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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

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Title: New Hire [6]

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Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Summary: After escaping your demanding, violent father, you get your first job nannying for Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Manipulation, Spanking, Mob AU, Obsessive behavior, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Dubcon, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: hello everyone! back from my little hiatus with a brand new chapter of New Hire. i’ve been getting soooo many asks about this series, i’m so stoked everyone’s enjoying it so far! this chapter’s a little long, and… smutty, so… drink water 🤣 divider by @firefly-graphics

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

You wake with Ari curled around your back, soft snores rumbling in his chest. It isn’t often that he’s not up before you, already waiting downstairs despite your best efforts to beat him there. His hand rests heavily on your hip, his fingers curled underneath the skimpy hem of your new pajamas. You shift, and his grip tightens instantly. Ari mumbles something in his sleep, and you giggle silently, trying hard not to wake him.

Turning in his arms is no easy feat but you manage, resting your palms against his chest. You’ve never really gotten to observe him at rest before; even relaxed Ari is at attention, ready to move to act if the situation were to suddenly require it. His golden hair is tousled, laying messily across his forehead. His lips are slightly parted, and you can hear the sound of his breath whispering though them.

He’s so handsome.

You know your mate is attractive—you’ve known it since you first laid eyes on him. But watching him like this, he seems, you don’t know, softer. Less hard lines and jagged edges. There’s an embarrassed sort of pride that rears its head at the thought that this man had chosen you, out of every other possible option.

You.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re tracing the curve of his cheek with the back of your hand. He stirs with a groan, his nose wrinkling.

“Mm, Kitten,” he mumbles, eyes opening to slits. “Wha’ time’ssit?” You giggle, and he lets out a sleepy, frustrated hmph.

“Early,” you answer quietly, laughing again when he groans, pulling you tighter to his chest and burying his face in your hair. Ari heaves a satisfied sigh. He’s comforted by having you so close, you can feel it in the bond.

“Go back to sleep,” he instructs sternly, and you laugh again. “S’too early.” The last few days had been hectic, Liam bouncing off the walls while Ari prepared for your surprise—and while you did your best to forget the sound of a man begging for his life. You feel guilty, mostly because you don’t feel as shameful and penitent as you probably should.

Every time the guilt begins to creep in, you remember Liam’s frightened face, and your own feral panic.

He deserved what he got, murmurs the dark, feral voice living in your hindbrain. Deserved it ten times over. Ari’s warm hands draw you out of your own head, the silky fabric of your new nightie bunching underneath his touch.

“Can hear you thinking from here, Omega,” he chastises you in a voice still gravelly from sleep. “You’re not sleeping.” Your cheeks heat so rapidly, you wonder if he can feel them smoldering against his chest. It’s not that you aren’t tired—you are. Your brain just hasn’t let you get a single moment of rest in since you’d found yourself awake just before sun-up. You just can’t stop turning the events of the last month over in your head, like you’re still trying to get a grip on them.

Something has happened to you in these past few weeks. Something that’s continuing to happen the longer you find yourself in the company of your mate. The slow but persistent eroding of beliefs you’d previously considered to be unshakeable. That right was right and wrong was wrong, and those lines couldn’t be confused or crossed. But now the lines are blurry and runny like paint, and it’s hard for you to tell which is which—if there was ever really a difference.

“Talk to me, Kitten.” You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat, twitching against him as you sink deeper into his warmth. His lips move gently against your temple. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just… everything,” you say quietly, glad you don’t have to find a way to avoid Ari’s searching gaze, pressed against his chest as you are. “M-my father, and Peter, and…” You trail off, not wanting to mention Clarence’s head becoming red paste on the concrete outside.

“Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat. “Quill is… certainly a problem.” He rolls over onto his back. Ari scrubs a hand down over the scruff of his beard tiredly. You curl up against his side, resting a timid hand on the hard planes of his chest. You remember him the way he was on the playground; determined, stubborn.

“Do you think… he’ll stop now?” You ask hopefully, glancing up at Ari. He leans down to kiss your forehead once again.

“I don’t think so, Kitten.” You can tell he wants to lie, to reassure you that it’s over, but that he can’t quite bring himself to do so.

“Why?” Ari looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to answer.

“Because men in our positions don’t like to give up something for nothing, Kitten.” You feel a cool shiver run down your spine at his words. “And for Quill, sweetheart, you represent quite an investment.”

You can’t stop thinking about it, even after Liam has roused the two of you from your nest of sheets and blankets.

An investment.

Was that all you had been to your father, too? An investment? Something to use to trade up at the most lucrative opportunity? It keeps you distracted all day, long after Ari leaves for work. You try to keep Liam occupied, but fail as he runs circles around you easily while you’re preoccupied.

“Um, can I go over Mary’s house?” He asks you as he wolfs down the peanut butter sandwich you made him for lunch. There’s peanut butter smeared across one of his round little cheeks as he looks up at you with imploring eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh? Am I not cool enough for you?” You ask jokingly, and Liam, ever serious, shakes his head. You’re about to ask him what exactly constitutes cool when your phone begins vibrating in your pocket. “Hello?”

“Kitten, are you busy?” Ari’s voice filters through the receiver.

“No,” you reply. “Well, only if you count getting a lesson in how uncool I am from a six year old.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles at your response.

“I don’t suppose you could take a break from that to swing by the office with my work phone, could you sweetheart? I left it in the bedside table, that first drawer.”

“Oh, um, sure. I could do that.”

“Thanks, Kitten.” Ari’s satisfied purr makes a little shiver travel down your spine.

“I guess you get off light today, sir,” you say to Liam, stowing your cell back in your pocket. “You get to go to Mary’s while I run an errand for Dad.” You haven’t been to the office often, maybe once or twice in the months since you’d been hired—not counting your interview. Come to think of it, you know remarkably little about Ari’s business exploits and where his money comes from, despite how easily he wants you to spend it.

It doesn’t take much to get Liam ready to go. You instruct him to pick out two—and two only—of his favorite toys to bring with him while you head upstairs to look for Ari’s phone. It’s precisely where he said it was, in the first drawer in the bedside table. You pick it up gingerly, squeaking a little with surprise as the screen lights up at your touch. It’s locked, of course, but you can still see bits of messages, unchecked notifications.

You don’t mean to look—really, you don’t—but you can’t help it, your eyes drawn down by a new notification flashing across the screen. It’s a number you don’t recognize, and one Ari doesn’t have saved. Your breath catches in your tight throat as you read them, hot tears gathering in your wide eyes.

Unknown Number: It’s a good offer. You won’t receive better, not for an Omega that’s been…used.

Your heart pounds in your chest. What offer? The urge to curl in on yourself grows. Perhaps you are too much trouble after all, more than you’re worth, and Ari’s finally realized it. Your own father hadn’t seen you as anything more than a bargaining chip, and the realization that Ari might be the same makes the blood curdle into shards of sharp ice in your veins. Your stomach rolls as you re-read the message. Used. Is that what Ari thinks of you?

The phone vibrates again and you almost drop it, sniffling.

Unknown Number: I won’t wait long for an answer, you know, Levinson. And neither will Senator Ego.

“Are we going?” Liam’s irritated whine makes your head snap up, and you wipe furiously at your wet cheeks. You hope your smile is convincing as you nod at him, unable to speak. You don’t trust your voice not to tremble and crack, so you refrain from saying anything at all as you pack Liam’s bag with trembling hands. Ari wasn’t supposed to be like your father, he was supposed to be different, better.

Act like a whore, get treated like a whore, your father’s venomous words play on an endless loop in your skull, no matter how many times you try to stop it. It’s the same thing he’d said to you after you dragged yourself back to the trailer from the homecoming after-party you weren’t supposed to attend, your dress muddy from the dirt under the bleachers and Philip Baker’s spend drying on your thighs.

That’s what he’d called you in the driveway too—a whore. Is that what you are?

There’s bile, burning acid in your throat as you walk stiffly up the steps to Frank Adler’s house. House isn’t really the right word for it, somewhere between “home” and “mansion”. You pick nervously at your fingernails after ringing the bell, pulling at your nail-beds until you wince.

“Mr. Levinson, I’ve been expecting you,” Frank greets Liam as he opens the door. Liam giggles and hides behind your legs. “Mary says she’s ‘sourced the part’, and I hope it’s not something I need to be concerned about.” He raises an eyebrow. Liam shakes his head profusely.

“We’re building a secret clubhouse.” He whispers, and Frank nods knowingly. “Don’t tell Mary I told you.”

“I won’t. I promise I don’t go into my own backyard all that much.” He says resolutely, and motions for him to come inside. “How are you?” Frank shifts his gaze to you, and without Ari there to deflect, you’re uncomfortable with the attention. Maybe that’s why he wants to ditch you. Stupid. Naive—

“I’m fine.” The words come out stilted. “Just. Running an errand. For Ari.”

“Of course.” He looks down at Liam’s bag with a squint. “You packed heavy.”

You force a smile. “I like to be prepared.” Frank smiles back at you, and you swallow thickly.

“Of course.” He repeats it, and you look down at Liam.

“Have fun, bud.” He grins up at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

“Okay!”

Your hands are shaking as you get the keys back out of your pocket. Ari wants you to come to the office, but you have no intention of doing that. Hot tears gather in your eyes as you navigate out onto the street. You can’t stay parked at Frank’s, but you don’t want to go to Ari. It’s not even an option to go to your father—and you don’t know where he is, even if it was.

You drive aimlessly for half an hour before you decide on a direction, ignoring the incessant buzzing of both your phone and Ari’s in the glove compartment until you’re forced to shut them off. There’s a twinge of his concern in the bond, but you shut it down quickly, and immediately feel its absence.

The house you’re looking for is on the corner after the next left you take, and you pull haphazardly into the spot out front. You’re still crying, staccato breaths making your chest hurt as you lean your forehead against the steering wheel.

You don’t know why you remember this address, considering you’ve only been here one time. Sessions are normally at the old bank building, since converted into offices, but you’d been here once when the office flooded, and Dr. Nicholson was forced to accommodate you elsewhere. Even so, it stuck in the gray matter of your brain, and now here you were, months later.

Shifting nervously from foot to foot, you wrap your arms around your middle after knocking. You’re considering leaving, fleeing back to the car when the door opens.

“I-I’m sorry. I just, I didn’t know where to go.” Dr. Nicholson stares at you in open shock, before she pushes her square glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m—I know this was supposed to only be for emergencies, and I, I—” She places a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Please come in.”

—

Ari knows something is very wrong before Frank calls, but seeing his friend’s name appear on his personal phone drives home the worry.

“What’s wrong? Is it Liam?”

“No, no, he’s fine. He and Mary are building some kind of clubhouse outside, and as far as I know there’s no power tools involved. No, it’s your mate. She seemed… I dunno. Upset. Squirrelly.”

Ari’s fist clenches against the desk. “How long ago did you see her?”

“Ten. Fifteen minutes maybe.” He curses.

Ari reaches out through the bond, and he feels you shut him out quickly, tasting only an echo of your fear before the link is dead and cold.

“Thanks, Frank. I’ll check on her.” He’s up and out of his chair before he hangs up.

What spooked you? Obviously seeing him kill a man hadn’t done wonders for your relationship, but he had been making real progress. Martine is waiting outside the office doors, her fist poised to knock.

“Oh! Sir. I have—”

“Leave it on my desk, please,” Ari replies, cutting her off with a grim smile. “I have an urgent family matter to attend to.”

“I see. Yes, sir.”

Ari takes the stairs down to the parking lot, slamming the door too hard on his way into the stairwell. He’d told you about leaving without telling him, about going places alone, unprotected—no. It won’t do to get angry with you, that won’t help him find you. According to Frank, you’d dropped off Liam and left, hadn’t mentioned anything about where you were going or why.

He gets into the car, dialing your number while he slots the key into the ignition with his other hand. It goes straight to voicemail. You haven’t set it up yet, and the robotic default greets him stiltedly.

“The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message after the beep. Have a wonderful day.”

“Kitten it’s me, it’s Ari.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Sweetheart you’re scaring me. You didn’t come to the office, you’re shutting me out…” He trails off before carding his fingers through his hair. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He hangs up, and is dialing again as he pulls out of his parking space. One hand grips the steering wheel hard enough to force the blood out of his knuckles, and the other holds the phone.

It doesn’t even ring this time before it goes straight to voicemail.

“The number you have dialed is not available—”

“Fuck!” He throws the phone into the passenger seat, hard. “Fuck.” He isn’t used to this, the frantic, nervous energy running through his veins, begging him to do something, anything—only he doesn’t know what to do. There are a thousand thousand scenarios, each running through Ari’s mind on their own terrible loop. Could Quill have had you picked up? Perhaps sent your father sniffing around again? He slams a fist against the dashboard. He’d felt your confusion, your upset and pain before you’d cut him out completely, and they stick in his throat, making it tight and uncomfortable.

He isn’t used to feeling this out of control, to not having the pieces adjusted on the board to his liking. Ari nervously fingers the silver chain peeking out from between the undone buttons at the collar of his shirt, poking the Star of David’s points into the fleshy pads of his fingers. Ari tries to calm down, breathing deeply as he pushes the unfamiliar feeling of panic down and away.

There’s still so much of your fear and uncertainty in the bond that it makes his chest ache. He sits there in the car, his eyes shut and hands on the steering wheel as Ari pokes at the bond again. The hard wall you’d drawn down between you was no longer quite as solid, the barest hint of your feelings trickling through the cracks. You’re safe—he exhales a sigh of relief. Not happy, but the turmoil you’d felt earlier had dissipated.

And then, suddenly, it’s like a lightbulb turning on in his head—Ari knows exactly where you are.

—

“You’re overwhelmed. And it makes sense, given everything you’ve told me.” Dr. Nicholson pats your knee with a reassuring smile. “I mean, last we spoke, you didn’t even have a boyfriend, and here you are with a mating mark, and a son, all at the same time. It can’t be easy.” You’d been on her couch for the last three hours, something of an extreme-emergency session to make up for the ones you’d missed in the weeks since your life had turned completely on its head. There had always been a reason to reschedule—Liam needed you, Ari needed you, something needed doing or finishing or starting, and you’d quickly become lost in the shuffle.

Your eyes are still red and puffy from the hysterical tears that had stopped an embarrassingly short time ago, around the first cup of tea Dr. Nicholson had brought for you—you were now well into your third. It’s embarassing, to be told what you’re feeling, but it’s so hard for you to pick through the maze of emotions you’d never really been allowed to acknowledge or share on your own. It makes sense now, to hear her say it. Overwhelmed. That’s exactly what you’d been feeling.

The knock at the door surprises both of you, and you jump, glancing nervously in the direction of the sound. Dr. Nicholson offers you a calm smile.

“I’ll get it. I’m sure it’s fine, you just stay here and relax.” You nod meekly, taking another sip of tea as you mull over your latest enlightenments.

“You’re a people pleaser. It’s okay, lots of us are. Because of the way you were required to manage your father’s emotions when you were only a child, and especially after your mother passed. You deserve to make choices for yourself. What do you want? What are your needs?”

You bite your lip, running your finger around the rim of the mug. You don’t know. Dimly, you’re aware of the sound of the front door opening, but that isn’t what jolts you to attention. It’s like electricity passes through the bond, forcing it all the way open as you gasp—

Ari is here. You know it as surely as you would know he was standing behind you. Goosebumps appear on your bare arms, and you rub them nervously as you listen to the sound of muffled voices with your heart in your throat. The sound of footsteps makes you jump up from your seat in the weathered old armchair. You’re not entirely sure what you want to do with your hands, so you tighten your grip on the handle of the mug until it hurts.

When Dr. Nicholson re-enters the room, her mouth is set into a grim line, tight at the corners.

“I… Well, I wanted to inform you that your mate is here,” she says, and you nod. She’s only confirming what you already know. “I know we talked about some very sensitive things, and I just wanted to make sure you know that you have agency, in your life and in your… relationship. You don’t have to do things just because someone else says you do.” She casts a rather reproachful look down the hallway.

“Thank you.” You scratch absently at the mark on your throat—it’s warm to the touch. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Ari is waiting for you on the porch, his arms folded over his broad chest as he leans against the bannister. His face is schooled into an expression of neutral calm, and if not for the tension coiling tight like a spring in the foundations of the bond, you might have believed it. Your gaze drops nervously down to your shoes as Ari stands up straight, his footfall heavy on the wooden slats as he approaches you.

“Kitten.” He slides a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up. Slowly, he turns your head from side to side, his fingers trailing over his mark as he checks you over. You swallow thickly. “Are you hurt?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“N-no.”

He watches you in silence for a moment, before he turns sharply on his heel.

“Let’s go.”

You try to make yourself as small as possible as you walk back to the car, your shoulders hunched and your head down. You don’t want to draw any attention to yourself, not now when you can almost feel his fury as if it was your own. He ignores the Jeep you haphazardly parked out front, and you’re too anxious to ask him if he wants you to drive it home. Instead, you slide silently into the passenger seat of his car. You watch him make his way around to the driver’s side door as you anxiously twist your fingers together, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You spend the majority of the ride in silence, sneaking furtive glances over at your quiet mate. When he pulls in to the driveway at the house, Ari cuts the engine, but doesn’t get out of the car.

“Why did you do that, Kitten?” He asks quietly, his hands still wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. When he does look at you, cold hard lead settles into the pit of your stomach.

“I thought…“ He trails off, scoffing, and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought something happened to you, that fucking Quill—!” He cards a hand through his hair and blows out a breath.

“I saw the texts.” You mumble quietly, staring at your knees as you clench your hands into angry, fearful fists of your own. “T-the offer you were considering.” The silence that reigns between you is so empty that you feel forced to fill it. “An Omega that’s been used.” You spit the words out angrily as you curl into yourself. “Is that what-what I am to you?”

“Oh, Kitten.” Ari scrubs a hand down his face. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“That seems to be a thing with you.” You clap a hand over your own mouth. Those were not the words you’d meant to say. Something soft and accommodating was supposed to come out, not…that.

“Watch it.” He snaps, narrowing his eyes at you. You’re afraid of incurring his anger, but there’s another emotion there too, one you don’t really let yourself feel as often as you should.

You’re angry.

“You watch it! You—you don’t tell me everything,” you argue. You can tell that Ari is as surprised by your persistence as you are. “Y-you keep secrets from me, and, and you expect me to just… do whatever you want be-because you say so, and—” You know you’re rambling, and Ari holds up a hand to silence you.

“Kitten if you think after everything I’ve done to keep you that I’m letting go now, I… I must not have shown you who I am as well as I thought I did.” Ari braces his arms against the steering wheel, and blows out a frustrated breath. “It’s true, I don’t tell you everything,” he admits. “You’re… you scare easy, Sweetheart. Look at today.”

Your cheeks grow hot. “If I had known what was going on, I wouldn’t have

left,” you say indignantly, and Ari scoffs.

“You can’t do that to me.” He levels you with a hard look. “You know you could have come to me, asked questions, instead of assuming.” You don’t have a response for that. “Kitten I was fucking terrified. I couldn’t find you, couldn’t feel you. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.” He shakes his head, and you swallow against the thick lump in your throat. You hadn’t thought, really, about what it might feel like for him to be shut out of the bond, left in the dark without a word. The bright flame of righteous anger burning in your chest dims.

“Quill could have picked you up, anything could have happened to you,” he chastises you. “I can’t protect you when you run from me, Kitten.” He slips a finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “How can I keep you safe if you don’t trust me?” The space behind your eyes burns with hot, unshed tears.

“Yes, one of Ego’s men contacted me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But I needed to make sure I knew who our allies were before I responded, Kitten.”

You do trust Ari—or at least, you thought you did. You’d been scared, only thinking of your own self-preservation.

“I do trust you,” you say in a small voice. “I just…” you trail off, struggling to put words to the emotions swimming around in your skull. “My whole life, my parents told me I had one thing to offer. Just one. And when I saw those messages, Ari, they scared me, okay?” You admit, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. “They scared me because I thought he was right. That… that I gave you what you wanted, and you’d be done with me, now.”

“Kitten.” Ari ducks his head until he finds your gaze, and holds it. “I put a man in the dirt for you. Do you really think I’d trade you after that?” Hot guilt warms your face. “If there was even chance that I thought this,” Ari gestures between the two of you, “wasn’t going to work, I would never have marked you.”

Ari is a man of his word, you know that. Every promise he’s made you, he’s kept—it’s more than anyone else has ever given you. You… you care about Ari, enough to not want to hurt him. Enough to try and keep the promise you had made him, that you would let him show you how good life with him could be.

“I’m sorry.” You mean it.

“I know, Kitten.” Somehow, his disappointment is worse than his anger. Ari unbuckles his seatbelt, and tugs the keys out of the ignition. The two of you exit the car, and head into the quiet house. You’re not quite sure what to do with yourself, and you flutter just at the edges of the room, watching Ari move through it. The tension he feels is written in his neck and shoulders. He reaches up to rub stiffly at them with one hand while he opens the fridge with the other. You watch as he twists the cap off of a beer bottle.

“Liam’s going to stay at Frank’s tonight,” he says over his shoulder. “We’ll go get him tomorrow.” There’s only a counter between you, but it feels like a continent. He’s right here, and he hasn’t blocked you from the bond, but it feels like you’re alone. You approach him tentatively, and though he doesn’t stop you, he makes no move to welcome you, either.

“Ari?” He takes another sip from his beer. You place your hand softly on top of his on the counter, and he doesn’t pull away. “I—I should have trusted you, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” You’re tempted to touch the mark on your throat but you don’t. His gaze softens just a little, and he takes another swallow.

“You mean that?”

You nod. “Yes.” Ari drains the bottle, and sets it on the counter with a sharp click. “I-I really am sorry—” Ari hushes you, holding up a hand. Your breath and the words you were going to say both catch in your throat. Ari grasps your chin, and for a moment he just looks at you. You feel judged, and you can only hope you don’t come up wanting.

“Get upstairs.” He says sharply after a moment of holding your gaze. His thumb passes over your parted lips. “You’re going to show me just how sorry you are, Omega.”

You gape at him for a moment, almost asking if he’s serious, but the hard set of your mate’s jaw tells you that question would not be well received. You scramble up the stairs, but Ari isn’t behind you. You pause at the top of the stairs, waiting for him to come around the curve, but you don’t see him. The setting sun has painted the room in molten orange. You perch yourself at the edge of the bed in a pool of it, fiddling with the delicate pendant at your throat.

When he does walk through the door, he barely spares you a look. He undoes his tie with sure fingers, and begins on the buttons of his shirt. You lick your lips nervously.

“Ari?” The look he fixes you with is icy enough to make you regret saying anything.

“I don’t remember telling you to speak.” There’s a cruel, almost mocking edge to his words that makes you shiver. Your mouth snaps shut audibly, and his lips curl into a cold smile. “Good girl.” He takes a painfully long time with the buttons, slowly undoing each one.

“Kitten you made me very angry today,” Ari says as he folds the shirt over his thick forearm. “Do you know why?” Your tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth as you swallow dryly.

“I… I shut you out,” you say tentatively, and Ari inclines his head, like he’s imploring you to continue. “And I broke my promise.”

“That’s a start.” He lays the shirt neatly across the dresser. “What else?”

“I left without telling you?”

“Kitten you put yourself in danger.” Ari folds his arms across his chest and frowns at you. “Come.” It isn’t an Alpha command, but it doesn’t matter. Your body lurches into motion anyway. You stand in front of him nervously, and Ari fingers the hem of your shirt as his nose wrinkles.

“Take this off. All of it.” He watches you with dark, unreadable eyes. You’ve never seen Ari this angry with you before—naively, you had thought perhaps that he would never be. You’re still nervous to stand there in front of him, and you’re tempted again to speak, but you resist the urge.

It’s a strange and thrilling intersection, your fear of your mate’s reprisal and your body’s response to his need to exert dominance. You cock your head to the side, submissively exposing the side of your throat. Ari makes a low, appreciative noise, trailing his fingers across the healed mark at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You still aren’t used to the wanton heat that is steadily growing at the apex of your thighs at the intensity of Ari’s scent, aren’t used to the wild, rampant need he inspires in you.

You know he can scent it, the way his nostrils twitch and his pupils dilate. There is almost as much being said without words as with them, you realize as you watch him. He’s not going to give you orders or instructions—he wants you to prove how sorry you are, to reaffirm that you’re his, that you want to be. He’s still angry, you can see it in the stiffness of his jaw, the square set of his shoulders. He’s waiting—waiting to see what you’ll do.

Ari doesn’t stop you when you reach for the button on his pants. You peek up at him through your lashes, waiting for reprisal that doesn’t come. The plush bedroom carpeting is soft under your knees when you drop to them, your mate silently watching as you pull his pants down his toned thighs. His cock is already half hard, the thick outline of it through his briefs makes your tongue dart out to wet your dry lips.

You trace the shape of him with your finger, and he throbs under your touch. As you slide the elastic band down, his cock bounces out, shiny precum beading at the tip. A soft, surprised breath escapes from between your lips, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment when Ari laughs. He’s velvet smooth, veins throbbing hotly underneath the skin as you palm the heavy weight of his cock in your hands.

He hums with approval when you stroke him, straining to touch your thumb and forefinger around his girth. You lean forward, wetting your lips with your tongue before lapping tentatively at his head. Salty and musky but not unpleasant.

Ari is watching you, you don’t need to look to confirm it. You can feel his eyes on you as you lean forward to close your lips completely around the head of his cock. His hips buck softly, forcing him deeper into your mouth. Emboldened, you cup the heavy weight of his sac in one hand, kneading it gently between your fingers. He hisses, pulling away, and the head of his cock slips from between your lips with a soft pop. You sit primly on your knees, watching as your mate palms his cock with a groan.

“Open your mouth, Omega. Tongue out.” You do as he says, opening your mouth wide as your tongue lolls out over your bottom lip. Ari taps his cock against the flat of your tongue, thrusting into your open mouth. He makes a lusty, appreciative noise deep in his throat and strokes your jaw with the back of his hand.

“I wish you could see yourself, Kitten.” He says, pushing in until the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag around him a little and he curses under his breath, holding himself there for a second longer before pulling out. Your cunt clenches helplessly around nothing and tears gather in the corners of your eyes as Ari repeats the motion, sliding his cock back and forth over your tongue and down your throat.

There’s a growing buzz at the back of your skull, a pleasant hazy feeling that makes your eyelids droop as you nurse at Ari’s dick, tongue moving against his shaft. You tug softly at his balls, and Ari’s hips stutter, a low moan leaving his lips.

“Good, Kitten,” he praises you. The needy, feral thing in your hindbrain purrs excitedly. Alpha is pleased. “Need you just like this.” He thrusts all the way in until your nose bumps the trimmed hair at the base of his thick cock. Ari’s cock is halfway down your throat, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth as you stare up at him with glassy, wet eyes. You struggle to breathe around him, short, shuddering breaths making your vision swim. Ari pulls out, stroking himself with an appreciative groan as he stares at your cock-drunk face.

“Bed.” You rush to obey, clamoring onto the mattress. “Present, for me, Kitten.” It sends a thrill through you, not to be able to see him as you press your forehead to the duvet, though you can feel him behind you. You shudder as he runs a finger down your soaked, messy slit, and he clucks his tongue at you. “Dripping,” he says, laughing. Embarrassment makes your face hot even as your cunt sucks at the tip of his index finger. “Enjoy sucking Alpha’s cock, Sweetheart?” When you don’t answer right away, he delivers a stinging slap that you hear before you feel, the cheek of your ass smarting.

“Y-yes!” He soothes the sting with a gentle pass of his hand before he delivers another one. You squirm, yelping as you press your face into the mattress.

“Do you know why this is happening, Omega?” He asks, the palm of his hand cracking across your ass again as you let out a miserable moan. Ari’s fingers slip between the cheeks of your ass, playing at your entrance as you try to cobble together an answer.

“I-I d-didn’t trust A-alpha,” you whimper. You’re wetter than ever, his fingers making lewd squelching sounds as they slide through your folds. Ari pulls back only to strike you again with another sharp slap.

“And?”

“A-and I—ah!” Ari’s palm connects again, and this time a sob leaks from between your trembling lips. The contrast between the thick fingers playing at your entrance and the stinging numbness is dizzying, and Ari doesn’t give you a chance to breathe, refusing to let up as he lays into you, hard.

“You made me worry about you,” he says, his voice low, angry. Another spank. “You shut me out.” Another, and another until you’re gasping for air, tears soaking into the sheets below you.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry Alpha!” You cry, voice muffled as you wait for another round of harsh spanks that don’t come. Instead, you feel Ari’s arms encircle your waist, and you hiccough as he draws you against his chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the hollow of his neck, sniffling.

“This doesn’t happen again, Omega,” he says sternly, even as he presses his face into your hair. “Understand?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you say meekly, lifting a trembling hand to wipe at your puffy cheeks. A low, pleased rumble emanates from his chest.

“Good.” Ari nudges your thighs apart with his hand, cupping your swollen, messy cunt against his palm. You mewl against his throat as he sinks two fingers into your wet heat, testing your readiness. You clench around them eagerly, and he chuckles. “My needy Omega,” he says. “You want me to split you open on my knot, don’t you Kitten?” You nod eagerly, and you can hear the smug grin in his voice. “Beg.”

You run your tongue across your dry lips. “Please, Alpha.”

“I can’t hear you.” You lean away from his neck, your face warm.

“Please—”

“Look at me.” Slowly, you drag your eyes up to his.

“Please, Alpha.” Ari says nothing, but you feel his grip tighten on your hips. It’s the only warning you get before he slams you down onto his cock. The words in your throat die in a ragged moan as his cock forces them out of you. The slight sting of his entry is more than made up for by the delicious fullness that makes you groan as he presses in as far as he possibly can, his teeth bared. Your thighs tighten around his hips, fingers digging into his shoulders as he ruts up into you.

“Kitten this fucking pussy,” he growls, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tugs your head to the side. “Can’t get enough.” You can already feel his knot swelling at the base of his cock, and the stretch of it makes your eyes roll. Warm, heady pleasure erodes most of your conscious thoughts, and Ari is driving it, pushing you further and further, as far as he can.

Your legs tremble and seize about his hips as you cum, sticky pleasure rolling down your nerve endings like honey as you float. Ari fucks you straight through, holding you tight enough to bruise as he buries himself inside you as far as he possibly can. His thick cock feels even thicker for the knot locking the two of you in place, and you shudder as his teeth slide into the mark at your neck.

He pants wetly against your throat, holding you still as the air cools between you. Ari traces patterns on your hip with his fingers, and you press a soft kiss to his collarbone. After a minute or two, he pulls back, his mouth leaving your throat.

“I really am sorry.” You say in a small voice, and he sighs, his arms tightening around you briefly before relaxing.

“I know, Kitten.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t have kept things from you.” You try hard not to look surprised. It isn’t often that your mate admits wrongdoing, and you know it isn’t easy for him to eat crow. “I’m going to try and be better about that.”

“I promise not to shut you out again.” You rest your head against his chest. “And you promise to be honest with me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.”

to be continued…

Next chapter

Hello friends! I no longer maintain a taglist, so please follow @box-of-bones-library for updates and new work, thank you!

Likes and comments are amazing, but reblogs are golden! Please consider sharing my work so that others can see it too!

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20thcentwriter · 1 month

Text

Get him back [Michael Gavey x OC]

Chapter One- When Edith Met Michael

Word count- 1.2k

Cw- swearing

Vaguely proofread

A/n hello everyone, welcome to chapter one of my series. I don't consider myself a great writer but I hope you enjoy this series I have planned. I kinda have no clue what I'm doing really and any tips and tricks would be very helpful. All I know is that I'm excited to discover the relationship between Edith and Michael.

Also apologies for this chapter being kind of short. I just wanted to establish the breakup between Felix and Edith and have her meet Michael. It will get more interesting

“You’re breaking up with me?!?” Edith can’t believe what she’s hearing

… Well maybe she can a little bit but it doesn’t mean she thought this would really happen.

“Umm…Ed… yeah. You know we’re both going to uni in two weeks.”

“Felix Catton don’t you fucking bullshit me. you and I are both going to Oxford.”

”Okay umm…” Felix brings his hand to rub his chin. “ it’s just that this whole past year I’ve been so great and understanding about your boundaries regarding sex but I thought by now we’d have already done it though. I don't think it’s going to work.”

Through breathy laughter Edith can’t help containing her anger “Wait- So what you’re telling me is that you are done with me because I'm not ready to have sex and you’re horny ?!?!”

“That's pretty much the case, yeah.”

”You know what Felix Catton, I can't believe I thought you would ever be understanding.” Edith starts, heels turning to walk away so he couldn’t see the tears whining to spill. “You fucking suck and fuck you!!!!”

“What a fucking asshole,” Edith mutters under her breath peering out the window of her room. She shakes her head looking at a completely okay looking Felix Catton chatting and laughing with other popular rich kids who some Edith use to call “friends” .

The term “friends” would frankly be a loose term for Edith because they were more of people she hung out with because she was dating Felix, they weren’t true friends. she’s never exactly had a true friend.

Eddie knows he doesn’t deserve anymore of her feelings towards him but it’s hard. All she wants to do is scream and cry, telling Felix that he’s so pathetic.

Edith knows she can’t, all those other girls would come right after her, saying she’s jealous and desperate. how could he just break her heart and be completely okay? He’s most likely even moved on already.

Taking her eyes off from her ex, Edith flops onto her bed with a groan. All she wishes to do for the rest of the day is sit on her bed and read her book, draw in her sketchbook and maybe play her guitar. She’s aware though that she has to go to the dining hall tonight. Edith hasn’t been able to eat all day as she’s been moving in.

The idea of having to potentially sit near a perfectly fine Felix makes her want to gouge her eyes.

It's also her luck though that she’ll be stuck with some maths loser who forces you to answer sums, showing off how smart they are. If she were to compare the two she would take the maths loser but still not ideal.

Completely done with reality, Edith grabs her ipod, headphones and sketchbook off her nightstand and drowns out the world with music and drawing until she has to leave her room.

This is just great. I don't have to sit next to Felix but I also can’t find a seat in the first place. Edith can’t help but comment in her head, walking the dining hall in hopes of a spot to sit.

In a way she did luck out but she doesn’t know where to sit. That thankfully for Edith isn’t long lasting as she finds an open seat next to a boy with dirty blonde hair and glasses. Not thinking to whom she might have to converse with, she quickly walks over and sits down desperate to begin eating.

As she's eating, Edith can't help but feel uneasy and like someone to the right is staring into her soul through her ear. She looks up to the right and piercing blue eyes fill her vision. she whispers an awkward hi and smiles at the very strange boy and he in return moves his eyes down to her messenger bag.

Edith’s bag is decorated with little doodles that draws on it when she’s bored. The boy quickly turns his head away from muttering something under his breath that Edith didn’t pick up on but knew couldn’t have been nice.

What an ass.

The feeling of uneasy and bitterness doesn’t die the more she sits next to this guy. It was also not exactly possible to find a new seat either as the only other open seat was across from him and somehow for Edith that would be even worse. She feels bad for whoever would be sitting across from him

Like the universe reading her mind, another boy around her age with dark brown hair and glasses, who after struggling to find a place in the dining, eventually seats himself, somewhat reluctantly. right across from the strange boy.

The two boys stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, the brown-haired boy also clearly uneasy like Edith. it was the other boy who reach his hand out though to the brunet to introduce himself and Edith finally learned this strange boy’s name

”Hi I’m Michael Gavey”

The other boy accepts Michaels outreached hand and Edith learns his name is Oliver Quick. The boy begins to converse with one another. The last thing she got by fully eavesdropping was Michael asking Oliver if he was also a Norman no-mate too.

Not really interested, Edith turns her attention back to her half empty plate. the quicker she finishes the faster she can leave and not have to be in the presence of this Michael Gavey.

Even with half eavesdropping and half ignoring the two. Edith slightly laughs to herself as Michael tells Oliver even though he doesn’t like math, he is some math genius and to ask him a sum. Oliver clearly uncomfortable and telling Michael he’s fine and that he doesn’t need to ask him a sum

Edith though couldn’t expect was was to come out of a now agitated Michael.

“ WELL ASK ME A FUCKING SUM THEN!!!”

Jesus fucking christ Edith curses to herself while the whole dining hall quiets at the sudden intrusion of loudness. Among the same surprise, She is also intrigued and she smirks knowing something that would give her a little happiness asking Michael.

Before Oliver could clear the embarrassment he's feeling at Michael's sudden outburst, Edith interrupts. “What's 34+35?”

The attention of the boys are turned on to Edith as she smiles as Michael answers but then realizing what sum she asked, face turns to annoyance at the question, clearly knowing she is taking the mick out of him.

“Haha, very funny….” Michael’s voice trails waiting for a name

“Edith Pemberton and you said to ask a sum”

“Well Edith Pemberton i don't think I was talking to you Ms.” I'm wasting my money on an vapid arts degree”

“How fuck do you know what I'm learning.”

“Lucky guess based on how you're dressing and your… interestingly designed… bag.”

The gull this guy has to judge after literally yelling at someone to ask him a sum.

“Well Mr “I think math and science is better than the arts” you're wasting your money on a subject you don't really like so guess who's money is really wasted”

“Well at least I'll be making money post grad How about You? Oh wait Probably not.”

“Wow Michael Gavey you deserve a Nobel prize for solving the meaning of life!! Making money!!” sarcasm spilling from Edith’s mouth, not wanting to let this guy win.

Due to the bickering fight Edith and Michael were having, either of them failed to realized Oliver used it as a way to escape the situation

“God you're such a cunt Edith Pemberton.”

“Takes one to know one bitch.” a smirk reappearing on her face as she picks up her now almost empty plate and bag to leave a now bewildered Michael Gavey.

Taglist- @fan-goddess @iamavailablesstuff @callsignwidow

#ewan mitchell #ewan nation #ewanverse #michael gavey #ewan mitchell x reader #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey x reader #felix catton #modern aemond x reader

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bullet-prooflove · 7 days

Note

All About You: Dean Archer (Part 2)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl

Sequel to All About You (NSFW)

Dean pulls out all the stops tonight. He brings home dinner from your favourite restaurant, he runs you a bath. He even turns off his cell phone and yours, because tonight, he doesn’t want any interruptions. He’s taking care of his wife come hell or highwater.

Dean lowers the lights in the bedroom, he’s old fashioned and prefers dimmer switches because he likes to set the mood, it helps to settle him after a long day. He’s clad in his bedtime clothes, a navy blue t-shirt and pyjama bottoms.

When you step out of the bathroom you’re wearing the peach silk robe he bought for you on your honeymoon. Your skin is flushed from the heat, you look happy, relaxed, content. It occurs to him that this is probably the first time you’ve done something for yourself over the past few days, you’re always taking care of everyone else. The families of the people you have on your table, your interns and him, you’re always taking care of him.

He's already warming the massage oil between his hands, he noticed you were a little stiff when you’d finished ruining him this morning. He knows you carry a lot of tension in your shoulders and your lower back.

“I promised you I’d look after you tonight.” He tells you before tilting his head towards the bed.

“Lucky me.” You say as you allow the robe to slip from your body.

“No.” He says with an appreciative look. “Lucky me.”

It’s been a while since he’s been able to admire you in your full glory. The last couple of weeks your love making has been hurried and rushed, he doesn’t mind a quickie every now and then but he misses the sensuality that comes with being with you completely.

You lie on your stomach and Dean straddles your hips, distributing his weight into his knees. He starts at your shoulders, the heel of his palm pressing against the knot underneath the curve of your shoulder. You moan at the sensation and that sound, Christ, he’s hard already.

His hands sweep lower, massaging, caressing, teasing until your making those sweet little noises, the ones he loves to hear.

“Turn over.” He murmurs as he shifts off you. He picks up the towel he set aside, using it to wipe his hands as you do as he requests.

He takes his time loving you, his lips brushing over your skin until your fingers thread through his hair and your hips arch against his mouth. You’re close, so close he can taste it, his tongue delves lower, thrusting inside you and you fall apart completely. He coaxes you through it with tender, gentle kisses that draw out your orgasm before he works his way back up your body.

“I missed that.” You murmur as his lips trail over the curve of your throat. “I’d almost forgotten how good you were with your mouth.”

“We can’t have that.” Dean tuts as his thumb chases over the line of your jaw. “I’ll just have to find a way to keep reminding you.”

“How about we focus on the other thing I’ve been missing?” You tease as your fingertips trail along the waistband of his pyjamas.

“Oh.” Dean smiles against your skin. “I think we can certainly focus on that.”

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#Dean archer #dean archer x reader #dean archer x you #chicago med

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sailtomarina · 6 months

Text

Yes or no

They’d been dancing around one another for weeks.

The tension that had built up and nearly combusted in Potions working together as partners continued to bubble beneath the surface, threatening to spill over in their study sessions. Hermione supposed she had Madam Pince’s ever-watchful eye to thank—never in her wildest dreams would she ever risk her library privileges to distractions like Draco Malfoy.

Admittedly, he made for a lovely distraction.

She asked herself for the millionth time what had possessed her to invite him to study with her. Hermione could barely think every time he leaned over her shoulder to peer at her notes. She thought he’d be cold, what with his general paleness and the haughty manner in which he’d always carried himself. Instead, close proximity proved him warm in a way that made her want to lean in and soak him up skin to skin.

Would his hands be silky soft, or calloused from years gripping a broomstick? Would his hold on her be firm, or gentle?

He kept sitting next to her so he could shuffle his chair close as they shared texts and checked each other’s work. In the instance that she arrived after he had already settled in and she tried to sit across from him, there was always some excuse preventing her from taking a far seat. Either he’d have his legs kicked up, or his bags would be strewn across the chairs, or he’d get up to search for another text, only to return and settle in right next to her. Once in place, Hermione couldn’t find the willpower to put distance between them.

Before she knew it, being close to Draco was as natural as reaching for pumpkin juice at breakfast. They shared a natural harmony in and out of class that already rivaled the pace she’d taken to get to that point with anyone else.

Maybe if they’d lived in another reality without all the prejudice they could have become friends much sooner. Who knows how close they’d be by this point if that were the case?

The tip of her quill snapped after a particularly hard jab at her parchment, prompting her to curse loud enough to draw Pince’s glare.

“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered, nodding apologetically. With an annoyed sigh, she cast a reparo at her battered instrument.

“How many times have you repaired that by now?” Draco mused. He eyed the battered end in a way that had Hermione flushing in embarrassment.

“Does it matter? I’ll fix it as many times as necessary.”

“Yours looks like it’s on its last legs.”

She paused to inspect the quill more closely, taking in the slightly crooked nib, the chewed up feather tip, and the worn-away color from where she gripped it.

“I suppose I should have a backup in case the spell finally gives up.”

“You could—” Draco paused to clear his throat before continuing, “I mean, I would be happy to accompany you to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

She must have stared at him in shock for just a beat too long, because pink bloomed in his cheeks as he squirmed in his chair in a distinctly un-Malfoy-like way.

“I just thought you’d like a replacement and I’ve been wanting to go for a while now and—”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Hermione blurted out.

“I…I suppose that’s what some people might call it? It’s not like you have any obligation to indulge me, and actually there isn’t any rush, you absolutely don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I promise I won’t be offended if—” he continued to babble on, now Howler red.

“Draco.”

His mouth clicked shut, wide grey eyes fixed on hers.

“Are you asking me out on a date—yes, or no?”

She watched him struggle to speak, mouth opening, then closing, throat bobbing as he swallowed and shut his eyes before opening them up again, determination setting in.

“Yes.”

One word never sounded so sweet, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to jump and squeal in all the ways she would have rolled her eyes at in the past.

Another tiny part of her, the one with a mean streak a mile wide, wanted to make him repeat himself.

“Then ask me officially.”

Their homework forgotten, the presence of all others in the library fading away to nothing, Hermione and Draco stared at one another in their own bubble, every breath heavy with intent.

“Hermione, would you go on a date with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?” he said slowly, enunciating each word carefully.

For the first time since they’d started working together in class and studying together in their free time, Hermione turned directly into his space. Both legs pivoted around to slot between his own as she held him steady in her warm gaze.

“I would love to.”

Watching his face transform was a memory Hermione never wanted to forget. What started as a somber plea flitted to hope as she faced him, almost immediately tilting up into unabashed joy that lit up his entire countenance.

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough.

WC 852

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3

Twitter prompt “yes or no” from DramionePrompts

This short is a bit of a successor from another Twitter prompt of mine, “Don’t tell me it’s over.”

#dramione #dramione prompt #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy

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doodlecircuitredrawn · 2 months

Text

Guys!!! I did it!

In like a little more than an hour. I literally JUST finished this!!

I’ve been cooking up this thing’s premise in my brain for WEEKS!!

Will I write for it? Yes.

Will it be now? Haha! Absolutely not!! I know when to limit myself! I’ve got like 3 whole ass fics to juggle around!! [:

Under the read more because this is very much spoilers! Also, since this is still a loose concept, whatever I write here is vulnerable to being retconned/rewritten! Be warned!

I finally learned how to draw Siff, lmfao. I forgot his cowlick on the Siff doodle page!

Introducing…

The Bell Berserker AU! After loops and loops of running around, not finding out anything… Siff essentially snaps, and in some way (haven’t ironed that out yet!) he manages to get a suitable neck piece for the bell pendant! Turns out that this pendant really WAS special!!

(Okay, this will very likely NOT be late ACT 4, now that I’ve written that. More like mid to late ACT 3 or early ACT 4, maybe?)

Due to the pendant’s extreme effects, Siff had to figure out how to Craft themselves a new weapon over tons of loops (it was super difficult, do you think this rogue knows how to do anything besides slice up enemies, detect traps, and pun?)

Now Siff has another problem… How will he adjust his Craft to accommodate this thing? He’s never used anything other than blades for fighting before!

Exposition over! Here’s his design (for now.)

Let me know if it’s hard to see, I’ll alpha lock the layer and recolor the linear- (cough) sketches!

Also, let know what y’all think, I was so impatient to get this out that I couldn’t move past the sketch stage and decided to make my cleaner sketch layer 100% opacity, lmao. (As if I didn’t practically turn it into lineart by cleaning it up more-)

I just had to get it out into the world, I guess!

So,,, enjoy! [;

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gintrinsic-writing · 11 months

Text

The brown paper bag was small and nondescript. It crinkled in Legend’s fist.

“So?” Sky asked quietly. “What did the doctor say?”

“It’s not bad,” Legend answered with a shrug. He sounded calm despite the tension in his shoulders. Sky was immediately on edge.

“Meaning?”

“I’m deficient in vitamin B.”

“And?”

“That’s it,” Legend assured him. “Everything else checked out.”

“Everything? Because Hyrule said—”

“I know what he said, I was there,” Legend muttered dryly. “It’s hard to forget words like ‘degenerative neuropathy’ when you’re falling asleep.”

Sky winced. “Sorry.”

Legend waved his apology aside. “Don’t be. The doctor mentioned similar possibilities, but no, it’s just a vitamin issue.”

It sounded almost too good to be true. “And that can cause…?”

“The tingling, numbness and tiredness?” Legend snorted. “Apparently.”

Sky slouched forward in relief. “Thank Hylia.” They’d been so worried the past few weeks. Legend already dealt with chronic pain issues, but lately he’d been having sensory problems even when sitting, standing, or holding a weapon. Sky had been the one to suggest that they stop in a city to find someone trained in modern medicine when potions hadn’t improved anything. “I take it there’s a medication?” he asked, nodding to the brown paper bag.

Some of the tension returned to Legend’s shoulders. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Legend.”

“Sky.” Legend mimicked his tone.

“What’s the issue? Does it taste bad?”

Legend turned the bag over and dumped its contents on one of the inn’s beds. Sky spotted several small vials and syringes. “It’s a monthly injection, since my gut apparently isn’t absorbing vitamins properly.”

“Oh. Is that… bad?”

“Of course not,” Legend said quickly. “It’ll take two seconds. It’s more of a minor inconvenience than anything else.”

Sky pursed his lips. “Do you want me to give you the first one?”

This time, Legend blushed. “No. It’s just a needle. I’ve had much worse.”

“I know.”

“I know you know,” Legend griped, still blushing. He suddenly reached over to fill one of the syringes. The liquid was a pleasant cherry red. When he lifted one side of his tunic to expose his hip, Sky glanced away to be polite. Seconds passed, and Sky waited…

And waited.

Legend abruptly giggled, and Sky glanced up just in time to see him slap his free hand over his mouth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Don’t look!” Legend blurted.

Sky immediately glanced away again. “Are you sure…?”

“I’m,” Legend stopped to giggle once more. “F-fine!” He cleared his throat, though his voice remained just shy of laughter. “I’m fine. It’s just a needle. I’m. fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sky repeated pleasantly.

“It’s just a needle.”

“Right, you said that.”

Legend laughed. “In my leg.”

“Yes...”

“This is my leg.”

“Goddess, Legend, are you sure you don’t want me to do it?” Sky asked, finally looking over.

Legend’s cheeks were flushed pink, and his expression kept ping-ponging between a frown and a nervous grin. The needle hovered just millimeters over his skin. “No! I’m doing it!”

Sky raised his hands slowly. “Okay, how about—Don’t do it blind!”

“Too late!” Legend exclaimed, staring at an ugly portrait on the wall as he jabbed the needle into his hip. He sighed in relief as soon as it was done, then calmly glanced down as he finished sliding the hub against his skin. After drawing back on the syringe to make sure he wasn’t in a vessel, he injected himself and withdrew the needle. “Din’s fiery balls,” he grumbled. “That sucked.”

Sky felt like he had whiplash. “She doesn't—You—”

“Glad that’s done with,” Legend said as if he hadn't made the entire experience as dramatic as possible. He capped the used needle and set it aside. “Where are the others? Is there a plan for dinner yet?”

Sky shook his head at him. “Why did you look away?”

“That was my leg.”

“Yes,” Sky groaned, “so you said.”

“I just can’t watch it go in. Gives me the heebs,” Legend told him seriously. “Once the needle’s broken through the skin, I’m good.”

“Just… let one of us inject you next month.”

“That sounds worse.”

“But then you don’t have to watch,” Sky pointed out.

“Yeah, true…”

“You’re not going to let us, are you?”

“No chance in hell,” Legend confirmed with a nod.

#they say Write What You Know so i'm writing about all the times i've nervous giggled before giving myself vit b injections #it's so humbling #needles #lu legend #lu sky #wolfwarden if you're reading this i literally chose sky for you #lu fic #linked universe #gintrinsic writing

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wygolvillage · 4 months

Text

a new year's resolution

well, as of 2024 i’ve decided i will no longer be posting on tumblr... this shouldnt be the hugest surprise since ive been pretty critical of staff, the over-monetization of the website, the site culture, and the user experience for the past year and gradually reducing my time spent scrolling the ol’ dashboard- ive even mentioned my intent to eventually leave; well, that eventually is now! gradually ive found myself analyzing the effect that using tumblr for 7+ years has had on me, and the effects of social media in general.

ive never had to write a goodbye letter like this before. while ive joined and left several online platforms over the years, its always been a gradual fade in interest rather than a conscious decision to stop. never have i used a platform as long as ive used tumblr, over 1/3 of my life. ive grown up with tumblr, for better or worse. how do you write a goodbye for that? i guess ill have to try my best. because as important as tumblr was for me, ive recognized the way its hurt me too.

finding other avenues of online self-expression particularly has made me think a lot about this. when i edit my website i feel accomplished, happy, and content, feeling i have put something of myself out into the world, my seed to grow and garden to tend. when i scroll through tumblr i feel as if my brain is mostly idle, and when i do emotionally respond its often out of anger or annoyance, because anger = engagement and social media sites like tumblr WANT engagement. particularly because i have OCD ive found myself upset by certain aspects of tumblr discourse culture, as well- it is basically the Scrupulosity Website and much of the way i react to and interact with media has been colored by my years spent absorbing the viewpoints of said Scrupulosity Website! i even used to look up discourse topics on tumblr just to anger myself on purpose, which is a dangerous road to go down, to build up Enemies and Factions in your mind- this is how discourse culture works. the culture of tumblr teaches you to see the world in black and white, and to feel like youre always in danger of compromising your moral purity or being attacked by the morally impure. If You Don’t Reblog This You Are A Bad Person. even as someone who nowadays tries to stay away from discourse entirely, its still there in the back of my mind, because the way we interact on this website is colored by this. when im online i dont actually want to be angry all the time! in fact i like putting my effort towards more positive stuff. but additionally: tumblr made me unhappy but it also made me an addict

and yeah social media addiction sounds like a silly boomer thing to complain about but one thing i noticed when i started trying to curb my time spent on tumblr was that opening the site was damn near compulsive. we all know those “open tumblr, close tumblr, open tumblr again immediately after” memes but that did describe my behavior pretty accurately. the draw and allure of social media feeds is powerful, if i accidentally click the youtubes short tab ill find myself a half hour later scrolling through random shit i don't care about and asking well how the hell did i get here? i dont even like that stuff! tumblr is no different no matter how much the site tries to coast on the reputation of being the last social media that's a “remnant of the old web” and “has no algorithm”. i like my chronological dash but it is equally as addicting to scroll through the thousands of people ive followed over the years, as it is to scroll through the algorithmic feeds of youtube shorts, because that's just social media!

and kicking addiction is pretty damn hard. before 2023, i made two separate attempts at reducing my tumblr usage and both fell through within a week due to that addiction. for reference this current bought of thoughts about reducing my tumblr usage and making my online/irl balance more healthy, around the start of 2023 when i began working on my website and its taken me an entire year to wean myself off of the hellsite, bit by bit. theres a point where it stopped being a conscious act, and even as i was carefully whittling down how often i use tumblr with extensions like leechblock i still had that compulsion go off multiple times every day, its a really strange feeling. but now that ive found so many more ways to express myself online, i just feel more whole now... i guess what im saying is that when i post on tumblr my first instinct is to complain or wallow about something, when i post on my own handmade blog on my website i always want to talk about things that excite me or make me happy! and its been such a tangible change in the way i think and act and im certain its because of the way social media and tumblr have their own “societal expectations” and structure that is built to feed on this negativity loop.

and a lot of the biggest shifts happened when i began immersing myself in the ideals of the web revival, while creating my own website. finding things that genuinely interested me and niches i want to occupy made me so much happier. i know we make a lot of jokes about having mutuals we never talk to that mean the world to us and i do think that is indicative of something. like, when i post on a forum full of strangers i am engaging with more “face to face” (or the digital equivalent) communication than i do with years-long mutuals. how genuine are these connections, this dashboard, the enjoyment i got from that meme post ill forget in 10 minutes? (not to say that i don’t genuinely care abt my followers and mutuals. ykwim?) i can still get all the things i enjoy out of tumblr in a more curated form via rss feeds; ive been so much more proud of what i post and create and code on my website. what am i here for? i gradually realized that i am losing absolutely nothing when i “miss out” or block tumblr on my phone or what have you.

since starting working on my neocities site ive felt so much creative drive. ive created whole interactive essays and worlds and games and writings and so many things i could never host on social media. my website is a place of my very own, and ive been learning the value of focusing on what i put out into the net compared to what i take from it. its made me feel so much more fulfilled when i spend time online.

and let's not forget about staff. i have broader issues with how automattic in particular has gone about running the site. the ads only took up more and more of the dashboard, and every month it felt like there was some new paid feature doomed to never take off. all while the user experience gradually degraded. using the site without browser extensions to fix the ui and block the ads and tumblr live and all the other shit they threw all over the place makes it look like its ridden with viruses, and i think the fact that its become so normalized to feel like we have to stay in spaces that become increasingly hostile to us, even while the internet is so vast, is really strange (i mean, i also thought that way at first). but Anyway. so much time and effort was spent on features no one liked or wanted in some desperate attempt to get a little extra money, while staff members get in public fights with users who complain about getting monetization shoved down their throat. its so openly pathetic. the merch store had mostly mediocre designs and the digital tumblrmart is absolutely full of useless digital goods with free alternatives. considering this is a userbase that gladly donates to other sites donation drives for hosting costs (i.e. ao3, wikipedia, internet archive), i am shocked that staff never considered the obvious answer of a fucking donation drive once a year or so! the ceo telling people with concerns about the ads being unsafe for epilepsy to “just pay the ad free subscription” is one of the most disgusting things ive ever heard from someone officially representing such a platform. do not be fooled by the reputation tumblr has cultivated: all that it cares about is making money from you. tumblr is “in danger” because it can't turn a profit- because a profit is all they care about!

so why stay here when im happier elsewhere, apart from the addictive compulsion? that's what ive been thinking through for nearly a year, realizing that i have no reason to, and that weaning myself off of the addiction is in my best interest. i can create and blog and have fun online and connect with others and follow other peoples work all without the need for tumblr anymore! and i think id be all the healthier for it.

over the past year ive truly fallen in love with the internet again and ive loved putting myself out there, unrestrained in ways i havent felt since i was very young. but nonetheless ive learned a lot on tumblr, ive had some of the worst and best experiences of my online life, and i dont doubt that i would be a much different person if i had never been a tumblr user for as long as i was. but i had to break out of this shell eventually.

i keep going over this wondering how i can express every feeling in my head, how i can word everything just a little better, how i can make the perfect goodbye. but i think this will have to suffice.

you can still keep up with me online here:

-explore my website: i keep it consistently updated and im always adding new things and writing new posts on my blog! you can even speak to me directly on the site! if you sign my guestbook or use my chatbox ill try to respond :) if theres anything on this list you do id like it to be this one! i worked hard on it! you can even send me chat messages on my homepage! just keep in mind it may not display everything right on most mobile browsers, but it should be mostly navigable...

you can also subscribe to my rss feed. if you don't know what rss is, it allows you to use a feed reader to keep up with updates from sites all over the internet! my rss feed will notify you whenever ive made a new post on my blog or made an interesting edit on my site id like you to take a peek at :0 convenient, right?

you can also email me at [email protected] to message me directly. if you prefer im also “wygolvillage” on discord

thank you and happy new years :) thanks for seeing me off as i sail to a new sunrise <3

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theriu · 5 months

Text

River Reads Midnight Sun

Chapter 3: Risk

In which Ed struggles with his Plot-driven feelings and Bella is almost squashed like a bug.

<-Chapter 2

(NOTE: So it occurs to me that I’ve not been clear about how hard Edward has been working to do the right thing these past couple chapters. While he has his faults, Edward and his vampire family have sworn off eating or killing humans, and he very much does NOT want to kill and eat Bella, morally speaking. He’s struggling against unusually strong vampiric urges her smell is setting off in his system, and the question of whether he should run away from his Found Family and avoid Bella for her safety, uproot his whole family from their current home if they choose to go with him, or face and overcome this trial, the face of whom the Plot has unfairly branded onto his brain. Also, Alice and Carlisle have been very supportive yet sensible, and I love them unironically.

Okay, got that off my chest! Now we can get back to mocking the teenage angst!)

So the opening scene of this chapter is genuinely nice, in my opinion. Edward and Dad Carlisle go hunting together (deer, because this family only drinks animal blood), and we get a little review of Carlisle’s concern and understanding a week ago when Ed had to leave (including how he let Ed take his car). Carlisle seems a genuinely good person (and a doctor) who fully supports Ed doing whatever is necessary to stay sane and keep from taking a life, even encouraging him to leave if that’s what it takes (despite how much they would miss him). He checks with Edward that coming back isn’t just about Ed’s pride. He’s even openly willing to go with Ed and start over somewhere else if it will spare a needless death while letting their family stay together. +100 Dad Points, Carlisle gets an award for top tier dadding.

Of course, Ed can’t quite put into words for Carlisle WHY he is now so determined to stay, other than it not being pride anymore. This is probably because it is difficult for a protagonist to describe the irresistible pull of The Plot on his affections and sensibilities. The scene changes as they go gallivanting into the woods, and Ed, now fat and unhappy on deer blood, chills by an icy river and spends more time pondering why he cares so much about this girl and why he is risking her life by staying.

I find it hilarious that HE keeps noting how his feelings make no sense. Why does he care about this girl? What about her draws him to her? Why is he unable to think about anything but her? GREAT QUESTIONS, ED! IF ONLY THE ANSWER WASN’T “YOU’RE IN A PARANORMAL ROMANCE”! The poor boy doesn't know what powers he is truly struggling against, even as he considers such self-aware drivers as his “obsessive curiosity” and “unsatisfied appetite.” However, he DOES decide he is going to follow Carlisle’s advice and leave after one more day, because he DOES want to be responsible and selfless! A fruitless determination, no doubt, but let’s give the guy some credit: That was a valiant effort to resist the unstoppable hands of plot-fate.

When he goes back to the house, he chats with Alice, who once again foresees him planning to leave. She doesn’t want him to, and NOT for romantic reasons but out of genuine sister/friend love. They have a moment of mental movie time watching her highly scattered visions about him, wherein she predicts his life is at a crossroads. He makes a joke about her sounding like a carnival fortuneteller, which is actually a good jab, well done Ed. He and Alice go get ready for school, with her still openly sad that he might leave again and making sure he knows she will miss him if he has to go. ALICE AND CARLISLE ARE REALLY NICE OKAY, HUZZAH FOR LIKEABLE CHARACTERS

Off they go to school! During which drive we learn Rosalie and Emmett are sickeningly in love, which…did NOT seem apparent in the first two chapters. Seriously, they've barely interacted onscreen so far, and Ed only mentioned that Alice and Jasper are a thing, so these two staring adoringly into each others’ eyes felt a bit outta left field. Turns out the other six vamps in this family are paired off in sweet adorable couples and Ed is the self-proclaimed grumpy old man, which amuses me greatly. Of course, Singleness Is Bad, so naturally Ed will find his soulmate, even if The Plot has to ram feelings of attraction for her down his cerebral cortex!

As the others head into school, Ed and Alice hang out by their car to watch Bella drive into the parking lot. Bella is obviously very nervous about snow-driving, which Ed realizes must mean she is Serious and Responsible. Ed finds her worry and Bambi-like clumsiness on the ice endearing, and notes when her snow tire seems to make her emotional. (???)

Ed is working himself up to possibly go talk to her, which would be unwise and bad probably, when suddenly Alice has a VISION OF DOOM!!! In SECONDS, a van will come careening into the parking lot, and Bella will be CRUSHED LIKE A BUG!!! Woe!!! Calamity!!! Convenient!!! (Seriously, what are the odds someone would have a life-ending car accident in THIS school parking lot with ACTUAL vampire students watching, and of course the target is one vampire’s new obsession? I don’t care what the OC shows have taught us, fatal car accidents on school grounds are NOT common enough for this.)

So Ed ROCKETS into action, SWOOPING her out of the way in the nick of time! But oh no, the van is bouncing back towards them again! He’s risking exposure already, but dangit, this homicidal vehicle shall not take the girl! Edward grabs it and is slammed back, leaving a nice imprint of his shoulders on another car for his trouble. And NOW he’s stuck holding the van up because if he lets go, Bella will probably lose her legs under the tires.

Ed is so done with everything by this point, resulting in my favorite line of the book so far:

“Oh, for the love of all that was holy, would the catastrophes never end?!”

(Dangit, Ed, why can’t you always be this relatable)

Fortunately, between supermanning the van and Bella into safer positions and panicking over Bella having bonked her head on the ice, he’s able to resist his homicidal cravings, even when he tucks her neatly against him. Now he notices she is alert and seems mostly okay aside from the head bonk. To his consternation, however, she immediately asks how the heck he got over here so fast. Ed lies like a professional and badly wants to get her to Carlisle, who has ACTUAL medical experience as opposed to Ed’s “theoretical medical study” (so that answers the question of how useful Ed’s two medical degrees are).

Despite them lying under two vehicles on ice (and Bella complaining that it’s cold when he won’t let her try and crawl out because she could have a neck injury, which YES THAT IS A REASONABLE CONCERN BELLA), Bella chooses this time to call Ed’s bluff. She is DARN CERTAIN he was OVER THERE and NOT right next to her, and Ed is NOT convincing her otherwise. He finally gets her to shush by promising to explain it later, all the while plotting to use her possible head injury to gaslight the heck out of her and everybody else into believing he was definitely standing right beside her and didn’t practically teleport.

People finally get the van away from the trapped duo, and Ed knows the registered nurse who pops up. He discloses Bella’s head injury to said nurse, and Bella acts BETRAYED, reminding Ed that she likes to suffer in silence, to which I say BELLA, POSSIBLE CONCUSSIONS ARE NOT THE KIND OF SUFFERING YOU DO IN SILENCE!!! The girl needs her head checked in MULTIPLE ways!

As Bella is humiliated over enduring standard medical care after an accident, Ed uses his foot to rearrange the reverse sculpture of his shoulders in the other car. Then Bella’s dad, the chief of police, shows up, justifiably freaked out, and Ed realizes how accurate it was when Alice said killing his only daughter would kill him. (AWW!!!) Ooo, ALSO, Ed notices Charlie Swan’s thoughts are a little hard to read! Not as much as Bella’s, but it seems this cerebral lead lining against mind radar is genetic? And here he thought Charlie was slow in the head! (Ed gets +2 points for noting that HE (Ed) was the slow one for assuming that and never noticing he actually just couldn’t hear Charlie’s thoughts clearly.)

Anyhoo, they get to the hospital, and Ed keeps a mental eye on Bella via the paramedics while he finds Carlisle. He’s ashamed he might have revealed their secret, but Carlisle is just proud of him for doing the right thing and saving the girl’s life. THEY HUG! Carlisle is the BEST, guys!!!

After a chuckle about the irony that Ed ended up protecting the girl he was afraid he’d hurt (and Ed quietly angsting about how likely he still is to hurt her), Carlisle goes to check on Bella. Ed fidgets and watches Hospital Brainwaves TV for a while, so despite the agonizing wait, he has plenty of entertainment. Tyler, the van driver, is hurt bad and feels horrible that he almost smashed Bella, and won’t stop apologizing. To Ed’s relief, Bella is sticking to the story Edward gave about his standing right next to her, even though Tyler also didn’t see him. Ed hears Bella say his name for the first time, via Tyler’s thought-ears (???), and wishes he could hear it with his own ears! He also notices Tyler thinking about asking Bella on a date to make up for the near-death experience, and that is somehow so VERY dumb and also feels accurate to how some high school guys might think, so I can’t really argue with it. Ed, naturally, continues to struggle with the realization that his understanding of his own emotions is nowhere near as comprehensive as he’s believed for the past century.

Ed and Carlisle soon have a brief chat over Bella’s X-rays; she’s fine, although Carlisle notes how many healed fractures her skull has and jokes about how often her mom dropped her as a baby. (No, the jokes are too easy, I mustn't. He’s already claimed the best one anyway.) Ed goes on ahead to smooth things over with Bella, who is impatiently pretending to sleep in hopes Tyler will stop apologizing. She also manages to be pouty that Ed didn’t also have to endure the humiliation of a stretcher, be impatient about being asked about her head again, and deny to Carlisle that her head bump feels tender. Ed, who isn't at ALL influenced by his inexplicable sense of attraction to this girl, determines that because she doesn't like to show weakness, she is Brave. I might argue that she is showing more signs of being a self-focused pity-partyer who thinks she knows better than medical professionals and has low tolerance for petty annoyances, but who am I to disagree with the male protagonist?

Bella is released to go home with her dad, which she…doesn’t want to do? Is it going home or being with her dad that bothers her? Between being annoyed at Tyler for his understandable (if repetitive) remorse, being annoyed Edward didn’t have to be fussed over by hospital staff like she did, and apparently not wanting to hang out with her clearly concerned father, she isn’t doing the best job of earning that Selfless tag Ed gave her last chapter. She’s also highly embarrassed that, as Carlisle puts it, “most of the school seems to be in the waiting room.” Ed, on the other hand, is pleased he guessed her reaction correctly. (He’s also envious that Carlisle can touch her like a normal person and not be tempted to eat her like Ed is, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Apparently different vampires don't find the same human hyperdelicious, which is definitely a positive.)

Naturally, Bella is determined to talk about what REALLY happened before she goes home. Ed, once again gripped by the struggle of not eating her, agrees to talk it out in private. It’s time for Vampire Gaslighting! He’s determined to be mean and a jerk and make her disbelieve her own senses (despite aching for her to trust him), and then he will disappear from her life forever. It starts out pretty well, with him being cold enough that she drops her tough girl act. However, she’s still pretty dang determined and reveals just how much SUPER WEIRD STUFF she DEFINITELY NOTICED, like him leaving dents in multiple vehicles but being fine as sunshine!

Ed’s getting a bit nervous at this point and doubles down on the dismissive act, but then she startles him by saying she’s not going to tell anyone. Regaining his footing, he wants to know why it matters, then. She says she doesn't like lying, so she’d rather know the reason why she’s lying for him. I’m given brief The Princess Bride vibes as Ed essentially tells her “get used to disappointment.”

They scowl at each other for a bit, until finally she, once again more annoyed than self-preserving, wonders why he even bothered to save her. To which he gives what he feels is his first honest reply of this conversation: "I don't know." With that, he ends the discussion by walking off dramatically, as one does.

AND SCENE!

I'd say this chapter was more interesting than the last two! Carlisle is a gem, I am ALWAYS down for a positive and supportive dad character and I will fight for this compassionate good-humored doctorpire. The exposition was SLIGHTLY less focused on Ed’s INNER TURMOIL thanks to the action scene, but don’t worry, there was still plenty of inner turmoil. Bella continues to act contrary to the definitions Ed labels her with, although I can kinda respect her refusing to be gaslighted and standing firm on what she knew she’d seen. Despite Ed’s numerous declarations that today would certainly be the last day he sees her, however, I do not hold out much hope for his success.

As we leave this chapter, here’s my recreation of the “small list” Edward is reportedly keeping of Bella’s character traits! I sure can’t wait to see what else gets added in the coming days!

Ed’s Questionable Bella Vocab List:

Advanced (See Also: Intelligent For A Human)

Selfless (See Also: Martyr)

Fascinating (See Also: Interesting, Not Like Other Humans)

Discerning (See Also: Intuitive, Perceptive)

Amusing

Serious

Responsible

Brave

Chapter 4-> (Coming Soon)

#River reads midnight sun #Midnight sun #twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #literary analysis #kinda?#more like satiric analysis?#Or satiric summary?#i do not know what to call this thing I am doing #Oh well so long as we’re all having fun thats what matters!

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hollywoodxwhore · 10 months

Text

Ours | Chapter Twelve

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: ANGST (it's going to get worse after this chapter so please check content warnings), swearing, depression, col over reacting, col & presley arguing, mentions of domestic abuse, MF being a dumb asshole

Colson

I’ve been walking around like a zombie for the past three weeks.

I feel terrible about it. I should be celebrating our album, celebrating the fact that I’m married, celebrating my birthday that passed by weeks ago, but I can’t. April turned into May and as the weather warms and the days get longer, I just can’t pull myself out of this hole.

I barely talk to anyone, even Presley. She’s understanding and kind and patient but I know how much it hurts her. We fall asleep together most nights but we haven’t had sex since before Megan’s post came out. I miss her, of course I do.

I find her in the kitchen, finishing up dinner, and before she notices me, I take a second to watch her. She looks like she’s lost some weight from her already thin frame. Her hair is in a messy claw clip and she wears sweats and a giant t-shirt. Come to think of it, she’s been acting depressed, too. Probably because her husband has turned into a depressed lump whom half the world hates. Maybe half the world is dramatic, but it feels like it.

I haven’t been on social media and I’ve only been replying to those closest to me. Even then, my replies are few and far between. I can only imagine what’s being said about me. My lawyer told me Megan was forced to delete her post, but it’s not like it matters. Everyone already saw it. Everyone already drew their own conclusions.

As Presley turns around to place our bowls on the island, she spots me. She straightens up a little and her face, a mask of misery and exhaustion, transforms into a weak smile. She’s trying so hard for me but I can tell she’s also feeling broken. I imagine I’d feel the same way if she was going through something painful. I sigh and walk over to her. She turns to look up at me and I slide my arms around her waist, pulling her in.

“Col,” she murmurs, nuzzling her face against my neck. I say nothing. I stand there and hold my wife, trying my best to draw strength from her. But nothing is better and everything is fucked up and I’m so scared. I just need Presley. I need to be close to her, to forget the rest of the world.

I bend to scoop her up and her legs go easily around my waist. I settle her on the island and press my forehead to hers, my hands sliding over her thighs. “Pres,” I say roughly. Her hand delicately rests on my cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been myself.”

“Colson,” Presley tries, shaking her head, but I continue.

“It’s not fair for me to shut you out. I just don’t have anything productive to say,” I mutter.

“Talking about your feelings isn’t unproductive, Col,” Presley gently points out. “I just want you to tell me what you’re feeling. What you’re thinking.”

“I’m…I’m fucking scared,” I say haltingly, like the words don’t want to come out. “I don’t know what this is going to mean for my career. It could kill me, Pres.”

Presley chews her lip. “Quite honestly, there are a ton of abusive men in Hollywood and they’re pretty much all forgiven.”

My brow furrows. “But I’m not an abuser,” I say tightly.

“No, Col, I know that,” Presley says, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean–”

I push away from her, shaking my head. “Don’t even compare me to those assholes,” I say, anger and fear rising in my chest.

Presley’s eyes widen as she hops down from the counter. “Colson, I’m not–”

“You fucking believe her, don’t you?” I scoff, frowning deeply at my wife.

“Colson, you’re–”

“Nah, that’s fucking cute, Presley,” I say shortly, tearing a hand through my hair. “Thought you of all people had my back.”

“Colson, stop!” Presley pleads, crossing her arms protectively across her chest.

“Let me guess, you’re going to ask for a divorce soon,” I scoff. I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t want to be blindsided again. If she’s going to leave, I need to be prepared for it.

“Stop. You just want to hurt your own feelings,” Presley shoots back, her eyes narrowing. “You know I don’t feel that way.”

“Maybe you fucking do, though,” I mutter, and Presley explodes.

“Oh, fuck off!” she snaps, her eyes wide and fierce with anger. “I’ve been nothing but supportive and patient and sweet to you. I don’t force you to talk. I don’t tell you what to do. And now you want to put shit on me?”

“Presley,” I say, heart sinking.

She shakes her head, holding a hand up. “You can wallow in your own fucking misery by yourself tonight,” she says. “I’m going to Cash’s.” With that, she abandons the kitchen and takes the stairs two at a time up to our room.

Panic rises within me and I want to follow her but I feel frozen in place. She comes downstairs a few minutes later. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Presley slips into a pair of slides, shoulders her bag, and slams out of the house.

And now, I’m completely alone.

Presley

I wake up at Cash’s place the next morning with my eyes so swollen I can barely open them.

I don’t let Colson see how much this all impacts me because he’s the one really dealing with it. I’m just the wife. But I’m also the one who sees what’s being said on social media. I’m the one that interacts most with Jason, Colson’s lawyer. I’m the one who responds to texts from friends and emails about interviews. I don’t think Colson has any idea how much I’ve been doing since this all happened.

I’m completely exhausted. I miss my husband. I miss how things were just a month ago, before Megan ruined everything. She can’t stand seeing Colson happy with someone else. I see it for exactly what it is, but too many people still see Megan as this sexy, perfect woman and how dare MGK even breathe the same air as her!

I hate her, and I don’t hate people. Usually, I’m pretty indifferent to anyone I don’t know. I’m protective of those I love, but I’m pretty good at just brushing people off. But I actually hate Megan. The fact that she’s making allegations like this for attention, for revenge on Colson for not taking her back when she was the one who hurt him in the first place. Colson is right – he’ll probably never come back from allegations like this.

Jason is at a standstill with things; Megan’s lawyer isn’t very communicative, but I wake up with a strong feeling that I have to do something about this and very fucking soon. I stare at the ceiling for a long time, fingers twitching. “Fuck it,” I mutter, snatching my phone off the nightstand. Do not disturb is still on, so I ignore any notifications and scroll down, finding her original text to me. I type up the message and stare at it for three minutes before I finally hit send.

There. Can’t take it back now.

It’s raining as I navigate LA traffic, hoodie pulled over my head. I must look wild right now, no makeup, messy hair, sweats and a hoodie. Slides on my feet. But I don’t give a fuck. This ends today.

I send a text to announce my arrival and the gate slowly creeps open. It gives me some satisfaction that her house is smaller than ours and nowhere near as nice or unique. I park in front of the garage and walk up to the front door. I should be nervous but I’m not. I’m angry. I’m motivated. She doesn’t get to do this.

Before I even walk up the steps, the door is open. Megan stands there, one hand curled around the door, her long nails like talons. It’s funny – I used to have such a crush on Megan Fox. She was that girl-next-door kind of sexy, a little daring in the things she’d say but still coy enough. But up close, it’s clear just how much surgery she’s gotten done, and it doesn’t suit her. She can do whatever she wants; anyone can. But that doesn’t mean it looks good.

We nod at each other and I step inside as she moves out of my way. “Shoes off, please,” she says, and I leave my slides by the door. I follow her into a stark white dining room area. It’s the exact opposite of comfortable here. How does anyone live like this?

“Have a seat,” Megan says, gesturing to one of the stiff chairs. I need to play this the right way, so I do as I’m told. She goes to the other side of the table and has a seat, slowly pushing her long hair off her shoulder. Her eyes find mine and she regards me for a second. Then, she smirks. “Colson has a type.”

“I don’t think he does,” I say, unable to help myself. “Where you’re a cold, vindictive bitch, I’m actually nice and I care about him.”

Megan snickers, quirking a brow. “Good to know you have some bite to you, Presley,” she says. “Why did you want to come here?”

“I thought we could have tea and girl talk,” I say, cocking my head to the side. “Why do you think I’m here, Megan?” I’m trying to keep it together, but now that I’m across the table from her, my anger is an entity in the room with us.

She smirks but then it fades. She’s an actress but not a very good one. She’s trying so hard to look broken and sad but I see right fucking through it. “Has he hit you yet?” she asks.

“Cut the bullshit,” I say, tone clipped. “You and I both know Colson never laid a hand on you.”

“Oh, he laid hands on me several times, if you catch what I’m saying,” she says, that smirk reappearing. “Does he tell you you’re the most stunning woman he’s ever seen while he fucks you?” She leans forward, pressing her huge, fake breasts up. “He once told me I have the nicest body of any woman he’s been with. Has he said that to you?”

She’s trying to hurt me. She’s trying to get me to snap. This is what she does. I absolutely refuse to give into her games.

“So you’re saying any time he touched you, it was consensual,” I say.

Megan rolls her eyes. “Of course. You guys are all idiots,” she says. “Colson can posture all he wants but you know he’d never hurt a fly. But it’s so easy to get people to believe it. He has a reputation, after all. Aren’t you quite a bit younger than he is?”

“And aren’t you ten-plus years older than me and trying to scare me?” I shoot back. There it is – a tiny crack in the persona. A flicker of insecurity. It empowers me. “Why can’t you just let us be happy? You didn’t even want him. You left him, remember?”

Megan leans back, crossing her arms. “And now I want him back,” she says, eyes burning into mine.

“Do you think this is the way to get him back?” I ask, incredulous. “Holy shit. That’s so sad.”

“Don’t do that,” she says, a sour look taking over her features. “Don’t try to make me feel pathetic. It won’t work.”

“You need to admit that Colson never hurt you. Or his lawyer is going to sue you for everything you fucking have,” I say coldly.

“So what?” Megan snorts. “He can go right ahead. What’s done is done. No one will ever forget that I put that post out there.” She shrugs.

“But he never hit you. He never physically assaulted you,” I say.

“Of course he didn’t,” Megan scoffs. “Like I said, he was a pussy.”

My nostrils flare in anger but I’m almost done. “I want you to admit it,” I mutter. “To me.”

“Really?” Megan says, a grin broadening on her face. “You want me to admit that Colson never hurt me? He didn’t. In fact, I hit him. Several times. He deserved it.” Another crack in the exterior. A cold, desolate anger that I’ve never seen in anyone else before. This woman is fucking scary.

“You’re sick,” I say, getting to my feet. “Leave us the fuck alone.”

“We’ll see about that,” Megan says from where she sits. I slip into my shoes and leave.

As soon as I get in the car, I stop the audio recording, a smile growing slowly on my face. I toggle to the end of the recording, stopping it right before her confession. I got it. I fucking got it.

This ends now.

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