I Hate You

I hate you

Fanfic based on Our Life: Beginnings and Always, Baxter DLC

1999 words

Tw for drinking cursing and it is slightly suggestive towards the end

A drunken confession fic

Fueled with hate and alcohol, you arrive at Baxter's place. And everything he does pushes you towards the truth.

Stumbling through the hall you found the apartment you were looking for. With both hands, you steady yourself. You fake a stance you believe shines " totally sober" before you knock on the door.

It doesn't take too long before Baxter opens the door, he's wearing a silky white and black pajama set that fits him so well you assume it has been tailored. You focus on his body, and the set does a phenomenal job highlighting his physical assets. His slender waist flows perfectly to his lean chest which leads to his beautiful shoulders. That's when you see his face. Watching as it shifts from a confused look to a smug smirk.

"And may I ask why you are here?"

You answer quickly.

Or at least you believe you did. In reality, you gawked a little longer before slowly pushing yourself inside, while saying.

"You owe me a drink."

Baxter stepped aside to allow you in and closed the door. He didn't miss your unsteady steps or the smell of alcohol on you.

"Is that so"

You take a seat at the inland. Baxter makes his way around to be across from you, standing. You avoid eye contact as you confidently reply.

"Yep."

He chuckles a little, it fills your ears and then your heart. You know it's fondness but you must hate him. So you pretend the love in your heart is rage. Scoffing and keeping your eyes focused on something else.

" Why is that?"

You think or try to. Your brain is slowed by the alcohol, and baxters arms. He was resting them on the countertop, his hands as beautiful as you remembered and his forearms just slightly buff, you wondered what it felt like, to squeeze,  to be squeezed by them. How it would feel to be held both softly and roughly by them. Your thoughts are interrupted by Baxter answering his own question after he figured you weren't going to answer.

" Would it be because the bar you were at may have cut you off?"

In disbelief of the correct accusation, you make eye contact with him. Loudly claiming he's wrong.

" Then I must assume you're here because you wanted to see me."

Your breathing halts a little, those brown. eyes captivate you, there's so much hope behind them. You could almost fall for it. But the color was still all so familiar. It was still Baxter. The man who, with his brown eyes, stared into your soul and tore your heart apart. 

You want to start yelling at him, force him to apologize, to cry, even to deny the truth. You just wanted a reaction. 

Instead, you sit as he fills a glass of water and sets it in front of you. 

Not right in front of you. 

It's like he's trying to avoid offending you.

Or avoiding getting too close.

But you can't tell which because of your dissociated state, and because he's always been quite good at hiding how he feels.

A small bubble of anger filled in your stomach but you held it down. 

You would not embarrass yourself more.

So you reached for the glass.

You failed to take a sip, spilling a decent amount on yourself.

When you looked up for help.

Baxter was on his phone.

Paying you no attention.

Even when he talked to you, he just stared at his phone.

“ Is there someone I should call for you, or I guess you have a list I could call, so it's more about your preference.”

And for some reason, that's what caused your anger to burst.

Cause why would you show up at his door if you wanted someone else to take care of you.

You wanted him.

Even if you couldn't admit it.

Abruptly you stood up, hands gripping the counter.

" I hate you! You know that! You have to know that! Even if you’re beautiful and handsome, it doesn't change how much I hate you. I can't stand to look at you and your big stupid chocolate eyes. It's nauseating. Why did you have to become even hotter? I hate it. It was easy to hate you when I couldn't see you but now you're right in front of me, showing off your amazing body and perfect arms. And I hate you and I hate how much I want to kiss you and you hate that I'm here and that you don't care!"

You breathe heavily after your confession. Your energy suddenly plummeting. Your eyes release tears as you can't hold them back anymore. 

Your tears blur your vision, but you feel a gentle, hesitant pair of hands on your arms. You let them guide you to the living room and seat you down.

" I do care."

It wasn't defensive like you were half expected.

To him, it was just a fact. 

" I care for so many reasons. I care because you're drunk and it worries me. I care because you're upset and I don't know what to do. I care because I'm the reason you're upset. I care because I'm only making it worse. I care because I never stopped. "

He was sitting next to you, but allowed distance, yet your hands found each other.

"Seeing you at the restaurant was my worst nightmare and my dream came true."

He was hesitant but after a few deep breaths, Baxter mustered all his confidence. He moved from off the couch to kneeling in front of you. He took both your hands.

" I hate myself. I can't say for sure I hate myself more than you hate me.  Though I know I've regretted that night, more than I can ever put into words. So just…"

He leaned in, the smell of his cologne was faint but it was all you could focus on. But then your hand was sandwiched between Baxter's chest and hands. His pulse could be felt from both.

His heart raced.

And without words, you could feel it. 

The love.

The hurt.

The pain. 

The regret.

The begging. 

It was all on the table.

His heart was in your hand.

He was once in this position. 

Years ago, when you begged him to try.

That's all you wanted was to know you were worth fighting for.

When your heart was in his, he crushed it to dust.

And now that you had the opportunity to do the same.

You couldn't.

Part of you screamed at yourself when you pulled him in. When you held him, held him to heal him, held him like he was yours.

But a much larger part of yourself felt complete. 

And relief.

So much relief you cried and giggled in this tender hug.

It confused Baxter as he pulled out of the hug.

But not away.

He adjusted, his hand holding your face.

“ Are you- what's going on?”

His eyes are so big and sad, concerned.

At least till he caught your eyes, though blurred with tears he could tell you were  full of glee

Soon his face lit up the same, the sad look turned to a smile, which turned to a laugh.

A laugh you found to be your favorite sound.

And every negative thought you had about this man floated away.

When the laughing stopped, he looked into your eyes. 

His eyes filled with sparkle once again.

“I never stopped loving you. I locked it all away, locked you out. I thought it was the safest option. Maybe it was. I thought I was protecting both of us from disaster. Maybe it will be a disaster But these past years, without you. Being without isn't worth it. I want to be with you, to try. Even if it ends in us hating each other, let's love each other for as long as we can?”

A full smile was locked on his face, but you could still see his anxiety in his body language.

You leaned toward him, initiating the kiss.

Your hands find his shirt, pulling him closer.

He laughs into the kiss before moving his hand down to your neck.

He bites at your lip before keeping the kiss.

He's practically on top of you. 

His knee between your legs, your neck craned up for the kiss.

His hands mirror each other as they caress your skin from your neck, down your shoulders and arms.

When he gets to your hands he takes hold of them, backing up and lifting you off the couch so you are both standing.

You push further into the kiss, but he pulls away.

A small bubble of fear builds in you.

“Before you get the wrong idea, dear, I'm stopping because I don't want our first time to be while you're not completely in control.”

One of his hands moves from your hand to your face, gently holding it as his thumb softly grazes your skin.

“I'm just kissing you, you perv.”

You joke before moving in for another kiss.

He kisses you back before pushing you away. 

“ It is just kissing, but I'd like to remain a gentleman but your tongue in my mouth is infecting my mind, coercing me further.”

You reach for his shirt again, wanting to pull him in again.

Before you can accomplish your goal he spins you around. And wraps his arms around you. 

He leans into the crook of your neck and whispers.

“ I want the time we spend together,  on my bed, against a wall, in the shower, over the counter or anywhere else you'd allow me to devour you. I've dreamed of nights where I would have you, where you'd have me, the years of temptation have my restrictions thin. What keeps me, and my hand away from your body, away from bringing you all the pleasure you deserve, to prove that forgiving me was worth it. What keeps me away is knowing your mind is intoxicated by alcohol, I want to be the only thing intoxicating you.”

Your breathing becomes labored as you take in everything this man is saying. You can't help but agree with him. As much as your body craves him now, your mind pleads for the day Baxter takes you with passion, and you want to be able to recall that moment.

“Take me to bed, Baxter.”

His arms relax from your body, his hand finding your arms, sweetly caressing them

“Of course my love”

Maybe you imagined those words but if you didn't you prayed to hear him say it again, and if he never did, you hoped you'd be able to remember the way those words sounded in his voice.

He took your hand and led you to his room. He treated you like royalty as he ensured you were comfortable, as he tucked you in.

“Would you like me to join you?”

You blushed at the respectful question. You knew if you told him no he'd listen with a smile. 

“Please”

He was so pretty when pleased, but before he climbed in he spoke again.

“Could I -”

His face flushed slightly as he cleared his throat.

“My Apologies. How would you feel about me holding you .”

You thought it was cute how nervous he was to ask about something far less scandalous than what he was telling you mere minutes ago. You know to him these sweet innocent moments were harder for him.

“No need for the apologies Baxter, get in and cuddle me.”

He let out a short laugh, it seemed to be so easy for him, and that's what he wanted. 

So he did as you said. Climbing in, nervously finding a comfortable way to hold you. Settling on the classic spoon, his hand laying over your waist. There was an awkward gap between your bodies, so you took the liberty of closing it. He stiffened a bit but soon he was able to relax into you. After years of regret, hate, and yearning the two of you found what you wanted, falling asleep peacefully in each other's arms.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed please comment or reblog and check out my other work

( If i missed a TW or spelling mistake please let me know )

Scraps to a Tank

Ive been working on this AU for a while. I'm very excited to finally post the first chapter. I'd love feed back from anyone, about anything. This is one of my favorite things I've come up with/written, and want to know how I can improve.

I am tagging some of my favorite redacted asmr writers/Tumblr pages because I'd love to have some feedback (if comfortable and have the time) but also I just want to share what I have.

This chapter is a little cheesy, so small warning for that.

 1.7 k words

Fandom: Redacted Asmr/Audio

TW/CW: Quinn in other words toxic, controlling, abusive relationship. nothing graphic. This is a Boxing/Fighting Au so there is fighting, i wouldn't consider it graphic, but everyone's different so read with your own discretion.

Let me know if I missed a trigger or spelling mistake.

Please comment and reblog, it lets me know people like my stuff and encourages me to write more!!!!!!

The building was intimidating.

It wasn't tall or fancy like the buildings a couple of blocks down.

It was an average building.

An average gym.

And yet it was still so daunting.

They checked the card for about the sixteenth time.

The sign matched the card.

The dirty, crusty, crumbled-up card.

The card's appearance didn't match its meaning.

This card was their lottery ticket.

“That name doest fit you.”

They turned around, a man, a beast.

He was tall, big, rugged.

The definition of strong.

Standing right in front of them.

“Excuse me?”

“Your fighter name, it doesn't fit you. And honestly neither does this.” 

His hand slowly waved around, gesturing to the alley.

“You're better than an alley fighter.”

They couldn't hold back their laugh, short and dry.

Just like Quinn’s. 

“You must have mistaken me for someone else. I'm the fighter that lost.”

“I know.”

He steps closer.

Yet distanced.

He was still giving them space.

He respected them.

“And everyone and their mothers knows that fight was rigged. Though I could see it.”

Intrigued, they took a step closer.

“See what?”

“The passion. The strength, the techniques, you are a fighter.”

“I’m not.”

“You have the will to be.”

He stretched his hand out, a business card.

“I can teach you.”

“So this guy approached me today.”

All Quinn did was grunt and roll away from them.

“He says he can teach me how to fight.”

Their excitement was palpable.

“I already did.”

The air tensed as he fought to dampen their excitement.

For once, he failed.

“No, like real fighting, I looked up the name on the card. His dad is Gabriel Shaw, like Gabe Shaw!”

They hadn't felt this hopeful for a long time, and they wished Quinn would share their interest, at least a little, at least for once.

“Gabe Shaw, like the 3 time champi-”

“Two time, I recognized the name, he died before the last fight.”

The air tensed more.

Quinn was good at pushing things to their limit.

Even the air.

They hated it.

It was sicking.

They were sick of it.

Sick of Quinn.

“I think I'm going to take him up on it, he doesn't fight anymore, but from what I saw he’s good, just as good as his dad, and his fighters get pretty far. I could be a real fighter, I could learn real techniqu-”

“I already taught you real shit, and we already win.”

He moved fast and with anger.

Out of the bed he charged at them.

“Quin-”

“We already win. You're getting too cocky. Winning isn't about the fight itself, winning comes from the fuckers that bet, the poor drunk suckers we trick with the fights. That's how we win. You are no fighter, you know that. I’ve shown you that.”

He looked into their eyes, he didn't have to threaten them.

Not with details at least.

They knew it all too well.

That look in his eyes.

The tone in his voice.

It was all he had to do. 

And he knew it.

And he loved it.

He smiled, wicked and calm. Like this was normal, they supposed it was.

They didn't want it to be.

Not anymore. 

His hand reached for their forearm.

“Let us get to bed now precio-”

 They moved.

 Just slightly.

Just enough to avoid his touch.

"You don't want to do that, precious."

He was right.

They weren't ready.

They had to be ready.

They will be ready.

"I couldn't take it."

"What?"

The other fighter spoke, they weren't looking at you, their eyes on Quinn.

"Being with him. Dealing with him once a month is too much."

"Yeah. You're the first one to say that."

"Probably because the other fighters want to get in his pants. They just can't resist ‘The Viper’ "

They don't reply.

"Sorry, I thought you knew."

"I do, there's not much I can do."

"I think there is.”

"You don't understand"

"I do."

They look at the chunky heart-shaped ring on their finger.

"You can get out."

Those words drew them in.

Cautiously they expressed their interest.

"He's quite insecure, use it. Take away his control.”

There was a pause.

They looked around again.

Their eyes caught on Quinn.

A decision was being made behind those eyes.

When they made their decision it was clear.

They made eye contact.

Strong eye contact.

And continued.

“You'll have your moment. I promise. Take it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

They turn their back. 

" It's a little strange that you never win these staged fights. I think it's about damn time.”

"I hope everyone's bets are placed because the books are closed for Scraps vs Sweetheart!"

The announcer looks at Quinn, and with a quick nod, he starts again.

"Fighters ready?"

Sweetheart has an intense stare as they nod.

Scraps, on the other hand, doesn't hear the announcer the first time.

"Scraps? This fighter isn't even prepared, it's your fault if you took your chances on this underdog."

They snap back. 

"I'm ready."

And they were.

"Then…..FIGHT!"

The match starts, as planned. 

A couple hits, a swing of the legs and Scraps is knocked to the floor, as planned.

Sweetheart approached, to taunt, as rehearsed.

"Don't take this personally."

That's the only hit they give sweetheart.

Sweetheart's eyes glimmer as they smile.

"I won't. Take your moment."

Scraps grabs their neck, slamming their heads together before flipping them behind. Scraps moves fast as they get up. In the crowd, they see Quinn and his goons moving to the ring. 

"Sorry, thank you."

"Don't be, go."

They climb the makeshift fence and run. A huge smile stains their face as they leave the building, rain washes the sweat off their face. They keep running. Not running away from Quinn but towards freedom,  towards their future.

They took a deep breath before they opened the gym doors.

It’s bigger than they'd expected.

They'd never been in a professional gym like this. 

There were multiple rings, real rings, not the homemade stuff they were used to.

There's no reception desk like a public gym, but luckily David Shaw was the first person they spotted.

He was in a ring with someone.

They walk towards the ring, they can feel the other fighters watching them.

They get to the ring David is in.

Neither he nor the other fight realizes it.

"David?"

The two whip their head to you.

"Get out."

He was calm but still seemed angry.

"I'm Scraps, from the-"

"I know who you are. Now get out!"

They climb out of the ring, and begin their walk to the door, feeling defeated and quite offended they, whisper to themselves.

"Well fuck you mister big shot ."

"I'm not a big shot."

David says from behind. 

Scraps freezes up.

"When I said get out I meant the rink."

They stay still.

"Will you turn around?"

David didn't hold back his frustration.

Scraps feels it'd be best to turn around.

"Sorry."

"You shouldn't enter a ring without permission, not here."

"Sorry, I've never been somewhere this professional."

"You don't mean that."

"What?"

"Those sorries. That is not how you feel."

"I am sorry. And how exactly would you know how I feel? You just met me."

David's eyebrows raise as his eyes keep a dull annoyed look.

“To quote you ‘Well fuck you mister big shot’, that's how you feel, Don't act differently,  it pisses me off. I hate suck-ups."

Scraps believes him.

"Well, I'm not sorry, only because you don't have to be an ass, you said you recognize me, then you should of figured I wouldn't know these rules."

"I was an ass so I could protect you, get used to it."

Scraps smiles.

David rolled his eyes.

"It’s been about a year."

"Does the offer still stand?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Nothing."

Silence rests between them.

Scraps isn't patient enough to let it continue. 

"So can I start today?"

"We can't just take you in at the last moment, the trainers have others to train.”

"I don't." 

A curly-haired blonde yells across the room, near a punching bag, and starts rushing toward the two.

"I'll do it." 

David takes a breath so deep it is visible from his chest. Before he let out a sigh.

"No."

"Oh come on David, I'm a great trainer."

"Asher, I know that, but I said no. You are not the right fit. "

"Ohhh you want to train them."

Asher starts walking towards Scraps.

"Lucky bastard."

He whispers, without maliciousness.

"So what do we call you?"

"Well, I've gone by Scraps for a while."

"Scraps? Really?"

He looks them up and down.

"That won't work"

"He's right, I'm not calling you that."

David seconded Asher.

"Well, I don't really have any other ideas."

"Tank!"

Another voice echoes throughout the gym. 

Scraps wasn't expecting to recognize anyone other than David, but rushing towards the group was the boxer who gave them the nudge they needed.

Behind said fighter was a guy, seemingly trying to stop the other from coming over. He was failing.

"That would be Sweetheart,  they're our newest addition."

Asher kindly tried to keep Scraps updated through all the chaos.

"They know who I am Ash, at least I hope they do, with the concussion they gave me. You've got one thick skull."

Slightly overwhelmed by all the attention,  Scraps freezes and doesn't answer.

"But listen, Tank, it's perfect,  there like a machine. They gave me a concussion for God's sake, and then, after slamming our heads together,  which had to have hurt them too, they flipped me. That mother fucker acted like I weighed nothing. They're a fucking tank."

"How many times have I told you to watch your language."

David made a sound comparable to a growl.

Sweetheart rolled their eyes, then looked over to Scraps, to engage them.

"He's not a fan of my filthy mouth."

"I sure am."

"Milo"

David sounded like he wanted to strangle Milo.

Yet, to Scraps surprise no one was scared.

The group just laughed it off.

It was strange to Scraps.

"Ohhh my god!"

Asher shot his hands out to get everyone's attention.

"If you go by Scraps now, and we change it to Tank it's like, like you're being rebuilt, becoming stronger. Which is fucking sick."

David shakes his head at the profanity. Before turning to Scraps.

"It's up to you, it's your name. You don't have to choose now. "

"I like it. I mean, I love it."

That's all they said, they wanted to say more but didn't want to overshare about their life after five minutes of meeting these people.

"I am a tank. So I'll be Tank."

If you'd rather not be tagged let me know and I'll respect your wishes.

@dominimoonbeam @romirola @ejunkiet

I think its about time for a new look

20 Low effort meaningful comments to leave on fics when you can’t think of anything to say that most authors love and appreciate (and you will too).

1.) Thank you for writing this!

2.) This really helped distract me from the horrors of reality, thank you for writing it!

3.) I really really really loved this.

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5.) Literal keyboard mash q3kjt2uh0erjiurjfnejkrgnkejoiiueirnf!!!!

6.) My favorite part was when they ____.

7.) I laughed at ____.

8.) How dare you! /affectionate.

9.) I am very excited to read this story in its entirety!

10.) I really enjoyed the first __ chapters, I cannot wait for more!

11.) This gave me everything I was hoping for!

12.) 10/10 fic, thanks for writing!

13.) I am going to be thinking about this fic for a long time, thank you for writing!

14.) This made me feel a lot of emotions and I cannot describe them, so thank you for that. I really enjoyed this.

15.) This was the best ride I haven taken in a long time, wow! Thank you for writing this.

16.) If I had the ability to bind this as a real book I would, I loved it so much.

17.) I'm not good with words but I just loved this so much.

18.) This is complete perfection.

19.) I am in awe of how you described ____.

20.) This means so much to me that you wrote this. Thank you.

The more you comment, the better you will get at it and the more enjoyment and fulfillment you will received out of saying thank you.

posted a small snippet of this idea. if you want to check it out.

The kings precious

I have an idea

It is free for grabs if it inspires you

Redacted au , some sort of royal au or maybe even imperium au (idk I never listed to them)

But royal quinn with forced engagement darlin ( quinn wants them so they have no say) and knight or servant (omg he could be a stable boy ) Sam.

Sam and darlin fall for each other or maybe they were already in love before darlin was engaged to quinn.

Any ways I just love forbidden love and jealousy so like just imagining darling sitting next to quinn , wearing a ring , fingers intertwined with quinns.( if you want to make it worse put darlin on quinns lap)

Sam has to see this everyday, he has to watch as darlin is a shell of the person he loves, as they submit to quinn.

But he hold back, untill their alone. He doesn't "claim" darlin as most of these story's go ( thought I wouldn't mind) but he loves them and calls them brave, tells them that no one not even quinn can change who they are, change who he fell in love with.