Suits Fic: Nobody's Fool (1/1)
Title: Nobody's Fool
Count: 1200+
Fandom: Suits
Characters/Pairings: Donna
Warnings: Rape, angst
Summary: Donna is nobody's fool.
Disclaimer: Don’t own it. Not mine. Don’t sue.
A/N: For suits_meme Weekly Challenge #3: First Times
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When Donna’s five years old, she pushes Billy Turner into the coat closet and kisses him. Billy’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, he tastes like Cool Ranch Doritos, and he’s shorter than her by an inch, but his lips are nice and soft and he doesn’t try to grab her like some of the other boys in her class might have. When he leans back in for another kiss, she pushes him away from her and rolls her eyes, spinning on her heel and marching out to recess.
That would teach Megan Price to bet against her.
When Donna’s eleven years old, Nathan Pularsky asks her out in front of all of her friends at lunch. He’s a bit nerdy, spends pretty much all his time either thinking about or talking about Star Wars, but she thinks it’s only right to reward someone for having balls that big, so she says yes. He picks her up on a Saturday afternoon and sweats through a thinly veiled threat from her father, then takes her to an afternoon showing of - what else? - Star Wars at the Roxy. He buys her popcorn and a soda and a box of Goobers, and executes the least subtle yawn and stretch, arm across the back of her seat move she’s ever seen. She leans into him anyway and he puts his hand on her knee, and when the date is over, she lets him kiss her goodbye on her front porch.
The relationship lasts three weeks, or until Donna comes to the realization that while Nathan is nice, the fact that he’s more interested in talking about the Force than he is about kissing her is a bit off-putting.
When Donna’s twelve years old, she lets Oliver Sutton put his hand up her shirt. He’s her lab partner, desperately cute and completely oblivious to it, and his hands are so cold she jumps when they make contact with her skin. He’s also easily the worst kisser she’s ever kissed. But what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm, and for the first time, Donna really feels like the center of someone’s universe.
Two days later he becomes sullen when Donna scores higher than he does on their midterm and won’t let it go. He breaks up with her and starts dating Linda Cay, and Donna asks Mrs. Ventura if she can change partners. Mrs. Ventura nods sympathetically and switches Oliver with Becca Brighton, a transfer student from California. They get along famously.
When Donna’s thirteen years old, she’s making out with Brandon Perry after school instead of working on her math homework - and instead of tutoring Brandon with his - when Brandon sneaks his hand up her skirt. He’s tall, gorgeous, and a total smartass, and she rolls her eyes and slaps his hand away. He doesn’t try it again.
He also doesn’t make out with Donna again.
When Donna’s fifteen, she doesn’t stop Eric Johnson’s hand from unbuttoning her jeans and sliding underneath the fabric. He’s two years older than her, a forward on the varsity basketball team - Go Panthers! - and he has huge hands that may be great at palming a basketball, but are shit at finding her clit. So she maneuvers his hand, teaches him the rhythm she likes, and revels in the fact that she’s teaching one of the hottest guys in school how to get a girl off.
He dumps her two and a half months later for Megan Price, newly minted captain of the varsity cheerleading squad and Donna’s arch enemy. It only takes Eric three weeks to knock Megan up and lose his scholarship to Boise State on a technicality, and Donna makes no apologies for laughing when she hears the news.
When Donna’s sixteen, she starts dating Jason Fletcher. He’s one of her brother’s friends, and way too old for her. He picks her up from school in his precious Trans Am smelling like sweat and cinnamon gum, his hands still stained from engine grease, and she feels incredibly mature, more than she thinks she’s allowed to be. Her brother David tries to warn her off - he’s only going to break your heart - but she doesn’t listen. Jason can kiss - oh, can he kiss - and he’s the first guy she’s ever made out with who doesn’t have to be helped along. He knows exactly what to do with his hands and when, and God...Donna feels like she’s flying.
He buys her things, he takes her out, he shows her off, and Donna decides this is the first real relationship she’s ever had, decides that this is the way real relationships work. He tells her he loves her, that he’s never loved anyone the way he loves her. That he didn’t know what love was until he met her.
He has tattoos - an eagle on his right shoulder, barbed wire around his left bicep - and Donna loves to lie there and trace the ink with her fingers as Jason kisses her, nuzzles behind her ear, runs his hands all over her body. She’s full to bursting and is absolutely positive no one has ever been this lucky. No one has ever had this.
Then one night Donna says no, and Jason doesn’t listen.
He’s twice as strong as she is, at least, and he presses her down onto the ripped back seat of his car, a seatbelt buckle digging into her lower back. His body is covering hers, and she can’t move, and when he enters her in one rough, bruising push, she screams. She screams and screams and screams and screams, but his hand is over her mouth and no one can hear her.
She pleads for him to stop, tears falling down the sides of her face, and he grins down at her and increases his pace, grunting as he tells her he knows she likes it, that this is what she wanted all along.
Oh God, you’re so beautiful. So amazing. So good. Isn’t it good, baby? So good. So fucking good.
He drops her off at home and she waits until his taillights disappear around the corner before she wraps her arms around herself and heads in the other direction, walking five blocks to the closest police station. She stops the first cop she sees and tells him what happened to her, and he does everything right. He’s sympathetic and kind, almost fatherly, and he takes down her statement before asking a female officer to escort her to the hospital. Donna lays there in a hospital gown in a cold gray room, feeling naked and exposed, and closes her eyes and prays for it all to pass. When the officer asks Donna if there’s anyone she can call to come pick her up, Donna shakes her head.
David will know the second he sees her anyway, and it’s probably better if he’s not operating heavy machinery when he does.
The officer takes her home and Donna thanks her and edges into her quiet, still house. She climbs into the shower and scrubs her skin, rubbing and scraping until the smell of sweat and cinnamon gum and engine grease gives way to Irish Spring soap and White Rain shampoo. She stands there under the spray and leans her forehead against the cold tile, lets the too hot water run down her raw, stinging skin, and promises herself she’ll never let anyone make her feel this way again.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
And Donna Paulsen is nobody’s fool.
{finis}
Count: 1200+
Fandom: Suits
Characters/Pairings: Donna
Warnings: Rape, angst
Summary: Donna is nobody's fool.
Disclaimer: Don’t own it. Not mine. Don’t sue.
A/N: For suits_meme Weekly Challenge #3: First Times
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
When Donna’s five years old, she pushes Billy Turner into the coat closet and kisses him. Billy’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, he tastes like Cool Ranch Doritos, and he’s shorter than her by an inch, but his lips are nice and soft and he doesn’t try to grab her like some of the other boys in her class might have. When he leans back in for another kiss, she pushes him away from her and rolls her eyes, spinning on her heel and marching out to recess.
That would teach Megan Price to bet against her.
When Donna’s eleven years old, Nathan Pularsky asks her out in front of all of her friends at lunch. He’s a bit nerdy, spends pretty much all his time either thinking about or talking about Star Wars, but she thinks it’s only right to reward someone for having balls that big, so she says yes. He picks her up on a Saturday afternoon and sweats through a thinly veiled threat from her father, then takes her to an afternoon showing of - what else? - Star Wars at the Roxy. He buys her popcorn and a soda and a box of Goobers, and executes the least subtle yawn and stretch, arm across the back of her seat move she’s ever seen. She leans into him anyway and he puts his hand on her knee, and when the date is over, she lets him kiss her goodbye on her front porch.
The relationship lasts three weeks, or until Donna comes to the realization that while Nathan is nice, the fact that he’s more interested in talking about the Force than he is about kissing her is a bit off-putting.
When Donna’s twelve years old, she lets Oliver Sutton put his hand up her shirt. He’s her lab partner, desperately cute and completely oblivious to it, and his hands are so cold she jumps when they make contact with her skin. He’s also easily the worst kisser she’s ever kissed. But what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm, and for the first time, Donna really feels like the center of someone’s universe.
Two days later he becomes sullen when Donna scores higher than he does on their midterm and won’t let it go. He breaks up with her and starts dating Linda Cay, and Donna asks Mrs. Ventura if she can change partners. Mrs. Ventura nods sympathetically and switches Oliver with Becca Brighton, a transfer student from California. They get along famously.
When Donna’s thirteen years old, she’s making out with Brandon Perry after school instead of working on her math homework - and instead of tutoring Brandon with his - when Brandon sneaks his hand up her skirt. He’s tall, gorgeous, and a total smartass, and she rolls her eyes and slaps his hand away. He doesn’t try it again.
He also doesn’t make out with Donna again.
When Donna’s fifteen, she doesn’t stop Eric Johnson’s hand from unbuttoning her jeans and sliding underneath the fabric. He’s two years older than her, a forward on the varsity basketball team - Go Panthers! - and he has huge hands that may be great at palming a basketball, but are shit at finding her clit. So she maneuvers his hand, teaches him the rhythm she likes, and revels in the fact that she’s teaching one of the hottest guys in school how to get a girl off.
He dumps her two and a half months later for Megan Price, newly minted captain of the varsity cheerleading squad and Donna’s arch enemy. It only takes Eric three weeks to knock Megan up and lose his scholarship to Boise State on a technicality, and Donna makes no apologies for laughing when she hears the news.
When Donna’s sixteen, she starts dating Jason Fletcher. He’s one of her brother’s friends, and way too old for her. He picks her up from school in his precious Trans Am smelling like sweat and cinnamon gum, his hands still stained from engine grease, and she feels incredibly mature, more than she thinks she’s allowed to be. Her brother David tries to warn her off - he’s only going to break your heart - but she doesn’t listen. Jason can kiss - oh, can he kiss - and he’s the first guy she’s ever made out with who doesn’t have to be helped along. He knows exactly what to do with his hands and when, and God...Donna feels like she’s flying.
He buys her things, he takes her out, he shows her off, and Donna decides this is the first real relationship she’s ever had, decides that this is the way real relationships work. He tells her he loves her, that he’s never loved anyone the way he loves her. That he didn’t know what love was until he met her.
He has tattoos - an eagle on his right shoulder, barbed wire around his left bicep - and Donna loves to lie there and trace the ink with her fingers as Jason kisses her, nuzzles behind her ear, runs his hands all over her body. She’s full to bursting and is absolutely positive no one has ever been this lucky. No one has ever had this.
Then one night Donna says no, and Jason doesn’t listen.
He’s twice as strong as she is, at least, and he presses her down onto the ripped back seat of his car, a seatbelt buckle digging into her lower back. His body is covering hers, and she can’t move, and when he enters her in one rough, bruising push, she screams. She screams and screams and screams and screams, but his hand is over her mouth and no one can hear her.
She pleads for him to stop, tears falling down the sides of her face, and he grins down at her and increases his pace, grunting as he tells her he knows she likes it, that this is what she wanted all along.
Oh God, you’re so beautiful. So amazing. So good. Isn’t it good, baby? So good. So fucking good.
He drops her off at home and she waits until his taillights disappear around the corner before she wraps her arms around herself and heads in the other direction, walking five blocks to the closest police station. She stops the first cop she sees and tells him what happened to her, and he does everything right. He’s sympathetic and kind, almost fatherly, and he takes down her statement before asking a female officer to escort her to the hospital. Donna lays there in a hospital gown in a cold gray room, feeling naked and exposed, and closes her eyes and prays for it all to pass. When the officer asks Donna if there’s anyone she can call to come pick her up, Donna shakes her head.
David will know the second he sees her anyway, and it’s probably better if he’s not operating heavy machinery when he does.
The officer takes her home and Donna thanks her and edges into her quiet, still house. She climbs into the shower and scrubs her skin, rubbing and scraping until the smell of sweat and cinnamon gum and engine grease gives way to Irish Spring soap and White Rain shampoo. She stands there under the spray and leans her forehead against the cold tile, lets the too hot water run down her raw, stinging skin, and promises herself she’ll never let anyone make her feel this way again.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
And Donna Paulsen is nobody’s fool.
{finis}