think you deserve it. We can be responsible tomorrow.”

You smirked as you threw your shot back. “Good because I was going to with our without your blessing.”

“Hmmm seems like whisky makes you feisty… Let’s see how feisty you can get.” He tapped his shot glass on the counter, “Fill it up bitch, I have some catching up to do.”

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

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime@klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe @unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry @dabislittlemouse@aimee1602 @pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker @bestgirlb

#bakugo katsuki imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bhna bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #dabi my hero academia #dabi imagine #dabi #yandere dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi bnha #mha dabi #dabi todoroki #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #my hero academia

[witchyweasley]

Intoxicating - Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: Staying away from Fred Weasley is harder than you expect, not that you tried very hard though.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, 18+ themes, oral (female receiving)

A/N: I’m sorry this took a bit longer to get out. Things will probably slow down a bit thanks to classes and having to do college things. But I will still be posting on here! This one was also a bit of a struggle for me, so I’m sorry if it’s not the best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up in a strange room is never fun, but waking up naked in a familiar room with no recollection of the previous night may be worse. I felt an arm wrapped around my waist and faint breathing on my back. The room was filled with quidditch memorabilia and failed gag gift prototypes. Fuck.

Sure enough, when I turned my head, I caught a glimpse of firey red hair. Fred Weasley was cuddled up to me, completely naked and sleeping soundly. I tried to slip out from his arms, only to be dragged back to him. Even in his sleep he’s stronger than me.

I told myself not to do this again, but drunk me never seems to listen when it comes to Fred. We’ve been close friends since Hogwarts, but never anything more than that. But the minute my lips taste firewhiskey, the only other thing they want to taste is Fred, and I’m not good at ignoring temptation.

It’s not that I don’t like Fred, in fact it’s quite the opposite. I’ve fancied Fred since our 6th year, I just didn’t realize it until I felt the pang of jealousy as I watched him dance the night away with Angelina. I just don’t think Fred fancies me. Our drunken hookups started quickly after Angelina ended their relationship, so I think it’s more of a rebound for him.

I honestly don’t know, we never talk about it sober.

I tried to move again, successfully slipping out of his grip this time by sneaking a pillow into his arms. I watched as he nuzzled the pillow, his cheeks flushed red and his messy hair glowed in the sunlight. I gathered up my outfit from the previous night that was now strewn across the room, slipping it on quietly. Fred stirred in the bed as I opened the door, but I made sure to move quickly so that he wouldn’t see me.

This is the third time I’ve snuck out of his apartment now. I’m not even sure if he knows we’ve slept together. I always leave before he fully wakes up, and he doesn’t act like anything has happened between us when we meet up with our Hogwarts friend groups for tea.

If I’ve learned anything through this, it’s that I should not be drinking around Fred Weasley.

•

“Are you sure you’re okay with being the only sober person there?” Ginny asked as she combed through her long hair.

“I’ll be fine. I haven’t exactly been making good decisions when I’m drunk, so I need at least one party where I don’t feel bad the next day,” I laughed.

“Yeah, where were you last time?” Ginny asked.

“Nowhere,” I said quickly.

“I know you weren’t in your room,” Ginny said matter-of-factly.

“It doesn’t matter where I was, Gin,” I said.

“Fine, as long as they were hot it’s fine by me,” she shrugged. I rolled my eyes and laughed, following her out the door to head off to the quidditch after party.

The room was full of people cheering, dancing, just like all of the other parties. It reminds me of the parties in the Gryffindor common room after winning a game.

“Heyyy, you made it!” George slured, putting an arm around my shoulders.

“Hello George,” I said, holding him up.

“I’m not George! I’m Fred!” He drunkenly yelled.

“Nice try dumbass, you’ve got a G on your shirt. Plus you know I can tell you two apart no matter what,” I laughed, bumping his hip with mine.

“Are you gonna come hang out at our apartment again?” he said in a not-to-quiet whisper yell.

“Again?” Ginny asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I helped them clean up the other day. The place was a wreck,” I lied quickly, before pointing in a random direction to go and say hi to nobody.

“Hey! Nice to see you here, can I talk to you for a second?” Fred said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to a quiet hallway.

“What’s up, Fred?” I asked, leaning against the wall.

“So, I have a bit of a strange question to ask,” he started.

“Okay?” I said.

“What are we?” he asked.

“What do you mean? We’re friends, we’ve been best friends since wizarding school,” I said quickly, not expecting him to ask that. And for him to be seemingly sober in this moment.

“Is that it? Are we just friends?” he questioned, his voice getting lower.

“Fred I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’ll excuse me I’m going to go find…” I started, walking back towards the crowded room. I was halted by Fred grabbing my wrist and pulling me to his chest, his other hand landing on my waist.

“Friends don’t know how you taste,” he said slowly, his eyes darkening.

“I-um, well...I,” I stuttered.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed out, his eyes darting between my gaze and my lips.

Apparently the lack of alcohol does nothing from deterring me from Fred, because my lips were soon attached to his in a hungry kiss. His hands held tightly at my waist, holding me close to him and my own settled on his chest.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he breathed out, looking down at me for some sort of response.

“Yes,” I said, ignoring the voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t.

The minute we entered his apartment, his lips were attached to mine. My hands worked at the buttons of his shirt. He quickly threw it off to some random corner of the living room. His hands slid down to the hem of my shirt, pulling away from a kiss long enough to pull the fabric over my head. Messy kisses and stumbling feet lead us to his bedroom, tripping over our pants as we tried to shed them.

“You’re intoxicating,” he breathed out, admiring my body as I stood in front of him in my underwear. Before he went in for another kiss I stopped him.

“Wait, you’re not drunk are you?” I asked.

“No, I decided not to drink at this party,” he said.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“I got tired of waking up without you,” he said, pushing me back onto the bed. He crawled on top of me, kissing my lips deeply before trailing them between my breasts. His hands kneading at them as his lips continued down my body, kissing both hips before he settled his body at the foot of the bed.

His hands pushed my legs apart further before trailing them up my thighs, ghosting over my clothed core. His thumb lightly rubbed over the damp spot on my underwear, not putting any pressure on it. Soon, his fingers pulled my underwear to the side, and his tongue was lapping at my juices. It wasn’t long before I was moaning his name loudly.

“Oh fuck, yes Fred, oh yes Fred,” I moaned out, my hands tangled in his hair. His tongue traced patterns around me before stopping to suck my sensitive clit into his mouth. My back arched from the pleasure as he worked his magic on me.

“Fuck me, please,” I moaned out, tugging at his hair.

“Your wish is my command,” he smirked, lapping up my juices one last time before sitting up to slide off his underwear. I quickly slid my own over my hips and unhooked my bra, tossing it to a random corner of the room.

He rubbed the head of his cock along my soaking pussy, causing me to buck my hips as he rubbed over my clit. Slowly, he pushed into me and the room filled with a mixture of our moans. He thrusted slowly into me, leaning down to catch my lips with his own.

“Fuck, you feel so good. So tight around my cock,” he moaned out before capturing my lips again.

“Fuck me harder Freddie,” I moaned out, desperately wanting him to go faster than his agonizingly slow pace. He smirked and thrust his hips into me at a fast pace, slamming into me and making me cry out. My orgasm quickly rushing over me as he pounded into me.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Fred said, “Where do you want it?”

“In my mouth, I want to know how you taste,” I moaned, sitting up and positioning myself on all fours in front of him. I quickly took him into my mouth, tasting my juices that were coating his cock. He quickly released onto my tongue, moaning loud praises in my name as he did so. I moaned and swallowed the salty liquid, cleaning him up as best I could.

“Fuck, that was...fantastic,” Fred panted out.

“Yeah it was,” I agreed, laying back on the bed.

“Why did you always leave in the morning?” Fred asked, breaking the moment of silence that was previously filled with heavy breathing.

“I didn’t want you to think of me as a mistake, or ruin our friendship,” I admitted.

“Why would you be a mistake?” he asked.

“I figured I was a fling. I mean, it wasn’t long after she broke up with you that I woke up in your bed,” I pointed out.

“Darling, Angelina broke up with me because I wouldn’t shut up about you. She said I obviously had feelings for you, and just didn’t know what to do about it because I was dating her. I didn’t think she was right until I saw you at that party, dancing with Lee,” he said.

“Weird, I found out I liked you the same way,” I laughed.

“I didn’t dance with Lee that night?” Fred said, giving me a strange look.

Tag list- @a-malfoy @amourtentiaa @dracos-apple01 @georgeswh0re @lim-bus @weasleywhore07 

#harry potter smut #fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley x reader smut #fred Weasley one shot #weasley twin #weasley smut

[blossom-hwa]

a little birdie told me to request surfer san at a party idk what that was about but i do kinda want to see skater boy yeosang there too if you're up for that 👀👀👀 heheheheh love u linaaaa <333

/chants/ surfer san surfer san SURFER SAN thank you very much mai for putting this in my inbox I adore you <3 skater yeosang will be up next so I hope you enjoy what I end up spitting out for that one too !

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Set in the same universe as Kickflip (My Heart) (skater!Yeosang) and Hey, Hey - Let Me Kiss You (surfer!Juyeon) :)

I’m gonna cry this ended up being way longer than I thought it’d be but you know what I’m 100% turning this into a full scenario so fuck it it’ll be as long as it has to be

~

Title: Truth or Dare

Pairing: San x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Triggers: cursing, alcohol, shirtless woosan for a hot minute, implications of sex towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

~

Okay, so in hindsight, maybe coming to Hongjoong's party knowing you were going to be here was a mistake. In his defense, the water probably wasn’t out of his ears when he told Wooyoung he would come, despite the latter having told him specifically you were going to be there. It probably caused some temporary brain damage. That, and San has never really made the best decision when it comes to crushes. 

Especially you. You’ve been the worst so far. Around all of the others, he’s been able to keep a measure of his confidence, able to flirt a little and initiate something here or there, if it’s reciprocated. But you...

You’re something else. Always have been, ever since Hongjoong introduced him to you in all your gorgeous glory. Which is probably why Wooyoung looked so surprised that San agreed to come without much trouble - he probably thought San would be chicken out immediately and he’d have to convince him. 

San’s here, though, several drinks in and very much buzzed if not drunk, sitting in a circle of people that includes you. Even five or six drunk adults away, San can feel his face heating up when you look in his direction and throw him a wink with that gorgeous smile spread across your face. 

His heart thumps a little faster.

“You look like an idiot,” Wooyoung hisses, jabbing him in the side. “What did I tell you about playing hard to get?”

San rolls his eyes. “Since when did your advice ever make enough sense for me to take it?”

Wooyoung huffs. “You look like a lovesick idiot,” he sniffs. 

San doesn’t deign to reply. 

“Okay, okay.” Hongjoong comes back from wherever he was and settles between Seonghwa and Mingi, a bottle in hand. “Shut up, everyone. We’re playing truth or dare.”

Someone raises an eyebrow. “What is this, high school?”

“The way you all act, I wouldn’t be surprised.” San stifles a laugh at your reply. 

“Says you.” Hongjoong snorts. 

You grin. “Did I ever exclude myself?”

Everyone breaks into laughter that Hongjoong has to calm before setting the bottle in the middle of the circle. “Rules are the same. Spin the bottle, if it lands on you, pick truth or dare. If you chicken out, take a shot.” He raises an eyebrow. “Got it?”

They all get it, even the ones who look a little like they’re on the way to passing out, and so truth or dare begins. 

It’s fun. That might just be because San has been drinking, but when Seonghwa is dared for the second time to write some gross in the air with his butt, he and Wooyoung are falling over each other with tipsy laughter. Hiccuping with giggles, San answers a question about who in this room he’d lick peanut butter off of - “Hongjoong, I like his body.” - and then takes off his shirt for five turns and keeps it off because it’s kind of hot, anyway, and he doesn’t really want to bother putting it back on. Wooyoung isn’t much better - he got dared to take off his pants but Seonghwa forced Yunho to amend it to his shirt, and San pats his friend’s pecs affectionately before the next person goes. 

Eventually, the bottle lands on you. You raise an eyebrow. “Truth.”

“Is there someone you like in this room?” Mingi blurts. 

There’s a chorus of groans, complaints of ‘Okay, this is too high school for me,’ and ‘For real, Mingi? Seriously?’, but San’s attention is on you and the way your expression has turned slightly uncertain for the first time tonight. You bite your lip, staring at the shot glass in your hand like you’re really contemplating chickening out, but then your eyes flicker up and in his direction. 

San’s breath catches in his throat. You didn’t look at him. You definitely didn’t. That was just coincidence. Don’t get your hopes up, San. 

“Alright, alright, shut up.” You raise your voice above the noise of people teasing Mingi. “The answer is yes. I do.”

The complaints turn into oooooohs and wolf whistles and ‘Who is it? Who is it?’ but you’ve already got the bottle in hand and are spinning it in the center of the circle. San barely notices, even when Wooyoung’s hand squeeze his knee - who is the person that you like? There’s like fifteen or twenty people here. It could be any one of them. It’s probably Yeosang. He’s pretty and everyone has had a crush on him at least once. Or Seonghwa? Maybe even Wooyoung?

Cheers erupt all around him and San looks up, startled, to see you glaring at the bottle like it personally wronged you in a past life. 

Because it’s pointing at you again. 

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” someone yells. 

Next to you, Yeosang whispers something in your ear. Your eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.” Yeosang grins. 

You glare at the bottle some more. “Dare.”

“Everyone shut up, I’ve got this.” San watches in confused silence as Yeosang sits up. “Y/N...” A grin that looks more suited to Wooyoung spreads across his lips. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in this room.” 

San’s heart drops with every second that passes. He wants it to be him, badly wants it to be him, but in a room full of people who look like Seonghwa, who look like Dahyun, who look like Juyeon and Chaeyoung and Yeosang and - god, San can’t even list all of the names - 

How would it ever be him?

You make a very rude gesture to Yeosang that has everyone cracking up, but you don’t eye the shot glass this time. Instead, you throw your shoulders back and let your eyes rake over the room. 

“Wooyoung.”

San’s heart drops. Of course it’s Wooyoung, his best friend in every life, one of the prettiest people San himself has ever laid eyes on -

“Move over.” Suddenly, you’re up in San’s face, pushing Wooyoung away. He blinks. When did you come all the way over here? But he doesn’t even have time to ponder the answer to that question because your smile is so close, now, just half a foot separating your lips, and you’re reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and San is short-circuiting as you say -

“Stop me if you don’t want this, okay?”

San blinks. Don’t want what? His heart is beating so fast, faster even than when he catches the highest wave of the afternoon, you’re so close and this is all he’s ever wanted, why would you even imply that this is something he doesn’t want - 

Your lips press against his, and San’s mind goes blank. 

You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him because you think he’s the prettiest person in the room - he, San, Choi San, surfer boy who turned into a mess the day Hongjoong introduced him to you - you think he, of all people in the room, is the prettiest -

It occurs to him that he’s still shirtless. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with that information. 

You pull away and San gasps for breath, eyes staring wide into yours. You smile at him softly, lips slightly swollen with the kiss, and like he’s underwater, San can kind of hear everyone screaming and whistling and whatever in the background, but when you speak, suddenly, everything is crystal clear. 

“Was that okay?” you whisper. 

Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yes - San nods once, twice, three times and then blushes when your smile grows wider and the sparkle he likes so much turns brighter in your eye. 

Nothing he’s ever seen could be more beautiful than you right now, eyes sparkling and lips smiling under the dim lights of the party, pulling him forward for a second kiss.

. . .

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Truth or dare ends, San takes another couple of shots, and you’re somehow by his side the entire time until the party’s over. Both of you stay behind to help clean up a bit, but at around two, Seonghwa shoos the rest of you home, and Wooyoung meets up with San by the door to walk back to the apartment. 

“Move it, Woo.” You appear again, shoving Wooyoung out of the way. “I’m sure San won’t mind if I walk him home instead.”

A horrible grin splits Wooyoung’s features and he nods quickly, giving San a very unsubtle wink made worse by the fact that he drank way more than San did after the game. “Sannie, do you mind?” he asks. Then, not waiting for an answer, he loops an arm through Yeosang’s, who looks very confused. “I’ll see you at home! Or not!”

You and San walk out of the house in silence, mostly because San has too many thoughts at the moment and they’re all jumbling up into one big mess. The euphoria from kissing you earlier has worn off slightly as the alcohol left his system - he’s mostly sober now - which means he’s thinking. Too much. 

“San.” You look over at him, a streetlamp lighting your face. “Come on, I won’t bite.” You smile. “If you have something to ask me, you can say it.”

He blinks. Blinks again. Then, as though your words unleashed a flood in his brain, he asks - 

“Did you really think I was the prettiest person in the room?”

You stare at him, eyes narrowed and surprisingly lucid given how the party went. “Yes, I did. I still do.”

Oh. Oh, okay. San feels a little like he needs to sit down. So the kiss wasn’t just a one time thing - you’d do it again, probably, if he’s interpreting your words correctly - 

“Why?”

This time, you look a little incredulous when the word leaves his mouth. Then you shake your head. “You really don’t think you’re beautiful, do you.” It isn’t a question. 

San ducks his head. For all his usual surfer bravado, the confident face and smile he presents when he’s about to hit the waves, he can’t seem to find the courage to look at you in this moment, to let you really see everything brewing behind his eyes. 

Fingers settle under his chin and tip it up so that he’s looking at you again. “I don’t bite, San,” you remind him again, still smiling. “I happen to think you’re very pretty. Beautiful. And even though I still want to slap Yeosang over the head, I’m very glad he gave me the opportunity to show that tonight.” Your fingers walk upwards to cup his cheek the same way you did when you kissed him. “In case you were wondering, by the way, you were the one I was talking about when I said I liked someone. And I didn’t only kiss you just because you were shirtless.”

A small smile settles on San’s face. It’s strange, the way you seem to be able to read his mind without him saying anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. “I like you too.”

“I know. It was a little obvious.” You laugh when San whines, going red under your touch. “I wanted to say something before, kind of ever since I saw you in that wetsuit when Hongjoong introduced us, but it felt like I’d scare you away.” You raise an eyebrow. “Am I scaring you away now?”

Are you scaring him? A little, kind of, but not in a bad way. It’s more like you thrill him, make his heart race faster and faster the longer your fingers linger on his skin. You’re not scaring him away. If anything, you’re scaring him towards you - it’s weird, but that’s the only way San can describe it. He shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” You grin. “Because if I was scaring you, you probably wouldn’t want to kiss me, and right now I really want to kiss you again.”

Your lips meet once, twice, three times under the dull glare of the lamp on the empty street, San’s arms settling around your waist, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. When you break away after the third kiss, eyes hooded and lips swollen enough to make San’s mouth go dry, a soft glint appears in your expression. “Want to come home with me?” you ask. “My roommate’s out of town.” San follows the movement of your eyelashes as you blink. It’s captivating. “Feel free to say no. I won't take offense.” 

If it were anyone else, San doesn’t know if he’d believe them. He might stop it here politely, even tipsy as he is, and ask to just go back to his place instead. But he trusts you. Has trusted you from the day he met you. Because nothing in your words or your face ever seems to mask a lie, and besides, his fingers are itching to find their way up your shirt and somewhere else as he kisses you again and again -

He kisses you, laughing against your lips. “I guess I should let Wooyoung know I’m not coming back tonight.”

“Oh, he’ll get the message even if you don’t say anything.” Your grin is brighter than the stars. “Come on, pretty boy.” You kiss him again. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”

#destinyversenet #kpopscape #ateez #atz #san #choi san #ateez san #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshots #ateez san scenarios #ateez san oneshots #ateez san imagines #ateez x reader #ateez san x reader #san x reader #choi san x reader #drabble #fluff #tw alcohol #tw cursing #tw sex #party!au #surfer!au #truth or dare #4 year anniversary drabble game #lina answers #mai <3 #scriptura-delirus

[babyyweebbitch]

Please stay with me — Remake

Soo I reread the one I did before and I wanted to remake it because it wasn’t as good (heres the first one) I hope I can make this one better 😭😭 Also, grab tissues. I made this TOO sad

TW // death ; blood ; funeral ; severe depression & relapse

summary: Chris Redfield and his wife were on a mission a seven months after Piers’ death. His wife has been Captain of their team ever since that day.

Seven months ago Piers Nivans died in order to save Chris’ life and for the BSAA. Chris was still fucked up after that day and he thinks about it almost every day. He took a break from the BSAA since his wife made him. It wasn’t a very long one though, he missed being at work, he missed his coworkers and he missed her

Chris resigned as Captain and let his wife replace him. It was a very emotional day not not only for her and Chris but for the entire BSAA because they’ve never had a woman as Captain before. She was a good captain probably even better than Chris. Despite her height, weight and basically being the youngest on that team at 28. She was undoubtedly the best captain in years

Her team along with Chris were on a mission. Their mission was to take out the enemy, find three hostages and disable the bombs set in the building “Okay men… we’re gonna be splitting into three teams since there’s a lot of us here. Team A; Corey, John and Andrew. Your job is to find out where the bombs are and disable them as quickly as possible.”

“Yes ma’am!” The three went off to do their job as told

“Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark, you’re in charge of finding and getting the hostages to safety out of this building. You three can split up, stay together I don’t care. As long as your job is done”

“Ma’am” the three left

She turned to Eric and Chris who were standing together “what a coincidence, you two are with me.” She said with a slight smile on her face, walking ahead of the two Eric leaned over to Chris “She’s so cool…” Chris thought of Finn the moment he said that, he couldn’t help but to smile and look at him “I know…”

“Stop standing around we have a mission you know!” She yelled out to the two of them. Chris and Eric quickly made their way to the door the enemies were behind, Chris was silent the entire time before he was quickly checked back into reality with a pat on the shoulder “you okay? We need you fully here for this” his wife said as he looked down at her and nodded “yeah I’m okay…”

Chris, his wife and Eric all prepared as the door was blown open and guns were firing. The three did take cover just in time. After about five minutes of gun fire and fighting it finally stopped, thinking they had all the enemies taken care of they all stood up “good job! We did it — Chris!” Y/N called out as she did catch a glimpse of an enemy that didn’t die somehow standing up and pointing their gun towards Chris.

She quickly ran towards Chris and pushed him out the way, for Chris it’s almost like everything was happening in slow motion. He had to process everything leading up to that moment. He heard a scream of pain when his head finally cleared, looking up to see his wife shot in the sternum and Eric shooting the enemy down

She started to fall and Chris caught her before she hit the floor, his eyes started filling up with tears as he looked at her “baby please… tell me this is a joke!”

She knew she was dying, her body felt so cold from the inside out she, she coughed before reaching into one of her many pokes on her pants “c…Chris… do me a favour okay? Please…. stay safe” she handed him her wedding ring, she never wore it during missions to avoid it getting broken, rusted or something. So she held it in her pocket where it was safe “I… feel so… cold”

Chris looked at the ring then at her “no don’t say that! You’re gonna be fine! You’re gonna be fine! Please stay with me!” He started crying, Eric stood by as Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark came in. They surprisingly finished the bomb quicker than expected “Captain w—“ Mark was starting to talk but he quickly stopped when he realised what was happening

“Guys… take care of him for me…” she struggled to talk. She looked up at Chris to see him crying, she lifted her Hand up to his cheek to wipe his tears one last time “no no… don’t cry hon… I’ll tell my parents you said hi… I love you..” Chris held onto her hand and his heart practically stopped the moment he felt her hand and body go heavy and her head fall back … she was dead now

“No…. Please come back! Please don’t go! Y/N!!!” He held her body close and just sobbed, Eric and team B were tearing up and trying to wipe their tears

It took a while to get Chris to let go of her body and let them put her on a stretcher and on the truck so they can go back. When they finally did everyone on the team was there. It took three guys to pry him off of her This was the first time they’ve ever seen him cry like this

—————————

It’s been almost a month since she’s died, Chris looked horrible. He hasn’t shaved, left the house, he started drinking again and Claire had to clean him up at night since he wasn’t sober enough to even do it himself. The house looked like shit especially the room Chris and his wife shared

It was the day of the funeral and Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the picture of him and her on their wedding day back in 2007. He somehow managed to even get up that day and not drink. He showered that morning, got dressed in a suit and did his hair. He still didn’t shave though

Claire came in “Chris? You ready?” She asked. She had on a black dress on “I guess so…” Chris responded. He stood up and placed the picture down on the night stand and grabbed the necklace he had with his wife’s ring on it.

Claire fixed his tie and jacket before they left. Chris was always taking care of her when she was younger so now it was time for her to take care of her older brother “good. Let’s go” Claire let him walk in front of her to the car. She drove because one he couldn’t think straight enough to drive and he was completely hung over from drinking too much

After about a 45 minute drive they arrived to where her funeral was being held at. Everyone they knew was there, Leon, their BSAA team, Her family. It was hard for him to see her brother and sister at their older sisters funeral

The ceremony, the viewing and speeches all happened and Chris barely even got through his speech without crying

(Im so so so sorry for this next part)

Chris’ speech: “Y/N was an amazing person, she always took care of everyone, me, her siblings, our team, Claire… everyone. She put everyone before herself no matter who they were. She joined the BSAA not because of herself because of her parents death in Raccoon City. She promised them she would do something in any way to stop what happened in Raccoon from ever happening again. She treated our team like her family and even the rookies as her kids even if they were a few years younger then her. She was an even amazing person and wife. And I miss her dearly.”

There wasn’t a single dry eye in that room when Chris said his speech. After everything, everyone went inside to eat and talk.

Chris sat with Claire and Y/N’s siblings. He just picked at his food and stared at the plate. He was terrifyingly silent before Leon came over “hey Chris… how are you holding up?” Leon asked as he stared at Chris. He could tell how hard this has affected Chris. “I’m fine…”

“Chris… You need to eat. All you’ve done in the past month was drink, workout and cry… You need to at least eat something” Claire said “she wouldn’t want this… Her or Piers wouldn’t want you to be like this. Y/N would be yelling at you if she saw you picking at your food like this. We both know she would”

Chris’ eyes started to water once again before he spoke “I…. I know.. but I just miss her so much, Claire… we were gonna start a family together… she wanted to have kids and get a bigger house so we can have a big family… now I can’t have one because she’s the only person I wanted a family with…” Chris sighed softly as he wiped his eyes

“I miss her too… we all do…” Leon commented looking down at his plate. Chris eventually ended up eating his food and everyone left to go home. The entire drive home was deafening to the point you can hear a pin drop

When he got home he changed inside a fresh pair of clothes and he started to clean the house, starting with the bedroom and ending in the Kitchen. He cleaned it exactly how she’d like it and when he was finished around 3:32 am he sat on the couch and sighed

They were right… She would yell at him if she saw the way he was, how the house was when she died

—————————

After a few years pass it’s before the entire Village situation. Every week since the funeral Chris visited her grave and just talked to her for a bit. On her birthday he spent almost half the day there, on new year’s he watched the fireworks by your gave.

He still hasn’t moved on since her death he can’t even get into another relationship with a woman since her death but it’s not like he can find anyone else like her… and honestly he didn’t want to.

IM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR MAKING THIS EVEN SADDER tbh tho I started tearing up writing this

#resident evil biohazard #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil 6 #Chris Redfield #chris redfield x reader #Chris Redfield angst #angst #reaident evil #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #fem reader #if I’m being honest I cried 🧍🏾‍♀️

[livexdolan]

40 & 70 with gray? :)

40. "Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?"  & 70. “You know what? Never-mind, you’ll know I’m lying to you anyway.” 

Masterlist

Whenever people found out who your best friend was- you knew they were trying to keep from laughing in your face. If he weren’t standing right next to you when you told people, sometimes they would think you were lying.

You’ve been friends with Grayson Dolan for more than a decade, knowing each other since elementary school. By high school, you drifted apart socially but you still hung out at each other’s houses, played video games, helped him with projects, even decided to go to the same college.

You handled Grayson’s popularity in high school well and he handled your lack of popularity well. All you prayed was college would be different.

It wasn’t.

Grayson decided to join Theta Xi, known to be the biggest pothead frat but also the best partiers. You told Grayson that maybe your friendship wasn’t going to work out, this was the sign. Grayson argued with you and spent weeks proving the frat would never change him.

Three years and a presidency later, he had changed. Yet for some reason, she stayed.

Well, she knew the reason, she’s been in love with him since the first time they kissed. It was on a rock in the forest behind his house, they were 16 and 17 and he had just learned no one had ever kissed her before.

After that, she knew she had to stay in his life even though she wasn’t his type at all and he had never given her any reason to believe he was interested in her as more than a friend.

Now, she’s cursing at the way she always get blindsided when it comes to Grayson. He talks her into the stupidest shit because he asks her in ways that she doesn’t realize what she’s getting into but by the time she finally realizes, it’s too late to back out.

Like right now, leaning against the counter in one of the kitchens. The frat house was split into four quads downstairs and two quads upstairs. Each quad has two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small living space, which all lead out into the main, large room of the house where the main part of the party is happening.

She could still hear the music thumping beneath her feet, she was upstairs in the ‘off-limits’ quad. It was Grayson, Ethan, Ryan, and Mando’s rooms up here.

Grayson’s the president, E’s vp, Ryan’s in charge of everything grayson doesn’t want to deal with but his official title is treasurer, and Mando’s in charge of all things social media for the frat.

I’m in Ethan and Grayson’s kitchen, the cleanliness not surprising seeing as Ethans girlfriend pretty much lives with them at this point. I always try to clean up Grayson’s room and bathroom when I’m over, the OCD type A freak in me hates seeing his books everywhere, trash cans full of bottles, laundry piled in the corner.

It’s not like that most of the time though, that only happens on his bad weeks. Those are the weeks when he falls into this funk and only talks to me and Ethan. We all give him space because we know why it’s happening, they started right after their dad died.

Mr. Dolan dying was so hard on everyone. My family included. My dad wasn’t a very stand-up guy, and Mr. Dolan always made me feel welcome and was the kind of dad I always imagined my dad to be.

“Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?" I jump at the deep voice, turning to see Grayson standing in the doorway, looking like an angel committing a sin by looking so hot.

He has on a pair of slacks and a loose, silk shirt, the pattern almost matching Ethans. The theme for the night was Coachella. Even if we were many states away and most of the people here couldn’t afford to even look at Coachella tickets.

I let him talk me into coming, wearing a knit triangle bralette top and off-white shorts Grayson picked out, I just realized my shorts match his pants perfectly.

I quirk my eyebrow at him and cross my arms, “I’m sorry, did I leave you to play beer pong?”

He smiles at me and I want to slap it off his face- or kiss it off- either is fine with me, “I’m sorry, angel. Just come back down and enjoy the rest of the party with me, I won’t ditch you again, I promise.”

Grayson’s always done his hardest to keep ever promise he’s told me, so I push off the counter, my entire hard-ass demeanor falling away and my normal, shy and reserved self takes it’s place. He grabs my hand and I try to ignore the pleasure I get from feeling his warmth on mine.

He pulls me towards the stairs and then we walk down together, me slightly behind him. He abruptly stops and I bump into him, cursing at him but he squeezes my hand, silently telling me to shut up.

I look over in time to see Dylan here, with McKenna. Dylan was my first boyfriend, though we’re only kissed and cuddled, I thought we were serious. Until I found out he had been sleeping with my dorm mate the entire time. That was freshman year, I should be over it. I am over it, but the look Grayson gives me tells me I don’t look as though I’m over it.

“C’mon.” Grayson pushes us through the crowd, keeping us out of the line of sight of my ex.

We duck into one of the quads and I realize too late- it’s the pot quad. The rooms filled with a thick haze, the slight soundproofing making the vibes much more calm and relaxing. There’s only a dozen or so people but I feel much better in here than out there. Even if I don’t smoke.

Someone passes Grayson a blunt and he takes a quick hit, “I feel like I should stay sober to make sure that asshole doesn’t even look at you,” I smile at Grayson’s protectiveness.

“I’m fine. It was a while ago, Gray. I’m over it,” I shrug. Maybe it would’ve hurt more if my heart didn’t belong to someone else.

I make a quick decision and go to take the blunt. Grayson pulls back, the weed out in the air where I can’t reach it, “What do you think you’re doing?”

He raises his brow and I scoff, rolling my eyes, “Give it to me, Grayson. I just want one hit.” He pulls back again when I try to reach out.

He just shakes his head and it feels like his patronizing a child, “this shits strong, angel. You can’t handle it.”

Something about the way he said it sends me back to a memory I forgot ever happened. After Dylan took me out for our five month, we went back to his place and we started making out. I tried to reach for his belt but he pulled away, telling me I wasn’t ready. Couldn’t handle it. That I was too immature and if I wanted it to be great, I should lose a little weight, because skinny girls have the best sex.

I snatch the blunt from Grayson, taking a hit before he can stop me. Fuck men. Fuck all men who think they know what I can and can’t handle. I think I inhaled to much because when I exhale I feel a heavy burn and a dry cough comes up my throat.

Grayson pats my back, “Angel-“

“Don’t.” I push his hand off me. Taking a deep breath, I see Grayson watching me closely. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it. What is wrong with you tonight?” He asks me and I roll my eyes.

“You know what?” He looks at me expectantly and I sigh, “Never-mind, you’ll know I’m lying to you anyway.”

He grabs my hand and takes me out of the small room, moving us through the crowd to the back porch- a large, glassed in room. There’s only a few people out here.

He grabs my arms, “what’s wrong, y/n? Is it Dylan? I’ll kick him out if you want. ”

I look up into his eyes, the sincerity there surprising me. Grayson’s always been so honest with me. It’s time I’m honest with him. I don’t know if weed works this fast or if it’s the beer I downed earlier but I decide to be honest with him, “No, it’s not Dylan. I wasn’t even that hurt when we broke up. That’s because- I uh- I like you, Gray. I’ve had a crush on you since eleventh grade. I want to be with you. I mean- with you with you. I want to wake up next to you and hold hands and kiss and hug and- I want you to love me as much as I love you.” I rant.

His hands fall off my arms and my eyes well up, knowing the thing I’ve always feared is about to happen. He’s rejecting me. “Y/n I- I care about you. So much. But I- this isn’t a good idea.”

His words break my heart and I keep my gaze on the ground, “Um- okay. Well, I’m gonna- I have to go.” I say, looking up at him and biting my lip to hold back tears.

I turn on my heel and practically run back into the main room, trying to get out of this house as quickly as possible, “Y/n! Come back! Wait!” I hear Grayson’s voice and the tears start to fall, I push through the crowd faster, when someone grabs my arm, stopping me.

“Y/n?” I look up at Dylan, standing with McKenna. His eyebrows furrow when he sees me crying.

“Let me go,” I state, trying to get my arm out of his tight grip.

“What’s wrong? Who-“ he stops when he sees someone behind me, “Of course it was you. You’re such an asshole. What did you do to her?” He demands and I finally get my arm away from him.

Turning to see Grayson with rage in his eyes. He never got over Dylan cheating on me, “I didn’t do anything to her. You’re the piece of shit who cheated on y/n. How dare you come into my house and accuse me of hurting my best friend?” Grayson spits and I grab his arm out of instinct as he lurches forward.

“Gray, stop.” I say, he looks away from Dylan’s smirk to make eye contact with me for only a second before shrugging my hand off him.

“Yeah, Gray. Listen to your girlfriend. Don’t wanna embarrass you in your house, right?” Dylan mocks and I roll my eyes, knowing he’s just trying to rile Grayson up.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” the words are out of his mouth so quick, I don’t even realize what he said at first. I scoff and roll my eyes.

Because this is the time to correct him. You know what, “Fuck you.” I spit at Grayson and push my way out of the small circle forming around us. I make it to the front door when I hear a loud crack, looking back to see Dylan on the ground holding his nose and Grayson looking for me in the crowd.

We make eye contact and I shake my head, knowing this is the end of us. I open the door and slip out, running down the road, passing all the other fraternity houses. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears but I keep pushing myself until I get to my apartment, knowing it’s only a mile or so.

Once I get inside I slide down the door, leaning against it as I realize that happy ever afters are fake. The person you love isn’t always going to love you back. Fuck fairytales.

It’s not like I can hate Grayson- he didn’t know. I can hate him for not chasing me. He probably realized I’m not worth it. Best friends don’t run after each other, right? If he loved me, he wouldn’t have let Dylan get to him. He would’ve grabbed me and made me stay.

Tears fall down my face unrestrained as my heart clenches at the thought of never being friends with Grayson again. We’ve gone through death, high school, years of people trying to pull us apart, and I was able to ruin our friendship with three words.

If it was meant to be, he would’ve fought for me. Figuratively, not physically, seeing as he already punched someone tonight. I drag myself to my room and fell into the blankets, closing my eyes. I pray I will forget this night ever happened.

Next Part...

A/n: For all my people who didn’t get their fairy tale ending ❤️

#grayson dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan smut #ethan #grayson #grayson dolan imagine #Grayson Dolan smut #concept #grayson dolan concept #my writing #sad concept #sad #blurb #sophs blurbs #g.dolan #grayson x reader #asks #frat!gray

[rebeccccccaaa]

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ɴᴇʀᴅ ⓟⓐⓡⓣ ②

_________________________

ғʀᴀᴛʙᴏʏ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x sʜʏ-ɪsʜ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴜ (ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇss)

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (two part series!) You’re starting to struggle in class and decide to ask your professor for some tutoring or extra classes to boost your  grade. He ends up assigning the last person you’d expect to tutor you. (is it really a surprise though?)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cw: talking about a car accident and infertility

smut 18+  (praise kink, dirty talk, oral fem receiving, hair pulling, marking, choking, slight spanking if you squint, slight bondage), major aftercare, fluff? This is pretty filthy lmao. 

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟺.𝟹 ᴋ (ɪ ᴀᴍ sᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ sᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪs ɪs sᴏᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ!)

ᴀ/ɴ: Thank you so much for all the love in the last part! I was truly expecting maybe about 20 likes but so far its gotten over 100! Thank you for being so nice to me on my first ever post and hope you enjoy part 2!

__________________________

For the next two or so weeks you avoid Bucky like the bubonic plague. You didn’t exactly hate the fact that he kissed, but he was your tutor. Isn’t that inappropriate? Let alone him being a part of a frat house. It wouldn’t be a good mix.

One good thing though is that your overall grade in class has gone up since your tutor sessions with Bucky so at least it wasn’t for nothing. He’s tried to talk to you in class a couple times when you didn't go to him but ended up giving up when you began showing up right when class started or going out of your way to even go near him. 

Again, you didn’t hate him; hell you weren’t mad anymore, but you still avoided at all costs. It’s totally not because you're scared you’ll actually fall for him. How could someone like Bucky even look your way? Maybe he just wanted to get into your pants like all the boys in the house.

You didn’t tell Natasha that Bucky kissed but she could definitely tell that something was up. You were usually at Bucky’s frat house on weekdays but you’ve been canceling sessions every night since the incident. 

One night you were studying alone in your apartment and Natasha was pacing around on her phone. She was dressed to go to a frat party tonight but it seems maybe her ride isn’t available. You wonder why she can’t herself when she has a car.

“Hey Y/n,” Nat crept up to you.

“Yes,” you drew out.

“Would maybe, possibly, perhaps, might be able to be my DD?” she asked.

“Your what?”

“My designated driver. Wanda has a family emergency; her and her brother flew out like an hour ago and I haven’t been able to find anyone to pick me up.”

“I can drop you off and pick you up,” you offered. You’d rather stay up late in case she wants to come home than stay at the party all night, especially if she finds another bed to stay in till morning. 

“I mean you could do that but would it be more fun to actually party for once. Come on babe you’re too uptight, you need to have fun especially with how hard you’re working in school right now.”

“Nat, you know that’s not my scene.”

“Just stay with me. Or Bucky I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hanging with you tonight,” she suggestively, bringing confusion to your face.

“Huh?”

“Oh nothing Just come with me please? If it gets too much text me and I’ll let you know if I need a ride back home.”

“Actually?” you asked.

“Pinky promise.”

“Ok give me like 5 mins.”

You ran to your  room and picked out an outfit you felt sexy but comfortable in; I mean if you were going to inevitably run into Bucky at this party might as well look presentable right? When you came out ready, Nat whistled, hyping you up and felt your face heat up a bit. 

“Stop, let’s just go,” you averted.

You arrived at the house music booming from down the street. People outside drinking from red solo cups, cars already picking up drunks and dropping people off to get said drunk. You hastily parked the car and Nat grabbed your hand and pulled you close as you guys walked to the party. You weren’t going to lie, you were really nervous.

You heard stories about these parties but you were trying to convince yourself that they may be exaggerated somewhat but still didn’t do much for your nerves. When you walked you eyes almost immediately locked with Bucky’s. To say he was shocked to see you at a frat party was for sure an understatement.

Bucky began to move through the crowd to meet up with you but when he got to the entrance it was like you disappeared. Disappointed, he returned to the mini bar where the drinks were all held, where Steve served the drinks. Asked for a beer.

“How’s it going, man?” Steve asked.

“She’s here.”

“Nat? I really think there's something between us. I’m thinking about asking her on a proper date you know?”

“Really? That’s awesome, but I’m talking ‘bout Y/n,” Bucky clarified.

“What? I thought she hated parties.” 

“I did too.”

As if on queue, you tapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“Hi.”

“Hey, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Nat needed a designated driver and Wanda and her brother are out of town.”

“Yeah Pietro lives here in the house, Steve drove him and Wanda to the airport a couple hours ago.”

You nodded your head and things got awkward again, but then again what’s new with that.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“I can’t drink.”

“Oh right. Do we have soda?”

“We coke for the rum but you can take a can.”

“Thanks Steve,” you took a can of coke from him. 

You and Bucky and Steve all held wholesome conversation for a little  bit then Nat came and whisked him away. Bucky was put on bar duty from then on and you decided to keep him company until Nat was ready to go home. But so far from the way Steve and her were dancing together you didn’t think Nat was gonna wanna go home.

You asked Bucky how long Steve and Nat have had their little thing and apparently it’s been going on for awhile. You had sneaking suspicion that they were together in some way but since Nat never brought it up you didn’t want to bug her. It was pretty easy to figure out though considering she didn’t come home some nights.

They’re good together though and you hope they make it official soon.

Talking to Bucky, you felt a hand brush against but when you looked no one was there. You figured it was just getting crowded. After a couple of hours you decided to text Nat to see where she was. When she didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to call her.

“Nat where did you go?”

“I'm in the car,” she slurred.

“What! You can’t be driving! How did you even get the keys?” you yelled.

“I snatched them from you when you and Bucky were flirting with each other. Steve couldn’t  find his keys so I took yours,” she shouted into the phone.

“When did you- whatever, is he sober?” you asked.

“Yeah and I am not even that dru-,” she hiccuped. 

“Nat…” you warned. 

“Steve is my boyfriend and we’re clean. I’ll be safe; it’s not like I can have kids anyway.”

“Nat.” When you moved in together at the beginning of the year, you noticed one time her grabbing her lower stomach in discomfort and offered her any products for her period. She told you she doesn’t get one and being the dumbass you are you asked why. She told you when she was a teenager she got into a car accident that caused extreme internal bleeding causing Nat to become infertle. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that,” you apologized.

“It’s ok babe. If anything you be safe.”

“She can’t see you, babygirl,” you heard Steve say and laughed out loud.

“Oh! I’m winking!” she shouted.

“Oh my god. Whatever,” you rolled your eyes.

“Anyways buh-bye, girly!” she hung up the phone.

“What happened?” Bucky came up behind you. You looked over at the bar and saw Bruce bar-keeping.

“Nat took the fucking car with Steve.”

“Why didn’t he use my car?”

“She said he couldn’t find the keys and I guess it was easier to just steal from me when I wasn’t looking.”

“Wow, ok. Stealth much?”

“Right? She’s like a Russian spy,” you laughed.

“Well, you probably need a ride then,” Bucky brought up.

“I don’t know if I wanna go home knowing Steve is probably gonna be railing her into the next dimension.”

“Yeah, you can spend the night here. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah it’s not a problem. We probably have an air mattress hiding somewhere.”

“Thanks Buck. well since I’m not going anywhere I guess I could have a drink now.”

“What’ll it be?”

You drank a couple beers feeling the alcohol beginning to flow effortlessly through your veins. The music was still booming through the house and you found yourself getting lost to the rhythm. You made your way to where everyone was also dancing and let the music guide your body sensually. 

You didn’t notice it yet but Bucky was staring completely in love with the way you were moving. He’d never seen you in this kind of environment and definitely not in the clothing you were wearing. You looked truly sexy even more so dancing the way you were dancing; like you had control over everything in the world.

You soon felt a pair of hands circle around to your waist instantly knowing who they belong to. Bucky moved his hips snug against your backside perfectly fitting with you. You let your head lean back feeling Bucky breathe against your neck.  

“You driving me crazy, doll,” Bucky whispered against your ear.

You shivered at his words. 

“Please, let me show you how fucking stunning you are,” he moved his hands towards the front of your hips.

“What?” you turned around. You hadn’t expected Bucky to want to do anything with you.

“I can make you feel so good. You deserve it.”

“Bucky-”

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“I do,” you whined as he rubbed his hands against your lower back, pulling you so close.

He kissed you too softly, barely touching your lips, as he grabbed your hands and led to his room upstairs.  

When you reached his room, the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat while your knees went to either side of his thighs. God his thighs. His hands went up your shirt grazing your bare skin with his fingertips as you continued to makeout sloppily. 

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging your shirt.

“Please, yes please.”

Your arms went over your head and Bucky slowly kissed the exposed skin as your shirt inched higher and higher up until he tossed it to the side. The straps of your bra left off shoulders and Bucky continued to kiss any exposed skin on your body. Your hands ran through his hair and you tugged his strands earning a moan in return.

You tugged at his shirt as well and he complied quickly getting rid of his shirt and throwing it to the side. Bucky hands ran over your bottom and you jumped off him nearly ripping your bottoms off your body. You heard bucky chuckled as he too took the opportunity to take his pants off leaving him in boxers and nothing else.

“I want to taste you baby girl,” Bucky bit at your ear.

Your body tensed a bit because although you were not a virgin, you were not that experienced, especially compared to Bucky. 

“Is that ok? I’m sorry, we don’t have to do anything. I don’t want you to regret anything, princess. We can stop.”

“No! I don’t want to stop. No one’s just ever wanted to do that, you know,” you whispered feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Oh baby, what kinda shit boys were you with? Let me show how good a woman is supposed to feel, got it?”

You swallowed hard, but nodded of course. 

Bucky picked you up and gently laid you down onto the bed. His hands rubbed your thighs softly and he kissed your stomach ever so softly. He was trying his very hardest to make sure you were comfortable and relaxed as much as possible. Bucky traced the lining of your underwear and looked to you once again to make sure everything was ok by you. You nodded but that wasn’t enough for Bucky.

“Words, baby. I wanna hear you say it,” he whispered, lips against your inner thigh. 

“Bucky,” you whined.

“Come on, baby. Use your words like a big girl,” he snickered.

“Please, touch me, Bucky. I want you to use your mouth on me like you promised.”

“There ya go,” he said pulling your underwear down your legs.

He slowly opened your legs and kissed your inner thigh leaving a dark purple mark for him to see and him only. When he was satisfied with the marks he left on your inner thighs he licked a slow and wet line against your pussy. Your hips instantly bucked into his face and your hands flew to his hair.

You tugged at his hair again and released a grunt from Bucky, the vibrations from his mouth pleasuring you even more. Bucky brought his fingers to your hole and he continued circling his tongue around your clit making you moan and arch your back. 

He entered a finger into you and then another. You were already beginning to feel full from just his fingers alone, you couldn’t wait until he was able to fuck you balls deep. Your orgasm was approaching quicker than you anticipated, your toes curled and your back arched off the bed. Your heels dug into Bucky’s back but he simply continued to eat you out until you finally peaked.

“Bucky!” you shouted his name in pleasure.

“That’s it baby girl. You're my good girl, right?”

“Yes, I’m your good girl. Oh god, I’m cumming,” you moaned.

Bucky helped you ride out your first orgasm of the night completely enamored by your beauty. When you finally came down from you high you reached for Bucky pulling him into a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned into his mouth. You pulled him closer and sat up moving him to sit his back against his headboard.

“I don’t know what I want to do more, return the favor or ride you until my legs shake.”

“You can return the favor another time. Let me see you ride my dick, doll,” Bucky growled. Another time?

You crawled onto Bucky’s lap after he discarded his boxers letting his dick spring up, the tip red from lack of attention. It shocked you if you were being honest, it was so… big. 

“Is that gonna fit?” you asked genuinely.

“Yeah, it will; but if it hurts too much you tell me to stop ok?” you nodded.

Bucky reached behind your back and unclasped your bra only to toss it to wherever the rest of your clothes were. His hands caressing your breasts; thumbs rubbing over your sensitive nipples, sending chills throughout your body. He kissed along your collarbone to your neck to your jaw before whispering in your ear.

“I have to grab a condom from the bathroom, baby girl. Sorry,” he began to move you.

“Why are you sorry?” you stopped him.

“I don’t wanna ruin the mood but safety is important before anything else.”

You weren’t gonna lie that actually kinda shocked you; and turned you on even more. You had completely forgotten about having a condom. You were on the pill but that doesn't mean you shouldn’t still use a condom. Bucky was back in no time and you took the condom from him wanting to put it on for him. Bucky moaned as you wrapped his dick and soon enough you were ready to go, arousal practically dripping down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s hand lid up to the back of your neck as you slid down his cock; both moaning at the feeling. You took a second to move but when you did things practically fell into pace. You quickly found a good rhythm for the both of you and soon enough you felt yourselves growing near climax.

Bucky’s hands gripped at your ass, grunting and moaning at the feeling of your walls gliding in and out of you. He smacked your ass leaving a slight red-ish mark for you to admire later. You pulled him closer, if that was even possible, burying your face in between Bucky’s neck and shoulder. 

“I can feel ya getting close, baby. Fucking squeezing me. Feels so good, princess.”

“I'm gonna come, I’m so close.”

“Don’t come until I say so. Hold it, I know you can. Be my good little girl and fucking hold it.”

You sucked and kissed and licked his neck leaving little marks not nearly as big as the ones he was leaving all over you. Soon enough you felt the coil building in the pit of your stomach snap and you moaned so loud into Bucky’s ear, he almost came from hearing your moans.

“Sorry I literally screamed in your ear.”

“I told you not to come until I say so.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore. You felt too good,” you whispered, barely audible.

“That doesn’t matter. I told you to hold it,” Bucky got off the bed and reached for his pants. You got so scared that he was going to leave; terrified. But instead he took his belt he was wearing and stalked back towards you. Oh how the butterflies in your stomach fluttered right now.

“Arms up baby girl. You don’t get to touch me now.”

You complied, your stomach fluttering immensely at the mere thought of what Bucky was going to  do with you now. When he finished looping the belt around the headboard of the bed his hands ran along your entire body kissing here and there until back up to you. 

“Too tight?” you shook your head.

“Perfect. Winter; say the word and I stop,” he kissed passionately, sliding back in you, pussy sensitive from orgasming twice tonight. 

Bucky didn’t take as much time as you did before starting to slam into you over and over again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, toes curling in themselves, tears brimming your eyes. Bucky fingers dug into your waist surely leaving more marks for you in the morning. 

His hand came up to wrap around your neck and squeezed ever so slightly.

“Feel good? My little fucking slut, whining and wiggling under me,” Bucky said, more to himself than anything.

“Fuck-” you moaned. You wrists rubbing against the belt, trying to pull away so you could touch Bucky.

“What is it? You wanna touch me,” Bucky’s hand squeezed a bit more and you moaned even louder, legs wrapping around his waist pulling him closer that way.

“Oh good please Bucky, let me touch you!”

“Uh-uh, bad girls don’t get what they want. If you want to touch me you have to beg me like the good little whore you are,” Bucky growled.

“Fuck Bucky please, I’ll do anything for you just me let me touch you. Please, please, please!”

“Tell me your mine.”

“I’m yours, Buck. All fucking yours. No one else’s!”

“No one is ever gonna fuck as good as I do. Your mine.”

“Yes! I’m yours, oh god,” you moaned.

Bucky was extremely close to cumming and so were you so he undid the belt with one hand skillfully and your arms wrapped around his body pulling as close to you as humanly possible. Your hands ran through his hair and pulled hard as you both fell over the edge. Bucky settled between your legs for a minute kissing your breasts, your chest heaving trying to catch your breath. 

Bucky got up and discarded the condoms making sure there were no tears or rips considering how rough he’d been with you. He didn’t intend to be rough at first but his mind was so clouded with you he practically lost control; but you didn’t mind not one bit. 

Bucky came back with bottled water from a small refrigerator he kept in the corner of his room and held you back and head as you brought the water to your lips. After satisfying your dry and hoarse throat, Bucky picked you up and set down on his bathroom counter, the cold of the marble counter in extreme contrast to your hot skin. 

He cleaned you up and inspected your wrists making sure you weren’t hurt; although they were quite red and would probably hurt in the morning. Lastly, he grabbed a wipe and cleaned the remaining mess of makeup you had put on the night before speaking up again.

“Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to be,” Bucky caressing the sides of your waist. You shocked your head no; the face with a blissfully fucked out expression and a smile making Bucky chuckle. He rubbed your skin with lotion to ease any irritation anything may have caused and kissed the marks he made during sex. He admits that he really likes seeing you marked up by him knowing he’s the only one who gets to see them and make them. Makes him proud that he was able to fuck so good and you loved it too.

He picked you up and took you to bed; kissing you all over one last time before letting you fall asleep in his arms. The last thing you heard before you fell asleep was Bucky whispering about how good were to him, calling you his good little girl; rubbing your back ever so softly putting you to sleep.

+++

You woke the next morning arms and legs tangled with another. You turn your head to find Bucky Barnes’ face tucked into your neck soft breaths tickling your skin. You rubbed his arms and back, nails lightly scratching him causing him to stir a bit.

Bucky pressed soft kisses against your skin and rested his large warm hands on your ass and thighs. You felt the urge to use the restroom and haven’t going last night, you figured you should as soon as possible. Prying your mildly sweaty body from his was obviously unsuccessful with how much stronger he was compared to you. His legs moved further in between your thighs and he began kissing your chest making you giggle in return.

“Bucky, I have to use the restroom,” you grabbed his face.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled and released his hold on you, not without whining of course.

You ran into his bathroom and shut the door. When you turned around you gasped realizing how marked up you were. Dark purple spots littered all over your chest and neck. Your wrists were bright red from the belt he used last night; however they didn’t hurt, a bit sore but not painful. Your thighs were also decorated with love bites and hickeys from Bucky last night and you smiled to yourself.

After you used the bathroom you cleaned yourself as well as possible but admittedly needed a shower in the end. You opened the door only to find Bucky, grinning like a little boy. You folded your hands underneath your chin evidently hiding your body with your arms as much as you could. 

Bucky came up to you and placed his hands on your waist kissing the top of your head before turning you around to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. His body was flush against your and you could feel his dick sitting against your ass and lower back. His face came up and rested on your shoulder then grabbed your hands to wrap them behind his head and yours. 

You played with his hair a bit feeling so confident and loved by the affection Bucky has been giving since you came into his room. His hands ran across your body everywhere they could reach before making eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Look at you, goddamn.”

“What?” you chuckled.

“Do you see what I’m seeing?”

You shook your head, feeling incredibly shy suddenly.

“Look how  fucking beautiful and gorgeous and perfect you are. Geez, I can’t even handle it.” 

You laughed out at how dramatic he was being.

“Goddamn, I could stare at your perfect body all fucking day,” he whispered, it wasn’t in a sensual tone however. It was almost like he was saying to himself, like he actually wanted to do as such.

“Please stay,” he asked you.

“Are you ok?” you sensed he was being incredibly serious, almost about to cry even.

His sad painted with sadness, eyes begging you to stay with him for the day. He wanted something with you.he wanted to be yours and hoped to God that you’d be his in return.

“Stay with me. Please?” you realized you didn’t think he was talking about staying for now, he meant stay with him, as a partner.

“What happened?” you caressed his face in your hands. He lifted you and placed you on the counter Like he did the night before, settling his hips in between your legs.

“They always leave,” he whispered.

“Who? ”

“I didn’t want to just sleep around with girls anymore so I started talking to them and taking them out but every time the night we had sex, they would always leave. I tried talking to them the next day but they always said they didn’t want anything out of it. So I stopped having sex altogether.” 

Your heart ached for him. You didn’t want to do that to him. Of course you thought about it, but that was clearly before you realized Bucky wanted to be with you.

“I won’t leave.”

“We can stay in my room all day. You don’t even have to get out of bed. I can grab a couple game consoles from downstairs and we play on the tv. We order breakfast. I’ll wash your clothes. We have a washing machine in the basement,” Bucky said excitedly, you smiled excited as well for your day with Bucky.

“Can we take a shower first?” you asked.

“Yes of course, let’s take a shower.”

“Let’s?” you wiggled your eyebrows.

“Of course. Maybe we can pop in a couple rounds while we’re at it,” Bucky winked.

“Bucky!”

______________________

Ok, all done. :) Hope you liked it and maybe give it a little like or reblog? You don’t have  to though lol

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ! 

@baddie-barnes

@calwitch

@red42985

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #collage!bucky #collage au #au #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes smut

[favefandomimagines]

Be Kind (r.c)

Summary: the facade Rafe puts up has caused tension in your relationship

AN: this is inspired by the song ‘Be Kind,’ by Marshmello and Halsey. also threw a little klaroline quote in there

quick PSA, i don’t condone anything Rafe does in the show at all. He killed a cop and was just a sadistic asshole. SO THIS IS NOT CANON RAFE i just wanted to make that clear and i DO NOT condone domestic violence of any kind, verbal or physical.

You’ve put up with Rafe Cameron for two years. But you didn’t used to phrase it like that until recently.

Rafe puts on a mask when he’s with Topper or Kelce or any of his other Kook friends. He never used to do that with you. He wasn’t afraid to show how he was really feeling. But when he turned to drugs, that mask was kept on permanently.

He wasn’t kind to you anymore. Didn’t call to ask how your day was, didn’t stay up late with you combing his fingers through your hair while he vividly described your future after college.

It was almost as if the cocaine made that version of him dormant. It wasn’t something you ever planned on getting used to. But for the foreseeable future, you had too. 

There was a huge Kook party that was being held at your house, your younger brother Topper being the host.

That’s how you and Rafe initially got together. It didn’t matter that you were one year younger. The connection was there. 

All of your ‘friends’ were there and you somehow managed to convince Topper to invite the Pogues. They were more your friends than anyone on Figure 8 anyways.

You didn’t know Rafe had brought the drugs. Not until Kiara was the one to point it out. He had told you he quit a long time ago so you had to see it for yourself. 

“Y/N, I thought you said Rafe quit?” She asked. You followed where she was pointing and saw your boyfriend doing a line off the glass coffee table.

Both Kie and JJ saw your face contorted with not just anger, but disappointment and disgust as well.

Rafe gets angry when he’s high so you knew you had to get him somewhere quiet until he came down. Usually he always started a fight with JJ or some other random person just for the sake of fighting. 

You carefully approached him, him having at least four inches of height over you.

“Baby, maybe we should go get you some water.” You said sweetly, touching his arm gently. “I’m fine, Y/N.” He protested, pulling his arm back rather violently. “Rafe, come on.” You said, masking the fear you were feeling. 

You kept pushing and hoping he’d give in to your pleas. “God, Y/N, you’re so fucking clingy! No wonder none of us like you.” He spat back at you.

By that point, everyone was watching in anticipation to see how you’d react to your boyfriend speaking to you like that. “That’s enough, man.” Topper interjected.

His words hurt you and that was clearly evident due to the tears that welled up in your eyes. “Alright, fine. You wanna be an asshole, that’s on you.” You snapped, turning to walk away from him. “Don’t turn your back on me!” Rafe bellowed. “I should have turned my back on you months ago with all the shit you’ve put me through!” You yelled back. 

You thought he’d scoff and roll his eyes like every other argument. What you didn’t see coming was Rafe bringing his hand up as if he were going to hit you. Rather harshly by the looks of it. 

The action made you flinch as Topper moved quickly to stand in between you and Rafe, as JJ and John B pulled you away.

The realization of what Rafe could have potentially done finally hit him when he saw the look on your face as JJ had his arms wrapped around you and his face softened.

“Y/N, I-I don’t know-“ He started before you cut him off. “Fuck you, Rafe. We’re done.” You sneered, before letting JJ and Kiara take you away from the party.

Once you had left, the mood of the party died completely. People beginning to clear out and Rafe standing there, trying to understand what just happened.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Topper yelled at his friend. “Topper,” Rafe started. “That’s my sister, dude! And she loves you, would do anything for you and you were going to hit her!” Topper said. “She was good for you. And you threw her away.” He added, before walking off to clean up the mess.

Rafe stood there, not a single ounce of a solution in his brain. Topper was right. You were the best thing that happened to him and he treated you like shit. And he knew he was doing it too. It was always after his dad tore into him about something he messed up. So he didn’t believe he deserved you so he pushed you away.

Ever since he started doing drugs, he gave you every reason to leave. But you never did. Not until you thought he was actually going to physically hurt you.

Rafe would never think of laying a finger on you in a way that would hurt you. But when he was on cocaine, he wasn’t Rafe. And clearly that didn’t stop him from hurting you verbally.

The Pogues brought you to the Chateau after JJ pulled you away from your own house. You hadn’t said a word since then and it was starting to worry JJ and Sarah.

JJ had known you just as long as he had known John B and he knew you better than most. You were a Kook but long before the prejudices started, you were their best friend.

Which was why he knew that when you weren’t talking, there was too much going on in your head.

The rest of them went inside while you sat on the front porch. JJ and Sarah stopped in the doorway and looked from you to each other.

JJ slightly nodded his head before walking over to sit by you.

“You can talk about it. You know you can tell me.” He said. You let out a deep breath before resting your head on your friend’s shoulder.

“He didn’t used to be like that. He was good to me but then he started doing the drugs and it just got worse.” You started. “Do you think it’s me? And it isn’t really because of the drugs?” You added.

JJ moved so he could look at you before he spoke. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. And I can tell you that it has nothing to do with you. It’s on Rafe if he can’t see what he’s had next to him for two years.” He said.

You have him a sad smile before putting your head back on his shoulder.

—

It had been two weeks since you had broken up with Rafe. His efforts to get you to talk to him happened every day, relentlessly.

Rafe showed up to your house not knowing that you weren’t there. When the door opened, Topper saw a very distraught Rafe standing there.

“What are you doing here?” Topper asked. “I need to see Y/N.” Rafe answered. “She’s not here. She’s with Sarah and Kie.” Topper told him.

That was when Rafe had taken off the mask, taken down the facade, and let all of his emotions show.

Topper had never seen his friend in such a fragile, emotional state before. “There’s no way out of this, bro. She’s never gonna come back to me.” Rafe cried.

“You know what you need to do then? Stop doing drugs. Stay sober and never even attempt to lay a hand on her again.” Topper told him. “I need to see her. I need to know that there’s still a chance.” Rafe said.

Topper sighed before checking the time on the Rolex on his wrist. “She’ll be home in fifteen minutes. You can wait for her upstairs.” He said.

Rafe thanked Topper quickly before rushing upstairs. He entered your room and felt the difference of tone in the room. It felt sad and different and he knew that he was the reason for it.

He could easily spot out the holes on your dresser where picture frames used to be. Pictures of the two of you that you couldn’t stand to look at anymore. He noticed the top drawer was open and empty. The drawer that held a couple of his t-shirts and sweatpants for when he’d spend the night. They were now in a duffle bag on the floor. 

Another thing he noticed was the Midsummer’s dress you were supposed to wear to match him. It was placed back in the garment bag and hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Probably so your mother could take it back. 

He remembered how excited you were to wear it, you tried it on for him and modeled it for ten minutes before he convinced you to hang it back up in your closet. 

About fifteen minutes later, Rafe heard the front door open before hearing your voice call out to your brother, causing his heart to speed up.

“Topper, I’m home!” You called, as you walked up the staircase to your room. “Wait, Y/N, I need to warn you.” Topper stopped you. “About?” You questioned. “Rafe.” Topper answered.

Your face fell at his words, not needing a further explanation. “He’s here?” You asked. “Yeah. He’s in your room.” He said.

You sighed as you nodded your head curtly before continuing your trek to your room.

Opening the door, you saw Rafe seated on the edge of your bed with tears in his eyes. A photo of to two of you in his hands. It took everything you had not to just run over there and tell him everything was going to be okay.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” You asked, keeping your composure. “I needed to see you. To apologize for-“ He stopped himself, not wanting to relive that night’s events.

“I’ve been clean since that night but I can’t do this without you. It’s so hard. I start thinking about you and then how I lost you and it makes me want to just forget about it for a while. I need your help, Y/N. Please.” He added.

You looked at him, the broken boy who sat in front of you and sighed. This was the Rafe you missed and it seems as if you were starting to get him back.

“No more drinking. And no more drugs. Rafe, what you did scared the hell out of me. I’ve never seen you like that before. Yelling at me and telling me that I’m clingy and bitchy is one thing but hitting me is unforgivable.” You spoke.

Rafe stood up and approached you feeling a sense of hope. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I will never do anything like that again, I promise. Just please forgive me. I love you.” He said.

You took a moment to process his words and to find any trace of a lie. But when you couldn’t find one, you gave in. 

“If it happens again, I’m done.” You said quietly. “It won’t. I promise.” Rafe said. You nodded your head as Rafe pulled you into him. It wasn’t until then that you had let out the sobs you were so desperately trying to keep in. 

The two of you stayed that way, holding each other and just crying for what felt like hours. 

“You’re a mess.” You laughed, wiping the tears off of his face. “Yeah, you’re one to talk.” Rafe replied. “You know that I love you, right?” He asked. You nodded your head before speaking. “I love you too.” You replied. 

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey

[fumingspice]

andante

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: oK so how about like?? Delia x reader and they're both in love af but they think the other has no feelings for them so they're both tripping over themselves to make the other love them and then madison comes in and she's just like 'stop being dumb' and they finally realise how much the other loves them.

I’m sorry but my ed crept back in and im not horny enough to put more thought into writing so just ignore the massive time skip at “---”. enjoy, you strange people xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*(*❦ω❦)*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's crazy. Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall. And it goes back to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble...

Between Cordelia Goode's ears were pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Brown eyes were never really your favourite until you saw them on her. You knew yourself that somehow, over the years you got to know Cordelia; working with her, befriending her, carrying her home from the bar one night when she got far too drunk, letting her cry into your shoulder when her job became too real and she could feel her mother's words hanging over her head.

When you started falling for the woman with those beautiful brown eyes.

Somehow, her eyes were now your favourite colour.

Not brown- brown wasn't simply the word for the colour. Cordelia's eyes were the colour of aged whiskey. Sometimes they were the only two safe shots of tequila that you could see. Sometimes they were a beautiful milk chocolate dotted with exposed honeycomb. Once when she had asked you to help her decorate the garden for the Summer Equinox- she had given Zoe enough money to take the girls on a field trip for the day so she could give the girls a little party. You stood watching her in her denim shorts and her white button up. When she had stepped back and put her arm around you to admire both of your handy work you could have sworn her eyes were glowing like fresh magma.

Her hand lay on your waist a split second too long.

You had fallen in love with the Supreme.

"Yo, bitch!" Madison Montgomery's usual entrance phrase disturbed you from your imagination. You raised your brow and smirked.

"Yes, Madison?"

The blonde took her sunglasses off her face and closed them with a slight snap. "The girls want to know if you wanna come to play Pysch! with us," she said. Her lips were curled in what could almost be described as a friendly smile. You were one of the few honoured to know that under Madison's bitchy white girl facade there was actually a very sweet someone lurking under there.

You thought for a moment and put your pen down. "I won't be long- I just have to log these last few names and I'll be there," you tell her. Madison rolled her eyes and waved her hand, the pen lifted itself and wrote the last thirteen names within seconds. "You're done. Let's go, Y/N."

Madison didn't even give you a minute to say anything before she walked out of the room. "Come on, bitch. Don't make me use my powers!" she called from the hallway, finally motivating you to move.

The girls sat in a circle in Zoe's bedroom. Lights off. Candles lit.

Zoe, Queenie, Mallory, and Coco were indulged in their phones for the game. Madison turned to you and held up her phone to show you the question. "What is Zoe's deepest, darkest secret?" she read. "You gotta answer it and the person with the most votes wins. It lasts for ten rounds and it can be fucking hilarious."

Zoe's face was red with laughter at the answers. "She's not actually a witch- that's not even funny," she gasped through cackles. She then sobered slightly. "She likes to watch Danny Devito movies while masturbating and screaming 'I am a dirty man'."

Madison was the only one who chortled at that.

You joined the game and got your best answers ready in your head. "If Madison got arrested tomorrow what would it be for?"

Madison rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing exactly what everyone was about to answer. You smirked slightly, sensing her slight apprehension.

Prostitution.

Murder. Third-degree.

Fucking up the brakes on a bus full of frat boys.

Public Nudity.

"Gosh, you're so original," she muttered, glaring right at Zoe, who just shrugged.

"It's the rules of the game, bitch. Go all in, don't get offended," she replied.

The game pinged for the next question.

"What is on Y/N's mind right now?"

Coco gave a loud "Ha!" and typed quickly, along with the other girls who were all typing as quickly as possible to get their answers in first.

A quiet knock came from the other side of the door and Cordelia poked her head around. "Sorry to interrupt, girls. Y/N, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked, voice sweet and angelic. You bounced up as soon as she finished the sentence and obliged straight away. You were met with a sweet smile.

Madison flicked her brows. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, winking at Delia's slightly confused face. As you left, your phone pinged to announce the results just before you left the game.

Cordelia 🥵🥵🥵

Delia. I ship it <3

Getting knuckle deep finger fucked by the HWIC

French fries

You quickly shut off your phone screen before Cordelia could see.

"What's the matter, Delia?" You asked, practically skipping alongside her. There was a vibrant air of satisfaction between you.

Cordelia shook her head, her blonde hair bobbing with her movements. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out.”

You felt your heart stop. “Go out?”

Cordelia looked hurt by the confusion on your face.

“Yes. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

“Oh,” you realised, slightly disappointed. “I would love to.”

---

"For the love of Hades. Right, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything because I have some understanding that lesbians are fucking useless because of the fear of appearing to be predatory because the media is an asshole,” Madison continued. “But I don’t really think any of us can eat at this table anymore without choking on the fucking sexual tension between the both of you.”

Cordelia looked shocked. “It’s not that-”

“I’m a fucking mindreader! You do get that I can fucking hear the things that you say in your head about what you want to do to Y/N? I’m one gutter minded bitch and not even I’m creative enough to come up with that shit while I’m eating my fucking apple turnover!”

You blushed hard and chuckled.

Madison’s neck snapped towards you. “Oh, and don’t getting me fucking started on you! Do you know how fucking unsanitary it would be to carry out your little fantasies of fucking Cordy on the kitchen counter? Not even for us but the amount of fucking crumbs that would work into your nooks and crannies would be like trying to spring clean Myrtle's fucking hair! "

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia chuckled nervously. Her face turning a shade of red. “I’m sure Y/N’s got plenty of better options.”

Madison dropped her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “God, you bitches are going to put fucking years on my skin.”

“Oh, give me a break, Madison.”

Cordelia stumbled foward slightly, having been tripped up by some unseeable force and sending her tumbling into you. Her hands lay against your chest for that split second too long once more.

Your lips parted for a moment and your breath hitched as you both watched Madison smirk and leave the room. It felt like your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You surroundings were unnoticable to you now; replaced by unidentifiable whirls of colour and light. Your hand rested flat on Cordelia’s cheek. It was different this time. Not the spark, that had been there every time you touched. It was the fact that you were both too slow to ignore the ignition that started in your chests. 

You saw her eyebrows falter from their previously confident expression, like all of her preparation and barriers and walls had fallen down and she was too slow to replace them. Cordelia pursed her lips, presumably trying to figure out what she should say to you. Again, she was too slow as you inhaled sharply and thrust yourself forward to catch her lips.

Delia was quick to mould herself to the curves of your front, hands falling to the small of your back on a collision course as she backed you into the dining room table. You smoothed your hands over the contours of her jaw, her collar bones, breasts, hips like you were a master pianist playing a brilliant concerto. Her body was the only instrument you longed to play; her moans the only melody that you longed to draw from her.

As her lips glided across your own, everything came together like pieces into place. You thought back one of those late nights in the kitchen. The way Delia’s fingers had so enthusiastically laced through yours during the late night in the kitchen when you had both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about life. How the witch had turned the radio on and taken your hand while you danced to some song by REO Speedwagon. Twirling you through the night. “Can’t fight this feeling” was the song. Ironic, now that you thought about it. It seemed as though fighting her feelings was what she had been doing the entire time.

She twirled you around in the light of the dim television and the refrigerator when the songs were upbeat, even going as far as dipping you and pulling you up again. Bare thighs against your own in her shorts and oversized shirt. When the songs that were played were slower, she was more gentle. Until eventually you swayed in a slow two-step, your head against her chest, and hers against yours. The air was thick with something pure. Something untouched. 

You had no idea why you ever just thought this was something two best friends did. More so, you had no idea why you didn’t lean back and dip into her lips and allow your souls to dance the waltz that they were so clearly destined for. 

Cordelia’s thumb and finger lay on either side of your jaw as she continued to kiss you as if her soul depended on it. Her fingers interlocked with yours against the table.

She broke away, tears had fallen down her cheeks and made your heart melt. “Oh-ho,” you chuckled, mouth agape at her sight. “Why the tears, my love?”

Cordelia laughed, wiping away her tears. “I’ve longed to do that for so long,” she replied. “So, so long.”

You chuckled at her sweetness and the display of pure love that you were so unaccustomed to.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t think I will ever stop falling in love with you. You’ve created this storm of beautiful chaos in me,” she continued. “Do you remember that night where I was really sleepy, so you let me just stay in your room? How I had fallen asleep on top of you by accident and you wrapped your arms around me and hummed a lullaby?”

You nodded, remember the feeling of waking up with the Supreme in your arms.

“I was wide awake,” she told you. A delicate smile arose.

You chuckled into her touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you replied, drawing her closer, her blonde hair twirled in your fingers. “I know you were.”

#ahs #ahs imagines #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #lana winters #lana winters x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 5

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

You spent the rest of the weekend freaking out about how handsy you had been with Shouto.

Not only had you stuffed him into the hat and the sunglasses, not only had you curled tightly into his politely offered warmth, but then you’d literally held his hand the entire way to your apartment. You’d been too drunk to be self-conscious about what you’d been doing at the time, but once sober, you were embarrassed to realize you’d been clinging to him like some kind of beer-and-yakitori-filled limpet.

You kept replaying the whole walk home in your head, reviewing the absent way you’d played with his fingers, how you’d mused on how warm and large his hands were. Then he’d very obviously tried to offload you as quickly as he could at your door, insisting that you go inside when you continued to hang around him, and he’d literally pushed you inside at the end of it.

God, you could just die.

Shouto, for his part, seemed pretty unbothered by the whole thing. He texted you a couple times over the weekend, as if things were completely normal, but you still dreaded the moment that Tuesday rolled around.

How were you supposed to look him in the face after making such an obvious fool of yourself? How was he being so chill about things? Maybe he was just used to everyone in a thousand mile radius making an immediate mess of themselves for him. But still, it was embarrassing that you were one of them.

Tuesday evening did roll around, however, and soon enough you found yourself tentatively cracking open the door to his apartment. You sent up a silent prayer for him to not be home, but your hopes were immediately dashed when you caught sight of his lean form stretched out on his couch, a book in hand. His head raised when he heard the door, and a small smile curled his mouth when he caught sight of you.

Your heart thumped very deliberately in your chest as if to call attention to the fact that you were even more of a lovestruck idiot than you’d been willing to admit.

You tried to ignore your entire body and the way it felt like every fiber was waking up and bending towards him like flowers in the sun, stepping carefully through the door and closing it behind you. As you did, an appealing but unusual scent met your nose, and you glanced around in confusion. What looked suspiciously like cookware and spices littered his heretofore completely untouched countertops, and you felt an eyebrow raise. Was he...cooking?

“Something’s wrong,” you blurted immediately.

Those heterochromatic eyes snapped to your face and he leaned forward in concern. “What?”

“You’re cooking,” you said. “You’ve never cooked one single time the entire time I’ve worked here. Your countertops told me so.”

He let out a soft laugh, relaxing back into his couch. “There’s a first time for everything.”

You eyed him suspiciously. Was he okay? Had he been attacked or something? Was there such a thing as a villain with a quirk that made people cook things?

“What’s the occasion?” you asked carefully, watching him for any sign of a quirk’s influence.

He gestured you over to his living room and you went to him slowly. “I thought we’d hang out again.” He still pronounced the phrase like it sat uneasily in his mouth.

You stared at him. He wanted to hang out? “Shouto...but...my shift.”

He directed you to a chair across the coffee table from him. “I have to leave on a mission for a week tomorrow morning. I...wanted to spend time with you before I left.”

A weird mixture of concern and warmth washed over you. Okay, that was super cute, but that didn’t explain the complete absurdity of him suddenly reneging on what you strongly suspected was an unbroken streak of over two decades not cooking a single thing. Was the mission he was going on super dangerous? Did he think he wouldn’t come back from it? Was he crossing experiences off his bucket list before he went?

Your concern must have read on your face because he leaned forward, one cool hand taking yours. You almost jumped out of your skin with surprise.

“It’s not any more dangerous than my everyday work,” he said in that deep tone.

You frowned. That honestly wasn’t saying much, all things considered. His job literally involved fighting super villains.

“I just...thought it would be nice,” he said, and you thought you read a note of self-consciousness in his tone. You frowned.

What the hell did he have to be self-conscious about? He wasn’t the one who’d made a complete and utter fool of himself Friday night. You were honestly surprised he’d let you into his apartment at all, after what had happened.

But maybe...this was his way of telling you it didn’t matter? He was clearly making an effort to be nice--maybe he wanted to try again? If he really did, if that’s what this was really all about, then you could do that. And this time, you would keep your hands to yourself.

“What are you making?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Shouto leaned in conspiratorially. “Vegetables.”

You let out a shocked laugh. “No way.”

A small smirk pulled at his mouth. “I don’t know how you usually make yours, but a friend had some suggestions.”

You looked at him curiously and he pulled out his phone, clicking into a chat and sliding it across the coffee table to you.

You glanced down at the messages, one eyebrow lifting when you saw a series of really good-looking recipes featuring roasted fall vegetables, then choked on a laugh when you caught sight of the other messages interspersed between the recipe links.

Do you seriously not fucking know how to cook a vegetable, icy hot?

[Honey Roasted Carrots with Yogur…] > http://bit.ly/9iJZ5jt

Fucking useless.

[Grilled Zucchini and Feta Toasts w...] > http://bit.ly/8oKZ5jf

Here, dipshit: [Charred Vegetable Medley with Burrata…] > http://bit.ly/5oDF4fi

If you food poison her, I don’t give a shit.

Don’t text me again.

“These look really good, but, um,” you chuckled, “your secret lover seems a little displeased.”

Shouto’s mouth curled. “He’s the jealous type.”

You laughed. “And when he’s clearly the superior chef, with recipes like that. I talk a big vegetable game, but I can’t give you what he can.”

Shouto huffed a laugh. “Anger issues and insults?”

You grinned back at him, then jumped when a timer went off in the kitchen.

“Stay here,” Shouto commanded. A cool hand pressed you down into a chair, and then he was gone.

Your eyes followed him as he made his way to the kitchen, tracing over the lines of his broad shoulders. He’d chosen another soft sweater today and he looked so fucking good, so absurdly domestic as he pulled vegetables out of the oven and looked them over. It was clear he had no idea what he was doing, and that somehow made everything ten times cuter, the sight of him way too much for your poor heart to take.

He was too easy to picture as a boyfriend trying to do something sweet for his girlfriend, and your teeth ached with the thought of it. You wondered if this was how he was going to treat his lover, when he eventually got one for real. That girl was going to be so damn lucky, she had no idea.

Shouto wandered back over with plates loaded with vegetables, two wine glasses, and a bottle of something dark and red.

You eyed the bottle carefully. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t get handsy this time, and it was hard enough to keep your cool around him when you were sober. You didn’t know if you trusted yourself with a glass or two of wine in you.

“Uh, this looks really good,” you said, examining your plate for a distraction. It looked like Shouto had made every single one of the recipes Bakugou had sent him, and they honestly didn’t look too bad.

Shouto adopted a carefully blank look, like he was trying not to look too pleased. “We’ll see if that impression lasts. This is the first time any of my kitchenware has seen action.”

You laughed. “I trust you. Besides, I’m not hard to impress. In freshman year I once ate nothing but instant ramen for six weeks straight.”

He smirked and moved to pour the wine. You opened your mouth to stop him, lest you drink too much and get a little too hands on again, but you froze when you caught sight of the flowers at the center of his coffee table. The bouquet from Friday stared back at you.

Heat flared in your cheeks when you realized he’d kept it. The flowers definitely were not nice enough to fit in with the rest of his modern apartment, and the edges of the petals were looking a little more obviously wilted now, but he’d kept them. He’d found a vase and put them in water and set them out on his coffee table, and that was so embarrassing and so, so cute.

Shouto caught you looking. “I really did mean that I liked them,” he said evenly.

“I’ll get you something nicer,” you suddenly blurted, eyes still locked on the bouquet. “When you come back from your mission. If you come back safe.”

He looked at you curiously, eyes fixing on you unblinkingly. “You sound concerned.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yeah. I--” have the world’s fattest crush on you “--care about you.”

Shouto’s eyes darkened and he considered you for a long moment. “I care about you, too,” he admitted quietly.

You put a hand to your face to make sure it wasn’t actually on fire, and you leaned forward to help yourself to the wine so you didn’t have to look at him. Fuck it. You would just have to watch your hands extra carefully.

“So, uh, where’s the mission?” you asked hurriedly, suddenly desperate to move the conversation along. You needed to put a ton of words in between Shouto and what you’d just admitted, give him as little opportunity as possible to think in any more depth about what you’d said. It was cute that he’d returned the sentiment, but he did not mean it in the same way you did.

Shouto gave a vague answer, looking apologetic that he couldn’t share more, and your gut twisted at the idea that he’d be somewhere far away for over a week while you had no idea where he was. He looked uncomfortable with the idea as well, and you immediately steered the conversation back to more positive waters, starting up a stream of compliments over the vegetables that had turned out actually pretty good, especially for his first time cooking anything.

You had to stifle a laugh at how hard Shouto tried not to look smug.

As they always did, the hours slipped away easily with hardly any sign of their passing, and before you realized, it was well past when your shift was supposed to have ended. You and Shouto had talked yourselves almost all the way to midnight.

“I’ll help clean up before I go,” you announced, standing up and bringing plates into Shouto’s kitchen. He followed you closely, warm at your back.

“Let me,” he said quietly and you looked up at him, smiling.

“I literally came here to clean and then didn’t do shit,” you informed him. “Besides, you can’t clean up. You have to supervise to ensure the safety of your countertops, remember?”

He smirked. “How could I forget?”

You grinned and turned back to the sink, powering through all the dishes and stowing the leftovers away in tupperware. Shouto watched you hawkishly as you wiped down the counters, and you laughed.

“You can’t protect them from me while you’re gone,” you intoned, turning to him. “You might as well say your farewells now.”

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to you. You took a step back in surprise, your hip bumping the counter.

“I seem to recall bribery works quite well,” he said, his voice dipping lower. Your skin prickled at the sound. “What would you have me offer this time?”

You stared up at him, fighting down a shiver. He must not have realized how close he’d stepped, but he was near enough that you could feel the heat of him and smell that cologne again, that clean scent that made your head spin. After a couple of glasses of wine, you were helpless to fight the way your eyes were drawn to his mouth. Every nerve ending in your body snapped to attention.

You leaned forward, feeling dazed. Then you froze when you realized what you were doing. Jesus Christ, you needed to be arrested.

“Uh, consider the vegetables payment enough,” you said quickly, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Shouto watched you for a long moment with a strange little smile playing about his mouth, then stepped back, letting you go. You breathed a quiet sigh of relief while simultaneously mourning the loss of his proximity.

He turned and grabbed up the extra food to press into your hands, then called an agency car for you as he always did, and walked you down to the lobby of his building.

“Please stay safe,” you said to him as you lingered in the doorway, hating the way your voice sounded a little desperate.

He smiled, and before you knew what was happening, his arms went around you, pulling you into his chest. He was so warm and broad and hard with lean muscle, and he smelled so, so good. You couldn’t suppress your full body shiver.

“I’ll stay safe,” he said into your hair. “If you keep my countertops safe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh into his sweater. “It’s a deal.”

He kept you pressed to him for a few moments more, and you tried to be subtle about the lungfuls of air you were taking, the way you were memorizing the feel of him to replay over and over in your brain for the literal rest of your life. Eventually, one of the security officers coughed, and you jumped back, shame-faced.

“I’ll see you in a week,” Shouto promised.

You smiled. “See you in a week.”

Then you turned and walked to the car. You could feel a pair of eyes hot on your back, following you until the car pulled away and turned out into the night.

The rest of the week passed fairly uneventfully. You ate, slept, wrote a paper, and clocked in to your usual Thursday shift at Shouto’s apartment, trying not to feel too disappointed at how empty it felt without him there. He hadn’t told you much, but you had gathered that his assignment had taken him outside of the country, and this meant that you hadn’t received any texts from him in days.

You tried to keep yourself distracted all through the weekend, getting a leg up on all the finals work that was starting to pile up, putting in a ton of hours at the fancy coffee shop with your laptop and several americanos that were (to your fond exasperation) still completely paid for.

It was only when Monday rolled around that something went completely and utterly wrong, and not in any way that you would have ever expected.

When you walked into lecture that morning, you immediately felt like you were being watched. A quick check in your periphery confirmed that a couple groups of students were casting subtle glances in your direction, and excited whispers began to pick up around you. You quickly ran a hand over your face to see if you’d accidentally gotten toothpaste on yourself, and glanced down at your clothes to make sure no coffee had spilled.

Nothing came to your attention, so you settled into your seat, wondering.

Lecture passed slowly, and as the minutes ticked by, you felt more and more pairs of eyes fix themselves on you. When class ended, you watched in bemusement as everyone turned to watch you leave, and you launched yourself out of the room as fast as you could, heartbeat picking up.

What the hell was wrong with people?

Almost as soon as you’d managed to duck out of the building, your phone rang with an unknown number. You stared at it blankly, considering hanging up, but a feeling of foreboding pressed down on you with a sudden urgency. What if something had happened to Shouto?

“Y/N,” a woman on the other end of the line said briskly, as soon as you picked up. “This is Shouto’s manager.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, but before you could gasp out a question, she was talking to you urgently. “I need you to head home as quickly as possible, and don’t talk to anyone on your way.”

“What?” you asked wildly. “Is everything okay? Is Shouto hurt?”

“Shouto’s fine,” she said, then paused. “You haven’t seen the news, then.”

“No?” you frowned. A pair of passing girls stopped short when they caught sight of you, and your sense of confusion magnified twofold.

“You’ve been outed as Shouto’s secret lover,” his manager sighed.

Your heart stopped. What?

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Someone got a couple shots of you on your date the other week, and a few more in the lobby of his building,” she explained. “That, and you match the description of the woman the villain took from his apartment when he’d claimed to take Shouto’s lover hostage. News outlets will be tracking you down any minute.”

You glanced up, only to find the entire walkway of students frozen, watching you. Your eyes widened and you quickly turned on your heel, picking up into a brisk jog towards your apartment.

“It wasn’t a date though!” you hissed into the phone, anxiety washing over you. “It’s not--they can’t think that Shouto would--with me--!”

Shouto’s manager made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Whether you are or aren’t, it certainly looks like you are,” she paused for a long time, then added somewhat hesitantly, “And as soon as you get home, I need you to delete your twitter account.”

Your limbs iced over. Oh fucking hell--she’d found your twitter account? You launched yourself into a faster run, tearing down the city blocks towards your apartment.

“Oh my god, how did you--? When did--? I am so dead if anyone finds that,” you puffed as you ran, “Has anyone else found it yet or just you?”

“Not yet. It will take the media a few hours to track down all of your information but, having reviewed the contents myself, I think it’s safe to say you’ll want it removed.”

You cringed. You didn’t know how she’d found it, but you hated to think of Shouto finding out exactly what was on there. You hoped she kept things to herself.

“I’ll delete it,” you promised as you rounded the corner into your neighborhood, ignoring the stitch that was making itself known in your side. You needed to hit the gym more. “But what do I do about the secret lover thing? They can’t think that Shouto would actually date me.”

“You do nothing,” she commanded, a pit formed in your gut. “We’ll ignore it, and eventually they will lose interest.”

Your stomach churned. It had already been months since the kidnapping and they clearly hadn’t lost interest yet. You hated to think of Shouto trapped in an even more vicious cycle of gossip all because you couldn’t keep your damn hands to yourself. God, what the hell had you gotten him into?

“That’s not fair to him,” you said, slowing to a walk when you saw a crowd of people lingering around your apartment. You picked up several cameras, and your insides twisted nervously when you realized what was going on. They’d already found your apartment.

“Shouto’s a big boy, he can handle himself,” his manager explained, but you heard her only dimly, as if through water. A plan was suddenly forming in the back of your mind as you considered the crowds milling outside of your apartment. “We’ll come up with a plan later, and--”

“No,” you said, biting your lip nervously. “I think I--I think I know what I can do. I’ll just tell everyone the truth and then they’ll leave him alone.”

"Absolutely not," Shouto's manager said, sounding weirdly like your mom just before she was about to ground you. "You have no experience with the media, they will eat you alive."

You considered this. "But what harm is there in just telling the truth? It's not like you have to have experience for that."

"No," she said, like that would settle things. But you just watched the swarm of people, the feeling getting stronger. You'd gotten kidnapped, you'd suggested the izakaya, you'd held his hand. Shouto was in this situation because of you, whether you were to blame or not. You had to fix things.

“Y/N,” his manager called from the other end of the line, but you weren’t listening. You quickly ended the call, then logged into twitter, clicking into settings and immediately hitting delete on your account. You would not survive if the entire world found out just how thirsty you were for the man you were about to set the record straight on. You ran a quick hand through your hair, making sure that you didn’t look completely embarrassing, and straightened out your clothes.

Then, squaring your shoulders, you walked up to your building.

Immediately, you were swarmed with cameras, all manner of microphones ramming you in the chin and elbows.

“Y/N,” a woman shouted, her eyes bright with excitement, “How does it feel to be Shouto Todoroki’s secret lover? Why did you hide your relationship for so long?”

You’d anticipated the question, but you still couldn’t help the way you stared at her. “Um, I’m not sure if I’m qualified to answer that. We’re not, um--it’s not like that.”

Wow it was hard to talk in front of a camera. Your face heated.

She seemed to ignore you. “Why have the two of you been spotted together on multiple occasions, holding hands and hugging? You seem fairly close to me.”

You cringed. “T-that’s my fault. I drank a little too much and Shouto was helping me home. The hug was just between friends.”

“Todoroki took you home when you were drunk? Did anything happen?”

You gawped. “No, of course not! What are you--? Are you kidding me?”

“A man takes a woman home late at night, and you insist nothing happened?”

Your temper flared. You didn’t like the things she was insinuating about Shouto, and it was already embarrassing enough that nothing had actually happened. He all but thrown you inside to get away from you.

“No,” you said acidly, “It’s not like that for him. Shouto doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“And yet he was holding your hand?” the woman prompted.

Was this a fucking jury trial? Why the hell did she have so many questions? The words bubbled up out of your throat before you could stop them.

“No, I told you it’s not like that! Shouto has zero feelings for me and he was just being nice. If you want a story, you’re going to have to look elsewhere because there is no way on earth Shouto Todoroki would so much as glance in my direction, and he shouldn’t be put on trial for things that a drunk friend did. If Shouto has a secret lover, then that’s news to me too.”

The woman paused, then a grin spread across her face. “You say Todoroki has no feelings for you, but I notice you’ve not made the same claim. Could this instead be a case of unrequited love? Tell me, do you have feelings for a certain pro hero?”

It was a testament to how overwhelmed you were feeling, how much your brain was spinning, how unequipped you had come to lie, how completely and utterly stupid it was for you to have done this in the first place that the words that came out of your mouth next were not “no,” were not “are you kidding,” were not anything that gave you the safety of plausible deniability.

Instead, you opened your mouth, and in a move that would make you cringe until the literal day you died, you said: “Uh--wouldn’t you?”

#shouto todoroki x reader #bnha #todoroki x reader #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #shouto todoroki

[humansofnewyork]

“There was a big drug bust in 2014 called ‘Operation Dead End.’ They listed all the names in the local paper. Most of them were young kids. But then there’s my dad at the bottom, 55 years old. It was humiliating to see my last name in the paper. I called him and said: ‘What the fuck is this?’ But he just brushed it off in his typical way. He can be very convincing, which is probably why my mom stayed with him for thirteen years. He’s got this high-pressured speech, even when he’s sober. It’s captivating. It can draw you in. For most of my childhood he lived at my grandparents’ house. They had a swimming pool, and pinball machines, and an air hockey table. The court said I wasn’t supposed to be alone with him, but he’d always convince me. And I’d convince my mom. Even though he invested time, it was always to the point of him leaving later. So he could do his crack and not feel guilty about it. He’d show up for ten minutes before I went to prom. He came to my high school graduation, but was gone by the time I finished walking. I remember always thinking he was going to die. I’d write him letters. I’d leave him voicemails. But he never stopped using. After Operation Dead End, the judge gave him an option to enroll in a three-year diversion program. I was there for him as much as a college kid could be. I called him every day. He’d cry a lot, which was new. He’d say: ‘It’s hard. It’s so hard. But I’m going to get sober.’ And he did. He’s been clean for four or five years now. My whole childhood I was desperate for his attention. And now he bugs the shit out of me. He calls me four or five times a day. He’s been addicted to drugs for most of his life, so there’s a lot he didn’t learn: building credit, paying bills, stuff like that. My mom says I’m the parent and he’s the child. But at least I’ve got him. I just want him to live his life and enjoy it. It wasn’t easy what he did. He turned his life around. So I’ve let go of my expectations. For the longest time I thought he was going to die in some crack house. But now he can see me get married. He can meet his grandchildren. I’m not ashamed to be connected with him anymore. I’m actually proud to have his last name.”

[fantastic-bby]

Take Me Home

Pairing: Reader x Wooyoung

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: Angst | Exes to lovers

Summary: Wooyoung sits at a bar, getting drunk while all he wants is for you to take him back home

Warnings: Alcohol consumption | Swearing

A/n: So… I may have listened to Take Me Home about a bajillion times since the album was released and… this happened

P.s I’m reposting this bcs Tumblr’s being homophobic and the tags were scuffed FeelsWeirdMan

Masterlist

Wooyoung hasn’t felt this lonely since right after you left him. The darkness that shrouds his mind is something that has refused to leave him alone for almost the past two years, but it hadn’t been this bad in a while. It’s bad enough that he feels like he struggles to breath as he sits at the bar, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. Wooyoung’s thumb hovers over your contact, his mind battling with his heart as he painfully contemplates calling you.

He’s slightly drunk, it’s obvious that he’s at least tipsy, but he’s still sober enough to know how much he fucking misses you. Wooyoung clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together as he locks his phone and places it down onto the bar; the glass of whiskey making it to his lips as he downs it.

“Another one?” the pink haired bartender questions, an eyebrow raising. Wooyoung gives him a look before pulling a few bills out of his pocket and placing it onto the counter. “This would be your fifth glass of the night, man.”

“I don’t care,” Wooyoung sighs, “just pour me another.” The bartender purses his lips before obliging. Wooyoung isn’t dangerously intoxicated to the point where he would need to get involved, so he serves him.

“You wanna talk about it?” the man asks as he pours the alcohol into the empty glass.

Wooyoung contemplates it. Why would he be telling a complete stranger about why he feels like such a piece of shit? Then again, it’s not like he’s even spoken to anyone about it. He sighs before admitting, “I’m thinking I should call my ex.” The bartender gives him a look as he slides the glass back to him.

“It’s not exactly my business, but how dangerous would that be?”

“Well,” he sighs as he thinks about it, “I would either be getting blocked or slapped in the face.” Wooyoung lets out a bitter chuckle as he swirls the whiskey around in the glass. “I fucked up and now I’m alone. Every time I think about them, I feel like I’m suffocating while I spiral down this never ending hole.”

“Have you spoken to them since the break up?” The bartender asks as he starts wiping down a spot on the counter right beside Wooyoung that was previously occupied by someone else.

He shakes his head, “never mustered up the courage to do so.” He brings the glass to his lips and takes a sip, embracing the burn in his throat because he feels like he deserves it. “I was an asshole. I know I fucked up, but I just want to talk to them at least once more. Just to tell them I’m sorry.” Wooyoung feels like he might have a full on breakdown right in front of the bartender, who he assumes is San because that’s what it says on his name tag. He feels his chest tightening like it usually does whenever he thinks of you. “I just want to take back every shitty thing I did to them. They didn’t deserve any of it.”

“Have they ever tried reaching out?” San further questions, his hand halting for a moment.

“The last time I spoke to them, they looked so… cold towards me. The last time I had actually seen them, it looked like they just wanted to get away from me.” The memory is fresh in Wooyoung’s mind. You had stood in the apartment you shared, hands clenched into fists as you glared at him and your entire body trembling with rage. He felt like your eyes were the reason he felt so frozen, but he couldn’t cry in front of you no matter how hard the tears were trying to force their way out. Wooyoung realised a little too late that he was hurting you. There was nothing else he could do and staying with you would just destroy you. “I…” Wooyoung trails off when he feels his eyes starting to sting with tears, “I think it’s better that I stay away from them.”

“How long has it been?”

“At this point,” he pauses to look at the date on his phone, “almost two years. It’s almost been two years and all I can do is think about them. No matter how many people I sleep with or how many people I try dating, all I can think about is (Y/n).” Wooyoung looks at his phone, still battling the thought of calling you. San watches as Wooyoung slowly starts to space out, only able to wonder just how much regret clouds his mind and heart.

“I think,” San speaks up for a moment, his voice snapping Wooyoung out of his thoughts, “the best thing you should do is stop drinking before you end up doing something you may regret, head on home and get some rest.” The younger man snorts at that.

“I don’t know how I could feel more regret than I already do,” he says as he finishes his glass and slides it towards San. “But I do think I should probably head home. Thanks for the talk.”

“No problem, man. Next time you come here around this time, just ask for San. I’ll serve you.” He gives Wooyoung a smile as he takes the used glass off of the counter. “Have a good night…”

“Wooyoung.”

San nods, “have a good night, Wooyoung.”

“You too, San.” He gives the bartender a half smile as he slides off of the barstool, turning around and freezing in his tracks. Wooyoung’s eyes widen when they meet yours and you’re staring at him with the same amount of disbelief. “(Y-Y/n). What are you doing here?”

“I…” you trail off as your mind registers the fact that Wooyoung’s standing right in front of you, “I just wanted to get a drink.”

“Long day?” Wooyoung questions, his voice cracking and making it more awkward than it already is.

You make a mental note of his voice crack and nod. “I got off work a while ago and I—uhh—didn’t feel like going home just yet.” Home. Home is you, Wooyoung thinks but he shoves the thought down with the rest of his feelings. You’re right in front of him. Where’s the apology that’s replayed in his head over and over again for the past year?

“(Y/n), can—could we talk for a bit?” he musters out. “I-It’s been a while. Maybe we could catch up?” Wooyoung wants you to accept his offer so badly. Even if he gets just a few moments, just a few minutes, it’ll be enough.

“I don’t know, Woo…” you trail off when the memory of your last meeting flashes across your mind.

“Please?” If his words aren’t enough, it’s his eyes that do it for you. They look so empty, so desperate,

So lonely.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath as you nod, fearing whatever would come next.

“I want,” Wooyoung gulps. Why is this so difficult?! “I want to say that I’m sorry.” His words come out slowly, but after they’re out, he gains more courage. “I want to say that I’m sorry. For everything. I treated you like shit and I know you deserve so much more, but I just wanted to apologise.” You stay quiet, letting his words linger in your mind. Your relationship with Wooyoung was toxic and you would admit that in a heartbeat. But that way he looks at you now, so lost, your heart can’t help but crack at the sight of him. You’ve spent the time away from him healing from the break up, but you wouldn’t deny that you still love him. Wooyoung was—is—everything to you.

“Wooyoung,” your heart aches even more at the way he looks so scared of your answer. “I forgive you.” He lets out a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I don’t think I ever really got rid of you. No matter how many times I’d spring clean my apartment and throw away things that reminded me of you, I think I’m still too in love with you to throw you away.” Wooyoung doesn’t know how to feel. Should he be happy that you’re still in love with him or should he feel terrible that you’ve been hurting this entire time? “And I know that you struggle with things like this—especially talking about feelings—but I hope that we can move on from this feeling okay.”

“Move on?” he speaks before he thinks and immediately regrets it right after. You blink a few times before your lips part in realisation.

“Woo…”

“(Y/n), I love you.” Wooyoung feels every inch of himself starting to break as he takes a few steps closer to you, arms open, body trembling. “I love you so much,” his voice starts breaking when he hesitates to hug you. When you pull him into the hug, whatever wall he’s set up goes crumbling to the ground. “I love you so much. I’ve missed you so much—I’m so sorry. Please give me another chance,” Wooyoung’s words come out jumbled, mumbles of apologies and confessions just pouring out of his mouth like a broken faucet as you hold onto you. You cry when you feel his wet cheek burying against your shoulder. You’ve missed the feeling of him—you’ve missed Wooyoung.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess as you allow yourself to mold against him. “I love you.”

“Please take me home,” he sobs. “P-Please, (Y/n).”

“I’ll drive you back—”

“No,” Wooyoung cuts you off and you feel his nose nuzzling against your neck. “I-I wanna try again, (Y/n). Give me another chance, please.“ You pull away to look into his glossed over eyes pooled with tears that stream down his face. “Please take me home—home to you. I-I’ll be better. I promise.” You take a deep breath as you thread your hand through his blond streaked hair before nodding.

“Okay.”

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