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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

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

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

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

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~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That leaves... a widow?

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

So he must be joking.

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

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now I do.

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

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

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

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

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

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

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

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

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

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

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

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

I still haven’t.

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

God, what an Italian name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Konechno.” Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My father is an arms-dealer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

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

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

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

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

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

My new home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My fiancé.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She also didn’t say hello.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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NEXT CHAPTER

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anonymous0writer · 4 years

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Not Together Anymore

Author: @anonymous0writer

Summary: The break up hurt. It hurt a lot. So why is he jumping in to save you?

Warnings: Swearing. Alcohol use. Fighting.

A/N: Shout out to @lindzaylove, for giving me this idea. (You’re the best) This is pretty long, and unedited, sorry. The passages in italics are flash backs.

Let me know if you want a second part!

It hurt. It hurt when he said it. And it hurt now. It never stopped.

“Y/N? Can we talk?”

Usually, those words never sounded good, but he’d used the excuse before just so you could spend time alone. So no alarm bells went off in your head. No red flags waved. Honestly, you probably should have known by the tone of his voice, but you were distracted. Kie and Pope were arguing over a silly that had you doubling over in laughter and John B.’s side comments made it all the more hilarious. And when he called your name, you took a second before turning toward, him, eyes shining with joy and mouth cracked into a wide smile. You were blinded by the pure happiness, so you didn’t see the hurt about to be unleashed. Maybe it was good you were so happy then, because it was a good moment, and it’d be one of the few you’d have in the following weeks. But maybe it was also a bad thing, because when he talked, you came crashing down so hard from your happy high. And it hurt when you came crashing down. Either way, the hurt was inevitable.

You sat on the beach, a log pressed against your back, rough and hard. The sea pushed and pulled a few feet away from you, content on doing it’s sole job. Fade in, fade out. The water crashed and sprayed the sand at your feet. You were sitting far away from the festivities of the kegger at the Boneyard. Usually, you’d be in the heart of the dancing and drinking, but nothing eased the pain in your chest or the memories bubbling to the surface. Really. You’ve tried everything. Getting high, getting wasted, fucking another guy. Nothing worked. You felt like shit every time you got high. You even tired not coming down from the highs. You wanted to stay in that place forever, but it didn’t work. Plus, that place didn't block him out. Getting wasted wasn’t nice, because the headache and the throwing up and the beyond shitty feeling the next morning made you spiral farther down the bad path you were going down. Even fucking another guy didn’t work to well. Sure, you were screaming his name, but before, after and sometimes during, you thought of him. So now you were left by yourself, finding no escape. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes briefly. He fucked you up.

You grinned wildly, and climb off the couch, following him into the bedroom with a bounce in your step. You giggled when he closed the door. He was so close, breath fanning across your face, eyes watching you and lips mere inches away. He still made your heart race and your breathing uneven. He had a crazy affect on you. And you’d been together for almost a year. This is why you saw a future with him. He still made your heart race even after a long time. You giggled, putting your hands on his shoulders, one hand curling around the back of his neck and pulling him closer. You leaned in to kiss him, but he pressed his lips into a thin line, jaw clenched. He didn’t outright pull away, but he didn’t come closer, just stiffened his back, standing an arms length from you. You frowned deeply. Why was he pulling away? Usually he couldn’t keep his hands off you, let alone his lips. He was always pressing kisses to you neck while you lounged on the couch. Always wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder as you talked to Pope or Kie. And whenever John B. was teaching you to drive the HMS Pogue, he would pout and have an arm around your waist. He always wanted your attention and kisses. He just wanted you. So why was he pulling away? A bad feeling settled in your gut, and a knot formed.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. You leaned closer, thinking he just didn’t get it. But no, he pulled away a little bit. With a sting in your heart, you dropped your arms. “JJ?” You pressed when he stayed silent.

The blonde looked up, jaw clenched and an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place. The knot in your stomach tightened. You had a horrible, sinking feeling. His blue eyes didn’t seem as happy as they used to be. They seemed sad and determined. JJ ran a hand through his hair, sighing. And then he opened his mouth, speaking the words that would break your heart.

“We aren’t good for each other, Y/N. We should take a break.”

Your stomach dropped. He was breaking up with you? Your heart raced for a different reason, and the bad feeling increased to the point where you thought you were going to throw up. Break up with you. His words rang in your head, a scream of heart break. We aren’t good for each other. You aren’t good for me. You aren’t enough. His words twisted and morphed into your nightmare. Tears pricked at the back of your eyes. You gaped at the boy.

JJ’s expression hadn’t changed. Your frowned. “A break?” You shook your head. A break never meant a break. It meant breaking up. It meant avoiding each other, finding other people, moving on. Forgetting the memories you shared. Forgetting the love. Moving on. That’s what it meant. Not, ‘let’s take a break and then figure this out and get back together’. A break meant extracting yourself from their life. But that would be impossible. You shared the same friends, went to the same school, hung out in the same spots. One of you had to leave. And you were positive that person would be you. You were going to have to say goodbye to your friends. Goodbye to your best friend John B. Bye to your sister, Kie. Bye to your levelheaded smart ass Pope. And goodbye to your boyfriend. “JJ, a break isn’t a break. It’s a break up.”

JJ threw his hands up. “Fine. We’re breaking up.”

You shook your head again. The words made your heart ache and your vision swim with tears. “You’re breaking up with me. Why?”

JJ swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing. Tears fell down your cheeks, little rivers of sadness. You hated this. Hated that he felt the need to break up, and you didn’t even know why. Or what you did wrong.

“We’re not good for each other. We’re too dependent.” He repeated.

Your heart broke. ‘We’re too dependent’ turned into ‘you’re too clingy’. You had messed up big time, but there was nothing you could do to fix it.

You sighed, debating whether or not to enter the crowd to find Kie and tell her you were going to split. It was better than just leaving. After the break up, you still stayed in touch with the pogues, but it was mostly Kie. You didn’t hang out at the Chateau as much as you used to. The first week after the break up was when you tried getting wasted or high or fucked. After the second week you completely avoided everyone, convincing yourself that the rest of the pogues hated you. It was completely irrational, but it what you believed. It wasn’t until Kie came over unannounced for a sleep over that you eased back into regular life with your crew. You missed them. All of them so much. And JJ. Even though he hurt you so horribly, you still ached to kiss him. Or just talk to him. How could you still love someone even though they broke your heart?

You stood, brushing the sand off your shorts. You walked back into the throng of people, dancing and drinking. You could use a drink, but over the week of getting wasted and drinking alcohol almost constantly, you decided it was best not to drink for a long time. You were surprised you didn’t get addicted, and didn’t want to push it.

You looked for your curly haired friend, but she was no where to be seen. You sighed. You just wanted to send her a quick goodbye, have her pass it along to John B. and Pope, and leave. Quickly, you spotted a tall guy, curly hair tamed under a backwards cap and an open button down shirt. John B. You called out his name and once he spotted you, he grinned.

“Hey, Y/N!” As you joined his side, he flung an arm around your shoulders. He was definitely a little tipsy. “Where were you?”

You bit your lip. “Just hanging out.” You peered up at his freckled face. “How many drinks have you had, John B.?”

He laughed. “Not enough.” He seemed to realize why you was here and frowned. “Are you leaving?”

You nodded. “Yep.” You peered at the crowd, still looking for your best friend. “Where’s Kie?”

John B. shrugged, taking a sip of the alcohol filling the red cup. “Stay, Y/N. Really. It’s not fucking fair we barely get to see you anymore.”

Your heart ached. It wasn’t fair, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing JJ. And you were pretty fucking sure he didn’t want to see you at all.

“You know why I don’t come around often. I want to, but he doesn’t want me around.” Anger started to fill your veins. It wasn’t fair at all. “So talk to him about it.” You spat.

Making a rash decision, you agreed to stay and told your oldest friend you were going to get a drink. It wasn’t a rational decision, but your judgment was clouded by the anger. It wasn’t fair you never got to see your friends. They were your friends too. Hell, you’d known John B. since birth and he’d met JJ in second grade. If anything, JJ shouldn’t see them. He chose to break up with you, for a fault of yours, but he did it. He should have to deal with the consequences. Not you. Your thoughts spiraled into angrier, more delusional ones, but you didn’t stop them. You needed this. To feel another emotion other than sadness. Plus, not seeing the pogues everyday was making it worse.

You arrived at the keg, filling your red solo cup to the brim, the beer sloshing over the rim and falling to the sandy ground. You took a deep breath and with a final angry thought, you chugged the beer. To hell with JJ!

“Hey pretty girl.”

A voice lulled you out of chugging the rest of your beer. You looked up from the rim of the cup, surprised. You lowered the cup, and took in the sight before you. Two boys, grinning at you, red cups decorating their own hands. The first one was tall and dark. Tan skin, wide smile, dark eyes and even darker hair. The second was average height and reminded you of the boy who broke your heart. Hell, they could be brothers. He had the same blonde hair, but this random’s was cut shorter. God, the eyes were uncanny. Bright blue, same glint. The lips got you too. If the eyes didn’t have you on your knees, the lips did. The ones that used to kiss you and whisper “I love you’ into your skin after long nights.

He pulled out of you, flopping next to you on the bed. You flipped on your side, facing him. You have him a sleepy smile as you pulled the covers over your naked body. You giggled as he pulled you close, hands on your hips. He peppered your faces with kisses, unfazed by you laughing loudly and telling him to stop. He pulled away, smiling.

“Is this better?” He asked, tickling your sides. You withered underneath his touch, barely able to catch a breath you were laughing so hard.

“JJ!” You squealed, and his fingers finally stopped their attack.

You were pressed against him, craning your neck just to look at him. The only view you got was of his lips. He was talking, but you weren’t listening. Just memorized by the way his lips moved. You thought of all the blessed things those lips gave you. Unmentionable things. But the first I love you, and the countless ones that followed it. The words that sparked your relationship further than friends. The words the spilled out of his mouth that had you laughing your head off. Or the words he first spoke to you when John B. introduced you to him in second grade. Or the words that confessed the horrible things his father did to him. The words that broke your heart, but always repaired you. You sigh, delighted in watching his lips move and lull you into a sleep. Sometimes it wasn’t words at all. It was the smiles. The grins, the smirks and the winks that came along with them. The smiles after you beat him in a race to the waves you were surfing. Or the grin he always gave you when you said something funny. And the bright, genuine smiles that made his face light up when he saw you. Just because he saw you.

“Are you listening to me at all?” He asked, lips ceasing their movement.

You blinked and grinned sleepily at him. You buried your face into his chest. You mumbled an apology against the warm plains of his chest. He laughed, the sound amplified in your ears. His arms wrapped around you tightly and he rested his chin on your head. You wrapped your legs around him, becoming a tangle of limbs and sheets. JJ pressed a kiss to your hair, running his fingers gently through the locks.

“I love you so much.”

You gasped, the memory fading. You desperately wanted it back. It was one of your favorites. It was a time when nothing was wrong, and you two were happy. None of this avoiding each other and not speaking bullshit. How could you go from that to this?

The tall one smirked. “I’m Caleb.”

You smiled. They seemed nice. Plus, your mind was already a little muddled by the alcohol coursing through your veins. “Y/N.”

“This is Jack.”

Your heart gave a painful squeeze. Jack was so close to JJ. Hell, it could even be JJ’s real name. You swallowed hard. Jesus- what were you doing?

“You want company?” Caleb asked, watching as you tipped the rest of the beer into your throat in one smooth movement.

“Sure.” You said, “I’m getting another drink.” You turned back around, and filled the cup halfway, downed it and filled it back up to the brim. Tomorrow you would hate you right now. But you didn’t care. You just wanted to talk to two nice boys and forget how similar one was to your ex. You shivered at the words. Ex. You’d never get used to that.

You walked past the boys, letting them follow you to one of the bonfires. The flames licked the sky, sparking embers that floated down to the sand. The warmth from the raging flames touched your skin, lighting you up. You felt better, warmth spreading through you. Jack came to stand on your right. You three fell into easy conversation, Jack taking a step closer. You kept drinking, trying not to focus on the boy with the same eyes as JJ and only held the eyes of the other.

Suddenly, as you were talking, staring down at your almost empty cup, you’re mind reeling from so much alcohol at once. The beer had been switched to something stronger. Which wasn’t a bad thing. It helped blur the lines. Jack closed the gap between you, lifting your chin and pressing a hungry kiss to your lips.

You startled, and then kissed back. Rational thoughts having left a long time ago. Then his hands gripped your hips, and slid to your butt, sparking a memory you buried deep.

“Did you miss me?” A familiar voice teased.

You spun, squealing with delight as you saw your boyfriend walking down the beach towards where you and Kie were sun tanning. You picked yourself off the sand as fast as you could, speeding toward him. Your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough as JJ stopped, and opened his arms, grinning wildly. You crashed into his awaiting arms. He stumbled backwards, but held you tightly. He spun you around, laughing.

“Hey baby.” He said softly, placing you back down. You hadn’t seen him in a week. You’d gone to visit some family and the day you got back, which was yesterday, JJ had been at work, and couldn’t see you until today. The whole day, as you and the rest of the pogues were waiting for JJ to show at the beach for a day of surfing, you’d been bouncing up and down. You were so excited to see him again. You had missed everything about the boy, but you missed having his kiss against your hair and his hugs where he squeezed your butt. You also hated the fact that you had to sleep alone.

“Hi,” You breathlessly exclaimed. He hands traveled to your hips and farther as he leaned in. You kissed him as his hands squeezed your butt before going back to your hips. You smiled at him. “I missed you.”

“I know.” He says, kissing your hair before starting to walk to Kie and the rest of the crew. “Me too.”

You instantly pulled away from the boy, scared. Scared of how the memory hit you out of no where. Scared of how this boy was just a slight variation of the ones in your memories. Scared of how quickly you fell into the deep end.

Jack didn’t take the hint, and kissed you again. You pushed him away. “Stop.” But your voice was quiet, mind still consumed by the memory. That was such a good memory. All of them were so good. And Jack and his lips and eyes and hair didn’t help you get over JJ.

“’C’mon, we’re just having fun.” Jack insisted, still too close. His breath fanned over your face, sparking yet another memory.

The keys jingling in the lock and the footsteps coming down the hall had you shoving the blonde into your closet. You followed soon after, closing the closet door and shutting off the light. You both listened to the movements of your mother throughout the house.

You couldn’t help it, you giggled loudly, trying to stop it by pressing your face into JJ’s chest. He huffed a laugh, trying to shush you. You weren’t supposed to be home. You were, as far as your mother knew, having a fun night with Kiara. At her house. Not pressed against your boyfriend in your closet because you lied to your mother so you could have a night alone with your boyfriend. Not making out on your bed before you heard your mother’s keys in the door.

“Shh!” JJ said, eyes wide but laughing as he pulled back to look at you.

You pressed your lips together to stop laughing like an idiot. You calmed down and finally realized how close he was. You were chest to chest in the tight quarters that made up your closet. His breath fanned across your face. You didn’t mind, you liked the close proximity. You liked hearing his breathing. It was soothing.

“Hi.” You whispered.

JJ gave you a funny a look, but he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hi.”

You pushed Jack away again. “Stop!” You glared. You took a step back, but met the chest of Caleb. His mouth was close to your ear. “We’re just having fun, Y/N.”

You shivered, his words chilling. You wanted out of this, but your back was pressed against Caleb’s chest and you were inches from Jack’s hungry lips. You shoved Jack away, “Get away from me!”

The alcohol made you dizzy, so you stumbled a foot away from the boys before Jack was there again. He smiled at you.

“C’mon. Just a dance?” You frowned, about to protest, but he was grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to Caleb.

“No!” You screeched, catching the attention of other party goers around the fire. “Let me go!”

The party goers stared, frozen. You tugged yourself out of Jack’s tight grip. You fled, knowing the two creeps were on your heels. You pushed yourself farther into the throng of people. The crowd was thick and loud, so you hoped you’d loose them. But you smacked right into Caleb.

“Where’re you going, pretty girl?”

You shivered, but Caleb smiled, reaching for your hand. A blur of blonde and gray flashes before you, positioned themselves in front of you, blocking off the tall creep.

“Get the hell away from her man!” The voice yelled.

For a painful moment, you thought the blonde was just Jack, but after a second you knew exactly who it was. The height, the build. The gray, sleeveless top, and the shorts and boots. The blonde hair and the voice.

It was JJ. Your heart gave another painful squeeze.

“Dude, chill. We’re just having some fun.” Caleb scoffed.

“No you weren’t.” You could tell JJ was glaring even though you stared at his back. God, you could recognize him just by his back. The way he moved, his tan skin, the freckle on his left shoulder blade. It was JJ. “Now get the hell out of here.”

“No. I just want to enjoy the party.”

“Get out of here!” JJ insisted, shoving the taller guy back.

And a fight ensued. Caleb tacked JJ, both boys throwing punches. Blood sprayed and the sounds of a fist smacking against skin filled the Boneyard. People cleared, a circle forming around the fighting boys. They looked on, hunger for a fight bright in there eyes. You looked up as John B., Pope and Kie pushed they’re way to the front. You met eyes with Pope.

“JJ!” Kie screamed.

“JJ! Get off him.” John B. yelled, the three trying desperately to diffuse the fight without having to get in the middle of it.

“JJ! Please!” You yelled. Maybe he’d listen to you. He’d done it before. Plus, if you still had feelings, maybe then he did too. “Stop!”

JJ kept going, getting pinned to the ground and then flipping. It was an even matched fight. The taller boy, taller and stronger, but JJ with the experience. The pogues continued to scream at him until John B. and Pope pulled JJ off the bloody Caleb.

The crowd quickly eased back into a party once Caleb got up and left with Jack, and JJ was contained by JB and Pope. It was almost scary had easily people forgot the violent fight. You stood in the middle, unsure of what to do. Thank JJ or getting the two creeps off your back? Or leave, just to continue the pattern of avoiding each other?

You stepped closer to the pogues. Kie was arguing with him about stopping the string of fighting. JJ’s face was already starting to bruise, purple marring his skin like a tattoo. His lip was split and blood ran from his cheek. You winced. You’ve seen him get into plenty of fights. But none quite like that.

The boys were fighting. Actually, JJ and Rafe Cameron. They fought all the time, always on each other’s nerves and ready to throw a punch. They loved fighting. They were fighting for their sides. JJ for the Pogues. Rafe for the Kooks. They were natural enemies. Currently, JJ was getting the shit beat out of him. Rafe was straddling him, fists pounding into JJ’s face.

“Rafe! Stop!”

You looked up. The voice wasn’t familiar. It wasn’t Kie, but it was female. It was Sarah Cameron, the Kook princess. Her blonde hair loose and falling around her shoulder, her pretty face contorted into one of concern.

“Please stop, Rafe!”

JJ had gotten Rafe underneath him, and started beating the shit of out him. You swallowed, your voice hoarse from begging your boyfriend to stop.

“JJ! Please!” The last word was filled with pleading and desperation.

JJ did stop. He threw the Kook to the ground before standing and spitting on him. You sighed in relief. You hurried to reach him, taking his hand. You studied the damage done. It was bad. You had to admit. Rafe Cameron knew how to throw a punch. You glanced over at the boy. Sarah was kneeling over him, helping him up. But she wasn’t happy. You could faintly hear her lecture him about getting into stupid fights. She looked up at you, eyes meeting.

You smiled at her. You’re thought process was the same You both wanted them to stop. You wanted to make sure they were safe, but were angry about all the stupid fights they picked. You also smiled to make sure there wasn’t bad blood between you. God knows you didn’t need another feud between Kooks and Pogues. Sarah smiled back. You sighed. No bad blood.

You stood still, staring at JJ and your friends. Kie was done, rolling her eyes, annoyed with her stubborn friend. She walked away and caught your eye. She met you, asking if you were okay. Kie’s dark eyes were watchful. You studied her. Her hair was pulled into a bun, and she was wearing more muted colors. That’s why you didn’t spot her in the crowd.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

You nodded. How were you going to explain what just happened? You got drunk, breaking a rule you promised you’d keep and kissed a boy that was the spitting image of your ex? But when the memories of you two together came back, you didn’t want his touch? And you pushed him away, but they wouldn't leave you alone, so JJ intervened? Would you tell her how you still loved him?How you weren’t okay hadn’t moved on?

“I’m okay.”

Kie smiled, pulling you into a hug. It felt good to hug her. Her scent was familiar and comforting. You loved Kie like a sister, and she you. Kie pulled away, her brows pulling together in confusion.

“Did you know why JJ was punching that guy? Getting into another fucking fight?”

You blinked. Another fight? “Um,” You started, but were cut off by Pope. He called her name, waving her over. Kie nodded to you and met JB and Pope. You could faintly hear them talking.

“He got into a fight because the guy was an asshole, apparently.”

“Does Y/N know why?”

“Who was the guy?”

“I think the fight was because of Y/N.”

You zoned them out, not interested in hearing their ideas. Without thinking, you scanned the crowd, and your eyes fell on a familiar blonde. JJ. Your heart ached. How could you have so much love for a guy who caused you so much pain?

But JJ wasn’t staring off into space. He was looking right at you. His blue eyes still striking even from far away. You met eyes. No one looked away.

“We’re not good for each other. We’re too dependent.”

You finally understood. You weren’t too dependent. He was.

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harringtonstudios · 4 years

Text

best friend’s ex.

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away.

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting and it’s very long <3 took some creative liberty here so imagine 2020!kells but he hasn’t made it just quite yet in the industry. this is heavily based off the song release tonight with blackbear so enjoy (maybe while listening!)

masterlist!

The circles in New York are different than the ones in Los Angeles. There’s a hint of familiarity in the New York circles, everyone seems to know each other connected by one person or a distant story of that one night the whole crowd tripped on molly. It’s dizzying, intricately knowing every single person backstage or at some club without recognizing them exactly.

You haven’t gotten used to the life, not yet acclimated with the high-fives and looks thrown your way at a party, or the nameless phone numbers crowding your text messages. It’s all new, fun and exciting and you have no one to thank but your best friend.

She’s made for this life, for the late nights and the rushes, the sticky floors and glittery lipgloss. This is her environment, where she thrives, and sometimes when you look at her in the club, necklaces shining with the overhead lights, you find it hard to connect this Domi to the one who you’ve seen crying on your bedroom floor after watching a despairing animal shelter commercial. But then she throws you a grin, crowds close, drapes her arm over your shoulder, and it just makes sense.

It’s been years of friendship, ever since you two met at freshman orientation for college. Her roommate was terrible, and more often than not, she’d be camping out on your twin-sized bed, offering you bites of her snacks in exchange for a safe haven. You both hadn’t really been into the party scene at school, too busy scrambling for reports and fibbing results for the endless lab sessions.

Domi graduated a semester early, spent an entire summer taking accelerated classes so she could go fly off to New York right before the new year started. That’s when things seemed to change. You’d been upset with her, hints of jealousy tinging in when she’d send you pictures of fancy clothes and people she was hanging out with, the nicely decorated venues she’d find herself in. She invited you to come to the city a few weeks in, buzzing on Facetime about backstage passes.

Then you were graduating yourself, packing two suitcases and jetting halfway across the country to live in the shitty apartment Domi’d been renting out with a couple of strangers. It had been hard to settle down at first, the air was different in the city and you’d had to up your resting bitch face game when you sat on the subways late at night, but before you knew it, you were enjoying the city that never sleeps, best friend right by your side.

Colson had stumbled into your life a year ago, and then been ripped out six months after. He was a up and coming musician (self-proclaimed) and had taken a chance bet on the city, moved from Cleveland with his friends and a mixtape. He was beautiful in a rugged way, angled cheekbones and lanky limbs, but Domi had taken one look and called dibs, so you tampered any attraction down.

It hadn’t taken long for them to start dating, even if Domi claimed they were just fooling around, it was clear to see that there was some level of intimacy there, a relationship itching to be formed. You’d been happy for her truly and it was easier than you’d expected to fall into a camaraderie with the guys.

Colson’s friends were funny, quick on their toes and absolutely chaotic. They fit into New York better than you did, and almost every single night, you would find yourself at their apartment, playing shitty drinking games and jamming to loud music.

Domi kept the relationship as lowkey as she could, and at some point, you would hear less and less about Colson. It didn’t really hit you then, but it was the beginning of the end in a way, and then she was walking in, eyes red and wet before yelling out the fated words, “We broke up.”

Everything you had gotten used to was suddenly taken away. You spent weeks consoling her, reminding her that she was better than this guy, stronger and that time was the only way this would heal. She begrudgingly listened, and then took your phone from you, casually blocking Colson’s number along with all his friends.

At first, you’d been mildly upset. She was the one who’d fucked up, the one who’d decided to break up with him, so why was this effecting you? It didn’t make sense, they were still your friends and you liked them more than anyone else you’d met here.

But then she’d given you her patented puppy dog eyes, and you’d dismissed it, decided that if this was what she wanted, so be it. You could stand to lose the drunken nights, your liver would thank you.

Colson Baker and his friends disappeared from your life as fast as they had appeared into it. You spent your nights cooking at home instead of going out, focused on building back your sleep schedule instead of getting drunk off your mind, and the days went by.

Of course, nothing lasts forever and six months later, your coworkers’ are begging you for a night out, like the old times. Everyone’s antsy for your reply, know that you haven’t been to a social function with them in ages, and you take one look at their faces before sighing and agreeing.

The entire office claps, you flip them all off before catching sight of your boss, who simply smiles and shakes his head. There’s a faint flutter in your stomach, memories rising from months ago, parties and late nights, flashes of lights and thumping music. You shrug it off, tap your pen against the desk, bring your focus back to work.

Three hours later, you’re catching the train back home. It isn’t exactly rush hour yet, you’ve gotten out a little earlier than usual, Friday evenings usually being dull at work anyway and you’re glad because there’s less people mulling around in the sticky heat of the train station.

The station doesn’t smell great, there’s a tinge of stale pee filling up the air and you discreetly move to the other side of the station, trying to get as far away from the smell as you can. New York City man.

The train pulls in, and you automatically put in your headphones, music blasting in your ears as you sidle into the train car, passing the passengers coming out. It’s relatively empty, being near the front and you thank the train gods before sliding into an orange seat near the door.

There’s a couple of guys sitting at the other end, they’re loud and boisterous, shoving each other and you give them a once-over before settling into the seat. The train moves, and you pull your purse onto your lap, patting it once before letting your eyes fall close.

The next stop comes abruptly, jolting you out of the little dreamscape you’d created. There’s a shout as the doors open and you pause your music trying to tune into what’s going on. It’s still the group of guys, but now there’s more of them and you roll your eyes at the banter drifting across the car.

The music starts up again and you lean your head back, try to get comfortable again, but it doesn’t work. There’s a weird feeling in your gut, making you uneasy but you brush it off, raise the volume until all you can feel is the dirty bass.

A minute later, someone kicks at your shoes and you open your eyes, ready to angrily scold at them until they can feel the rage across the car.

The words die in your throat. Colson Baker’s standing there in all his glory, lanky arm leaning against the metal, blonde hair puffing around his head, grin lighting up his face.

His nose is pierced now and you take it in, the way it brings out his eyes and you pause the music mumbling out, “Nose ring looks good on you.”

You bite your tongue right after, embarrassed that after months of silence that’s the first thing that falls out of your mouth. He laughs, body shaking and you’re flashed back to nights in his apartment, watching him laugh on the other couch, head thrown back.

“Thanks,” he murmurs before going, “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you answer honestly and there’s another shout from across the car, Colson turning to wave a hand.

“It’s the guys. They didn’t think it was you, but I could tell yanno,” he explains and you raise your eyebrows as he continues, “They’re all still kinda pissed you blocked us.”

The statement falls between you two, awkwardly as the train car rumbles on. You wince a little as he fake coughs to fill the empty space.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that man. You guys were like family,” you carefully mention, hands playing with the hair tie on your wrist.

“It’s cool. I get it, I mean we both know Domi,” he stammers out and his own hand goes to rub at his chin.

This conversation isn’t what either of you expected and you shift up in your seat, trying to change the topic at the mention of your best friend.

“So what’ve you been up to?” you ask and he smiles at the gateway question, eager to get rid of the uncomfortable energy.

“Got signed to a record label,” he murmurs and the smile that takes over your face is unreal. There’s pride blooming in your chest.

“No way!! Oh my god, congrats dude. That’s killer,” you gush out and his cheeks taint red at your words.

“Thanks,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew you’d do it. You’re immensely talented,” you continue on as the train comes to a stop.

It’s not yours but it seems to be his. The guys all shout over at him and he’s looking up and then gazing at you, caught between the two options before he makes up his mind.

He doesn’t choose you, you’re not surprised.

“I appreciate you!” he shouts out before running off the car, joining the rest of the guys on the station.

You turn in your seat and wave at them, catching a couple of glares and hesitant waves back before the car pulls away, to the next destination.

The music starts up again and you will your heart to slow down for reasons you can’t even comprehend.

Domi gives you a look as you rush into your room. Usually after work, you spend time in the kitchen, milling around grabbing little snacks as she cooks, but you actually have plans tonight.

It’s the first time you’re going out in months and you take a quick shower before pulling out all the old outfits you’d shoved into the back of your closet.

There’s a nice dress, black with faint traces of glitter and you eye it for a second before deciding against it. This is a fun night with the coworkers, not your insane best friend who’d always managed to get you to dress your very best.

There’s a pair of skinny jeans tossed into a dresser, and you eye the rips in it before pulling it on. It looks good, tight in all the right places and you root around for a shirt that can be just fancy enough.

There’s a nice purple one tossed in the closet, slipping off of a hanger and you grab it before pulling it on and tying it up in the front.

It’s pretty, makes you look just right and you play around with your hair before sitting down and committing to a makeup look.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing your keys, a pack of gum, gloss and your phone into a small purse. It hangs off of your wrist and you take a look in the mirror before stepping out of your room.

“Where are you going?” Domi asks, her tone slightly cold.

“Night out. Coworkers invited me and I couldn’t say no,” you explain, running your hands down the jeans.

“Oh,” her face falls.

“Do I-look good?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah. You always do bitch,” she half-heartedly adds and you smile at her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you say, grabbing a carrot from the countertop.

“I’ll wait up,” she smirks and you nod before heading out the door.

The club’s only a few stops away and when you swipe your metro card again, you groan at how low the funds are running. You haven’t filled it just yet, and the $1.25 flashes up at you, taunting.

“I’m poor,” you scoff at the machine and the girl swiping next to you laughs.

You get in somehow, sneakily using the swinging baby stroller door and by the time the train pulls up, you’re only running a few minutes late.

It only hits you when you sink into the familiar orange seat that you didn’t tell Domi about running into her ex. You know she doesn’t care as much about Colson now, scorchingly refers to him as that one rapper, but it’s an unspoken rule. You always tell if you run into the ex.

Your fingers tap against your phone screen, wondering if texting her is appropriate but you drop it quickly. It’s not a big deal. You’ll just let her know when you get home tonight.

The doors open, you leave and then you’re stalking towards the club doors, eyeing the long line. The bouncer is staring everyone down, and you wade up to the front. You’ve learned enough tricks in the short party lifestyle you’d had.

“I’m with the VIPs,” you flash your ID and then a $5 discreetly tucked under it. He looks you up and down, grumbles slightly before taking the money from you.

The rope opens and you smile before stepping through into the dark. It’s loud inside already, the lights contrasting the slight evening colors from outside. You look around before you spot the team and walk over to them.

“Hey!!!” they exclaim and then you’re being handed a glass, cheering the night as everyone drinks it down.

It’s tequila, stings in the back of your throat and you cough before wiping your mouth, “God, I haven’t had this in so long.”

“See that’s why we needed you out tonight,” one of them goes, checking your shoulder with theirs. You laugh before agreeing and order your drink of choice, chiming into the conversation.

It’s going so well, the night seems to be twinged with good vibes. You feel nice and loose, arm draped over your nearest friend as you two sway at the songs playing.

There’s a commotion at the door and you guys turn towards the bouncer only to see people scuffling around, pushing to get closer.

“Hey dude! I’m playing tonight. Musical guest here!!!” comes a loud voice, and it rings familiar in your head. It’s faint, digging somewhere into the back of your mind and you get on your tip-toes trying to see.

“Fuck you,” someone else spits and it echoes around the club.

The crowd splits open then, and you get a glimpse at old friends, adjusting their hats as they stalk across to the stage.

Rook’s fuming as he walks past you, and you spot the tell-tale crease on his face, the grit of his teeth. It scares you, the memory of it all after late night game losses, the way he would blow a gasket about cheating.

Slim and Baze wander behind him, they seem cooler, always are, but the anger is brimming under and you look away as they pass you.

AJ isn’t there and you guess he’s already in the club. He’s always been the sensible one, stable and ready to take control of the situation when it inevitably turns bad.

Colson’s following the rest but his eyes are on the crowd, hand going out to meet people, smiling at everyone. There’s a faint cut on his lip, blood trickling out and you want to scream at him. He comes up around to where you’re standing, and you step back, let your coworkers high five him as he passes.

He doesn’t see you, it’s better that way.

You order up another drink, ignore the whispers of the pesky rapper as they fill up the air around you. He’s well known here apparently, people aware of him in the scene. They mumble about the fights, the way he never seems to show up without a cut or bruise.

You take a shot, sip at the alcohol, smile fading as your coworker ravishes on about how good looking the musician is.

It takes about twenty minutes, and then the music shuts off. There’s a squeal of microphone feedback and everyone around you ducks, hands rushing up to cover their ears.

“Fuck,” a mumble comes across the sound system.

There’s another shuffle and your friend grabs your arm, pulling you closer to the stage. There’s already people there, milling around, clutching drinks and you try to stay on the sidelines, out of view.

“We should go closer,” he determines and then you’re being pulled forward again, swimming around in the second row.

Colson is standing front and center in all his glory. The shitty lighting makes him glow, and he looks big, energy filling him up. He pulls the mic off the stand and steps back before going, “Afternoon. We are Machine Gun Kelly.”

The name isn’t familiar. You don’t know it and quite frankly, it doesn’t place anywhere either but that’s all you get before the music starts up. It’s weird, a pace you don’t expect from him and then he’s off, singing with a grit in his voice, fingers flying across a guitar draped over his shoulder.

Everyone seems to bob along in the crowd and you do too, losing yourself in the way he sounds, the tone of his voice as he croons. The music is great, drums harsh and strong, guitar loud behind the vocals.

The set’s over quick and you’re slightly sweating by the end of it. He thanks the crowd before jumping off stage, and you immediately retreat back to the bar, anxious to steer clear of him.

Even in your drunken state of mind, it’s a bright red flashing light: Stay away from Colson. Stay away from the guys.

You switch to water for a while, try to stop your head from spinning with the lights. Everyone you came with is somewhere on the dance floor, so when an arm drapes on your shoulders, you freeze up, still facing the bar.

“Hey,” and then you’re looking up at Slim’s face, sweaty and eager.

“Slim,” you breathe out, vice in your chest loosening at the fact that it isn’t Colson. You don’t know why this is better, but it is.

“What’re you drinking?” he asks, hand going up to call over the bartender.

You don’t have the heart to say water, know that he’ll laugh and then get you a beer, so you murmur, “Get me a shot of vodka?”

His smile widens and he shouts the drink order over the counter before dropping his arm, “You sipping the hard stuff now?”

Shaking your head, you respond, “I’ve always drank the hard stuff.”

“Yeah, back when we hung out,” he slips into the banter, and your heart stops. You didn’t realize it had hurt them this bad, that months later, drunk and high off of a good show, Slim still manages to bring it up, voice tightening slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry about all that. I really am,” you start, but then he’s passing you the drink and locking arms.

“Cheers,” he says and you clink your shot glass against his, tipping it back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out but he throws you a look.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says and then he’s shouting out, “Yo Kells!”

It clicks into place then, the Machine Gun Kelly. It’s his nickname, has been for years apparently since he was rapping in middle school hallways, but he’d always introduced himself as Colson to new friends, let them decide whether the Kells fit him or not.

You hadn’t called him Kells once, in the months of knowing him, had laughed about it a couple of times with Domi, who loved to mock it any chance she could.

“You stalking me?” Kells sleazes out, there’s already a drink in his hand, someone following him around with bright eyes.

“No,” you state, moving away from the counter. The red lights are in full effect, this could end up terribly.

“Seems like it,” he sums up, coming in closer to lean against the bar. His lip is still cut, looks swollen as he approaches you.

“You fucked up your lip,” you state, mind cursing at the lack of filter you seem to have around your best friend’s ex.

“What?” he goes, and then his fingers are rubbing at the fat lip, eyes scrunching, “Guess I did.”

“Well it was nice to see you again,” you try.

“I just got here, you leaving already?” he murmurs, brushing off the person following him.

Slim’s moved to the other end of the bar, Rook’s throwing you a glare.

“Don’t think your friends want me around,” you nod over.

He turns his head and makes some kind of motion. Rook drops his eye contact, head going to duck at the bar. Slim smiles.

“They don’t know what’s good for them,” he mumbles, head turning back. His fingers tap at the bar, and there’s a beer appearing. He smiles at the bartender.

“I’m good for them?” you scoff, there’s a hint of bitterness at your tone, but it’s not directed exactly at them. It isn’t their fault.

“Always have been. The good influence when we would try and do stupid shit,” he says thoughtfully. He’s almost as drunk as you, eyes slightly red.

You laugh at that, “You’re always doing stupid shit. Great set by the way, impressed the fuck out of me.”

“You didn’t expect it?” he says as if you were supposed to have known all his songs by heart.

“I haven’t heard any of your music,” you honestly reply.

“Not even the mixtapes?” he seems shocked.

“No, Domi never sent them to me and you all just assumed so,” you stop yourself, falling into dangerous territory.

At the name drop of his ex, he winces a little, “God she was a fucking head-case.”

“Hey that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” you shout a little too loud. You catch Slim slamming a hand onto Rook’s shoulder. The air becomes stifled.

“Sorry,” Colson offers, taking a long, pointed sip.

You sigh, “Don’t be. She can be a little much sometimes. I’m sorry for how it all ended.”

“You should hang with us tonight,” he calmly says, switching the subject. Your breath catches in your throat.

“I don’t know-“ you start.

He cuts you off, “I get it. If you want, we’ll be here for a while. Find us.”

That’s all you get and then he’s walking towards the gang, slipping into the crowd. You drop your head onto the shell covered bar, groaning out.

The night dwindles down, your coworkers trickle out, slamming messy kisses on your face before walking out. You’re left by yourself soon enough and there’s a pulsing in your head, matching the music vibrating under your shoes.

It doesn’t take long to decide. You want to hang out with Colson and them, with Machine Gun Kelly. It’s a bad idea, you can tell before you’ve even fully determined it, but it’s as if fate’s lined everything up for you. It’s gonna happen.

You push away the nagging thoughts, wander around the club trying to find someone, coming up empty. Everyone seems to have left and you roll your eyes before stepping out yourself. Maybe fate doesn’t want this to happen.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you spot Rook across the street, blunt in hand. He hasn’t seen you, looking down at his shoes but you know him well and if he’s around it means the others are close by.

You brace yourself, work up some form of courage and walk over. He looks up at the sound and there’s immediate dislike flashing across his face.

Out of everyone, Rook’s been the most temperamental. You’d thought it was going to be Colson at first glance, but were quickly proven wrong by his friend, by the harshness of his demeanor at times. He doesn’t hide his feelings, and while you respect that, you’re also intimidated by his posturing.

“Hey Rook,” you mumble.

“Y/N,” he bluntly states.

“How have you been?” you try, but immediately know it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Cut the shit. What’d you want?” he bites out, eyes hard.

“Was wondering if I could catch a ride with you guys?” you question.

AJ usually drives them around, his black van large enough for the gang, and his self control strong enough to stay sober. You don’t know if it’s changed since the last time everyone hung out, but you’re hoping it hasn’t for the sake of your almost empty metrocard.

“Why’d you think we drove here?” he’s shrugs, giving you a hard time, and you shake your head wondering if your pride is worth this.

“Never mind dude,” you turn around but then he’s groaning behind you.

“Yeah we’ll take you back home. Kells’ kill me if I let you walk around here drunk. C’mon,” he says and you try to hide your smile as you follow him.

He takes a few more hits before tossing his blunt to the ground, and you’re glad he hasn’t offered you any. It would be too forgiving of him, too close to what you all used to be, and you wouldn’t know what to do if it came to that. Domi would kill you, hell she’d kill you if she knew you were getting into a car with them right now.

He stops in front of the familiar van, opens the door with force and everyone’s shouting inside, clambering over each other. You almost smile at the chaos, the familiarity of it all.

“Y/N!” Colson’s shouting and you do smile then. He slumps over long limbs and comes over to the door, reaching his hand out to you.

“You coming with us?” he asks and you nod before Rook mutters, “She needs a ride home.”

Colson purses his lips before looking back over at you, hand still outstretched, “Yeah, c’mon in. AJ got you.”

It’s late, later than you should be out and there’s a reminder that Domi’s waiting for you back home, wants to hear about your night. Your resolve flickers the minute his hand wraps around yours.

He tugs you in the van, and you follow, stepping in before they all scatter around, making enough space. There’s another girl with them, someone you don’t remember meeting or knowing but she smiles at you and curls into Rook’s side.

The music in the van is almost as loud as in the club, filling up the space. You wonder, not for the first time, how AJ drives like this, how he casually sings along, fist bumping the rest of the guys after a song.

Before you know it, there’s a blunt being passed around. Colson skips you on the first round, and you try not to let it hurt, remind yourself that you’ve stung them harder than this, hurt them worse.

He leans into your space after handing it off, whispers, “You still don’t smoke right?”

There’s a painful twist in your stomach at his question. When you all first met, you wouldn’t smoke blunts with them, hesitant about the strain and Domi’s eyes on you. She hated weed, despised the smell and would always remind you of that fact before you’d all spend the night out.

After the breakup, she’d loosened up on that, didn’t care if you smoked out on the fire escape, and sometimes even joined in, it was weird. Weirder than the fact that Colson somehow remembered all this months later.

“I do,” you whispered back, licking your lips, “smoke I mean.”

“Oh,” he softly says and then the blunt’s coming back around. He barely takes a hit before handing it off to you, pushing your hand slightly with his fist.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smoking it in. It’s strong, brings an immediate rush. You close your eyes.

When you open them, Colson’s too close to you. The red lights flash hard in your head and then the car’s stopping in front of their building.

You don’t even hesitate, “Is it wrong if I come up with you?”

His eyes look into yours, it’s quiet enough that you feel the weight of your statement sink in. This is bad, so bad.

He doesn’t say anything but everyone around you is moving, pulling off instruments and slamming doors. He carefully takes your hand, pulls the blunt out from your other one.

“AJ, we’re gonna chill for a while,” he says, towards the front seat, giving him the blunt. There’s a hum and then he’s opening the door, pulling you out just as he’d pulled you in.

For a second, you hesitate and then you’re falling into him. His arm wraps around your hips, pulls you back up on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” his voice is quiet, the world still moves around you both but it feels like you’re the only two people who matter.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Wanna go home?” he says, and the words hit you for a second before you shake your head.

“No, this is cool,” you tongue out.

You’re both walking into the building then, satisfied with your answers. The manager gives you a once over at the front desk but that’s all before Colson’s thumbing the elevator button.

“What about everyone else?” you murmur.

He looks at them unloading the van and lets out a laugh, fingers tightening slightly against yours as he shakes, “They’re gonna be busy a while.”

You laugh back, try to tamper down the feeling of seeing him full-body laugh for the second time that day. The elevator dings and you step in, he follows.

It’s the same damn elevator as it was six months ago, but there’s something different in the air right now. It’s staticky, thrumming through you and it feels like you’re stumbling right on the edge of something.

The doors close, it’s just you and him. The feeling gets stronger, his fingers loosen against yours. You grip harder and he looks up straight into your eyes.

The door dings open again and he huffs a little, “Forgot to click the button.”

You smile but it feels thin. Your brain is flashing wrong, flashing red, screaming Domi’s name, but your heart is racing, pounding against your chest.

You screw your eyes shut.

He hits the button, the elevator starts going and you step closer to him. His back is against the elevator wall and there’s a calm look on his face, but you can tell he’s nervous, can feel it in the clamminess of his palm where it’s sticking to yours.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you blurt and you don’t even have time to regret the words before he’s pushing into you, lips finding yours within seconds.

They’re warm and softer than you expected. He lets out a groan as you kiss back, and you’re reminded of his cut, the swollen lip he’s sporting now. You move back, rest your forehead against his.

“Sorry, your lip,” you attempt to explain, but he shakes his head, forehead sliding across yours, twisting it.

“I like it,” he mumbles and you smile before kissing him again, feeling his arm wrap around you, pull you closer.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed him, he’s strictly off limits, a forbidden idea, but it feels like everything has suddenly fallen into place. The warning signs dissolve into bursts of serotonin as he makes little sounds, pressed up with your mouth.

The door dings open. You break apart and step out. Is kiss drunk a thing, or are you losing your mind? He grins at you, pulls your joined hands up for a soft kiss brushing on your knuckles.

Your heart flutters right then. If you’re losing your mind, you’re glad it’s with him. Dealing with the aftermath is something you’ll do later, so you push all thoughts of Domi and her complications aside and follow him straight into his apartment, consequences be damned.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @sophroniaa @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused @calum-defense-squad

#sorry <3 #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fluff #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #mgk fanfic #mgk lockscreen #mgk smut #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fluff #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker smut #mgk headers #machine gun kelly smut #m writes 4 mgk

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 4

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Bullying and non-explicit violence in this chapter, Peter whump.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: WE'VE GOT PLOT! Peter Parker deserves better. Steeb needs a vibe check cuz he keeps failing them :( Boomers are hot but ... Boomers. KitKat, anyone? Natasha is a Brain Cell™. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @hermione-grangers-wife @downeyreads @individualistfem

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings 👑 - titty gators assemble! 👀

I scheduled a visit to the tower two days after my "illness" episode. Most of my lows passed without any lingering, the headache was gone and so was the nausea. My mood was still somewhere between "please kill me" and "I could eat a lot of cake right now" but it was bearable. I was very much looking forward to occupying myself with the project if only to divert my focus from overthinking about my own misery.

Peter said he was going to see Tony straight after school and offered for me to tag along with him: Tony sent his driver to pick up the boy. I didn't have the heart to refuse, seeing no point in waiting for an Uber on a rainy workday afternoon. Traffic was horrendous in New York city no matter the weather but a downpour took the congestions to a new height.

When I spotted the sleek, black brand new Audi I made a beeline for it, waving to Happy as I crawled inside as fast as I could. "Don't get the seats wet," The chauffeur grumbled.

"It's wet outside," I rolled my eyes into the next dimension. Whoever thought his nickname was in any way appropriate needed a psych eval. Peter sat on my right side looking wet and downright miserable. I had to swallow a string of expletives at the sight in front of me: the entirety of Peter's right cheek was an ugly shade of blue, eye on it's way to swelling shut and lip busted open. "What in the everliving fuck happened to you?!" Breathing through my nose, I fought bubbling rage inside of me. Peter looked like he went toe to toe with a Hulk.

"Flash happened," The boy mumbled, whining and brooding simultaneously. His cheeks glowed.

"That little runt?" I took another pause to steady my breathing, tentatively reaching out for Peter's hand. He grasped it tightly in gratitude. "Well, did you at least fight back?"

"No, I... I can't do that," Peter became even smaller, curling into the seat and in himself. I was disappointed for sure as I wouldn't just stand there and take a beating, but Pete was different. He was sensitive-a total pacifist to boot.

"Do any of the teachers know? I'm guessing this isn't the first time," Sure, I've seen Parker with an occasional scrape or a bruise but I'd always figured it was just him being a teenage nuisance. Curtain of depression I had over the previous days slowly began morphing into cold fury.

"No, well, they probably do. But Flash is the principal's son so they ignore it, I guess," Peter sighed in defeat. "Mr. Stark doesn't know either. Please don't tell him," He begged.

"Abuse thrives in silence," I parroted our sex-ed teacher but otherwise made no promises. My mind raced between comforting Peter and ordering Happy to turn the car around so I could find the shitty excuse of a human named Flash Thompson and violently make it known what happens to people when they get me pissed off.

"What are you going to tell Tony?" I asked Peter as we herded into the elevator, slightly wet and mostly miserable.

"I have an idea or two," The boy answered darkly.

"You have been summoned to the common floor, I was instructed to notify you there is food to be eaten before sciencing, per Doctor Banner's orders," Friday announced, rerouting the elevator to the aforementioned destination. Peter groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands.

"What the fuck happened to you, kid?" Bucky decided screeching like a banshee and attracting at least five of his teammates to come running from the dining room was the best way to approach an obviously spooked Peter. The boy shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Our classmate beat him up," I answered before Pete could lie. "The fucking runt that doesn't know his damn place. His two cronies probably too," The venom in my voice could've melted steel. I was genuinely furious.

"What's his name?" Captain-Steve growled. I was taken aback at the large blonde man suddenly standing up, fists clenched. My feet moved involuntarily, taking a step back from the enraged supersoldier and Pete cowered, startled.

I stepped in front of him immediately. "I'm gonna need you to chill the fuck down, Cap," The trembling in my voice persisted but I stood my ground nonetheless. "Your roid rage is going to land you in prison if you keep going," In my own rage, self-preservation went out of the window along with common sense. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, Peter was downright shaking behind me.

"She's right," Bucky darkly eyed his friend. "Off to the sparring mats with you." He grabbed Rogers by the shoulder with his prosthetic arm all but hauling the blonde towards the elevator. Thor immediately took the Captain's other side, not quite touching him but obviously giving his friend a vibe check. I could've clapped. Not that Steve resisted much, but still.

"Everyone calm down, please," The Black Widow piped up in an even tone. I can always count on a fellow woman to keep calm in a situation where men's tempers almost cause a disaster. "Now, tell us what happened," She approached Peter on quiet feet. The boy shuffled around me looking every bit as dejected as I felt about the situation. "And someone fetch some ice for that bruise," Romanoff's offhand gesture had Barton scrambling into the kitchen.

Peter sat down on the couch, looking at the floor. "Flash has been bothering me since, like, forever and today I just ignored his usual remarks because I had a calculus test, I- I wanted to make sure I knew everything, and I was sitting in a really quiet corner, and I- Ned was hanging out with MJ somewhere and I guess Flash got angry that I didn't answer," Peter rambled in his usual nervous fashion, sentences jumbling together. Natasha kept nodding, simply hugging the boy softly with one arm. As soon as Clint came back with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel Natasha's other arm pressed it gently to Peter's bruised face. The assassin frowned at the pained whine that left Peter's lips.

"Honestly, that dude is a fucking piece of shit, I'm surprised how he's not in jail yet," I piped up from where I was pacing along the large window overlooking the city skyline. Wound up and tense, I couldn't stay still. "He stole a senior's car for a joyride, last year. He routinely picks on the freshmen and I've personally dislocated his wrist from slapping me on the ass in, like, eight grade," Peter's eyebrows raised at my admission and Natasha gave me a vaguely approving hum.

I caught Peter's eye the moment elevator doors opened revealing a panicked looking Tony and a worried Bruce with Loki standing behind them, talking to a man in... Robes? And a red cape?

"What happened to my science child?!" Tony's fury rang high. The engineer rushed over to Peter, frantically checking him over and growling at the state of his face, letting out a string of expletives seeing the busted lip had started to bleed again.

I gave a tiny tilt of my lips to Bruce who had the oddest compilation of worried, confused and amused in his expression.

"You should probably get him to a doctor, I think his mouth is cut on the inside," I scooted closer to Banner, informing him quietly.

"I'm a doctor," The man in the cape announced, ... strutting (!) over to Pete. There was really no other way to describe his long, precise strides. He quickly butted Tony out of the way and instructed Peter to open his mouth.

"This is utter chaos," Loki muttered, sitting down on the furthest end of the couch.

"It is and I'm living for it," I sighed. The situation was very disorganized with Tony flailing about in blind panic, Bruce just standing there, Cap's rage quit and subsequent intervention by his buddies. Then the new strange dude... Loki was brooding and honestly? Big mood. The only person who made some resemblance of order out if this cluster fuck was Natasha.

All and all, it was quite endearing. I imagined that's what a large, close family would look like. When I said I was enjoying myself - no lie there, even despite the grim situation.

"How are you? Are you hurt?" Bruce quietly asked me, laced with concern. His shoulders relaxed somewhat when I shook my head negative. "Hungry?" I nodded affirmatively and the doctor produced a kit kat bar seemingly out of nowhere, winking at me with a boyish smile. I just about melted on the spot, tearing off a block and giving it to him to avoid any embarrassing reactions I might possibly spout in the wake of my recently acquired crush.

We munched in silence as the Cape Guy explained to Peter (and anxious Tony) that a few butterfly stitches would be needed as well as CT scan to rule out a possible concussion. At that point Tony was steadily turning purple in colour, rage and anxiety combining for a large storm that no doubt will hit sooner or later.

I felt responsible, I guess. Peter must've known Tony was going to react so strongly to his science son getting hurt and well, I hated seeing Tony so mad and helpless. On soft feet, I padded over to the engineer, making sure to stay within direct line of vision. "Tones?" He shot his eyes at me. He was furious. "Look, I'm going to make that fucker's life a living hell," Tony made an agitated noise of protest however I wasn't having it. I knew I'd be in trouble later but for now, I firmly placed my palm over his mouth, enjoying the surprised widening of his eyes at the frivolous gesture. "Listen, right now you can't do shit. You guys are super-powered individuals and Flash is just a nasty kid. You'll get in a big fat mess and he'll get to go away with a slap on the wrist," Tony sagged, visibly, bodily, and I felt it was safe to remove my hand from his face.

"I hate to say it but she's right," Bruce piped up behind me, voice soft.

I nodded. "I'm going to ruin the guy without putting a single finger on him," Tony nodded grimly and Cape Guy halted his examination of Peter's head to give me a mildly concerned stare. "My mother is a litigator, a vicious one at that. I've learned a trick or two," I winked with a grim sort of amusement causing the man to snort. Tony chuckled humorlessly. "As much as I hate to be the voice of reason, it would be a shame for anybody in this tower to end up behind bars. Even if it would be for a good cause," I finished my speech, patting Tony on the shoulder. The surprised squeak made its way out of my mouth when the billionaire pulled me tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around me in a desperate hug.

Ignoring my skyrocketing heartbeat, I wrapped myself around him as best as I could. Whatever issues the man had, they had to be quite painful if he reacted to the situation so intensely. I was selfish, but not heartless, so I gave into the affectionate gesture despite the inappropriate feelings that blossomed within me.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you," Peter whined, fat round tears beginning to drip down his cheeks. I could tell he was embarrassed beyond Hell but his feelings overwhelmed him enough to just spill through. I immediately made my meanest big eyes to Natasha and Cape Guy who immediately hugged the life out of Pete. There, all set.

"Now go get that scan done," I frowned, seeing Peter start to nod off. "I don't know your name, but can you arrange that? Since you're a doctor," I nodded to the Cape Guy.

"I'm Stephen Strange," he replied, effortlessly picking up a dozing Peter and carrying him to the elevator. Before I could react, he waved his one free hand in some sort of a circle and a glowing ring appeared with what seemed to be a ER room - Strange hastily stepped through, followed by Tony suddenly withdrawing and hurrying after the ... Wizard? The portal closed immediately after.

"What the fuuuuuck..." I gaped at the now empty space. Strange, indeed. Even Loki's scoff didn't put a dent in my perplexed curiosity.

"So, lawyer family, huh?" Natasha, who I'd forgotten about, spoke up, mildly interested.

"Just my mother," I replied casually. They were the last thing in the world I wanted to talk about, especially after being so upset for the past hour. Man, I needed a drink. My hands itched for a cigarette.

"What about your father?" The spy didn't relent, pushing the issue with deadly politeness - I was actually sure she'd threaten me into talking about it even if I refused to.

"He's a celebrity manager."

"Cool," Her tone perked up at that. "Know anyone famous?"

"Know? No," I thought about all the A-list Hollywood stars I've been around, the endless parade of one-hit-wonder musicians that my dad hung out with on a daily basis. "I've crossed paths with at least half the Billboard TOP 40 but that's about it. Katy Perry was really nice," I added as an afterthought.

"I see," Natasha gave me a thoughtful once-over, patting the seat next to her. "So tell me, what do you have in mind for this Flash kid?"

My smile came out sharp and vicious. People tended to underestimate the quiet, quirky loner and I was about to remind them exactly why my kind of kids usually ended up with either millions in their bank accounts or a lengthy criminal record. "I'm going to annihilate any chance he has with having a social life, a girlfriend and I'll be damned if he gets into college without his parents going bankrupt. It goes like this..."

The ominous beginning of my plan attracted everybody in the room, even Loki. If anything, he offered the most constructive advice and the smirk he wore was positively devilish. Steve, Bucky and Thor emerged sometime during the scheming and hastily joined us, identically grim expressions on their faces. We barely managed to get done with our nefarious cackling when a portal appeared once again, Stephen stepping out of it with Tony carrying a sleeping Peter. The boy's head was bandaged, he looked like a mummy.

I stood up, beelining for Tony. "Is Pete okay? Did you call May?"

"He's not concussed but he's taking the day off tomorrow. Yes, I called May. Pete is staying here tonight," Tony looked and sounded like an exhausted, worried parent.

The urge to squee appeared again and I stomped it down with a hard "Good. We made a plan. The fucker is going to choke on his own misery," I gestured to the people sitting in a circle behind me.

Strange snorted.

Furious. I was furious.

Hands on my hips, I swerved towards him, instantly recognizing the ridiculousness of the situation. Here I stood, an eighteen year old high school student, in my fluffy rainbow sweater and denim overalls, staring down a whole grown ass man with magic powers. I digress, my pride won the race against my common sense. "Ex-fucking-cuse you, Voldemort, that's my fucking friend on the line," I seethed, giving him my best death glare.

"Language," Tony barely held together his laughter, looking at the unfolding mess with amusement. Somewhere behind me, somebody chuckled, then I recognised Loki's signature "ehehe" and it kind of went downhill from there. It's a miracle Peter didn't wake up.

"I'd be careful, Strange, she holds up against Stark very well," Loki's quiet compliment only made me preen and puff out my chest in a display of dominance. Stephen's responding eye roll was more fond than annoyed. I counted it as a win.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #bun writes #party favours #repeat after me: PETER PARKER DESERVES BETTER

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woozi · 3 years

Note

l&r shua and specially studio choom l&r shua... i still have no idea how i survived that, also it gave us blue hair cheol too <3 ... him sleeveless with blue hair, there are so many happy things just from this cb jdjsksskks i adore it.

wonshua fr were something else during l&r... omg after school, I'm guessing you've been into kpop way before me. anytime any clip from 17tv pops up i'm just ' they're so smol here they're so cute ' but also most of the time i have no context as well it's djjdsjskks. idk why but svt club is still something i find myself watching again i really liked its concept and them talking and sharing their thoughts it's very simple but also heart-warming.

is it creepy if i say i kind of did sghjkk i actually got to know you are interested in got7 recently when i ended up clicking the links in your bio. i swear im not a weird stalker jdjeekke i've been following your got7 blog way before than this one djdjdjjddj i only found this svt one recently after i decided to completely move back to tumblr and started following svt accs. I didn't know both blogs were you for a long time jddjdkd i apologize if it does seem lil creepy JDJDKSKSLS

jinyoung and mark are my biases, my ults actually <3 and yess i'm keeping up w/ their solo projects even more than before 😭 it's so jdjdkdkd. 2017 was the year i started listening to kpop and around that time or lil later i came across ' you are ' this song is so dear to me i loved it in first listen, its lyrics i love its lyrics sm i made everyone i know listen to it dhjddk yet i didn't dive in deeper bc i was caught up with other group at that time but slowly I started watching their content from 2018. it's like got7's been w/ me since the start & at the same time not </3 but look, lullaby and more importantly spinning top came and everything changed with that album it's so goood from then i started keeping up with their music and check their cbs. i knew jype was meh even when i didn't stan them but i didn't know to what extent, i only got to know after 2019. so far it's all so good and i hope it stays like that. all of their different companies treat and promote them nicely 🥺.

with svt it was instant love i got to know abt them during march 2019 ig, their songs grew on me so fast and boom by the time may came i was a carat, with got7 it was gradual love, it increased lil by lil it's nice but i do wish i could've stanned them earlier. the only cb experience as an official birdie i have is nbtm and last piece 😭 anyway both of these groups are very dear to me not just musically but emotionally too. i love them very much 😔.

also omg those are some of the great artists!! i honestly have no idea how khh and krnb are i mostly listen to kpop and kbands more. i actually listen to a lot of artists but regularly only zayn, svt, got7, the rose (ik we're talking abt kpop but i can't leave zayn out of this djdjdkdk he's the first ever artist i have stanned <3)

also onewe, n.flying, a.c.e, gaho ( i love his voice <3) woodz, day6. yk when you want new music but also something which you'd instantly enjoy otherwise you don't want new music sghjk, when i feel like this i just go to any of their discography. also special mention to hoppipolla and lucy bc they always bring something new to the table i love them for it. i love these artists but honestly i listen to them when i am in mood. i listen to gotsvt and zayn the most at the end of the day. goodnight <3 i love talking to you too 🥺🥺🥺 also feel free to answer late when you're free. hoping i made sense in this one and answered everything bc i am too sleepy rn fjdjkd - 🪂

BLUE HAIRED COUPSIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WITH THE RIPPED ARMS!!!!!!!!!!!1

iconique if u ask me <3 i heard lnr was indeed a good era for everyone!! wasn't it also cheol's first cb after his break? y'all must've had Fun fun

yes i have 😭 i grew up w koreans so... i guess that's also an influence. i got into kpop on my own volition during 4th grade though, so that's prob 2009/10??? GOD I FEEL SO ANCIENT RN!!!! honestly i still dk what 17tv was about i feel like we were just watching streams of some boys w no context as well 😭 AND YES OMG I GET THAT!! svt club is super chill and it's a great way of learning more abt the members!

JKDFJKKJDFFDKJ HELP!!!!!!!!!!! WAIT OH MY GOD YOU WERE IN MY G7 BLOG 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 IM SO EMBARRASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 as i've mentioned last time, got7 got me back into kpop and consequently tumblr 😭😭😭 i 'left' tumblr too and was just checking in occasionally, so when i made that g7 sideblog i was WAY behind the times and my first edits were so fucking- 😭 everything about me then was also so performative idk why i felt the pressure to be in on the club 😭 why were you not annoyed with me then 😭 i'd block me if i saw me on the dash KJFKJFDKJDF thank god i got over it though (or should i be.. i'm a menace on the dash now <3 KJDKKJDFKJF) AND NOOO OMG it's not creepy at all. i put those links in for people to see them after all!! and i'm actually kind of honored you followed me even w/o knowing its me <3 i feel like i've passed the vibe check JJFDKJKJFD do you also follow my main 👀 i rmb someone greeting me here on my bday who said the exact same thing you did 😭

U LIKE OLD MAN JINYOUNG 😭😭😭 ok that makes sense w ur svt bias line tbh <3 i like jinyoung a lot too he's such a smug pain in the ass <3 ALSO MORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i l*ve mark oh my god i- i know i keep saying this... but ur taste <3 AND YOU ARE 😭😭 THE ERAS YOU DISCOVER/GET INTO GROUPS ARE SOOOO GOOD </3 you are was so meaningful to them, and i'm still so incredibly proud of them for this regardless of commercial success. also what group were u into that time omg 👀 I ALSO GOT INTO THEM DURING SPINNING TOP ERA KJFDKJFDKJFJKFDJKFD WHY ARE WE SO SIMILAR!! u seem to like jaebeom's songs a lot <3 AND MS LULLABY!!! oh my god that's my favorite era <3 and yeah, so true bestie, i couldn't be happier for them they're doing FAR better than they have ever had compared to when they were in that shitty company. i'm still so amazed how they pulled all of this off though. jaebeom's must've went thru loads of papework he was prob so determined to show that old man what they are capable of FDJKDFJKD

NAURRR OMG IT'S SO CUTE HOW U PUT IT THAT WAY!! and i'm sure you'll get to experience more cbs with the 7 <3 they were already hinting at it yesterday on twt JKFDJKJKFD

OHHH THAT'S COOL!!! i haven't had a chance to listen much to kbands now, and if u ask me abt them the first ones that come to mind are ft island and cnblue bc im a kpop hag 😭 OH WAIT MAYBE DAY6 for the new ones?? my friends have also been recommending n.flying, the rose, and onewe to me. which bands do you listen to? and zayn??????? <3 ur so right abt that DFKJKJDFFDKJFD also omg go listen to khh they changed my life <3 i can give u a playlist if u'd like!! <3

OH WAIT THERE GOES THE BANDS FKDGKJKJF i usually reply paragraph by paragraph without reading the whole ask so JDFKJDFJK WAIT WOODZ????????????????????????? HELLO???????????????????? I LOVE THAT MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE'S SO SEXIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and he's so cute too if that helps </3 ALSO MOOD I CANT BRING MYSELF TO LISTEN TO NEW MUSIC NOWADAYS EVEN IF I WANT TO BC OF THE SAME EXACT REASON 😭 the way we get each other is so- and i've never heard of hoppipolla omg i'll go listen to them now!! indeed <3 gotsvt is our home <3

and nooo u are so cute omg </3 and don't feel pressured to respond immediately to me as well!! i'm a v late replier but i'll always reply JKJKFDJKFD AND DW everything u said made perfect sense <3 i hope u get/got a good night's rest!! and that you'll have an awesome day ahead <3

#didn't wanna risk losing my tags again so i'm giving u a novel this time around JKDFJKJKFDJKD #anon #🪂 anon #y.ask #long post

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apinkline2715 · 3 years

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I know that telling a teen to not fight haters is like, honestly not my place, but dear god the day you find out you can just block people and leave them talking with a wall it's like, indescribable, life changing, amazing Indeed, (the real life version is just saying yeah till they shutup)

I promise you, your time is invaluable, don't waste a second of it hating someone that won't give you the time of day in a week (or less)

On this same vein, now kids love "doxing" their classmates/Friends/internet acquaintance, you need to understand the power you have in your hans, doxing serves for when someone did something ilegal and atrocious and the authorities won't respond unless they feel pressure from the community, and althought unfortunately that sometimes happens to highschoolers, I have seen people dox others just for being nasty friends.

Being shitty maybe deserves for your classmates to no longer invite them to parties, but it doesn't deserve harrasment on the thousands guys, just because it is easy doesn't mean you should do it, sometimes things go viral without our input but I'm seeing people do everything they can for these things to be, so be mindful, You all are kids, not celebrities with PR teams, look for justice not senseless revenge

And before you say it's "easy for me to say" I was bullied all of elementary and middle school (I later went to a nerdy high school) so I know about shitty people, I had Facebook and Twitter, it just wasn't where it is now, and even then there where some cases like that.

#swearing tw

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luvdsc · 3 years

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hi miss cat!! I was just wondering if there’s any advice you would give to a high school freshman/rising sophomore?? sorry I know I’m a bit young to be interacting on your blog but I’m just,,, so lost.

my freshman year ends on May 28 and I just realised how fast this year flew by, and I’m never even gonna get it back…

I didn’t get off my ass and run for an officer position in the clubs I’m in even though the opportunity presented itself many times and I can’t stop beating myself up over it (metaphorically that is)

the only thing unique I did this year was run for student council and um that didn’t work out too well HSDMGFK no surprise there

but on a more serious note I just don’t really have the motivation to do anything right now and this is gonna sound really funny but it’s giving me such a hard time even though it’s self imposed ://

I don’t know why I can’t find motivation to be involved at school

maybe I would be more active if I knew what I want to major in or be in the future?? I used to want to be a biochem major but then I realised I wouldn’t be happy with that lifestyle or salary and now I really wanna major in business but I also feel pressured to major in econs because my dad is an econs major and my brother will be entering college as an econs major this fall so like ;;;;

thankfully my family wasn’t as affected as other families or people during lockdown because I fortunately live in Singapore and the lockdown was a bit less than two months, and the situation here was taken care of quite well. some of my relatives live in Seoul and I also have some relatives emigrated to Washington DC way before the pandemic so I was a bit worried but they seem to be doing fine!! which is again why I don’t understand my slump

because I was in a slump I had shitty grades and ended semester one with such a shitty GPA and such terrible grades that I literally didn’t qualify for APUSH next year which idk if I wanna take or not but still, it would’ve been nice to have the option…. and I literally got a b in biology which is so fucking terrifying because if I had done worse I wouldn’t have even qualified to take AP bio or chem

I mean I am putting effort but not enough for me to get better grades than I do right now so I genuinely feel so lost :// I’ve no idea what to do after high school and my grades aren’t good no matter how hard I try :// like, I’m not even kidding I have tutors for my hardest classes but I’m still not;;; getting good grades…

I honestly feel the urge to start cultivating hobbies that I stopped doing but idk if i should.. like I could spend that time studying, you know?? I’m scared that the rest of my high school career will fly by just like my freshman year did and I won’t even notice it… and my finals are literally in 2 weeks….

and as I’m typing this I realise I have a Chinese test tomorrow and another Chinese test next Tuesday so ummm I gotta go study sorry about all that rambling!! I just don’t have anyone else to tell sorry if this burdened you!!

miss cat if you have any advice to offer I would really really appreciate it!! also I’ve sent like 2 other tells rambling about your fics and idk what to feel rn cuz a few weeks ago I was crying about p*ssy blocked on your blog and now I’m sitting here pouring my heart out:;; but anyways thank you for reading!!❤️

- 🥰

hi, sweetpea 💕 oh gosh, it’s been... almost 8 years since i was a rising sophomore asjhdflkasflkhsakl i feel so old rip and it’s ok, you don’t have to apologize! my blog is sfw, so it’s alright, lovebug :’) i’m gonna give my two cents / advice in regards to each part of your message, instead of my usual numbering, so i hope that’s ok! 💓

i’m sorry to hear that this past school year has been tough for you, honey bee, and that you’re having a hard time ): i know what you mean with motivation... some days, i just don’t wanna try anymore and it’s just like... what’s the point? i worked this hard and didn’t get the results i wanted, so why am i still doing this? it’s disappointing, i know, but i suppose the thing that pushes me forward is that, well, it has to get better at some point, doesn’t it? if i keep going, if i keep pushing myself, if i keep trying, my efforts will be rewarded one day. one day, it’ll all be worth it, honey bee 💛

and while you regret not running for a club position this year and how your freshman year went, make sure to not regret it next year and go for it during your sophomore year, lovebug!! run for a position!!! you’re still so young, and you have so much time ahead of you, sweetpea. enjoy the moment, spend time with your friends, join more clubs that interest you, etc. you got this 🥳 please don’t end up regretting next year as well - become more involved next year and run for an officer position like you wanted to this year 💘 i believe in you, lovebug 🌷🌷

and running for student council was a big step! you should be proud of yourself for trying and putting yourself out there, honey bee 💗 even though it didn’t work out in the way you hoped, you gained experience, and that’s important too!

also, heck yeah for majoring in business, sweetpea 🤩🤩 as a double business major, i support you :’) askljdhfkals ngl econs was my least favorite business class though, so big props to your dad and brother for majoring in it 🤧 i felt that pressure too because my dad and sister both majored in engineering, but in the end of the day, you have to remember that this is your future and your happiness, not anybody else’s. choose what you want to do, honey bee. this isn’t your dad’s choice nor your brother’s choice, it’s your choice. they’re not the one that’s gonna have to study all your classes and do your job in the future. it’s you, and i know it’s hard, but you have to block out what everyone else says and choose what’s best for you.

if you aren’t sure what you want to study, is it possible to take classes for different majors? perhaps, that’ll help you decide! or you can talk to upperclassmen who are in the majors that interest you, and you can see which one appeals to you the most 💕

i’m so glad to hear that the situation there for you is going well though, lovebug! 💛 and i’m happy that your family and relatives are doing well too 💞 sometimes, slumps just happen, honey bee unfortunately ): it’s like i don’t want to feel this way, i’m in a decent place in my life, but why do i feel this way? it has to do with mental health, and my best advice would be to talk to a therapist or psychiatrist. they truly are really helpful and can help you understand better why you feel this way and help you reach a better state of mind.

i’m sorry to hear your grades didn’t end up as what you expected, lovebug ): (and as someone who took apush, it is not fun rip i do not recommend aksjhdflkas you dodged a bullet there) but as a positive way of looking at it, what class can you now take instead of apush? is there another class that you’re excited to take? and a B is still good!!! forget the what if scenario, you still made it to AP bio and AP chem, and that’s what matters, and i’m proud of you, honey bee 💖

personally, i think there’s a healthy balance between cultivating hobbies you like and studying. i don’t think you would want to look back on your sophomore year and have all your memories be of you sitting at your desk and memorizing ionic bonds and plant cell organelles. yes, it’s important to study, but it is also important to have fun and have hobbies that help you destress and relax and make good memories 💗so i’d say go for it, lovebug!!! indulge in your hobbies and find something you love doing! maybe that’ll inspire you to find a major in a similar subject?

best of luck on your upcoming chinese test, honey bee, and i hope your last one on tuesday went well 💜 aaaa i kinda put my advice here and there throughout my response, and i hope it all makes sense for you, sweetpea :’) also omg alksjdhlfakshjdf thank you so much for sending in asks about pussy blocked and for reading it, too 🥺💗💗💗 that means so soo much to me, so thank you, lovebug 💛 i hope life treats you kinder, and that you’re doing better this week! i’m sending you all my love, support, and well wishes, honey bee 💌💌 (also that’s such a cute emoji anon !!! 🥰🥰)

#asks #anonymous #🥰 anon

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tussive · 4 years

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I have a lot of thoughts on this subject and some of them are touchy and I know many of my followers are trans. I've never really spoken about most of this publicly, but I was just discussing this type of thing with @fresholivesfromtheolivebar and I thought having a place to organize my thoughts and get them out in a hopefully not too rambly/weird and mostly cohesive post.

I used to identify agender/non-binary for a period of time. I've never identified as "male." I don't understand men. I don't get men. They talk to me and it's like their way of thinking is completely foreign to me. That isn't to say I'm not male. I am very much male. I was raised male. I am seen as male. I have been conditioned as a male (possibly a faggy male lol) my entire life, including now, and that undoubtably affects how I perceive life and shapes my personality. I've always mostly had women as friends, male friends generally I lost interest in talking to quickly, and I don't typically udnerstand their line of thinking/reasoning to begin with.

That's Colette quote sums it up really well for me. "“I have nothing to say to men and never had. Judging from the little time I’ve spent with them, their usual conversation is sickening. Besides, they bore me. I believe,” he hesitated, then concluded, “I believe I don’t understand men.”"

I have several male internet friends, but none who I'm especially close to. We all go months without talking sometimes, but I do enjoy speaking with them over shared interests. William is the exception, but we have discussed these things at lengths and he feels almost (or maybe entirely) the same way as I do. He doesn't really consider himsself "male" either.

I didn't like agender or non-binary or genderfluid or any of that, because I feel like they carry their own impressions that I didn't feel fit me. When I was younger, I experienced a great deal of gender dysphoria. I wanted to be born a girl. Probably because I always got along better with the other girls school. I spent a lot of time with my grandmother and her female friends. My step-grandfather was in my life heavily and I loved him dearly, but I never connected with him on the same level I did with my grandmother.

I thought I may be trans when I was younger. I looked into things, explored options, spoke with trans women and many of them were very pushy about transitioning. I was under 18 at the time and one person actually threatened me with calling CPS, lying and saying I was abused, so I could go live with another family and could "be who I really was."

That experience put me off becoming trans a lot, if I'm being totally honest. But also around that time I was questioning gender roles to to begin with. Why are certain traits, behaviors and interests considered "female" and others are considered "male." It didn't make sense to me. So I just said fuck you to gender roles and started doing whatever I wanted and my gender dysphoria went away. I still have aspects of my body I don't like and wish were different, but I think that's literally every human. Mine may be based around my sex to a degree and wishing I looked more feminine, but the core of the problem is the same.

I went by non-binary/agender for a while, but I didn't really love those because I felt like they came with their own implications, so I stil just called myself a male and would say like "male, kind of" or something when someone asked lol. I generally say I'm straight, but I do find males to be sexually attractive, but I've never met a man who I was able to connect with emotionally on any level even close to resembling romantic attraction. William is my only close male friend and I love him like a brother, not someone I want to put my dick into. I know going by like "newer" more specific terms, I'd probably be like "agender/non-binary demisexual heteroromantic." But I just feel like that is dumb. I don't think a label needs to perfectly describe you, just give people a rough idea, personally.

And like, I love trans people. Let me say here, I do not view any issue with trans people and if they feel transitioning is their best shot at happiness, they should go that. I am 100% believe in full bodily autonomy, you should be allowed to do anything with it that doesn't hurt someone. I do think a minority of people have taken things with it too far and have started trying to "cancel" anyone who doesn't perfectly all in line with their idealogy, but the majority of trans people I've meant online and in person are not that, they just want to be happy in their own body.

That being sad, I do think a lot of "TERF" arguments are valid. I think having spaces specifically for AFAB people is a good thing. Being born male or female and raised and conditioned that way within a society WILL affect who you are as an adult, even if you were trans then and just didn't really realize it yet. I like the "3rd gender neutral" bathroom idea, but I think it should go a step further. Eliminate all multi stall bathrooms. Every bathroom should be a single bathroom that anyone can use, regardless of sex or gender identity.

That all said, I view trans women as women. And the above points aren't really fair to them,* I agree totally. Like that is genuinely so shitty and my heart breaks for trans people who suffer through as much as they do. It's not fair that it happens. (Unfortunately a lot of things aren't fair. Which doesn't mean "SUCK IT UP PUMPKIN" it just means shit is going to suck a lot and learning to roll with it is the best way to have any kind of peace of mind imo. But I fully empathize. I am no familiar with gender dysphoria. And I still wish I was born female.

I just don't think transitioning is right for me because there's NOTHING that stops me from doing whatever I wanna do, wearing whatever I wanna wear, talking how I want to talk, etc as a male that I wouldn't be able to do. So it doesn't matter all that much. If other people want to transition, I fully support them and I think it should be easier for people to do so.

I love trans people, not to pull the "I even have some [x] friends!" card but basically every person I talk to regularly is a woman or trans/nb/queen/etc. I do what I can to support them whenever I can.

I know some of what I said here probably comes across TERF-y, or whatever the male equivalent of that would be. I don't claim that term, but I've been called it by random trans people online like hundreds of times.

If you feel like I'm a TERF or hate trans people or don't respect you or what you go through, by all means block/unfollow/message me to d iscuss it further. If you unfollow, I get it, you won't offend me or anything. Most of this is just me working out/posting my gender identity again because I feel good about it now really. The trans stuff is just like there to try to add context of why I don't call myself trans.

(Kinda sidenote: honestly I've been calling myself "queer" more and more. It's vague and doesn't give any specific impression other than "not cis opposite attracted person" and I think that's a good way to describe myself lol.)

Sorry this is long, sorry if this is confusing, I didn't proofread at all and sorry if this upsets you. I'm happy to talk with you if you are upset about anything or if you just want nothing to do with someone like me, that's totally fine!

Anyway, if you read all of this, I tank you. I know it's way too long but I just had some thoughts and feelings I felt relevant to things today and wanted to get them out.

Love you. <3 Marcus

#gender identity #trans issues #hope this isn't a huge fucking mistake lol

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ificanthaveu · 5 years

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Love, Change and The DropBack || The DropBack || Shawn Mendes

Description: After Shawn finally confronts you about what’s going on between the two of you, you find yourself going to the one person you know will know what to do. David.

A/N: here it is my babes. grab ur tissues. I got choked up while writing this. honestly I'm too connected to this story and I want it to go on forever and ever but unfortunately, there are only two parts left after this :( but I hope you love this so so much bc I really loved writing this chapter...also we love Alex. college boys am I right?

Word Count: 2.6k

This is part 8 of a series! Catch up before you read this part!

Shawn was never someone to get mad. He brushed everything off so easily. But as he slammed the door behind him after you left, it hit him how mad he was.

But how could he be mad? It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t your fault. It was just how life was right now. And it sucked.

He stormed up to his room and tugged at his hair as he paced back and forth. Not knowing if he should’ve chased after you, tried harder, made you stay.

He finally sat on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands, trying to rub the headache away.

He was clicking on Matthew’s contact before letting himself think too much.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Matthew said happily through the phone, like always.

“I don’t know,” Shawn mumbled. He sighed and laid back on his bead. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

“What’s going on? Isn’t [Y/N] with you?” Matthew questioned.

“She just left,” he said quietly.

“Why? What happened?”

“I think I fucked up,” he paused and took a deep breath. “We were talking about college and the future and..” he trailed off, “us. We were talking about us. And then we were fighting. And then she cried and she left.”

“She cried?” Matthew said with a concerned voice.

“Yeah, she cried,” Shawn said feeling the guilt hit him.

“Do you know if she went home?” Matthew asked.

“I don’t know. She just left,” Shawn said.

“Listen, Shawn, this isn’t your fault,” Matthew started.

“It sure does feel like that,” he mumbled.

“Cut that out. You know all that [Y/N] has been through. She doesn’t take stuff like this very easily. She just needs time. She’s not just never going to talk to you again. She’ll take a minute. Take a step back. Figure everything out. And then she’ll come back. She doesn’t leave people very easily,” Matthew explained.

“Should I call her?” Shawn said quickly.

“No. Don’t,” Matthew said just as fast. “Let her think this through and figure things out. She’ll be calling you before you know it.”

“I hope,” Shawn mumbled, turning to lay on his side, glancing at his open laptop with a picture that Elsie took of him lifting you up in the air with you laughing and a big smile on his face at a playoff game a few weeks ago. “Can I tell you something? You can’t tell anyone. Not Elsie. Not [Y/N]. Definitely not [Y/N]. No one.”

---

You felt your eyes start to close about an hour into the drive when you remembered that you definitely didn’t sleep last night and hadn’t had an ounce of caffeine yet. You found the nearest cafe and ordered a coffee-to-go. You found a seat at a table near the pick-up counter and looked at your phone for the first time all day. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to see Shawn’s name on the screen or not. It wasn’t.

You pushed the feelings back again and typed out a quick message to Elsie, but you couldn’t figure out what even to tell her. So, instead, you just called her.

She picked up on the second ring, “Hey, are you ok?”

“No,” you mumbled.

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Aren’t you with Shawn?” she asked.

You looked around at the cafe, “To be honest, El, I have no idea where I am. Some cafe on the freeway heading southbound.”

“Are you going to see David?”

“You know me too well.”

“So, I’m assuming things with Shawn didn’t go so well,” she said softly, in that concerned voice you rarely heard come from her.

“No, they didn’t,” you said simply, not wanting to relive it quite yet.

“David will know what to say,” Elsie said.

“He always does,” you said. The woman called out your name and set your iced coffee down on the counter.

“I’ve gotta go, El. I’ll call you when I’m home,” you said as you stood up from your table.

“And when will that be?” she asked.

“Um, either before dinner or in two to three days,” you said, grabbing your coffee and making your way back to your car.

“You do what you have to do. I’ll be waiting here when you’re done,” she said.

“You’re the best. I’ll talk to you soon, bye,” you hung up the phone and hopped back into your car.

You pulled up your text messages with your mom and sent out a quick text letting her know you last minute decided to go visit David.

You were on the road again in less than fifteen minutes, taking the all too familiar route to your brother’s apartment a few blocks away from the main campus.

Your mind stayed empty for most of the ride. Your hands would shake every once in a while, mostly whenever you let yourself feel guilty and regretful. Before you were able to let yourself think too far into it, you were pulling up in front of David’s.

You hadn’t told him you were coming because you knew if you did, he’d be sending you home to go fix things. And you weren’t ready to fix things.

You knocked harshly on his apartment door and crossed your arms while you waited for him. The door swung open, and you were met with his roommate Alex. He gave you a confused look.

“[Y/N]? I didn’t know you were visiting this weekend,” he said with a smile as he let you in. You tried to return the smile and followed him inside. “How are things going?” he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders and looked at him, “They’ve been better.”

He nodded in agreement before shuffling into the kitchen.

“Hey, who was at the-“ David cut himself off as he looked at you.

He could tell you hadn’t slept from a mile away. He could also tell that you had been crying.

“Oh no,” he mumbled. Without saying another word, he had an arm wrapped around you, leading you to the balcony on the far end of his apartment. He shut the door behind him and pulled you in for a tight hug as you cried into his chest. You were really feeling the regret now.

“You’re fine. You’re going to be ok,” he whispered as he patiently waited for you to stop crying. In the meantime, Alex had cracked the door open and handed David a few waters and a beer (“whatever one she’s feeling”).

After a few minutes, you pulled away and sat across from David on the half-broken lawn chairs. He handed you the water, and you took a few drinks before trying to control your breathing.

“What happened?” David asked softly.

You sighed and wiped your face before saying, “Shawn. Shawn Mendes happened.”

David sighed and crossed his arms. “I swear to God if he broke your heart-“

You cut him off. “No, Dave. I broke his,” you said a little too harshly.

“I’m going to need a little more detail.”

You let out a huff and pulled your leg to your chest, resting your chin on your knee.

“He really likes me,” you said as you looked over at David and your tears started to well up again. “And I think I really like him, but I can’t even tell what these feelings are. And he wants to go to Penn State which is so far from here, and I got this feeling in my gut that I’ve never felt before. Like I was going to lose him. But I barely even have him? Like it’s only been two months, and he’s all ready to move back to the east coast. Just like that.”

David shrugged his shoulders and nodded along to what you were saying.

“And then we were fighting,” you stopped talking and looked out past the balcony, trying to admire the campus that was going to be yours in less than a year.

“Fighting about what?” David questioned.

You looked at him and your mind went blank, “I don’t know,” you whispered before shaking your head. “Everything? College and what we are and the future and my life plans and home and everything, David. It was everything,” you said as you buried your head in your hands again and tried to breathe.

David reached our and rubbed your back as you composed yourself and started talking again.

“I can’t do this,” you said a little angrily. “This wasn’t the plan. I was going to get through my senior year with Elsie and Matthew, and I was going to graduate and come here and start my future. On my own. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Plans change,” David said simply.

“This one wasn’t supposed to. Everything is always changing, and this was supposed to be the one thing that didn’t,” you choked out as your throat went dry.

“What do you mean?” He pried.

“I mean that we’ve been between two houses for as long as I can remember. That Mom and Dad can’t even be in the same room when at some point they used to be in love. Those shitty friends I had freshman year that used to mean everything to me until they ruined me. Every style I have ever had. Any number on your football jersey. Transferring schools in the middle of third grade. Splitting up clothes between two houses or having to pack to go to what was supposed to be a home to us. One minute, Mom’s there, the next she’s not. Same with Dad. You’re here. And you’re not back home. It all is always changing, and I thought my senior year would finally be different, but it wasn’t,” you said, trying not to shout as you got angry.

“And I don’t think I even know what love is,” you said, annoyed. “Because apparently Mom and Dad had none of that.”

“They did at some point,” David reminded you.

“But it wasn’t forever,” you reminded him. “What if love isn’t actually forever? What if I risk it all for him and then it’s two years later and I don’t feel the same way anymore?” you said softly, and paused before you said what you were actually scared of. “What if I’m just not capable of love?”

“[Y/N], is that really what you think?” David said with that concerned big brother look on his face.

“What if I’m just not meant to fall in love?”

“You’re eighteen. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“You’ve only had one girlfriend, and you dumped her after five months because she told you that she loved you and you didn’t feel the same way,” you said as you pointed at him.

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Is it? Because it sounds to me like you weren’t in love.”

“I wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean I never will be,” he said calmly.

“But what if?”

“The world is full of what-ifs. You can’t base every decision off of that,” he said as he motioned with his arms.

“What if we never learned to really love because of Mom and Dad? Have you ever thought about that?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “For a long time. But I realized I’m young. And I know what’s meant for me will come when the time is right.”

You scoffed and leaned your head back on the chair, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Are you scared?” He said as he watched you carefully.

“Terrified,” you whispered.

It went quiet for a few minutes. The only things you could hear were the cars driving below you, an occasional shout from the apartment next door and Alex watching some show in the living room.

“I remember when Dad stormed out that one night, a few weeks before they told us they were getting a divorce. And Mom wouldn’t leave her room, no matter how many times we knocked. You eventually found your way into my room and we laid on my bed and just stared at those dumb plastic glow in the dark stars on my ceiling. I asked you if you were scared. And you said no,” he recalled.

“I don’t remember that,” you said.

“I’ll never forget it,” he said as he stopped looking at you for a minute. “You’ve never been scared of anything. You’ve always taken change head-on and pushed through it. And even if you were scared, you always hid it. No one ever knew. When Mom and Dad got divorced, I’d have to be the one to ask your teachers how you were doing since Mom and Dad clearly weren’t doing anything. But they always said the same thing. You were doing just fine. Yeah, sometimes you were dramatic,” he paused as you rolled your eyes and he laughed at you, “but you always carried on. To see you visibly scared because of your feelings for Shawn, now that’s what scares me.”

“What do I do?” You said under your breath.

“You have to make a decision. You’re the quarterback. You were just handed the ball. What are you going to do with it?” David asked.

“Well, I was going to run, but now everything - everyone - is right in front of me, and I’m probably about to fumble it,” you mumbled.

“There are always other options,” he said.

“Like what, Dave?” You asked, entertaining his analogy.

“Sometimes when you don’t see the opening you want or initially planned on, you’ve just gotta drop back and go for it,” he paused, “and not think about those other players coming at you. It’s you, the ball, and the wide receiver sprinting down the field.”

You just looked at him with your eyebrows knit together.

“[Y/N], if you have these feelings for Shawn, it doesn’t matter about the other factors that are clouding in front of you. The schools, our parents, graduation, the future. None of it matters except for you, Shawn and the feelings you two clearly have for each other,” he said as he leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees. “Elsie, Matthew and I are on your team, and we can try to fend off these factors as long as we can, but we’re losing momentum. Time is ticking. Those factors are coming closer and becoming more real. But Shawn is down that field, waiting for you to realize he’s open and to throw that ball to him, so he can make another one of his multiple, amazing touchdowns,” he paused, and you laughed at him. “You have to throw him the ball because if you fumble it, you’re definitely losing this game. But if you throw it, and Shawn catches it, then you have that much greater of a chance of winning it.”

You didn’t say anything for a minute as you let this all sink in.

“You’re right,” you mumbled as you kept staring forward.

You heard him laugh before he said, “Like always.”

You let yourself smile a little as you looked back at him.

“Mom and Dad really fucked us up, huh?” He said with a smile.

You rolled your eyes at him and pressed your cheek to your knee.

“We sure had some great love role models,” you mumbled with an eye roll.

“But you’ve got Elsie and Matthew,” he reminded you.

You nodded your head, “Yeah, they like to remind me of that a lot.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just staring at the fall colors around you.

“So, what’s the plan?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

“I’m going to drop back. I’m going to go for it. I have to.”

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softspideys · 5 years

Text

Enemies at First Sight (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

summary: when your best friends start dating, you and bucky barnes have no choice but to hang out. there’s only one problem: you hate each other

warnings: none

word count: 4.6k

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: nothing like a good ol’ fashioned enemies-to-lovers college!au am I right ladies.....this is my first time writing for bucky so I really hope y’all enjoy! :)

“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” you said wearily as you shut the door to your Uber and followed Sharon to the bar.

“Because you’re my best friend and you love me?” she said, shooting you a smile over her shoulder. You wrinkled your nose and she sighed. “Because I’m buying your drinks when we go out for the next two weeks?”

“That’s better.”

“Can you at least try to have some fun?” she asked, pulling open the door and allowing you to go inside first. It was only nine o’clock but the place was already packed. This was Georgetown, for God’s sake. Why was everyone in your entire school at this small, shitty bar?

You weren’t usually opposed to going out. You would just rather be doing it elsewhere. But Sharon had met some guy in her Military History class who was apparently so cute and so smart, and he’d asked her out for drinks. They were still in the early stages of getting to know one another, so he’d suggested they could each bring a friend to keep things from becoming awkward. You ended up being Sharon’s pick. Lucky you.

“All I’m saying is this guy better be, like, Leo DeCaprio in Titanic levels of good-looking,” you said, shaking your head. “Some Kappa guys were having a party and I wanted to go to it.”

“Kappa guys are gross,” Sharon said, craning her neck to see over the crowd of people. “And I’m telling you, Steve is like, Leo DeCaprio in Romeo and Juliet levels of good-looking. Seriously. Oh, there they are!”

“I wasn’t talking about Steve,” you said as she began to wave. “I meant his friend. You know, the one I’m actually going to have to hang out with tonight?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Sharon said, flipping her hand. “I’m sure you’re going to get along fine. And if not, it’s just one night. It’s not like you ever have to see each other again.”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but two boys approached you before you could get any words out. They were both tall, although that was pretty much where the similarities ended. One of them reminded you of a Ken doll: he had neatly combed blond hair, eyes the color of your favorite denim jeans, and a million megawatt smile that was born to be on infomercials, selling people ThighMasters and Snuggies at three in the morning. He was picture-perfect in a white t-shirt that stretched over a muscular chest, jeans, and a brown leather jacket.

His friend, however, was a little leaner, more casual in just a black t-shirt and jeans. His had a sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and blue eyes, but not like the first guy’s: they were a bright, icy blue that reminded you of a frozen pond on a winter’s day. There was something darker and more elegant about him, like he should’ve been born an aristocrat instead of a college student.

“Hi there,” the blond guy said to you, flashing you that charming, All-American grin and offering his hand. “You must be Sharon’s friend.”

“Y/N,” you said, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Steve,” he said before he gestured to his companion. “This is my friend Bucky.” The other boy nodded to you, a bored expression on his face.

“Bucket?” you said, scrunching your eyebrows together. The bar was loud, and it was hard to hear Steve’s low voice over the din. “That’s your name?”

He fixed you with a glare that was nothing short of hostile. “It’s Bucky,” he said. He didn’t say it loudly, but you heard him clearly that time. He didn’t elaborate, either.

“Oh,” you said, nodding slowly. “Alright.” An awkward silence followed.

“Should we get drinks?” Steve asked, clapping his hands. “First round’s on us, right, Buck?” You and Sharon gave them your orders and went to go find a table to sit at. As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned on her.

“What the fuck was that? What kind of name is Bucket?”

“It’s Bucky,” Sharon corrected, almost pleadingly. “Come on, you just met him. He can’t be that bad; he’s Steve’s best friend!”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one stuck with him!”

“Look, would you rather be here or at that noisy, smelly, gross Kappa house with all those creepy guys?” she challenged you.

You pretended to think for a second. “Kappa house, easily.” Sharon shot you a look as Steve and Bucky came back with your drinks, sliding into the booth across from you.

“So,” Steve said, “what are you studying?” You told him, and he nodded appreciatively. “Nice. I’m double majoring in History and Criminal Justice.”

“Cool.” In an effort to be inclusive, you asked Bucky, “What about you?”

“Foreign Language and Literature, minoring in Russian,” he said flatly. You’d never met anyone studying either of those, but Bucky had a look on his face that made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be asked any questions about it.

The night dragged on like that. After about fifteen minutes of painful group conversation, Sharon and Steve opted for leaning in closer to each other, talking and giggling in low voices. You were used to playing wingwoman for your friends and had gone on double dates before, but none of them had ever been this unfriendly. Bucky seemed to have zero interest in you, preferring to check his phone over talking to you.

“Hey,” Sharon said to you after what felt like hours. “Steve knows the bouncer at that really nice bar two blocks up. We’re going to head over there, do you wanna come?”

“Um,” you said, standing up. “No, that’s okay. I’m kinda tired, I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Bucky will walk you,” Steve jumped in. “Right?” Bucky looked like he’d rather have his teeth pulled than do that, but he nodded anyway. You weren’t happy about it either, but forced a smile.

As Sharon hugged you good-bye, she whispered in your ear, “Thanks for being a good sport. And look: now you never have to see him again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Be safe, okay? Fill me in on everything tomorrow morning.” She nodded and you waved to Steve before following Bucky out the door.

The two of you walked in silence for a while before he said, “Look, you seem nice—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“—but I’m just not that interested in dating right now.”

“Wow, I never would’ve figured that out for myself,” you said sarcastically, shaking your head in disgust.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve barely said two words to me all night and you look like someone just killed your grandma. I don’t see how I could’ve gotten any impression other than that you don’t like me.”

He shot you another icy glare. “It’s nothing personal. I just didn’t feel like coming out tonight.”

“So why did you?”

“Steve’s my best friend.”

“He doesn’t have other friends? Preferably nicer ones?”

“He does,” Bucky said defensively. “But he asked me to come.”

“Okay, so why you?” you asked. “Aside from your obvious charming and friendly nature, of course.”

Bucky was silent for a second. “He thought it might cheer me up,” he said at last, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been going through some . . . stuff . . . recently and I haven’t really been in the mood to see anyone.”

“Stuff?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows. “What, did you just get dumped or something?” It was a random guess, but he didn’t answer, staring at his feet as you walked. You snorted. “Oh my God, you did get dumped! And now you’re using your heartbreak as an excuse to just be a jerk. This is rich.”

“You know what?” Bucky said, stopping abruptly. “I’m thinking that you know your own way home. You don’t need me to walk you.”

“No, I certainly don’t,” you said, continuing down the sidewalk. “Thanks for nothing, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky!” he shouted at your back. You smirked, shaking your head. Overall it had been a shitty night, but you were comforted by the fact that you would never have to see or interact with this stupid Bucky guy ever again.

Although you did have to admit he was handsome. You’d always been a sucker for blue eyes anyway. But it didn’t matter. “Not a chance,” you told yourself, chuckling a little at the absurdity of the idea. “Not a chance in hell.”

*****

Sharon practically floated through the door of your apartment the next morning; apparently she and Steve stayed out all night talking and walking through the streets of D.C. together, and they’d made plans to see each other again. One date turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into many, many more.

You were happy for her, of course. Steve seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and it was clear he was head-over-heels for Sharon (honestly, who wouldn’t be?). You didn’t mind when he stayed over at your apartment, or when she picked hanging out with him over plans with you. No, your biggest issue was still with Steve’s best friend, that asshole Bucky Barnes.

You’d learned more about him through Sharon: apparently they’d known each other since they were kids, growing up in Brooklyn together. Before he hit puberty, Steve had been (much to your amusement) small and scrawny, a favorite target among the bullies at their school. Bucky had always been the one to defend him.

Sharon also said Steve didn’t like to talk about Bucky’s ex-girlfriend, since apparently it hadn’t been the most amicable of breakups. All she’d managed to squeeze out of him was a name: Natasha Romanoff.

Some quick social media stalking revealed a couple things: she was a Pre-Law major with a minor in Russian, which was probably how the two of them had met. She used to be a ballet dancer and had spent time training in Volgograd. She’d done some modeling in Tokyo last summer. She was also, quite honestly, the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

“Holy shit,” you said, passing your phone to Sharon so she could scroll through Natasha’s Instagram. “Look at her hair. Do you think she dyes it?” Though the style changed throughout the photos, the color always remained a rich, dark red.

“Wow,” Sharon commented, taking a swig from the bottle of wine you were sharing. “She’s gorgeous. No wonder Bucky’s so grumpy all the time; I would be too if I got dumped by her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Being dumped by a hot girl is no excuse to be an asshole for as long as he has.” You’d been forced to hang out with Bucky several more times since your first disastrous meeting, and not much had changed between the two of you.

The next evening, you pulled up to the curb outside Bucky and Steve’s small, shitty off-campus house that they shared with three of their friends: an Aerospace & Bio-Mechanical Engineer major named Tony Stark, a Mechanical Engineering major named Sam Wilson, and an Exercise Science major named Clint Barton. You were there to get Sharon, but were surprised to see Bucky sitting on the front steps, reading a book. He glanced up at the sound of your car and made eye contact with you through the window.

Against your better judgment, you rolled it down. “Hey, Bucket.”

He scowled. “It’s Bucky. What are you doing here?”

“I’m picking up Sharon,” you said. “Why are you sitting outside?” It was nice out, but it was also ten o’clock at night. The only light he was getting was from the crappy one above him on the porch.

“Forgot my key,” he said. “Tony’s with Pepper, Sam and Clint are at the gym, and Steve and Sharon are . . . occupied.”

“Ah,” you said uncomfortably. Clearly you had some time to kill, so you cut the engine and unbuckled your seatbelt. “What are you reading?”

“Crime and Punishment,” he said. “For my Russian Lit class.”

“Dostoevsky,” you said, nodding. “Cool.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You know him?”

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged. “Just didn’t know you were that smart, is all.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, feeling a fresh wave of hatred for him wash over you. “Just because I’m not, what, Pre-Law and Russian, that means I’m not smart?” You didn’t mean to say Natasha’s studies specifically; somehow they just slipped out.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No, it’s because—wait.” He blinked. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“Natasha’s majors,” he said, forcing the name out. “How’d you know that? How do you know her? Have you been stalking me or something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, although your face was burning at being caught. “Sharon told me. I have no interest in you or anything you do, don’t worry.” Desperate to end the conversation, you laid on the horn, hoping Steve and Sharon would hear it and speed up the process.

“Yeah? I’m glad we’re on the same page, then,” Bucky snapped. “So do me a favor and stay out of my business.” Sharon finally came out, looking apologetic. Steve was behind her, holding the door open so Bucky could come inside. He got to his feet and stalked past him.

“You’ve been here for, like, a minute,” Sharon said as she got into the passenger seat. “How are you guys already fighting?” Steve waved half-heartedly as you drove away.

“He’s a douchebag, that’s how,” you said, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said a handsome one, though.

*****

You met Natasha Romanoff for the first time at Bruce Banner’s birthday party. Originally, you weren’t even planning on going. Sharon and Steve had been dating for several months now, and you got along with their friend group just fine (aside from a certain blue-eyed jerk), but you didn’t really care to go to a party full of them.

That all changed when Sharon told you that Bruce, their constantly-stressed Physics major friend whom the party was for, was now dating Natasha, Bucky’s ex-girlfriend. Now you were interested. A chance to see Bucky uncomfortable? What could be better?

You were in the kitchen, fixing yourself a drink. Sharon was in the next room, cheering on Steve and Sam as they played a heated game of beer pong against Tony and their other friend Thor, a friendly and competitive frat boy type who was also Bruce’s roommate.

Suddenly, a voice behind you said, “Hey!” You turned and saw the birthday boy himself walking in, smiling at you. There was a girl standing behind him, and of course you recognized her immediately. The infamous Natasha.

“Hi,” you said, focusing on Bruce as he reached forward to hug you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks for coming! I’m so glad you decided to show up.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “Wouldn’t miss it.” An awkward silence followed. You were grateful to be holding a drink, since it gave you something to do with your hands.

Bruce glanced at the girl, and then back at you. “Hey, you haven’t met Nat, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” you said, because technically it was true. Meeting someone in person was very different from stalking their social media. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m Sharon’s friend.”

“Hi,” Natasha said, giving you a small half-smile. She was even more perfect up close, and you found yourself trying to picture her and Bucky together. The thought of it made you a little uncomfortable, although you weren’t sure why. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“You said you were Sharon’s friend?” You nodded. “So you must know James.”

“James?” you repeated, racking your brain to try and think of who James could possibly be. You knew pretty much everybody in Steve’s friend group now, thanks to Sharon constantly forcing you to hang out with them. But you’d never met anyone named James. “No, I don’t think so.”

Bruce laughed, flicking Nat lightly on the arm. “What?” she said, although her half-smile grew into a bigger one as she looked at him.

You raised your eyebrows, confused. Clearly this was some inside joke you weren’t privy to. Bruce shook his head at you, still chuckling. “James—that’s Bucky’s real name.”

“Bucky’s real name is James?” you repeated in disbelief. You honestly had never thought about him having an actual name, though it obviously made sense. He was always just . . . Bucky. Just that word brought the image of him to your brain, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Oh my God,” you said, snorting. “That’s completely ridiculous. James Buchanan wasn’t even a good president.”

“I always liked it,” Natasha said with a small shrug. “And where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him at all since we got here.”

“He should be here somewhere,” Bruce said. “This is his house, after all.”

Now that you were thinking about him, you realized that you’d only seen Bucky once so far tonight, when you first walked in. The two of you had locked eyes across the room and scowled at each other. Bruce and Natasha had arrived not long after, and then he’d simply disappeared.

It wasn’t your problem. For God’s sake, you couldn’t stand the guy. And yet you still went looking for him. You didn’t bother asking Steve or Sharon where he was, knowing they’d just jump to conclusions, so you wandered throughout the house, peeking into random rooms and hoping you wouldn’t walk in on anyone having sex.

At last, you opened the door to the bathroom and found Bucky sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He glanced up when you walked in, but said nothing.

“Hey, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky,” he corrected you, like always, but he sounded tired this time.

“Or maybe you prefer James?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. Looking at him, though, you privately wondered if maybe you preferred it. James Buchanan Barnes. It was too stuffy, too old-fashioned for someone like him, but at the same time . . . it fit.

His gaze snapped to you quickly, his expression unreadable. For some reason it made your stomach jump. “I guess you met Natasha,” he said. He didn’t phrase it like a question.

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s the only one aside from my mom and my grandma who calls me James,” he said. “Always said Bucky was the name of a cartoon beaver, not a real person.”

That struck you as kind of harsh, but you didn’t say so. “James is okay,” you said with a shrug. “But I think I like Bucket better.” He cracked a smile, one of the rare ones you were able to elicit from him, shaking his head. “Why are you hiding in here, anyway? You’re supposed to be out having a good time.”

“Like you care.”

“Oddly enough, I do,” you said wryly. “It’s no fun if I’m not the one making you miserable.”

Bucky snorted. He was silent for a few seconds, and then he said abruptly, “It’s just—hard to be out there, I guess. Nat and I dated for two years, but we were friends before that. I know—knew—everything about her. And now it’s . . . not like that anymore.”

“It must be weird,” you said cautiously. “To see her and Bruce together.”

“That was why she broke up with me. Did you know that?” You shook your head. “Yeah. We’ve all been friends since like, freshman year, but I guess last semester was when they got close. And then she dumped me, and next thing I knew they were dating.” He exhaled. “I never saw it coming.”

“That really sucks,” you said. “I’m sorry.” And surprisingly, you meant it.

“Yeah,” was all Bucky said. “I don’t know. I want her to be happy. I thought I made her happy. But if it’s being with Banner that does it, then . . . that’s cool, I guess. Because she’s a great person, you know?”

You nodded. Even though she’d broken Bucky’s heart, you had to respect her for breaking up with him properly instead of just cheating. And Natasha had seemed funny and friendly when you met her. You just couldn’t hate her.

“You deserve to be happy too,” you said quietly. Bucky looked up at you, and for once, there was no irritation or malice in his gaze. He had a thoughtful expression on his face, and it made your stomach flip again. Butterflies? You didn’t think you could handle getting butterflies.

“I guess so,” he said finally. “I’m getting there.” You held his eyes for a few seconds until he shook his head a little, like he was snapping himself out of a trance. “I don’t even know why I told you all that.” He got to his feet and moved past you, opening the bathroom door. “You don’t even like me.”

But as you watched him successfully beat Steve in a game of flip cup, argue good-naturedly with Tony over the future of nanotechnology, and cordially say hello to Bruce and Nat, you wondered if maybe he was wrong.

Maybe you did like Bucky. Maybe all of the arguing was just to keep things interesting, and maybe the only thing you wanted to do right now was go up to him and kiss him right on his stupid mouth.

Oh no. There was only one solution to this: you went back into the kitchen and refilled your drink.

When you woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover, you rolled over to face Sharon, who always crawled into your bed and snuggled with you when she was drunk. “Sharon. Hey.” She groaned. “Wake up.”

“What?” she mumbled, her face half-smushed into the pillow.

“I think I like Bucky.”

There was a pause. You waited for her to be surprised at this revelation, or offer you some advice that only a best friend could. Instead, she opened her eyes and squinted at you, looking utterly disgusted.

“Yeah. No shit.”

*****

“You came to this party with Rumlow?”

You turned around and saw Bucky Barnes of all people standing in the doorway, staring at you.

It had been a strange couple of weeks. After Bruce’s birthday party, you came to the unfortunate conclusion that you had feelings for Bucky Barnes. It was a particularly hard pill to swallow, since a) the two of you couldn’t go five minutes without fighting, and b) he would never in a million years like you back.

You tried to act normal whenever you were around him, but soon you found that just being near him made your heart beat faster than normal. Suddenly it was hard to even form coherent thoughts, much less speak. So, avoidance it was.

You’d sworn Sharon to secrecy, forbidding her to even tell Steve, which she wasn’t happy about. She was convinced the two of them would be able to work some matchmaking magic, but you knew better. Bucky was better suited for girls like Natasha, who were interesting and mysterious and fun. You were just an occasionally annoying presence, a friend of his best friend’s girlfriend. Nothing else.

If Bucky noticed you weren’t around as much, he never said anything. In fact, the two of you didn’t speak at all. Until tonight, at a party thrown by your friends Scott and Hope. You’d spent most of the night successfully avoiding him, but made the mistake of stepping out onto the empty balcony to get some air. Now he had you cornered.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Theoretically, yeah, I did.”

“So you’re aware that he’s hooking up with some random girl in there?” Bucky asked, almost accusingly.

Brock Rumlow was, by all accounts, a scumbag. Sharon was always telling you how much Steve hated him. But he’d asked you to go to the party with him and you’d do anything to not look like a pathetic, pining loser. Except, of course, now you did, because Rumlow had ditched you to sleep with someone else.

You knew you should care, or at least pretend that you did, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. So you just shrugged, turning back to look over the balcony at all the drunk people stumbling and laughing through the streets.

There was silence, and you thought maybe he’d gone back inside. But suddenly he was right next to you. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah. You’ve been, like, weird lately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, annoyed.

“Just—I don’t know. It feels like you’re avoiding me or something. Ever since Banner’s party.”

You finally turned to look at him head-on and immediately wished you hadn’t. You’d forgotten how beautiful he was, how wonderfully messy his hair was as it fell across his forehead, how flushed his cheeks were from the cold, how bright his eyes were. You had to force your brain to start working again.

“Isn’t that what you want?” you said after a second.

To your surprise, he let out a long sigh. “I thought it was,” he said. “But now I’m not sure.”

“Sorry, wait, what?” you said, holding up a hand, acutely aware of your heart starting to pound. “What does that mean?”

“You just—you drive me insane, okay?” Bucky said. “Like, you pissed me off the first night we met and you fight with me about literally every single thing and you’re so freaking stubborn—”

“Is there a point to this? Or are you just going to keep insulting me?” you interrupted.

“I’m not done!” Bucky said, sounding frustrated. “See, this is what I mean! You’re always just around, and you always seem to like everyone but me and—and then all of a sudden you stopped coming over, or you only come over when I’m not there, and now you’re here with Rumlow and you—you make me feel weird.”

“Weird?” you repeated.

“Yeah. Like—like my stomach is fluttering or something.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you like me?” you said, feeling like the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. There was just no way that was what he meant. It just couldn’t be.

“I . . . yeah,” Bucky said quietly, exhaling. “I think I am.”

For a second the two of you just stared at each other. You searched his face, looking for any sign of him joking, but couldn’t find it. His eyes never left yours, looking back at you unflinchingly. You swallowed. This was real. This was actually real.

“I think,” you said finally, “you should kiss me.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He slid over, leaning in to crash his lips against yours. You fisted one hand in his shirt while he cupped your cheek, pressing closer still. Everything else seemed to stop, and you didn’t care that it was freezing out, or that your lips were slightly chapped, or that Steve and Sharon were never going to let you hear the end of this. You were kissing Bucky after all these long months of so desperately wanting to.

And God, he was good at it, kissing you so deeply and thoroughly it made your knees feel a little weak. His warm hands ran down your torso, slipping beneath your jacket and shirt and rubbing the skin there. Part of you couldn’t help but be annoyed at the fact that you’d known Bucky for about six months now and had only just gotten around to kissing him now.

At last, he placed one more soft kiss on your lips before pulling away, his eyes sparkling in a way that you’d never seen before. He looked . . . happy. Really, genuinely happy. I did that, you thought to yourself, almost in wonder.

“Do you wanna get outta here?” Bucky asked, gesturing to everything around you. “I know it’s a little overdue, but maybe I can walk you home now.”

You laughed and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds great.” He held out his hand and you took it, liking the way your fingers fit between his. “Let’s go, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky,” he corrected you, but he was smiling.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #college!au #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers one shot #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel oneshot #writing #bucky barnes x reader

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nickmuch · 5 years

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c.z.k. - high school (Part 2)

PART 1 / PART 3

Note: I was asked to turn this into a longer story, so here’s part 2! I don’t know in what direction to necessary go with this and how to end/wrap it up, so if you have any ideas message me pls! I’ll try to make this a 5-part-imagine.

Also: Edwin crackhead hours have arrived. Again

“So, you’re cool with that?!” Edwin shouted in disbelief.

Nearly four months had passed since my little moment with Zion and a lot had happened during this time. After the party, everything seemed to go smoothly between us. Probably way too smoothly. We spent most of our free-time together, doing god knows what. However, at the end we decided we would be better off as just friends. He reasoned that it was unfair to the boys and only made the whole group dynamic odd. I was okay with that. Okay, scratch that, I wasn’t okay with that. But I wasn’t going to throw a fit or anything and honestly it ended up working out better than I would have thought.

“Sure, why shouldn’t I?” I asked. This only made me earn a scoff from him. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever or something? Did you catch a cold?” Edwin pressed the back of his hand against my forehead, trying to see if I was indeed getting sick. “Stop that” Nick mumbled, swatting his hand away from me. “Bro, she’s okay with that, though!”. The neighboring table turned around giving us glares for being so loud. “Excuse my little idiotic friend over there” Austin apologized in behalf of Ed. He was just about to protest when he got interrupted by Brandon. “She’s okay with what …?”.

He had spent half of the lunch-time in the art room, trying to compose a beat he couldn’t get out of his head and for which he might have earned himself detention from our English teacher for “making too much noise during class”.

“She’s okay with Z and Asya hanging out” “Hanging out? Since when is that a problem? They are friends I thought?”. Edwin slapped him across the back of his head. “Are y’all dumb or are y’all stupid?! They are dating or something, Ion even know. But I for sure saw ‘em swap spit earlier this morning and thinking about it now: B, you can have my lunch. I lost my appetite.” He shoved his tray in Brandon’s direction, who didn’t even notice judging from his perplex expression towards me. “So, you’re trying to tell me that Z is with Asya – the girl who he said was like a cousin –“ “Correction, he said little sister” Nick chimed in. The boy with glasses shook his head. “Alright, who he said was like a little sister. And you’re cool with that? Even though that’s low key incest-y If I might add. Besides, do I have to remind you that not even a month ago he broke things off out of nowhere with the shittiest of the shittiest excuses? You cried for the whole weekend!”.

He was right. I had cried about it for three days straight. I really didn’t mean to, but somehow, I guess I liked him more than I wanted to admit. The first night the boys had made it their mission to cheer me up, but once they realized it wasn’t working, they just joined me and my pity party with some Ben & Jerry’s. At some point, Edwin even shed a tear or two. “I just don’t know if I should be sad that my favorite ship just sank or if I should beat his lanky ass for breaking my twin’s heart!” he exclaimed.

“I know, but I’m over it now” I poked in my salad. “And frankly, he is too by the looks of it”. I really didn’t mean to look over to her table. It just happened for a split second. Of course, it was right in the moment he was leaning in, giving her a kiss on the lips. She was blushing like mad. “This is so disgusting. Here, you can have my lunch” Brandon slid the tray - that originally was Edwin’s - into Austin’s direction. “I just don’t get it, man. Zion really liked you. Why did he pull that move on you?” Nick asked. No one could answer him. All of our gazes were pointed in their direction. After what felt like years, I decided that enough was enough and got up. “Yo, where you goin’? We still need to talk about this” Edwin stopped me to pull me down again. Though, I ended up sitting on his lap instead of my original spot, he seemed to not care. He was determined to get the truth out of me. If there was one thing you needed to know about Edwin, it was that he cared about his family dearly. Whenever one of his siblings was sad, he automatically was sad, too. Ever since I moved in, that same rule applied to me.

“You want the truth?” I said annoyed. All I wanted was to get out of here, in all honesty. The feeling of humiliation was getting stronger by the second. He just nodded cautiously, as if he didn’t know whether or not to answer me. “I feel like shit” I said, feeling a little bit relieved to finally speak my mind. “He’s annoying me. Just last month he was all into me and suddenly he’s with her?! Plus, what type of shitty excuse is that?” my voice was starting to tremble at this point.“It’s unfair to the boys and makes the whole group dynamic odd” I mocked him. “I am really starting to think that I was just pass-time to him and that makes me mad. It’s really unfair, okay?! If you like someone else, why in the flying fuck would you even get involved with me? Ugh, fuck this shit. I don’t even wanna be his friend anymore. Seeing his face makes me wanna beat his ass and I ain’t about that life. My momma raised me better than beating the ass of a bean stick!”.

Once I was finished with my rant, I finally dared to look at the boys. All of them had shock written all over their faces. “Aye, Ma” Nick spoke first. “You should’ve told us earlier. We would’ve checked him and at least made sure he wouldn’t be all lovey-dovey with her in your presence”. All I did was sigh.

“I don’t know what to say. Or feel” Austin looked so helpless. He was struggling to find the right comforting words and suddenly I felt horrible for dragging them into my stupid problems. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I will get over it at some point. It’s not like he’s the only cute boy in New York”. “That’s right, I’m cuter” Edwin tried to lighten the mood and it actually worked. We were all laughing before the bell rang, signaling that class was starting soon.

After school, Edwin immediately drove us both home, so I could take a nap before the boys came over. As soon as I was in my bed, I of course was struggling to fall asleep. “Can you come over? I can’t sleep” I spoke into the phone. Not even ten seconds later, Edwin barged into my room, getting under the covers with me. The fact we got so close over the last few months was making me happy, to say the least. It wasn’t weird to share a bed with each other, we were siblings after all. “We shared a womb, we might as well be able to share a bed” he had said jokingly one day. The silence was comforting me in a way I couldn’t explain in words.

“Fuck Z”. Him suddenly speaking shook me out of my thoughts. “I mean, don’t fuck him. But fuck him. You know?”. Sometimes, it was hard for Edwin to find the right words. It wasn’t because he didn’t know what to say, but rather the fact he had so many things to say that it just ended up blocking his mind ultimately. “I know”.

“This is some sweet home alabama shit” “Shut up, Austin. They just fell asleep together, no big deal” “Okay guys, but I’m getting hungry. Should we wake ‘em up now?”. His body started to shift beneath me, both of us fully waking up by the noise the others were making. “Good morning, honey bubbas!” all three of them were towering over us. The sight was rather scary, with their creepy grins plastered on their faces. “What time is it?” Edwin asked sleepily. He seemed a bit disoriented. “Time for you to get up and make us some food! Mama Honoret went out with the niñitos, so we’re all by ourselves”.

Slowly, we got out of bed to go find something to eat in the kitchen. Ding Dong. The doorbell rang. “Do you guys expect someone?” I asked confused. None of them were able to meet my eyes, looking slightly uncomfortable and at a loss for words. Instead of waiting for a reply, I went straight to the door to open it. “Wait!” “Hold up!” “Don’t” “No!”. Too late. There he stood, three boxes of pizza in his hands. “Uhm, hey”. My first instinct was to slam the door shut in his face and cuss the others out for not telling me sooner. However, on second thought, I decided against it. “Hi. Come in, I guess”. Awkwardly, he greeted his friends and made his way towards the kitchen to put the food on the counter. “So, uhm how about we watch some Netflix while we eat? On My Block sounds good?” Edwin tried to distract from the obvious thick tension in the air. I wasn’t going to ruin what should’ve been a chill night with my favorite people (minus Caleb) and just said “Sure, sounds good”.

The whole night was spent with Zion staring me down from his seat and Edwin exaggeratedly laughing at the funny moments to avoid the awkward atmosphere. Brandon was busy shoving his face with pizza – probably so that he didn’t have to speak. Nick and Austin were arguing about the gang situation in Freeridge. “If he wants his little brother to live a better life, then why is he dragging him into it? Isn’t he the gang leader or something? Just let your brother go to school and boom, problem solved” “It’s not that easy, bro! You want Oscar to lose his street credibility? Might as well put his clown suit on already”.

When I shifted to find a better position, his eyes were still on me. So, I decided to send him a quick text in hopes of making him stop.

< Dude, stop staring. Ur making me mad >

< I’m not staring, u must be trippin shawty >

< first of all, you’ve been staring since season 1 chapter 2. We’re on season 2 now. Second of all, if you call me shawty one more time imma rip ur ass open >

He visibly gulped at my last sentence, contemplating what to reply but ultimately deciding against it and sliding his phone back into his back pocket. Quietly, he stood up exclaiming to the group that he had to leave. A loud sigh of relief left Brandon’s lips, as if he had been waiting for this moment the whole night. “Thank god” he mumbled lowly, yet everyone could hear him clearly but decided to ignore it. “I’ll see you guys on Monday”. With that, he immediately left.

“I think I’ll call it a night. Haven’t really slept well recently”. It was true, I could barely fall asleep nowadays. Tired or not, the night wasn’t my best friend anymore. Everything was keeping me up. The drama with Caleb, the new life I yet had to adjust to – the boys made it easier, though -, and the passing of my parents. It was all too much at once. How was I supposed to comprehend all of this in just a matter of three months? Exactly, there was no waysomeone could deal with that in such a short period of time. The first couple of weeks I was as good as could be expected under the circumstances, but now it all seemed to slowly catch up on me.

“What! No! This was supposed to be a chill night, followed by the best sleepover of all time!”Edwin stood up, trying to make me stay by hugging my body tightly. “Yeah, you can’t leave! Not when Edwin is acting like a crackhead again” Brandon said, his arms securely wrapped around my shoulders. “Aight, I guess it’s group hug hours”. Soon, I found myself squished between not only Ed and B, but also Nick and later even Austin. “Okay, you guys won. I’ll stay”. They cheered at their victory, all pulling away at once. “But” This made everyone look at me suspiciously. “We’re gonna do a beauty-night!” I exclaimed happily with the biggest smile on my face. “Oh hell nah, I’m out!” Edwin crossed his arms, slightly turning away with his nose all scrunched up and brows furrowed. To be honest, he looked like a baby right now. “… unless this means I’m allowed to use that weird blue face mask from Lush?” he asked full of hope. “Yeah, why not”.

In a matter of minutes, we were all piled up on my bed, discussing what face mask would be the best for whom. “Your skin’s whack! Go put that charcoal one on, do something nice for your pores for once” Ed threw the bottle with the black liquid at Nick who grumpily obliged and started to apply it all over his face. “This feels nice. What exactly is that?” Brandon was looking curiously at the big tube in his hands, examining it in hopes of understanding what he just put on his skin. “It’s clay” I told him. “Clay” he repeated quietly and slowly, to no one in particular. Shaking my head with a content smile on my lips, I turned to Austin to see how he was holding up. We decided to let him try a bubble mask but looking at it now we might have made the wrong decision. Every inch of his face was covered in bubbles, and when I say every inch, I mean Every. Inch. Of. His. Precious. Face. “My eyes are burning, is this normal?”. “… Yes” I lied. Grabbing a wet cloth, I softly started rubbing the mask off of him before he ended up blind.

“Okay, what’s next? Do we paint each other’s nails? Do we play pillow fight? Do we talk about our menstrual cycle?”.

“What the fuck, Edwin?!”.

“Hey! Nothing wrong with talking about periods. It’s a natural thing and frankly, it’s actually good to talk about it with your friends to see, if – “

“Of course it’s a normal thing to talk about, but I think you might’ve forgotten something”.

Edwin looked at Brandon quizzingly. “We don’t have a uterus”.

“… Oh”.

Sometimes, he was just too much, but that’s why we loved him. “I think it’s time for bed, boys”. Reluctantly, they got up and lied on their designated air mattresses. “But Edwin can sleep in your bed? That’s so rude, Ma”. “Shut up, shark boy. I’m her twin, that’s just how we roll” he laughed evilly before turning the lights off and saying our good nights to each other.

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just tell him?” B looked at the direction my eyes were trained on. Zion would whisper something into Asya’s ear, making her giggle, then he would whisper something else, making her giggle again and so on. I was getting aggravated. “Can’t. That’s super awkward. I wish he’d just use one of his last functioning three brain cells to consider my feelings and not do all that while we share the same class”. Cleaning his glasses with his cotton shirt, he took his time to say something. “Tell him just that”. Turning around, I rolled my eyes at him. “Caleb, stooop!” she giggled for what felt like the millionth time. Before I knew what was happening, I was right in front of Zion dragging him out of the class and into the empty hallway. “What’s your problem?!” I shouted into his face. “My problem? No, what’s your problem?!”. I was this close to just going back in and ignoring him for the rest of my life, but something inside of me told me to keep going. It was now or never. “My problem is” I began. “You’re so fucking annoying and mean and selfish as fuck, only caring about yourself and never considering other people’s feelings! As if it wasn’t shitty enough how you broke things off, no you also have to flaunt your fling-”I knew it wasn’t just a fling, but honestly? I didn’t give a damn. He was rude, so I was being rude. “- into my face! Be secretive! Or at least just stop when I’m around. That’s all I’m asking from you”.

He didn’t say a single word. Not one. Instead he was searching my eyes, trying to see if I really meant what I just said. Seconds passed, turning into minutes. “Aren’t you going to say something? Defend yourself or whatever?”. Him staying silent made my blood boil because I felt ignored and just really stupid for straight up having an outburst without it affecting him. “There’s nothing to defend because you’re right. About everything. And I’m sorry for not realizing sooner how shitty I was behaving”. To say I was taken aback was an understatement. “That’s all?”. The silence was killing me and all I wanted was to go back to class. “No”. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me towards his chest. “What are you do-“ “Shut up”.

Next thing I knew, (I was pregnant) I felt his lips grazing mine and before I could stop him, he had already fully kissed me. I wanted to feel repulsed, I wanted to feel disgusted, I wanted to feel mad. But I couldn’t. I had missed him and I couldn’t deny it. When I pulled away, he tried to make me stay in place. That’s when my senses came back to me and reality hit me. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?! You have a new girl, remember?”. I pushed his chest, freeing myself. Once I was about to open the door again, I noticed that Zion still hadn’t moved an inch. Turning around, I wanted to tell him to move his ass back to class before both of us would get in trouble. But he never gave me a chance at that.

“I know, but I can’t get my real girl outta my head”.

Also2: I don’t know if I like this part, it’s more of a filler. I tried to put the focus on the relationship between her and Edwin, but also tried to give glimpses of the friendship between her and the rest of the boys. Zion isn’t included much because he’s always hanging out with that other chick. This part is set during the time where both of them try to avoid each other, so I wanted to make it as realistic as possible.

Let me know what your favorite part or line was! Hope you liked it xx

- Cami

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lesbian-octoling · 5 years

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Hey guys, Xeno drama ((you know, about the banner and hate and whatnot)) below the cut if you don’t wanna see it!!!

@mrkamabo--co Hello! I don’t know if you’re ever going to see this, but. It’s here.

First of all, yes, it’s me! lesbian-octoling, rhi-draws-things, whatever you wanna call me. I’m making this because I’ve heard through a friend of mine that I trust that you are a relatively good person, and while I don’t agree with everything you’ve done, I figured i might as well try to clear things up between us.

First off-

I’m sorry.

This is a 100% genuine, formal apology. I am sorry your medical issues are acting up, I understand completely. I had and almost identical use (albeit with chemical imbalances making me throw up, instead of breathing/heart issues, but both caused by stress), so I get it.

I’m not here to stress you further. In fact, I’m here to try and resolve the issue. I don’t want you to feel the way you do, and I don’t want to start more drama. I should know, i’ve been receiving nasty shit for a while. If you don’t want to read this- that’s okay! Don’t stress yourself, dude.

I just feel like this is important, because we never actually talked- and lack of communication often leads to violence.

But there are a few thing I wanted to address- first and foremost, the ‘xeno free zone’ banner, and the tags.

#‘you’re a coward cuz u wanna draw them with t^ddy’#i don’t do that in the first place lmao#and if you’re going to say:#'its actually scientifically accurate!’#nope it really isn’t #why?#why would squids/octopi evolve to have digigrades/muzzles/claws on their hands?#why would they look like goats with their eyes and muzzles?#they would have flat fish face!#have squid/octo hat heads!#like the third stage in their canon evolution!#exaggerate that if you want scientifically accurate squidlings/octolings/inklings!#otherwise.. yall just makin them into furries tbh#note: i have a surplus of fursonas#k peace

Ah, I hope you don’t mind me going off a bit, but I did want to say things!!!

Muzzles: Inkling beaks, IRL, are very long! they just look flat because.. well, squids are long! But if you put that into something shaped like a human head, they need a bit more room to stretch out.

Claws: they’re not actually claws, they’re hooks! Just like real deep-sea squids have hooks made of chitin that can retract back into their tentacles, which is why i made them like that. As you can see when they go back into heir squid forms, their arms and legs ARE just evolved tentacles!

Here’s a cool example of the hooks, as compared to some of my squid hands:

‘goat noses’: This is because… it’s not a nose! A real squid breathes through it’s siphon, which is one, large hole. That’s why their nose is like that- it’s not two nostrils, it’s one hole, but flattened down so it’s not just a big ol’ hole in their face. If it was, things might get into it, like dirt or bugs or.. i dunno.

Digigrades: admittedly, this is just because it’s fun, and theres no reason they shouldn’t. Any other similarities to cats is just… coincidental, really, as cats and squids have a lot of similarities (liking the sun, chasing lights, etc).

Eyes: Actually, this was a mistake. When i FIRST started getting into splatoon i was like ‘wait squids have horizontal pupils right’ and only found out later that no.. that’s octopi! But oh well, it was a bit late, eh? live and learn.

I’m not saying its fully scientifically accurate- hell, course it’s not! But its more biologically accurate than having them being made of ink. Mostly, I just think it’s fun, cus I’m a budding biologist and I think it’s cool to explore these concepts.

Ok! Thats all I gotta say. I just wanted a chance to explain myself, s’all! As for the banner itself… while it may have been joking in nature, I do think it was a bit rude. Kinda like swinging a bat at a hornet’s nest, yeah..? Like you said- “but yknow tumblr be tumblr, and i honestly expected This™”… you gotta watch out what you say sometimes. You could’ve made it more obvious that you were joking- putting ‘XENO FREE ZONE’ with bit red X’s and ‘feel free to reblog :)’ just has.. a very mean tone to it, and it rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, regardless of your intentions. It really didn’t sound like a joke, to a lot of people, including me.

Though, maybe, we’re all just a bit wary- I’ve been receiving asks telling me to- quite literally- kill myself, multiple times, over this. I also know several friends who have gotten the same messages (a few of which don't even draw xeno, but simply because they are my friends). I think me (and other xeno artists, though I cannot speak for them) have a right to be wary, when we’re so used to being bashed. A lot of people are scared, and it doesn’t make what some people said right, I’m just… telling you why that massive backlash happened.

And by ‘massive backlash’…. if I’m being honest- and I don’t mean to make it sound trivial- a lot of the responses to those posts weren’t truly mean. Some people sent a clown meme, a lot of people responded with ‘why are you hating us, were just having fun’. A few were pretty mean, yes, but I could count them on one hand. These were light hearted in nature, and nothing like some of the truly nasty things that could’ve been said. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve received in my inbox…

I think a lot of this could’ve been avoided if your post right after had simply been an apology. Instead of playing the victim card, simply say ‘ah, that last post was a joke- i sincerely apologize, and I might’ve worded it poorly’. That’s it. And it could have been avoided if you said, in the tags ‘this is a joke post don't take it seriously’. But instead, you went on the criticize xeno aspects. Not saying you’re wrong, but pointing out why so many people took it the wrong way.

But.. the main thing I wanted to address was this post.

I.. can’t say I’m in the right, but I can’t say you are, either. I probably shouldn’t have made that post- but it was meant more as an off-hand joke. I didn’t mention you at all, as I didn’t want anyone to hate on you. It’s more of a running joke for my blog of ‘sexy tartar’, which is why it was funny enough that I brought it up.

#can’t feel safe#when i put an opinion out there#its easy.. to ignore a post yknow…? It’s also easy not to make a joke like that. Again- maybe you intended it as a joke, but it’s like one of those shitty april fools pranks where you tell somebody something bad happened. We got scared. Doesn’t make it right of us, but it doesn’t make it right of you, either.

But the ONLY thing I’m truly angry about- if you saying that ‘you, a minor, don’t feel safe because you’re being shat on by an adult’. The reason this makes me mad is because… I’m 18. Barely. And you’re 17. I’m… not even a full year older than you. I’m still in high school. The way you worded it made it sound like i’m a 32 year old getting off on sending hate to a 13 year old- and that’s not even close to the case. That is not cool, dude.

Anyway. Sorry about that, though I hope you can see why I’m.. unhappy with the wording. I’m trying to solve things here, not make them worse, ha…

And.. yes, I did block you. But not so you wouldn’t find out. You can still see my blog; i know this. I blocked you because I’ve been getting hate anons for the past few weeks, and I can’t be too careful with who I block. I’m tired of people telling me im ‘ruining the fandom’, so I tend to block at leisure, or when I have suspicion. And a big ‘ANTI XENO’ banner is reasonable suspicion, yes…?

Again, I apologize for that post, but i was not doing to to spite you, just because I found it funny. I didn’t contribute to the spreading of hate to you in any way- I am very anti-hate messaging, and very pro ‘block and ignore if you don’t like them’. Which is.. what I was trying to do, but I didn’t want to leave us on that sour note. I did not encourage anyone to ridicule you on your post, or send you any sort of messages and asks.The only people I complained to were my girlfriend and a select few close friends, who i KNOW would not participate in any sort of hate spreading.

I’m not asking you to be friends with me. I’m simply trying to clear off any misconceptions- I’m fully welcome to hearing what you have to say back. But…

All in all, I think the gist of what im trying to say is that we all made mistakes, and we should both own up to them. I’m very sorry about your heart condition- I sincerely, 100% hope you get better. And I’m hoping that by talking it out, we can clear things up and not let it stew..? I know that sometimes these things tend to eat at me until I fix them, and that is all I’m trying to do.

I’ve unblocked you for as long as it takes for us to resolve this issue, if you would like to move to DMs, or to discord. Either works. Or.. don’t respond at all, if you don’t want.

Have a nice night, and I hope you feel better!

#drama #please don't reblog this unless you're @mrkamabo--co #im tired and don't wanna fight; dudes

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

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No One [part 2]

from the friends in dark places au

pairing: pining logince, mentions of past toxic roman/oc

WARNINGS: crying, anxiety, alcohol usage, people get drunk, making out, kissing, PTSD, coming out, internalized transphobia, swearing, and mentions of: non-consentual sex, sexual assault, date rape drugs, drug usage, implied underage sex, blackmail (in the form of cp), transphobia, transphobic slurs, forced coming out, misgendering, food mentions, rebellious behavior, insensitive comments, physical assault, and possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it or if i need to add tags! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

a/n 2: hey so this story is super dark and shitty, so please read with caution! i’m happy to summarize for anyone who needs it!!!

first of main plot - companions

part one of no one

consider buying me a coffee (please)

September 23, 2015

Roman shut his locker door, clicking the lock closed, and turned to walk to his first block class. He only made it a few feet before someone called his name.

“Roman! Hey, wait up!” He turned and found Audrey, the student council president, running towards him. She handed him a small card and smiled. “You’re invited to my homecoming after-party. I hope you’ll be there.” With a wink, she was gone.

As much as Roman feigned popularity, he never actually got invited to parties. But he was excited! Other than cast parties, it would be his first high school party, for goodness sake! His eyes scanned the invitation and immediately saw “One additional person allowed with each guest.” Roman weaved through the hallway--his short stature payed off for once--and made his way to Logan’s first class.

“Lo! I got invited to a party!” Ro whisper yelled to Logan. The other teen, who was engrossed in a book, nodded.

“That’s wonderful, Roman. And why are you telling me about this?”

Roman groaned and snatched the book from his friend. “Because I want you to come with me!”

Logan looked up at his, quirking his eyebrow. “You want me to accompany you to a party? Are you serious? Roman, you know that it isn’t nice to play practical jokes on your friends.”

“Of course I’m serious!” Roman sighed in exasperation. “I know it’s not really your thing, but Patton’s busy on Homecoming night, and I don’t want to go alone! Pleaaaaassseeeeeeeeeeee?” The one thing that could truly get Logan to bend was Roman’s whining voice. Well, that and when Roman climbed on Logan’s 5’11” frame with monkey-like skills.

“Fine. Just stop that incessant noise making! I’m assuming that normal curfew applies and that we’re going to need a ride?” Logan put his space bookmark in his book—Alice in Wonderland; go figure—and put his full attention on his friend.

“Yeah. Would your mom be okay with it?” Roman bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. He really wanted to go to this party.

“I’ll ask when I get home.” The two minute warning bell rang, and Logan gestured to the door. “You might want to leave now, Roman. Word History is rather far away.”

---

October 3, 2015

The whole inviting-Logan-to-the-party thing definitely hadn’t been an excuse to spend a whole day with him. Of course not. That would be a ridiculous idea…

Logan ended up wearing a black button up, black slacks, and a light blue tie. It was hardly different from his everyday wear, but it was slightly more snazzy. Roman wore a white button up and a red tie, which he claimed was what a prince would wear, and he’d dusted some pretty white highlighter on his cheekbones. It was subtle enough to pass as natural, but enhanced his features just enough to make Roman excited.

At six pm exactly, the two teens made their way down the stairs, met with an eager Mrs. Patrick. “You boys just look so nice! Oh, I’m so proud of you, Roman! You’ve come so far!”

Roman laughed nervously at her nearly outing him, but gave his mother a big hug. “Yeah, Mom. I have.” He chose to ignore the way that his binder felt so tight around his chest.

For most of the Homecoming dance, Roman danced with assorted friends from Drama, occasionally dragging Logan into the fray. As soon as the dance ended, Roman changed into some more casual clothes for the party (Logan had refused to bring any extras for himself), and they waited for Mrs. Christiansen to pick them up.

Logan’s mom made sure to outline what the plan was. They’d be dropped off at the party at 10:30, have three hours to do whatever it is that kids do at parties as long as it’s legal, and then they’d be picked up between 1:30 and 2:00. Which, honestly, was far more time than Roman had thought that they would get. Mrs. Christiansen, being a doctor, was always worrying about Logan becoming one of the horrific ER cases of teenagers in drunk driving accidents.

Once they’d arrived, Roman practically threw himself out of the car. His sneakers hit the sidewalk with a quiet thump, and Logan’s clacking shoes followed suit. They made their way to the door and knocked. A wave of sound hit them as soon as the door opened. Booming bass and piercing treble accosted their ears, and suddenly Roman was glad he had brought ear plugs for himself and Logan.

“Roman!” Audrey slurred, clearly already drunk. “And your sexy friend. Glad you two could make it.”

“Yeah…” Roman hesitated. They stood awkwardly for a moment before Audrey finally moved out of the way to make room for them to squeeze their way in. Logan dodged some sort of groping motion from Audrey, looking for safety in Roman. They might have gotten themselves a tad bit in over their heads.

The duo sat on the stairs for a few minutes before Roman heard a song he enjoyed, jumping into the pool of dancing bodies. Logan sighed, tapping at his phone absently. He had expected something like this to happen, but he didn’t want to leave Roman alone at a party. He didn’t trust people like Patton did.

Roman, on the other hand, grabbed a cup from a table of snacks and drank. The drink stung as it went down, but it settled nicely and gave him a bit of warmth on the frigid October night. He had no idea what he was drinking, but he continued to down the entire cup within the next five minutes.

---

Less than an hour later, Roman’s head felt completely clear as he stumbled through the crowd. Logan observed his friend drunkenly flirting with a lamp, which was quite funny, but it worried him slightly. He hadn’t even seen Roman drinking, and he was supposed to be protecting Roman. Logan sighed and looked back at his phone. Roman would be fine. He always was.

Roman sat in an armchair at the corner of the living room. He was happy and free and everything just felt right.

A boy that he didn’t recognize approached him, shouting over the loud music, “You look really great tonight!”

“Thanks!” Roman shouted back, ignoring the light blush dusting his cheeks. “What’s your name?”

“Cal! And you are?”

“Roman!”

“Well, Roman,” Cal started with a charming smile. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Roman nodded, and suddenly, they were dancing. He could feel the heat from Cal’s body radiating through his thin t-shirt. At any other time, Ro would be afraid of what other people were thinking, but everyone at the party was drunk out of their minds. Not a single person would pay mind to the gay kid dancing with a random guy at a party.

At some point, Roman had been led back to the chair he’d been sitting in just a bit ago. He felt his back press against the wall, and he glanced up to see Cal gazing hungrily at him. He should have felt fear; he knew that look isn’t anything good, but he didn’t care. Roman threw all his worries behind him as he reached up and kissed Cal.

---

Logan nearly had dozed off on the stairs when he saw a flash of red cross the room. He focused in on the smudge of color and saw Roman being led to a secluded corner of the room by a stranger. Logan jumped up; his protective instincts were kicking in. He’d been so stupid to think that Roman could handle himself while drunk. He knew the effects that alcohol could have on people, and he should have intervened when he saw Roman flirting with a fucking lamp!

Weaving his way through the mass of people, Logan mumbled quick apologies to the couples “dancing” and pushed forward. Finally, he reached where Roman was, but the sight Logan saw froze him in place.

Roman’s hands were casually slung around the stranger’s neck, and the two were making out with passion. The stranger's hands snaked their way up Roman’s shirt, touching the skin of his lower back. The stranger made a move to go in the direction of the stairs, and that’s what finally forced Logan out of his trance.

Anger, worry, and another mystery feeling bubbled up in Logan’s chest. He pushed the stranger away and took Roman by the hand, dragging his small friend up the stairs and into the first bathroom that he could find. He guided Roman in, turning to lock the door behind them, before facing his friend, who was now sitting cross legged on the floor and playing with the hem of his pants.

“Roman, what were you thinking? You don’t even know that guy! He could—and probably did—have malicious intent!” Logan scolded worriedly, kneeling down before Roman. He took his friend into his arms and nearly squeezed the life out of him.

Roman spoke up as soon as Logan let go. “I wasn’t thinking… I was just so caught up in the fact that someone liked me. It was stupid.” Tears began to trail down Ro’s face, staining his delicate features with a harsh, wet glare. “You’re just so good to me, Logan! And I’ve done nothing but hurt you! I’m a terrible friend.” Roman was practically wailing, throwing his head into his hands.

“What? Roman, that’s not—“

“I’ve been lying to you—and Pat, for fuck’s sake—since we met. I just didn’t want to lose you like I lost everyone else! I’m just… I’m a girl.” Logan stayed completely silent, not wanting to interrupt whatever his friend was saying. Ro shook his head and corrected himself. “No, that’s not right. I was born a girl.”

After processing the information for a few moments, Logan spoke. “You’re transgender, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m trans. I started transitioning just before I moved to Westview. The kids at my school bullied me for ‘pretending’ to be a boy, and it just got to be too much for me to handle. We moved here, and I had a completely fresh start. I didn’t have to tell anyone that I was a boy now, just that I was a boy.”

Tick.

“I didn’t want to lose you two, or worse… Or…” Roman’s words broke into a sob, and Logan reached to grab Ro’s hand as reassurance. “Just before freshman year, one of the boys at my summer camp sexually assaulted me.” Logan opened his mouth, but he was cut off immediately. “I know that you know, but you don’t know the full story. I always knew who assaulted me, but I lied and told the counselors and the police that I had no idea who it could be. They gave up looking after a while. The boy who assaulted me found out I was trans after the first time, and he blackmailed me with it. He used it to make me feign his innocence and to… He made me have sex with him throughout the rest of the summer. I never wanted to, but I'd convinced myself that it was for the best. I didn’t want to have to deal with the rejection of everyone finding out I was trans. He is the prime example of what I didn’t want to happen, and it solidified my case for not telling you guys.

“I look at my body in the mirror and want to throw up because I remember all the terrible things I’ve done. I hate myself.”

Logan wiped at the tears running down his face. He had never even imagined all the pain that Roman had gone through; it had all been hidden so well. He could have been here for Roman, helping him through his emotional struggles, yet he had been completely useless. And it was made even worse with the knowledge that Roman wouldn’t be saying any of this except for the fact that he was drunk.

“Roman, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry that you had to live through all of that. I’m an idiot for not seeing the signs,” Lo whispered, tracing circles in the back of Roman’s hand with his thumb.

“I hid it well. I don’t have all those acting awards for nothing, Lo.” Roman’s laugh echoed in the tiled space. It was a ruse, for sure, and it cracked down like the ceramic in the shower. Ro finally let all of his emotions out, ones that he’d kept in for years and years. The two friends embraced once more until Roman’s sobs ceased, and he was gently sleeping on Logan’s shoulder.

Logan pulled out his phone. Shit. His mom had been waiting for nearly ten minutes. He shot her a quick text, and scooped Roman up into his arms. He quickly and carefully made his way down the stairs and through the mob of people, quickly grabbing his and Roman’s jackets before running outside. His mom was, thankfully, parked right outside, and he easily was able to dump Roman in the back seat and slide in next to him.

Mrs. Christiansen gave Logan a worried look. “Don’t worry, Mom. Ro just had a panic attack, and he fell asleep due to emotional exhaustion. He’ll be fine by morning.” She gave up trying to find out more and drove them back to the safety of the Christiansen household.

---

May, 2017 [sometime in the weeks following prom]

“Roman, you’ve been putting it off for weeks now. Virgil isn’t going to make fun of you for being trans,” Logan coaxed, pushing his boyfriend toward Patton’s house. “And if he does, I’ll personally kick his ass.”

“I just don’t want to risk it, babe. What if he doesn’t say anything but he gives me The Look? What do I do then? This could ruin his and Patton’s relationship, and he’s finally found someone that he’s happy with! I don’t want to do that to him, Lo!” Roman pleaded, trying to turn back towards the car.

But Logan had already thought this through. The front door swung open, and Virgil stepped into the warm spring air. “You wanted to tell me something, Knight in Shining Converse?”

Roman froze, slowly turning to face the emo disaster on the front stoop. “Uh… Yeah?”

“What’s up?” Virgil asked calmly, noticing the tension built up in Roman and acting accordingly.

“I’m, uh… transgender… So, like, I was born a girl, and now I’m a boy.” Roman stuttered his way through the explanation, knowing that it was probably unnecessary, but not really able to get out of it.

“Cool. Is that all you guys wanted? Cause Patton and I are watching Big Hero 6, and I kinda want to get back to it. You guys are welcome to join us, too.” Virgil sounded a bit ticked off, but it was pretty obvious that he just wanted to watch his movie.

Roman smiled gently. “That would be fantastic.”

#sanders sides fic #moxiety #logince #m writes things #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders

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quasisnipr1048 · 5 years

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Vector Marketing: Not Quite A Scam, But Might As Well Be One

So for reference, here are the players in this story:

Me, recent electrical engineering graduate in an intense job searching phase

My brother, J, who has never really bothered to do any job searching since graduating high school but recently has decided he needs to start being more responsible

VM Guy, who J calls "The Dad of the Group™", which is pretty fucking creepy imo. We'll also find out later he's kind of an asshole

This all takes place in my hometown, a small rural area in Texas about an hour away from a fairly big coastal city.

So my brother, J, isn't exactly known to take initiative when it comes to job hunting. He's done a few odd jobs here and there, but that was mainly thanks to family members and our parents, but those jobs never really lasted long. Anyway, I get a text one day from him while I was visiting my girlfriend that, surprise surprise, he got a job. I was pretty impressed, not gonna lie. At this point I had been applying for jobs as well, and that he beat me to the finish line, I thought, was a good sign. About an hour later, I get an odd text from a number I didn't recognize saying that J had referred me and asking if I would be interested in coming in for an interview. No details on the job or anything, just an interview. It piqued my interest, but the lack of info was suspicious to me, so I put it on the back burner and waited until I could ask J about it in person (since it was obviously his doing).

Turns out this was the best decision I had made during all this because I later came to find out this "company" J worked for was basically Red Flag Inc.

Anyway, I get home after a nice, long weekend with my girlfriend and J decides to start showing off all his “job tools”: A pretty expensive-ass set of knives and various kitchenware, a binder containing a catalog of said knives and kitchenware, and a nice bag to hold everything in. My initial thought was, oh nice, I guess he’s a salesman or something. He shows me a few things that he demonstrated in trying to sell these items: cutting a rope, cutting a penny (wtf) and a few other things that I don’t really remember at this point. Pretty impressive (we later got a cheese knife as a reward or something for his time there, and, I won’t lie, that is a good damn cheese knife. Also, I think I’m addicted to cheese). Then I ask him the ultimate question: “So, J, who is it you work for again?” “They are called Vector Marketing. They basically just sell all this stuff. Some people were saying they were a scam, but I don’t really think so.”

Oh fuck, J, what have you gotten yourself into this time.

If what he said about them wasn’t already a massive Red Flag™, the things I came to find out about vEcTOR mArKeTInG in the following 24 hours only made my suspicions about them even worse. I won’t detail all that shit here since there’s has been a billion different posts about them, but I’ll talk about the relevant ones. Basically, you sell that kitchenware to friends and family, and you make money off of what you sell. It isn’t a lot apparently, but you at least get some amount of cash off of just making a sales pitch if you don’t sell anything. This also means a lot of driving for someone like my brother who lives in a rural area; getting anywhere means a 30 min drive at the least. The problem I had with them here is they should be at least paying for a portion of your gas, but apparently VM has such a shitty business model that everything their salespeople have to pay for comes out of their pocket and not VM’s. On top of all this is this weird family-esque atmosphere they try to portray. On more than one occasion, J referred to his boss as The Dad of the Group™, which is fucking creepy and weird. If he had been working there for say a year or so, okay, maybe they just are really tight knit from working together for so long and that’s just how employees see this boss of theirs. But it had only been a few days. I honestly believe there’s some weird psychological manipulation in all that. But again, the kicker for me was the total lack of information. “Are you interested in an interview. J has referred you to our company.” If it were along the lines of

“Hey Quasi, we’re Company X. We specialize in the marketing of Product A and Service B. We are messaging you because one of our employees, J, has referred you to us and we would like to know if you want to learn more about our company. Blah blah ...”

You get the picture. I haven’t been to their website, but apparently it’s the same way: total information blackout with what little information there being very vague about what it is VM actually does. If I can’t make out what your company does based on your website, you need better PR and advertising. I shouldn’t have to learn about your company from Reddit and tumblr post asking if you are a scam or not.

So yeah, that message I got from them? Deleted. Didn’t even bother to ask my brother about it. I actually got another message from them a couple of days later asking if I was still interested. Haven’t heard back since, don’t intend on replying. I think I blocked the number, to be honest.

J, on the other hand, worked for them for all of 3 weeks I believe. He quit when Dad Boss™ started toying with him about meeting hours. Basically, Dad Boss™ set a group text to all his employees that a meeting was being held. J complied, as a good employee would, and drove 30 min (rural area, remember?) to get to the office only to find that no one was there. J would get another text then saying the meeting was pushed back a few hours, so he would wait around until the designated time, only to find the office empty again. This went on for a few days until I think J realized that Dad Boss™ didn’t want him as an employee anymore. One phone call from Dad Boss™ later and he was out. I don’t think he made much money from the job, and as far as I can tell he’s been trying to get a new job. Hopefully, the next one he gets is better.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t think vECtOr mARkETiNg is an outright scam. It does seem like it works for some people, but from the various threads and posts I’ve read those people are few and far in between. They might even be lying about their work there to try and lure more people in, but I have no proof of that and I’m only speculating. But for someone like my brother, high school graduate only with no job experience, that’s not a good way to enter the job market. And again, I’m no business major, but VM’s business model is definitely crap and highly suspicious the closer you look at it. But from what I could see, it simply sounds like shitty work for little pay and a massive waste of time.

TL;DR: If you see an advertisement for, an email from, or get a call or text asking if you are interested in Vector Marketing, don’t do it. If you see any sort of job ad that provides little to no information about said job or company hiring, don’t do it. I know how hard it is to get a job with no experience in this economy; I’m a graduate electrical engineer who has applied at least 30 times in the past two months and I’m only just now getting an interview. Job hunting nowadays is a lot of waiting and it can be discouraging. But trust me, it is better to bide you time by applying to legitimate places and waiting for interviews to come your way. Use Indeed, get a LinkedIn, go apply on the companies website, literally do anything other than take vague job offers. Your hard work and patience will pay off.

#vector marketing #job hunting #monday thoughts #long post

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morphoportiswrites · 5 years

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Riots. - Chapter One: Holy fucking shit.

Summary: After the events in Gotham City, reader and their friends are still on the hunt for treasures to steal, as long as the police is occupied with more pressing issues. While the group is looting a building, reader comes across an unexpected face.

Pairing: Bane (TDKR) x Reader

Word Count: 1,096

Warnings: none... yet (a bit of rough handling?)

Author’s Note: Phew, you guys. This is the first fanfiction I’m posting on the interwebz. And I am a bit scared but also excited to share it with you. Language might seem a bit weird at times, since English is not my first language. So please bear with me. lol

Chapter One: Holy fucking shit.

Chaos reigned in Gotham. It had been for a while and probably would only for a couple of days more. Word on the streets was that Batman had sacrificed himself for good, old and righteous Gotham City, after he (with the help of Catwoman) brought down the masked man who had started it all. At least that's what rumours said and Bane hadn't been seen since the explosion.

The police was working hard on getting the upper hand again. They would do it corner by corner, street by street, block by block, district by district. And soon the riots would cease all together. So it was only a matter of time until the GCPD would catch up on you and your “friends”.

“Friends” because... well, back when all the havoc had started and jumped from building to building like a squirrel from tree to tree, you had ran into each other in the hallway of a two-store family house in the richest district of Gotham. All of you hands full with the most precious and expensive belongings the rich fuckers owned. It was comical. There you all stood on the stairs, you on your way down, them on their way up, all in ragged clothes, dirty faces from the fires all over town, and glittering jewels around your necks, thick diamonds adorning your hands. Laughter had filled the house and the cause that had driven you out of your shitty apartment in a project, brought you together with the group. Taking from the rich was their idea of having a good time as well.

By now the treasure hunts were quite professional. You had the equipment to open up heavy doors and safes, smoke habitants out of their housing. Each of you drove a motorcycle with a small trailer or a car to transport tools and findings. All in black and balaclavas on top of your heads to always pull them over your faces if necessary, you wore latex gloves as well. The whole group knew: the riots could not last forever and it was gravely important to all of you, that the police would not be able to trace anything back to any member of your circle. So even when shit was hitting the fan in this city, you all kept cool, calm and collected and most of all: realistic.

The group came to a halt in front of Gotham City Hall. Setting one booted foot on the black pavement, you swung the other back over your bike as the motor had died. “Honestly guys, what is it you want to get from here?”, your voice sounded muffled from the helmet. You sighed as you took in the grandness and pompousness of the building.

To you City Hall, as well as the Stock Exchange, always had seemed like one of the most ugly and hateful buildings in Gotham. The whole area always had for that matter. You had grown up a couple of blocks away from here, in an orphanage sponsored by Wayne Enterprises. Each day you had went to school or you just had played outside, you have had the great pleasure of watching different kinds of rich people, flaunting and parading their wealth in your face.

Observing them had taught you many things. First and foremost: hating them.

The others made their way up the stairs to the left and right as you entered the main door. Since the room straight ahead was a mess, you all assumed the ground level had already been looted for valuables. Not sure where to go because you really didn't give a single fuck to get anything from this place and for you personally it was a far stretch to think, they would find anything interesting here, you finally took of your helmet and shook your head to make your long hair fall down in a comfortable mess. Helmet tucked under your arm, kicking some pebble along the way with you, you entered the battered room.

The closer you looked at it, the more it seemed like a fight had been take place here. Maybe whoever had looted the place before got into a fight over the valuables, maybe some citizens just felt like destroying something. Your steel-capped docs were the only sound echoing around you... or so you thought. As you paused your steps to take in the chaos surrounding you, another sound reached your ears. At first you thought it to be the rest of the group rummaging the room above you but the longer you listened, the less it sounded familiar to you. And it sounded a lot closer than that. And strangely rhythmical. A bit like... breathing?

Quickly your eyes scanned the room for a body but there wasn't any. Knowing sight was the least of senses someone should trust, you closed your eyes for a moment to locate the strange noise. The echo made it somewhat tricky but you managed to find the rough direction of it. Now with your eyes open, you started walking again. Slowly. It seemed like the sound was coming from a small heap in the corner to your left. The closer you got, the more it did not look like rubble anymore. You could make out black fabric, stained with light dust from the debris covering it. And... it seemed to move!

Your instincts worked a lot faster than your rational thinking and you leaped forward, rushing to help whoever was in need and down on your knees. Carefully but fast, you decluttered... it appeared to be a pretty large and massive man and as you grabbed his shoulder to turn him on his back, you struggled a bit. When the man's body rolled in your direction and his head followed, you backed away and inch or two. This was not remotely what you had expected... or rather whom. The man laying in front of you, was the masked man who had terrorised Gotham: Bane.

“Holy fucking shit.”, was all that escaped your lips in a breathless whisper. He seemed unconscious and a quick visual check told you, he had suffered a heavy hit to the stomach. Probably heavy armoury. He was bleeding but the vest he was wearing had very likely softened a lot of the hit's force. Your hand reached for his pulse on his neck and you leaned in to get your ear closer to the mask. Bane was still alive... you painfully learned as you felt a strong hand grab the back of your neck and yank you away from his face.

______________________________________________

So that’s it for now! I’ve got some ideas for one or two more chapters, if anyone is interested. <3

(Also tell me if you want to get tagged or anything!)

#bane x reader #tdkr #the dark knigth rises #bane tdkr #fanfiction #fanfics #tom hardy x reader #batman

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