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booppooo · 3 years ago

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You know who it be. Enemies to lovers angry counter top kitchen sex Abby x reader roommates.

Cake on the Counter

AN: hey baefy, finally getting around to this LMAO

Warnings: swearing, insults, bullying, unestablished relationship, submissive/dominate dynamic, fingering

You ever hear about awful roommates?

Well mine takes the cake.

Aside from putting the toilet paper on the wrong way and living like a pig, she's an absolute bitch.

And it's hard for me to say that because I'm a fruity feminist - but my God, it doesn't get much worse than this.

Having guests over is a nightmare. I hosted Thanksgiving once for my family and a few friends, and being the considerate individual I am, I invited Abby. At first she said that she'd rather die than sit at the same table as me or eat my food, but I guess she changed her mind when her dad texted her saying he was taking a trip for the holidays and all her friends were with their families.

When all the food was ready and at the table, she didn't even eat anything. I spent hours preparing and poured my soul into this meal only for her to toss some TV dinner in the microwave. I don't know what she was trying to prove but ultimately she lost because that food was immaculate. Not to mention she was rude to everyone: back-handed compliments, snide remarks, telling embarrassing stories about me that no one needed to know, the list goes on. Needless to say I had to send everyone a massive apology and gave Abby Hell for it, to which she rolled her eyes and said, "I could give two shits. I'm glad they won't be back." My blood boiled and I debated letting all my suppressed anger out, but I realized no matter what I said, it wouldn't matter. Abby was a close-minded, self-centered, rude, messy, piece of shit.

Why not kick her out?

Well...her name is on the lease. And how she hasn't tossed my stuff in a garbage bag and thrown it out is a mystery to me. The only reason I haven't packed up everything is because she pays most of the rent, and my internship barely makes a dent in my bank account so I wouldn't even be able to afford to live on my own if I wanted to.

Everything started off well too. We clicked on college and loved the idea of living together when we graduated. What a joke.

Today I had a rough day. My internship at the my local law-firm is working me like a dog having me do all the grunt work. I think I went to Starbucks three times and the worker recognized my voice through the drive thru, it was honestly dehumanizing. That and all my superiors were stacking up my tasks, not even bothering to say thank you like I'm some robot. Two more months and I'll finally be in a half decent spot - no more coffee runs, and more pay.

I shuffled through the door with sore, achy feet and my bun falling from its hair tie. My briefcase was thrown against the wall next to the door and my heels were quick to follow. A shower would fix most of my problems...most.

Usually I treat myself to some chill jams while I'm cleaning up, transition from a work mindset to home. I keep it pretty low as to not disturb the princess in the next room, but most times without fail she has something to say about it. Today was one of those days.

With an old tank top and some pajama shorts on, I made my way into the kitchen to make dinner, my hair air drying. I searched the fridge and cupboards for inspiration and just before the light bulb went off the voice that haunts me groaned from behind me.

"Your music is too loud, you'll get us kicked out." She lied. I could barely even hear it.

"Whatever Abby." I grumbled low enough for her not to hear. I didn't want to argue but I wouldn't let her get the last word.

Then she started tearing up the kitchen. Messing up the stack of pans in the cupboard, leaving the eggshells from her eggs on the counter, leaving vegetable discards on the cutting board. It would be left out for days if I didn't clean it up. It just baffled me how messy she was. The mess sucked away my appetite and I left for my room, but of course she had to say something to get under my skin.

"Your shampoo stinks."

I mean, really? She insults me like we're teenagers and I'm so sick of it, but there's no reason to entertain it. I need to be the bigger person. Everyday I wish I could go back and convince myself to not room with her.

Settling in my sheets I turned on my TV, muted of course with captions because the second she heard The Walking Dead intro she'd throw a fit. It was more of a job to avoid her insults and complaining than being a slave at the law-firm. I just keep reminding myself that it'll be over before I know it, I'll make the next chapter in my life the best one yet.

"Y/n!"

I started to hate my name. Reluctantly, I slipped from my warm covers, debating to wrap myself back up and fake a nap. But it wouldn't work, she'd welcome herself into my room and sky rocket her poor attitude.

She had her head stuck in the fridge, shuffling things around. I asked her what she needed with a low tone.

"Where's the container of food I made two weeks ago?"

Sometimes I think she'd be dead without me, because she would definitely eat two week old leftovers that smelled like a carcass.

"They smelled horrible, I threw them away. It went bad."

She turned to look at me, clearly very angry, "Are you fucking serious?"

"There was mold on it! You're not gonna fucking eat m-mold!" I threw my hands at my sides. This was ridiculous, we're fighting over old food.

"Don't touch my fucking shit Y/n!" The fridge door closed and she pointed a threatening finger at me as she stormed over.

I scoffed, "The fridge smelled like a dead possum! I wasn't going to let it sit!"

My stomach churned because the clench of her jaw was surely a sign I'd be packing my bags.

"If you ever touch any of my shit again, I'll put your ass on the streets."

I'd been spared, and the painful breath in my lungs released. But she wasn't done yet.

"And stop throwing your damn stuff around when you come back, you're so loud all the time! It's a Goddamn miracle we haven't been evicted."

That was the straw to break the camels back, the last nail in the coffin, the one that tipped me over the edge. It was time I put up a resistance - and a Goddamn fierce one too.

"I'll get us evicted?! Me?! Abby you treat the place like a fucking pig sty! If it weren't for me we would be gone! You're - you're so fucking ungrateful and inconsiderate and a just a bitch! I'm so tired of you!"

She shoved me, but before I could stumble back I grabbed her arms. We wrangled with one another and my back hit the counter making me groan and fist her thick braid. I pulled hard, yanking her head to the side and making her yelp. She dug her nails into my shoulders but I was so doped up on my own adrenaline I couldn't tell if it had drawn blood or not. I pushed her away and finally did something I had wanted to do for a very, very, long time.

The back of my hand cracked against her cheek and the sound was loud enough to make the entire apartment eerily silent. A prominent, red imprint swelled on her skin and my hand burned. I was basically heaving and as we both came to a stop my rioting heart slowed. She stood dumbfounded and the pads of her fingers gently caressed the sensitive wound.

Then it was like a magnet was thrown between us and we were two paper clips being sucked toward it. Our bodies collided hard enough to knock away my breath, but I didn't need it anyways because our lips were crashing together. Her tongue danced across my own like she were on death row, her hands feeling against everything and anything on my body.

And I was nearly numb. The resentment that raged through my body was finally being unleashed. Nearly a year of pure frustration was being set free - unbeknownst to me it was sexual frustration.

There was no way I was letting her get the upper hand, so I shoved her up onto the counter and tore off her muscle tank. Much to my delight she wasn't sporting one of her four million athletic bras, and I didn't hesitate to get a handful. My tongue trailed up her hot neck and soft jaw line until I reached her puffy, kissed lips. She jumped at my hand hastily digging under her boxers but didn't protest, instead shifting her hips toward me. Who knew Abby was a masochist.

Her arousal covered my fingers and I could feel my body grow in temperature. She was panting vigorously and her blown eyes were focused on the way my hand disappeared beneath the fabric and how my wrist moved against her torso in rhythm with my ministrations. "Fuck," she sighed and let her head fall back, my lips attacking her neck and jaw, leaving purple and blue in their wake.

"You're a fucking mess." I teased and grabbed her jaw.

I slipped two fingers between her sultry lips and let her tongue work around them. My chest filled with pride and urged my fingers below her boxers to work faster against her soaked heat.

As two digits pumped in her at an unforgiving pace, my thumb pressed against the spot that I had purposefully neglected. I freed my other digits from her mouth to hear the obscene moan that echoed against the walls. I laughed triumphantly and ignored the intense burn in my forearm - there was no stopping now.

"I think you liked that." I chuckled.

Our eyes met and a ruby essence welcomed itself on her cheeks and nose (the imprint still clear on her freckles). I was in awe at how shy and flustered she was, and surprised at myself for being so authoritative.

But I'd be damned if I didn't say it was hot.

My thumb kissed circles against her sensitivity and her hands shot up grasp my shoulders again. "Fuck fuck fuck-" she swore.

"Mmm are you gonna cum?" I bit my lip and forced her gaze on mine.

"Y-yes, fuck, please-"

And I couldn't deny, the whine in her voice and her pink cheeks had me reeling. I held her face and kissed her while she was sent over the edge, loving how she struggled to hold the kiss. She held me close and tight, fearing if she let go she might melt, and I didn't stop until her thighs were quivering and she was clawing my hand out of her shorts.

The sight before me was something I'd never forget, I had to take a mental picture. Soaked fingers, Abby's braid falling out and baby hairs framing her face, gasping. If this didn't change her tone around me from now on, then I don't know what will.

"Well..." I nonchalantly licked my fingers and cocked a brow at her, "Why don't you make us some dinner. Eggs over easy please."

And I left her on the counter an absolute mess - one she had to clean up herself.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut

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liriostigre · 3 years ago

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hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds —Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost: you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

#btw!!!! i'm sorry!!! SO SORRY it took me weeks to reply 🤕#hope you're having good days <3 #💌

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iridescentjin · 4 years ago

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Passion Project

Summary: artist!yoongi x poet!reader. yoongi and yn are friends that are attending the same university. in need of a muse for his latest assignment, yoongi turns to you for a rather intimate portrait.

Genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Warnings: some swearing, teeth rotting, heart aching, cliche ass fluff

a/n: This is my contribution to the @heartsforbtsnet’s “The Chronicles of y/n” collab. It was tough for me to write only fluff, but I loved it. I love Yoongi 🥺. There will be an nsfw follow-up piece.

WC: 3830

Everyone always said “don’t go to art school,” and “what are you going to do with a fine art degree?”

You didn’t know, but you knew what you loved. Your passion is split between creative writing and film photography. You would give anything to be able to write poetry for a living, but you know that you’re no Rupi Kaur. Opportunities for poets aren’t very common. But you remained true to yourself, writing everything at every given opportunity.

You fell in love with photography at 13. You had saved up all of your spare money for a year to be able to take Film Photography 101 at the local youth center. From the first roll of film that you processed, you were in love. And now you’re here. Studying the things you love most.

You were filling an elective requirement and taking an intro to drawing course. Most of the people in there were musicians or writers or photographers like yourself. One of them was the music production and painting major Min Yoongi. You thought it was weird to see him in that class the first time you saw him there. Painters usually knew at least a little bit about drawing.

The first day of class, you’d gone around the room and said who you were and what you hoped to get out of the class. You had said your name and that you hoped to gain any skills in drawing at all. Min Yoongi had said that he struggled with still life, focusing mainly on the abstract in his paintings. He wanted to get better at figures. You could relate because you could draw a pretty decent mountain range, but a person? Forget it.

You knew Yoongi from around campus. A friend of a friend, kind of deal. You sat beside him and another Photography major that you get along with, Jeon Minju. Minju is sweet and silly. Yoongi is quiet and sarcastic. It was a weird juxtaposition that you found hilarious. Drawing might just be your favorite class this semester for that simple reason.

The class started out easy enough. Only drawing shadows. One continuous line drawing. Your favorite was playing with charcoal. It was just fun to manipulate and smudge. You loved playing with negative space and light. And getting your fingers covered made you feel like a child playing with chalk.

Yoongi and Minju were both good with light as well. Yoongi’s shadow drawings were incomparable with the rest of the class. You kept thinking to yourself that it was absurd he was here.

Until it came time for figure drawing.

That’s when you realized that though most artists can figure out light and shadows...figures are something completely their own. You listened carefully to every word from the professors mouth, trying to improve your craft. You were not great by any definition of the term, but man, were you better than Min Yoongi. His drawings looked like they were done by first graders who were trying their hardest to make anything look right but just couldn’t get it.

You tried to encourage Yoongi and not laugh at his drawings, but sometimes it was hard when the person in it looked like a straight up penis.

“Dude,” you said to him once, “you’ve seen a person before, right?”

He had blushed crimson and turned away from you. You felt a little guilty about making him embarrassed, and you tried to walk it back. The damage had already been done, and he didn’t show you any of his drawings for 2 weeks. When he finally showed you one, it was so much better.

“Yoongi, honestly I’m sorry I made fun of you, but this is so good.”

It wasn’t “so good,” but it was pretty good. You wanted to boost his confidence. It seems to work all right, and he starts showing you more of his drawings. You feel a slight feeling of redemption inside at fixing your own mistake.

Over the course of the semester, you, Yoongi, and Minju spent a lot of time together. Something about bonding over the stress of not being good at drawing had bonded the three of you. Every Thursday you eat lunch together at the taco stand in the student center. You even organized a couple of movie nights, watching B-movies together and laughing at how terrible they are.

Birdemic: Shock and Terror was one of your favorites. The three of you had laughed so hard at it because none of it made any sense, and it looked like it was filmed on the cheapest piece of crap camera in the weirdest locations possible.

You sat in your living room, eating popcorn and chips, watching the movies together. It started out kind of awkwardly keeping your distance from each other. Minju on one side of you, Yoongi on the other.

You kept your shoulders away from both of theirs, tending to lean further toward Minju just because you didn't want to make Yoongi uncomfortable. You felt unsure about him at first. Soon you'd started to get to know him more, and you learned that he wasn't cold like he had initially seemed. He was funny and sarcastic. You loosened up. You didn't mind if your shoulder brushed his or if the two of you shared a snack, occasionally brushing finger tips.

It was comfortable, your friendship with Minju and Yoongi. The three of you nearly inseparable. Your schedule coincided with Yoongi’s more than Minju’s, so you ate lunch together nearly everyday, swiping into the dining hall and finding his friends or yours. They knew now to save 2 seats for both of you.

The two of you were nearly inseparable except for when you were in classes. He would meet you in the quad, paint splatters on his face and hands, beaming at you. It was such a seamless friendship. He was an introvert who was kind of over people. You were an introvert who was kind of over people. It just clicked.

****

One night in November, you had a movie night planned with Minju and Yoongi. Minju calls you around 6pm panicking because she hasn’t finished one of her photography projects. You had finished it earlier in the week, and you offer to come down to the photography building to help her. She insists that she wants to do it on her own, but she won’t be able to make the movie.

You tell her it was no big deal and that you can reschedule for another time. You text Yoongi, and he asks if you still wanted him to come. At first you want to say no because you aren’t going to end up watching the movie you planned. Then you decide that it would be nice seeing Yoongi anyway. He is one of your best friends anyway, so why not?

When Yoongi arrives at your door, he’s wearing a gray beanie with a square, unamused gray smiley face on it. He has one AirPod in one ear. His slight frame is clothed with a gray hoodie with a white shirt poking out the bottom. He has on fitted, tapered sweatpants with a white stripe down the side. Quintessential cozy Yoongi.

He has a brown bag in his hand that you can tell is full of food. There’s a small damp spot on the side from condensation.

“I brought food,” he says with a shrug.

He makes his way to your couch like he lives there himself. He tosses the bag down on the coffee table, plops down on the couch, and begins to rummage through the paper sack. He pulls out several different containers, each holding some of your favorite foods. You feel a weird feeling in your chest as you watch him sitting there, casually opening the lids on each of the takeout containers.

You shake off the feeling and sit next to him. You dig into the food, picking out pieces of oi kimchi with your chopsticks and popping them into your mouth. Looking at the table, you see that Yoongi got extra of your favorite, oi kimchi, even though he doesn’t like it very much. You smile at the sight of it then keep eating.

The two of you sit in near silence, chewing away on the samgyeopsal and galbi.

You turn to him and ask, “Do you want to watch a movie? It’s almost Thanksgiving. We could watch my all time favorite Thanksgiving movie.”

“Two questions,” he replies. “One: THERE ARE THANKSGIVING MOVIES? Two: YOU HAVE A FAVORITE!?”

“Well, one, yeah. And two, of course.”

You switch on the TV and click over to the hard drive that you have connected to it. You hover over the title “Thankskilling” and turn and look over at Yoongi. He reads the title and chokes slightly on his food. A satisfied smile spreads across his face, and he nods at you. Both of you turn your attention back to the screen.

The two of you laugh out loud immediately upon, “Nice tits, bitch!” being uttered by the turkey. Yoongi laughs hard out loud.

“Oh, I am so excited about this,” he utters.

The movie continues on, you and Yoongi laugh and add commentary as you watch. The tears brim in your eyes as you watch, and Yoongi grabs your leg hard as he laughs at “Gobble, gobble, motherfucker.”

You look down at his hand on your knee and stare at it for a moment. You feel weird seeing it there, but it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels warm, calming, and comfortable. Yoongi turns and sees his hand resting on your leg. He immediately pulls it away and looks up at you, cheeks turning pink. You turn away and try to pretend like you didn’t feel something in the pit of your stomach.

The rest of the movie, the two of you sit a little further apart from one another, still laughing and commenting the whole time. When the movie is over, you chat, turning slightly toward one another, joking about the turkey and school with one another.

After an hour, your roommate walks into the apartment from her study group with her friends. She looks up at the two of you on the couch and raises her eyebrows.

“Sorry, yn, I didn’t realize you had a date tonight. I would have stayed out longer.”

You feel the heat coming to your cheeks, and you drop your head. “It’s not a date. It’s just Yoongi,” you snap as quickly as possible.

You don’t look at Yoongi at all, so embarrassed by Jinhee’s comment.

“Well, I gotta go,” Yoongi mutters awkwardly next to you.

He gets up and stalks out the door quickly past Jinhee. He barely tosses a “goodbye” your way as he makes his way into the hallway. You glare at your roommate, and when she closes the door you roll your eyes.

“Thank you so much for making that as awkward as possible,” you say and begin cleaning the food off the coffee table. You sulk off into your bedroom as soon as you have cleaned up. Jinhee shouts sorry after you.

***

Near the end of the semester, the professor assigns you a project. Any medium that you want to use to draw. 5 human figure drawings.

Passion.

That’s it. That’s the whole prompt. He didn’t give you any more information. He just said passion. When asked by students, he did say that it could be the same figure or 5 different figures. Any size. Any paper. Any style. And an author’s statement about the techniques used and how it represents passion.

Easy enough. But challenging in so many ways. You decided to draw your 5 best friends - Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin. The passion there would be the different passions you see within all of them. Jungkook’s passion for boxing. Jimin’s passion for baking. Hoseok’s passion for dance. Namjoon’s passion for social justice. Seokjin’s passion for acting. Together, the five of them were the most passionate people that you know. They were chasing their dreams, and it helped you feel like you could absolutely complete the assignment.

Yoongi was a different story. He seemed panicked from the moment the professor said that it was figure drawings. You could see him wracking his brain for something that could represent passion to him. You wanted to grab his hand and comfort him, tell him it would be okay.

You and Minju chatted excitedly after that class about the ideas that you had. Yoongi lagged behind, dragging his feet slightly. At the lunch table in the dining hall, Yoongi seemed distracted, poking his food and barely eating.

“Yoongi, what’s your deal, man?” Minju asks, a small smirk on her face.

“I’m not sure,” he says in a faint voice.

Minju turns to you and shrugs. You keep working on your bowl of cereal. You know it’s not the most nutritious meal, but hey, you’re in university. This is the time to eat cereal for every meal. You aren’t sure what you could even do for Yoongi, and you’re pretty sure the project is getting to him. He was fine before class started.

“Hey, Yoon, is it the project getting to you?”

“I just don’t know what to do,” he grumbles.

“Well, that’s okay, Yoongi. You have some time,” Minju pipes.

You stuff another bite of cereal into your mouth, looking between the two of them. You aren’t sure what you could even encourage him to do because you know him, but you don’t really know his passions beyond painting and music.

“Maybe you could draw something that has to do with painting?” you ask between bites.

“I just don’t know,” he says and turns his eyes back down to the plate in front of him.

The three of you sit in awkward silence eating your food. You are unsure how to comfort your friend, but you don’t want to push him any further. When lunches ends, you all go to your classes, saying brief awkward goodbyes.

*******

You hardly see Yoongi except for in class over the course of the next two weeks. He’s a little distant and stoic in class, so you just focus your attention on drawing your final project. You love the way that the shadows you create on the paper show the love and beauty within your friends. They aren’t perfect drawings, but you see each of your friends in each of the drawings.

For your artist statement, you decide to describe the technique and medium normally but write the statement about them into poems.

Seokjin. Charcoal on paper. The faces you wear Hide the pain within you You put on each of your masks Dazzling the crowd Your eyes sparkle They tell the story Of your life And the thousand others You play

Namjoon. Graphite on paper. Someone said You couldn’t do it When in reality You were doing it all along You hold up the world Against the light To see it for what it is Examining it like a researcher Like a warrior You won’t stop

Hoseok. White charcoal on black paper. Your movements Fluid Like water Dancing Lapping at the shore

Your passion Love Like the moon Pulling Pushing the passion from within you

Jimin. Graphite on paper. Like the cinnamon roll. You are warm and sweet. Filled with love and spiciness. Without the tang of the cinnamon, The sugar would be too sweet. Without the sugar, The cinnamon would bite too hard. You, like the cinnamon roll, Are a comfort A joy A love To be savored.

Jungkook. Charcoal on canvas. The sweetest and softest. The kindest and brightest. The golden boy. The strongest and the fiercest. The boldest and the truest. My golden maknae.

You looked at your drawings and the pages, the short poems. You feel a pride inside that swells in your chest as you breathe deeply, looking down at it. The way that you feel like the aura of each of your friends radiates from the pages. Even from the black and white, you can feel Hoseok’s orange, Seokjin’s pink, Jungkook’s red, Jimin’s purple, and Namjoon’s blue. The warmth of them jumps off the page.

You wonder to yourself how Yoongi is doing.You send him a text, and he doesn’t respond. You assume he’s working hard on all of his classes because it’s the end of the semester. Personally, you’ve put together a portfolio of 200 poems and completed a photo folio. You were burned out, and you felt like the drawings took the most time for you. You can imagine that with painting and drawing, Yoongi is swamped.

You see him on the day that you’re supposed to have a gallery walk for all of the classes final projects. He isn’t in the room at first when everyone starts setting up, their pieces and their statements displayed together. He jogs into the room a little late with papers stuffed under his arm, pressed against his side.

He lays out his drawings hastily and flops down a paper in front of them in the last open spot. He doesn’t greet you and Minju, but you figure he’s just stressed. The class begins, and you make your way around the room. You read each artist��s statement carefully, feeling self-conscious about yours when you read the explanations that your peers wrote. Much more in-depth about the topics and the subjects. You worry about your grade.

You make your way to Minju’s, and you smile at the drawings of cameras and photographers. Minju is so committed, so passionate about photography. You can feel her smile in each of the drawings. They’re not perfect, but they are pretty good. Minju was the most talented of the three of you. The smile creeps across your face again as you read the words detailing her love for photography, the way a camera feels in her hand, the joy she feels when the developer starts to reveal the image.

When the timer goes off, you continue to move. There are a few more that you read before you arrive at Yoongi’s. You stare at the pages, your eyes darting around the page at each of the features. Your breath catches in your throat, and your stomach does a flip. There’s no way.

On the pages before you, you see the curve of your own nose and cheeks. The way your hair rests against your collarbone. The glitter in your eye. You can’t mistake the face and body that you see in the mirror every single day.

You snatch the artist’s statement off the desk and pull it close to your face. Your eyes scan the words as tears start to well your eyes.

Passion. To me passion is the way that you can watch any B movie and find the good in it. Passion is how you write poem after poem, searching for the precise word. Passion is the way that you want to capture every beautiful moment on film. Passion is your smile as you read a text from your mother. Passion is the way that you bite your fingernails when you’re thinking hard. Passion is the way that your pen moves on the paper as your forehead crinkles. Passion is the way you make me feel. Passion is you. Graphite on paper.

You can’t stop the tears that fill your eyes, and your heart is pounding in your chest. You turn and scan the room. You can’t see Yoongi through the sea of bodies across the room. The feeling overwhelms you, so you decide to take a moment in the hallway. No one will notice you're gone.

Once in the hall, you take a deep breath. You hear a shuffling down the hallway from you. You snap your head toward the sound, and there stands a cat-like man in a black sweatshirt and a gray beanie. He’s looking at you with a sadness in his eyes, and the tears start to fall from your eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, walking toward you.

You shake your head unable to form the words.

“Did you see it?” he asks, timidly. “Oh my god, you hate it!”

He turns his face away from you, but he doesn’t walk away. He brings his thumb up and wipes a tear away from your cheek. You sniffle and wipe the tears from the other side. Your eyes finally meet his.

“No, I didn’t hate it, Yoongi. So far from that.”

A light spreads to his eyes and across his face. “Really?”

“Yoongi, those things that you wrote. Did you mean that?”

With a smile on his lips, he gently grabs your chin and says, “I meant every single word of it. Over the last few months, things have seemed...lighter. Brighter. You’ve done that in my life. My paintings are more bright, with warmer colors. Hell, I’ve been whistling. You make everything seem okay. Honestly, yn, you make me so happy, it’s stupid.

“Yoongi, I feel the same way. You should read the sappy poems that I’ve been writing. You have changed me for the better. I look forward to talking to you every day. I light up if your name shows up on my phone.”

You mean to say more, but at that moment, Yoongi tilts your chin toward him and presses his lips against yours. His mouth is soft and pillowy; the sweet minty flavor in his mouth draws you in further. You kiss him more deeply and wrap your arms around his neck. When the two of you separate, you smile at him. You can’t help but be reminded of Cho Chang in Harry Potter. You kiss the boy that you like so much while there are tears on your face.

The classroom door clicks, and you hear a familiar voice from the room.

“Oh god. It’s about time you too,” Minju calls toward you. She giggles then you hear the door click shut.

“As much as I love this moment, we should probably get back inside and get back to class,” you whisper against Yoongi’s lips.

“I don’t want toooooooo,” he whines and kisses you again.

You pull away from him and lace your fingers through his. You pull the reluctant man toward the classroom. He whines and moans the whole time, but eventually, he gives in and enters the classroom with him.

After the class period is over, you and Yoongi walk down the hall with Minju, you two holding hands. You kiss him on the cheek, and Minju murmurs, “gross.”

“I don’t even care what grade I get,” Yoongi says. “I got the best possible thing from that class.”

He looks at you and both you and Minju, and the two of you groan at the cheesy comment.

“What? I mean the ability to draw better,” he laughs. “Oh!? Did you think I meant you? Look, you’re great, but I mean...I’m an amazing drawer now.”

#heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #coycollaboration #btsguild #minthlynet #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #sfw bts #reader insert bts

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inkedstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

Bittersweet: Chapter Nine

Summary: Cassian and Nesta finally meet. Officially, this time. Let the romance commence. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: very brief/non-explicit mention of sexual assault Bittersweet Masterlist

“Earth to Nesta?”

Nesta snapped from her trance to see Emerie waving a hand in front of her face.

“You’ve been cleaning the same spot for a good ten minutes,” Emerie gestured to where Nesta was scrubbing the counter with a towel. It was squeaky clean.

Nesta let go of the towel and cleared her throat. “My bad.”

Emerie pulled out the chair on the other side of the counter and sat down. It was eleven in the evening on a Monday, and they had just closed. The only other person in Rita’s was Lucien, and he was doing dishes in the back.

“You’ve been acting weird for the past two weeks,” Emerie stated blatantly. Her stare was unwavering. “And you’ve lost at least ten pounds.”

The incidence with Tomas happened two weeks ago. Nesta was doing a pretty good job of moving on with her life all things considered. She felt like shit, but she hadn’t missed a single shift at work. That had to count for something.

But she should’ve known Emerie would notice. She was like a fucking hawk, that girl. She saw everything.

When Nesta didn’t say anything, Emerie shrugged and got up from the stool. “At least try a little harder,” she said, referring to the coworkers’ challenge to get the most tips. She shot Nesta a sad look. “Thesan is beating you. Thesan.”

Nesta mustered a laugh. Thesan wasn’t great with customers, that was common knowledge. Neither Emerie nor Nesta were people persons, but they knew how to turn it on for customers. Thesan, on the other hand, didn’t make much of an effort. It wasn’t that he was intentionally rude, the guy was just quiet in nature. In fact, he was quite a sweetheart.

Which was why it was quite entertaining to watch Thesan and Helion interact. Where Thesan was an introvert, Helion was loud as hell. Not to mention it was clear that Thesan was crushing on him. But unfortunately, Helion flirted with every living, breathing thing and was thus completely oblivious. During Nesta’s first week at Rita’s, Emerie had spilled all the tea about their coworkers. Thesan was head over heels in love with Helion, Helion had never been in a monogamous relationship, and Viviane… well, Viviane had her own little love story. A complicated one at that.

His name was Kallias. They grew up together, from scheming little kids to rebellious teenagers to young adults. Best friends since they could remember.

Because Emerie grew up in the same small town as them, she knew everything. They all went to school together. She knew that Kallias had been in love with Viviane since freshman year of high school. She knew that Viviane felt the same way, but she would never admit it thanks to the hell she was put through during her childhood. Nesta didn’t know the specifics, and she never asked.

It also didn’t help that Viviane was in a relationship with someone else. They’d been together for almost two years. Emerie thought Viviane deserved better, that he wasn’t a very good person.

Anyway, Kallias visited Rita’s nearly every weekend after his shift at the fire station to grab a drink and more importantly, see Viviane.

Nesta thought it was ridiculous. She’d told Emerie as much when she’d brought Nesta up to date on their coworkers’ lives. Why wouldn’t they just admit they loved each other and get on with it already? It was pretty fucking simple; they were just making it complicated for themselves. Emerie wholeheartedly agreed and the pair then went on an hour long rant on the idiocy of romantic relationships.

And if she was being honest, Nesta didn’t care much about these people. Sure, they were respectable but they were a temporary fixture in her life. Once she secured a job in her career field, she was going to leave them all behind.

“We should get a drink sometime. Outside of work,” Emerie clarified with a look of disgust. “I’m sick of it here.”

Nesta knew that was a lie based on the relationship Emerie had with Rita and her wife. But she didn’t say that.

“Maybe,” Nesta responded distractedly, desperate to think of an excuse. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Emerie; no, Nesta liked her coworker. She just couldn’t muster the energy to go out with friends or socialize like that. “I’m pretty busy right now though.”

Emerie narrowed her eyes and scrutinized her.

“Stop analyzing me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Emerie sighed and receded. She hesitated before saying quietly, “Is… is this the part when I ask if you’re okay and we get all deep and explore a new level of our friendship?”

Nesta slowly met her friend’s gaze. They stared at one another for several moments.

Then, they burst out laughing.

-------------------------

The next morning, Nesta was brewing her third cup of coffee when Elain padded into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Elain yawned as a greeting. She wore bunny slippers and an oversized hoodie. Elain only had one evening class on Tuesdays, so today was her only day - save for the weekend - to sleep in.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“How long have you been up?”

Nesta glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty. She’d woken up at six after a sleepless night of tossing and turning.

But she simply shrugged instead. “Not long.”

Nesta poured the coffee into her mug, sitting back down at the counter. She watched as Elain bustled around the kitchen, scrambling eggs and slicing fruit. The morning light spilled through the dusty kitchen sink window, bars of sunshine reflecting off the tiled floors. Iroh basked in the sunspots, his black fur glistening as his chartreuse eyes blinked closed.

Elain and Nesta hadn’t spent much time together in the past couple weeks. It was Nesta’s doing, of course. She was actively avoiding her sister and everyone else. After Elain had tried to talk to Nesta after the whole thing with Tomas, she stopped asking Nesta if she was okay. Nesta assumed that Elain realized she wasn’t going to get an answer, that there wasn't really a point in trying.

But Gods, Nesta fucking missed her. And even though she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her bedroom as she sat there in the kitchen, she didn’t move from the chair.

You need them as much as they need you, her father’s voice echoed in her head.

Guilt stabbed at her chest.

“How’re classes going?” Nesta asked quietly. Elain looked at her over her shoulder with a surprised yet pleasant smile.

“Great! I’m so grateful to be at such a great college, but…” Elain bit her lip, hesitating. “My bio lab is going to be the death of me."

“You know you’re allowed to complain, right?”

Elain just gave her a smile. “Yeah, I know. It's just, considering where I was a year ago, I couldn't be happier to finally be enrolled in such a prestigious program. Even if that means the classes are brutal."

I wish I was like you. I take everything for granted.

“And have you made any friends?”

Elain had started school at Pryth U months ago and yet Nesta had no idea if she even had friends yet.

Selfish bitch.

A fond smile broke out on Elain’s face. “Yes, I have this really great group of friends: Lucien, Ressina, and Varian. It's just the four of us, but we've gotten really close.”

Nesta asked Elain more questions before excusing herself back to her room, claiming she was going to try to write today, to which Elain squealed and wished her luck.

Nesta hadn't written since their dad died. Prior to his death, she would write nearly every day. She'd been working on a novel for years. The plot had came to her in middle school, and it just grew from there. She'd never told anyone about it. Everyone knows how fucking hard it is to get your writing published, much less get high ratings. Nesta wasn't even sure if she was going to finish it. This was the longest she'd gone without writing or editing it. And she had a feeling that she wouldn't ever go back to it.

Dread filled her stomach as she thought of that prospect. What the fuck was she doing with her life?

Nesta’s phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her back pocket.

Incoming call from Feyre Archeron.

It kept buzzing, Nesta merely stared at her sister's name on her screen. She couldn't think of a single reason why Feyre would be calling. But she pressed "Accept" before it could go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Silence.

“Uh, what’s up?” Nesta asked. She collapsed onto her unmade bed. Iroh scampered past the door and jumped on the bed with her. He didn't waste a minute curling himself around her head.

"I was calling to see… maybe, I don’t know… uh, would you want to come to dinner tonight?”

I was not expecting that. And Nesta was about 95% sure this was Elain’s doing.

“Why?”

“I want you there," Feyre told her as if it were obvious.

“Why?” Nesta asked again. She hadn't seen Feyre since Thanksgiving despite her sister living just on the outskirts of the city.

That had been weeks ago.

“It's complicated," Feyre responded quietly. She seemed to pause before finding the words. "I've been so worried about Cassian, we all have. He'd never been deployed for that long - five months. It was scary. I guess I took that out on you. I don't know why..."

She drifted off. Nesta held her breath.

"I'm sure Elain told you, but he's home now. I've been more myself since he returned, and I want you to come to dinner. I… miss you.”

She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know, Feyre.”

I don't know if I can pretend to be okay for an entire night. I don't know if you even fucking want me there or if you just feel obligated. I don't know if I can be in the same room as your douchebag boyfriend. I don't know if I can be surrounded by your friends, most of whom seem to dislike me. I don't know if I can behave like a normal fucking person.

I don't know.

“Please?” The plea was soft, quiet. It was like she was almost desperate. But for what?

Nesta looked out the window where a blue jay - their dad's favorite bird - was perched on a bare tree branch. The leaves had long ago fallen, leaving the world naked and vulnerable. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

-------------------------

Feyre embraced her with an awkward hug when Nesta and Elain walked into the house. Nesta patted her on the back lightly, uncomfortable with the physical touch. Luckily, no one else seemed incline to embrace her. Rhys actually seemed to make sure he was as far away as possible.

Elain, on the other hand, gave everyone a hug. Mor gave a laugh as she squeezed Elain back, Aurra watching them with a smile. Interestingly enough, when Elain greeted Azriel with a hug, his tanned cheeks glowed red. It was almost imperceptible, but Nesta noticed.

Feyre took a step back to assess her. Nesta could see the judgement in her sister's eyes as she took in Nesta's noticeably thinner body. Luckily, however, she wasn't given the chance to comment on it when Elain piped up, "Where's Cassian? Nesta still hasn't met him yet."

"He's running a bit late," Rhys answered, glancing down at his phone. "Should be here in about ten minutes."

Everyone began to make their way into the dining room and Nesta followed. However, she was quickly tugged to the side when Amren swooped in out of nowhere and basically dragged Nesta into the privacy of the hallway. She stopped, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Nesta.

“Where have you been?” Amren demanded.

"What do you mean?" Nesta asked, playing dumb.

She hadn't spoken to Amren in a long time, even though they had each others' numbers. Even though Amren had repeatedly texted her, asking to get coffee or go for a walk or something else of the sorts. All of which went unanswered.

Amren rolled her eyes, and Nesta was convinced they went to the back of her head for a good minute. "Don't play dumb with me, Nesta."

“I don’t know, working?"

"Is that a question?" Amren rose a deadly brow.

Nesta huffed and mirrored Amren's angry stance. "Why are you interrogating me?"

“Because you've been radio silent for weeks. I had to ask Elain if you were still fucking alive," Amren explained. Then, she leaned in close like she didn't want anyone to hear. "I was worried about you, you bitch."

Nesta let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, okay? I've been busy. I do want to hang out, it's just that..." she trailed off.

"What? It's just that what?"

Nesta stared at the floor, unable to form words.

"Nesta, are you okay?" Amren asked, her voice softer.

Just tell her. Fucking tell her.

I was almost raped.

Just the thought was enough to make Nesta want to puke. She couldn't, it was too much and she wouldn't even be able to fucking say it and it's her fault, all her fault.

She breathed in through her nose and looked back up at Amren. She shot her the most fake smile she'd ever given. "I'm good. Seriously, I just got busy. It won't happen again."

Nesta saw the skepticism in Amren's eyes. But she conceded with a small sigh. "Well, don't do it again, okay? I seriously thought you were fucking murdered or some shit."

Nesta just nodded. Amren looked at her once more before gesturing with her chin back to the dining room. Nesta followed her.

When they rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Because sitting next to Feyre was the man who had tried to break into her apartment.

“Nesta!" Feyre exclaimed, calling her over from where she sat. "This is Cassian. Cassian, this is my sister, Nesta.”

Nesta simply stared at him like a deer in headlights and he stared at her, his lips parted in surprise. He was wearing a grey sweater, his long hair hanging down, no longer in a bun like it was the last time. He tucked it behind one ear.

"Are you stalking me or something?" Nesta said incredulously.

"I could ask you the same," Cassian retorted cheekily.

Feyre looked between them, a confused expression written on her face. "Do you guys know each other or something?"

"Something like that," Nesta mumbled.

Everyone's eyes were on them as they waited for an answer.

"Well as everyone knows, I live in the same building as Nesta and Elain," Cassian explained, waving a hand to the two sisters. "The other night, I got stupid drunk with a friend. He drove me back to my place and me, drunk off my fucking ass, tried to get into their apartment thinking it was mine."

The entire room erupted into laughter, Rhys choking on his food and Azriel looking up as if reasoning with the Gods.

"So when Nesta opened the door," Cassian continued, "she nearly beat me to death with a baseball bat."

Another round of laughter.

"Overreact much?"

Everyone's eyes flew to where Nesta sat. They seemed shocked. Nesta was too.

She didn't know why she said it, why she let it bother her. He was just so fucking frustrating, even his mere presence.

Cassian stuck his tongue out at her.

Feyre interrupted, her jaw agape. "You guys are acting like children."

Nesta got quiet after that. The conversation continued, thankfully taking the attention off her. As everyone laughed and conversed, Cassian looked over at her. His smile disappeared when he met Nesta's gaze. She just stared back at him, lips in a thin line. He seemed to try to gauge her reaction carefully, but her face was blank.

And so the night went on. Nesta didn't say another word after what happened. She avoided eye contact with Cassian. Avoided conversation with everyone.

It was half past eight when they all began clearing their dishes. Mor, Aurra, Azriel, and Cassian were all gathered in the kitchen cleaning up. Feyre and Rhys had excused themselves. It was just Nesta and Elain who remained in the dining room.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Nesta leaned over to whisper to Elain.

Elain nodded. "We'll head out right after, yeah?" She must've noticed the exhaustion in Nesta's face.

Nesta agreed, excusing herself from the table.

She walked down the hallway, peeking through every door to find the bathroom. She was about to push through a door on the left that was slightly cracked open when she heard voices coming from within.

“I’m worried about him. He’s not the same.” It was Feyre.

“He never is when he comes home, Feyre," Rhys said dejectedly. "It’s happened before. Cass just needs time.”

Cass.

Nesta tiptoed closer to the door, just enough for her to listen.

“No, what he needs is to see someone!”

“I’ve tried. He doesn’t want to go.”

“Try harder, Rhys!” Feyre cried, her tone frustrated.

“We can’t just force him to go, okay?”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing? Do you even notice how lost your own fucking brother is? Do you even care?!”

Silence.

“Rhysand, I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry. I know you care. More than anyone. I just… I don’t want to lose him.”

She heard them both breathing deeply.

“C’mere,” Rhys murmured. Nesta heard Feyre's footsteps as she presumably walked toward him.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Together.”

“Always, Feyre darling.”

They got quiet, probably embracing each other. Nesta crept away from their bedroom door and into the bathroom before they could find her.

------------------------------------

Elain and Nesta had just unlocked their apartment door when Nesta groaned. “Oh, shit, I forgot my wallet in the car." She fished around in her bag to make sure it wasn't in there. "I’ll be right back.”

"I'll leave the door unlocked," Elain called behind her as Nesta made her way to the elevator.

She stepped between the doors, hitting the button for the parking garage. Gods, she just wanted to go to sleep. The night had been exhausting.

After a minute or so, she was approaching her car. She unlocked her door and grabbed her wallet that was in the middle console when a pair of headlights flashed past her, a car pulling into the spot next to her.

Before panic could set in, Nesta recognized who was driver the car through the window.

Cassian.

His car turned off and he emerged from the driver's door just a moment later. He looked over where Nesta was clutching her wallet to her chest staring at him. He gave her a tight-lipped smile before turning away and walking towards the elevator. Nesta had no choice to follow.

She walked just a few feet behind him as they made their way to the elevator.

"I'm sorry," Cassian told her, his voice sincere. He cast a concerned glance her way. "For embarrassing you at dinner. And if I scared you that night."

"You didn't embarrass me," Nesta snapped at him. "You were just being annoying as hell."

His entire body seemed to relax at her insult. Cassian tried to hide his smirk but failed. "I'm glad to see you're still your normal, hotheaded self. You got me worried at dinner with your stoic behavior."

Now she really glared at him. "Don't talk like you know me. You don't."

"Oh, sweetheart," he teased. "I think we're more similar than you think."

She scoffed. "I think that hubris of yours will be your downfall."

"You know, it's quite sexy when you use literary devices to insult me," he joked.

Nesta froze.

Was he coming onto her? Chills ran down her spine when she thought of the last time a man expressed interest in her.

It's not the same, she tried to convince yourself. He's not Tomas.

Cassian must've expected a heated response to his comment because he looked surprised when Nesta simply stared straight ahead. She seemed to be in a world of her own, oblivious to everything around her. Any trace of anger was gone, replaced by a cool indifference.

Cassian's face fell. "Nesta, I didn't mean to - "

He was cut off as the elevator door dinged opened and Nesta swiftly walked out.

-------------------------------

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yourstreetserenade · 4 years ago

Note

friendship circle

Okay my brain just automatically went to some kind of glee girls summer camp au setting.

I imagine there's no glee club but all of the girls know each other because every summer for the past five years their parents all ship them off to an all girls camp in Ohio. Let's say starting from the age of 12 or so. The fic would primarily take place during the last summer that they're eligible, as 17 year olds.

Since she's been going to Camp Whatever, Brittany has always had the hugest crush on Santana and since it's their last summer Brittany is trying to get up the nerve to actually tell her once and for all.

I imagine Brittany LOVES summer camp, she loves the activities and nature and the campfire sing alongs. Santana meanwhile has always hated spending her summers there. No shopping, no Breadstix, no cell phones? Yeah no thank you. She's always considered camp beneath her but her ultra strict parents send her off every year to keep her out of trouble. She talks a big game about being hard and tough but truth is she always struggles with the physicality of the outdoors. She's bumbly, always tripping over rocks and her, falling over herself when they're all rope climbing, or gluing her hand to the table during arts and crafts time. Brittany is always eager and happy to help her when she's struggling.

All the other girls in her cabin totally see the crush and sort of smile and tease Brittany. They encourage her night after night while they sit around the fire "in the friendship circle" as their camp counselor Holly Holliday likes to call it. Each night a different girls suggests a different way for Brittany to make a move.

One night in the friendship circle, Tina tells Brittany to tell her during a hike. The next day Brittany manages to get Santana to go in one with her...but before Britt can reveal anything Santana sits in something poisonous and breaks out with a really embarrassing rash. The next time in the friendship circle over soda and marshmallows, Quinn suggests Brittany invite Santana out at night to stargaze? Brittany does just that, only her chance is ruined yet again when a raccoon chases them for their snacks. The next night in the friendship circle Sugar suggests Brittany take Santana out on a rowboat to confess her love. Brittany does as encouraged and shes just about to make her declaration of love when a bird overhead drops some "droppings" on Santana (true story, a bird did this to me once....on Thanksgiving Day). Literally every single time, something silly and ridiculous goes down hindering Brittany from confessing her feelings.

And every night around the fire "in the friendship circle" Brittany tells them it was a bust. Maybe earth and the universe and mother nature is trying to tell me something, she says to her friends. Near the end Brittany has sort of given up on love.

One night Brittany decides she doesn't want to sleep in the cabin with the others and wants to be alone so she sets up a tiny tent by the lake. She's a sad panda. This might be the last time she and Santana ever cross paths.

Her solitude is interrupted when someone starts pawing at the opening of her tent sounding desperate to get in. The visitor does intrude but it only turns out to be Santana...a very naked Santana.

Brittany is like 😳 and Santana has to rush to explain. "Those dumb bitches from your cabin talked me into a game of truth or dare. They dared me to run to the dock and back and when I got back to camp they took all of my clothes and threw them up in the trees!"

"why would they do that?"

"probably because I kept picking Truth and they didn't like what I was saying. They can't handle honesty. I even complimented one of them. I told that Rachel chick she kept her facial hair very well groomed considering we're out in the middle of nowhere. And that Tina girl? I was being nice to her and she still got upset with me. I just said 'the joy luck club was a good movie' and she got all offended or whatever. "

"I'm pretty sure Tina's Korean."

"Can I borrow some clothes?"

Brittany is the perfect gentlewoman of course and lends Santana some gear to change into.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this."

Brittany would shrug. "Yeah well, last week I held your hand as the nurse pulled a bee stinger out of your butt so, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Santana stays with Brittany in the tent and they have a laugh about everything. Santana just wasn't built for the outdoors. They talk about it being their last summer and how they're going to miss each other. Santana says after this summer Brittany won't have to worry about taking care of her, helping her. Brittany admits that she will though. She'll miss seeing Santana trip on rocks and get chased by racoons and pooped on by birds and gluing her hand to table. Because being by her side through all of that? It was never a chore for Brittany. Santana questions her as to why.

"I've always been so useless at this kind of stuff."

"Part of the reason I always loved coming to camp was because I knew I'd get to help you."

Insert more cute heart to heart stuff. And even though I think canon wise it'd be the other way around (with Brittany making the first move)I think I'd have Santana make the move to kiss her here.

Brittany spent the majority of their summer trying to confess her feelings and the second she gives up, the stars align and Santana does the move making for her.

Later on, next time in the friendship circle Brittany tells the girls it happened, that she and Santana are officially a thing. And the girls breath a sigh of relief.

"thank goodness, it was getting annoying already, we had to take things into our own hands". It turns out that sure Santana was an annoyance to them but the only reason they played truth or dare with her and sent her streaking and stole her clothes was because it was the only way they could quite literally deliever her to Brittany. Pushing a naked Santana into Brittany's arms was their idea of a foolproof plan.

So it may have taken her five long summers but Brittany finally got the girl of her dreams. All thanks to that dumb silly "friendship circle".

#brittana #this was.......a lot #but i always get carried away with ideas #anonymous

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renkeeling · 4 years ago

Text

Reintroducing Myself... (name change! my story! fun times!)

Hi everyone!

After much thought and debate, I’ve decided to change my name. To some of you this might seem like a small thing but for me it’s just... wow, it’s probably one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done. Before I say my new name, I want to give you some backstory about... well, everything. Settle in bitches, this is gonna be a long one.

I’ve honestly thought of this for almost a year now. My deadname had been uncomfortable for me to be referred as for years now, ever since before I even realized that I’m genderfluid. In November of 2019, I hit a breaking point which I won’t go into details for personal reasons, but just know that my gender dysphoria and anxiety got to its climax around Thanksgiving.

Because of that, I ended up talking with a friend and told them about wanting to change my name and they literally spent hours trying to help me find a new one (if said friend is reading this, you know who you are, thank you for your help ilysm <3) At the time, I thought the name we’d found fit me, but as the days went on I realized that I loved that name, but it just wasn’t my name.

As time went on, I continued to realize that my birth name just felt wrong, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I’d look through name lists here and there, but again, nothing felt right. Every name I came across just sounded meh.

Fast forward to December of 2019, I was texting another one of my friends and they suggested the name I’m using now. (Again, if you’re reading this, you know who you are, and tysm <3) Immediately it just felt... right. They said “It fits you,” and I agreed. As the months went on, I off and on looked through name lists because I still just felt so unsure if that was the name for me. I even started to sign up for newsletter lists and such with this name and it was one of the ways I realized how right it felt.

Yesterday, I hit another breaking point because if you’re unaware, one of my dogs passed away. I can’t explain it really, but that experience caused me to realize that our lives are short. Life so goddamn short, and I didn’t want to spend a second longer being deadnamed when there was a seemingly easy way for me to prevent it. (I know I still will be sometimes, but this will at least be a way to make it happen a lot less at the very least) So, I asked for a small group of friends to refer to me by this name and it immediately brought me so much joy. I was so excited when they called me by this name, and as the day went on it was abundantly clear that, at least for now, that was the name for me.

I was honestly going to wait, but the more that I thought about it, I realized that I wasn’t scared because the name didn’t fit me--trust me, it does--but I was scared about what people would say or think. I was scared about confusing people. I was just so, so fucking scared. Not just scared---I was terrified. But I know that this is the right decision.

So I’ve changed my name on all social media platforms and the headers to go along with them to Ren Keeling.

So, uh, hi! Hello! My name is Ren. I’m sure most of you know what my deadname is, but well... it’s dead now. May it rest in peace.

This post was probably a lot longer than it needed to be, but I wanted to be able to explain everything that I’ve been feeling for basically the past year. I’ve always been open about my gender identity with you guys, and I wanted to continue that for this post.

A huge thank you to all of my amazing friends who have supported me throughout this journey, you all are the best friends that I could ever ask for.

I can’t guarantee that this will be the name for the rest of my life, and i can’t say that this isn’t weird because 1000% it is weird. But, at least for right now, this is the right decision for me.

<3 Ren

#name change #genderfluid #lgbt #trans #nonbinary #introducing myself #this is so terrifying

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years ago

Text

I Believe In Us

A Belated Christmas Story. Set during ‘The Once & Future Queen’. *Spoilers lie ahead* After the kiss that sent Emma back home to the future, Storybrooke’s fate is now uncertain. Can the curse still be broken without the Saviour? Will Regina be able to move on from her latest heartbreak and mend her relationship with Henry?

Storybrooke. The Mayor’s House. (Emma walks Henry up the garden path towards the house.) Henry: “Please don’t take me back there.” Emma: “I have to. I’m sure your Mom is worried sick about you.” Henry: “She’s evil.” Emma: (Scoffs:) “Evil. Boy you were a handful back then weren’t you?” Henry: “What?” Emma: “Er… nothing. Listen, Kid. I’m sure that’s not true. (Emma’s breath catches when she sees the front door open as if in slow motion:) Here we go.” Regina: “Henry? Oh! Henry! (Runs out and hugs him:) Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?” Henry: “I found my other Mom!” (Henry runs inside the house. Up until this moment, Regina has only had eyes for her son. Turning to face the woman beside her, Regina gazes into the eyes of her long lost love.) Regina: “Emma. You… You’re Henry’s birth mother?” (Unable to speak, Emma merely nods.) Sheriff Graham: (Awkwardly:) “I’ll… just… go check the lad, make sure he’s okay.” (He leaves.) Regina: “How… I don’t understand…” Emma: (Smiles, lamely:) “It’s a long story.” Regina: “You’re really here. (Slowly reaches out to touch Emma’s face:) I’ve waited so long… just to see you again.” Emma: (Softly:) “I know.” Regina: “All of this… everything you see… I created it, hoping that one day we’d be together again.” Emma: (Nodding, Emma takes Regina’s hands in her own:) “I need you to do just one more thing for me.” Regina: “Anything.” Emma: (Smiles:) “Kiss me.” Regina: “I thought you’d never ask.” (Regina steps forward and claims Emma’s lips with her own. Her eyes widening at the passion coming from Regina, Emma notices that her body begins to glow with a brilliant golden light. Wrapping her arms around Regina to hold her close, Emma shuts her eyes tightly and surrenders fully to the kiss.) Moments Later... (Basking in the emotions of once more being in the arms of the woman she loves, Regina is about to run her hands through the blonde woman's hair when all sensation suddenly stops. Regina's eyes spring open just in time to see the shimmering gold outline of Emma's body disappear before her eyes.) Regina: (Reaching out with one hand, whispers:) "Emma..." Boston. Emma’s Apartment. (Emma enters with a bag and places it on the counter. She takes out a gourmet cupcake and puts a candle on it, lighting it.) Emma: “Another banner year… (She closes her eyes and blows out the candle. The doorbell rings. Emma opens the door:) Shaw?” Shaw: “Hey, Swan. Happy Birthday.” Emma: “Uh… thanks. What are you-” Shaw: “I got another case for ya.” Emma: “Oh, really? You know what, maybe you ought to take it, my car’s just been stolen and-” Shaw: (Pushing past Emma and walking into the apartment:) “I would, but this guy prefers blondes. Hey, shut the door, you’re letting the heat out.” (Emma nods and closes the door with a sigh.)

Storybrooke. One Week Later. (Henry Mills lays on his bed with his back to the door when his mother enters the room.) Regina: "It's time for your therapy session." Henry: "I don't want to go." (Regina pushes open the door further and gently joins him on the bed.) Regina: "Well I think it'd be good to talk to someone. (Pats Henry on the leg:) C'mon. (Henry rolls over and gets up from the bed:) That's my boy. (Henry pulls on his jacket:) Henry, do you mind telling me what started all this? I mean we used to be so close and now-" Henry: (Picking up the storybook he turns and holds it out to her:) "Here. (Regina takes it:) I thought this had all the answers, but I guess I was wrong. You take it, I don't want it anymore." (Placing the book on the bed, Regina opens it and flips through the first few pages while Henry heads sullenly towards the stairs.) Lowell, Massachusetts. Dentist's Office. (Emma Swan sits flicking through the pages of a magazine in the waiting room. From time to time she covertly glances at the man seated across from her.) Receptionist: "Mr. Mitchell? Doctor Hughes will see you now." (Mr. Mitchell nods, tosses the magazine he was reading back on the table in front of him and heads towards the dentist's office.) A Few Minutes Later. (Having given the local anaesthetic drugs time to take effect, Emma barges her way into the doctor's office where Mr. Mitchell is being treated.) Doctor Hughes: "Excuse me, you can't be in here." Emma: "Oh I can't afford not to be. You see, Doc, this guy is my next meal ticket." Doctor Hughes: "Excuse me?" Emma: "Well, Alex here has run up a few debts, and I've been hired to track him down." Doctor Hughes: "I see. Well nevertheless, I'm about to fix this man's smile." Emma: "Yeah, I'd hold off on that if I were you, Doc. Unless you like to work for free? You wouldn't be the first person Alex has failed to pay. (Doctor Hughes presses the button on the dentist's chair causing it to raise Alex back into an upright position:) Good choice. (Notices something:) Ooh. (Picks up a teeth whitening chart:) Egg shell white might look nice?" Doctor Hughes: (Pulling off his gloves:) "Just get him out of here." Emma: (Smiles:) "You're the doc, Doc.”

Storybrooke. Main Street. (Regina is walking down the street and sees Marco struggling to repair a sign and Ruby and Granny arguing. She looks bored.) Archie: “Beautiful day.” Regina: “Save it.” (She bumps into Mary Margaret.) Mary Margaret: “Oh! Mayor Mills, I am so sorry.” Regina: “I ran into you. Why are you apologizing?” Mary Margaret: “No, I should have been looking where I was going.” Regina: “You’re not even going to fight back?!” Mary Margaret: “Fight back? Why would I do that?” (Walks away.) (With siren blaring, Sheriff Graham's police cruiser pulls up alongside Regina, startling her.) Regina: "Turn off that damn siren!" Sheriff Graham: "Apologies, Madam Mayor but... (Steps out of the car and leans against it:) You've been a hard woman to track down lately." Regina: "Well I’ve been busy. After all, I do run this town, sheriff." Sheriff Graham: "I understand that. But I also realise you may have been avoiding me and I believe the reason has something to do with the owner of that vehicle over there. (Graham points towards the yellow bug parked across the street:) I think we should speak again about how Henry's birth mother suddenly arrives in town and leaves just as quickly without her car?" Regina: "I've told you all I know, sheriff. Henry's birth mother gave away her rights to him years ago and when my son turned up on her doorstep, she obviously couldn't drop him back home and get the hell out of this town fast enough. Don't expect me to understand the mind of a woman like that!” Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. (Walking with purpose, Regina enters Mr. Gold's shop, turns the open sign to closed and slams the door shut.) Mr. Gold: (Overly cheerful:) "Regina, how wonderful it is to see you!" Regina: "You son of a bitch." Mr. Gold: "Quite possible. I never knew my mother." Regina: "Enough games, Gold. I thought you were heartless before, but this? Using her as part of your sick little plans?" Mr. Gold: (Calmly:) "You know, every once in a while you come into my shop and rave at me about some great wrong that you believe I've done to you. I must confess, each time leaves me more perplexed than before." Regina: (Scoffs:) "You have no idea what I'm talking about, is that right?" Mr. Gold: "I'm afraid not." Regina: "Then let me illuminate you. I am talking about Henry's birth mother." Mr. Gold: (Furrows his brow in thought:) "The woman who was found in the woods outside Storybrooke around... how long ago must it be now?" Regina: "Twenty eight years ago." Mr. Gold: "Ah yes. What about her?" Regina: "She was here. She brought Henry back from Boston with her." Mr. Gold: "Oh yes, I think I heard something about that from Doctor Hopper. Despite Henry running away, it sounds to me like everything worked out in the end.” Regina: "Only the thing is, Gold, I met her before... years ago and yet when I saw her again, she didn't look a day older. How do you explain that?" Mr. Gold: (Smirks:) "I'm told some women age more gracefully than others?" Regina: "Oh cut the crap! There's simply no way that Emma could be-" Mr. Gold: (A look of recognition dawns upon his face:) "Emma… What a lovely name." Regina: (Realising something has just changed between them:) “You… you built this into this whole thing, didn’t you? You made this happen because the mother… she’s…”

Mr. Gold: (Composing himself:) "Do you ever get Deja vu? She's what, Madam Mayor?" Regina: "She's the Saviour. But you told me that..." Mr. Gold: "There's a complete thought in there just screaming to get out." (Regina paces the floor in thought, then turns back.) Regina: "It's impossible. You told me the Saviour was the child of Snow and Prince Charming." Mr. Gold: "Did I?" Regina: "Play dumb all you want, you little imp. Whatever your schemes were, they're finished. Your Saviour vanished into thin air. There's no one left to break the curse. I have Henry, I have this town and finally, after destroying your plans... I truly have my revenge!" (Regina strides to the door, pulls it open and walks through it. Leaving Mr. Gold fuming in her wake.) Worcester, Massachusetts. (Sitting at the bar, Emma orders another drink. Watching her from the dance floor, Shaw excuses herself from her dance partner, walks over and takes the seat beside Emma.) Emma: (Notices Shaw staring at her:) "What are you looking at?” Shaw: “I'm just trying to figure out what it'll take to get you to open up.” Emma: “Open up what? I'm open. I spent my birthday alone. I spent Thanksgiving alone and now it looks like I’ll be spending Christmas alone. It sucks, but it’s been this way all my life.” Shaw: “How do you feel?” Emma: “Like it sucks.” Shaw: “Right. But are you mad, sad? Do you feel like throwing things, or crying your eyes out?” Emma: “I don't know. (Sighs:) Neither, both, all of it. I don't know.” Shaw: “And I thought I was tough to crack.” Emma: “I just need to drink, okay? And since my car was stolen, I’ve got no excuse not to.” Shaw: “Actually, you do. I’m about five minutes from convincing my mark to leave with me then I’ll need your help getting him tied up and stuffed in my trunk. So if you want a ride...” Emma: “I know, I know. I gotta earn it. (Grabs her drink:) Last one, I swear.” (Shaw gives her a look and then heads back to her dance partner.) Shaw: (Emma smiles when she hears Shaw talking to the unsuspecting man:) “Of course I was coming back, it’s so nice to find a man who’ll let me lead.”

Storybrooke. Dr. Hopper's Office. (Regina and Archie discuss Henry's treatment.) Regina: "What the hell is going on, Doctor Hopper? My son is pulling away from me and he's become even more sullen and depressed than before." Doctor Hopper: "Madam Mayor, you must understand. Henry has just received two big losses in his life. In the world he created for himself, Henry believed that his birth mother only gave him away due to circumstances beyond her control. After having found Emma and telling her what he believed to be true, the fact that she quickly returned him and left without so much as a backwards glance was devastating to him. He not only lost his birth mother for a second time but also the hopefulness that came from his belief system." Regina: "But surely that's a good thing? Now that Henry has seen the truth, he should be able to move past it?" Doctor Hopper: (Nods:) "That is what I had hoped would happen. But as you've seen for yourself, Henry only seems to be retreating further into his shell." Storybrooke Elementary School. (Regina visits Henry's teacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard.) Regina: "What in the hell did you tell my son about this book?" Mary Margaret: "Just that they were some old stories to give him hope. As you well know, Henry is a special boy: so smart, so creative, and as you might be aware, lonely. He needed it." Regina: "Well your dose of hope has sent Henry into a full blown depression. I mean look at this nonsense. (Flips to the page depicting Prince Charming putting baby Emma through the wardrobe:) What kind of so-called heroes put their own interests ahead of their new-born child?" (Walks away from the table to stare derisively at the crudely painted bird houses.) Mary Margaret: (Nods:) "I'll grant you that part of the story is mortifying but that's just the beginning." Regina: "What are you talking about? That's where the storybook ends." Mary Margaret: "I'm sorry, Madam Mayor but you're wrong. Look." (Glancing back towards the table, Regina watches as Mary Margaret turns over several pages of the storybook, each illustrating further stories that are unfamiliar.) Regina: "Let me see that. (Scans the pages:) These weren't in here before." Mary Margaret: "Perhaps you just missed them? I know how busy you are, Madam Mayor. (Looks at the clock:) And I have a class due here any minute. (Guides Regina towards the door while she continues to read through the new pages:) Please send Henry my love and tell him his whole class is thinking of him." (Without a word, Regina merely nods and continues reading, paying no attention to the mass of school children now surrounding her as they make their way to their next class.) Mills House. Evening. (That night, despite a long standing house rule of no reading at the dinner table, Regina finds herself unable to tear her eyes away from the storybook. Having excused Henry after a disastrous meal of burned lasagne and second helpings of ice cream, Regina sits alone fully engrossed in the story of the Saviour, Emma Swan and the former Evil Queen, Regina Mills. Eventually, after hours spent reading, Regina’s tired eyes begin to fail her. Unwilling to be parted from the storybook, Regina makes her way up the stairs, clutching the book closely to her. Peering in on Henry to find him fast asleep, Regina makes her way to her own bedroom and closes the door.) The Next Morning. (Sheriff Graham stands waiting outside the Mayor's mansion while Regina speaks to Henry.) Henry: "Wait a minute, you're leaving me here by myself on Christmas Eve? Don't you remember those Home Alone movies we watch every year?" Regina: "I remember, Henry. Vividly. But you're not going to be alone, I've asked Doctor Hopper to stay with you until I get back." Henry: "And you're not going to tell me where you're going?" (Regina does not answer, giving her son a sympathetic look.) Regina: "Sheriff Graham and I have to get going. I promise I'll be back to tuck you in, okay?" Henry: (Sighs:) "Okay." Regina: "Now give me a hug. (Henry wraps his arms around his mother:) I love you, Henry." Henry: "I know you do." Regina: (Holding him closer:) "And?" Henry: (Smiling despite himself:) "I love you too, Mom." Regina: "Good boy. (She kisses him then straightens up:) We'll be back before you know it.”

Boston. Emma’s Apartment. (With the storybook under her arm, Regina nervously approaches apartment 205 and knocks on the door.) Emma: (Opening the door:) "May I help you?" Regina: (Stares at her for a long moment, then smiles:) "Hello. You don't know me, my name is Regina Mills. Around ten years ago you gave a baby up for adoption. His name is Henry and he's my son." A Short Time Later. (Seated opposite each other with the storybook and two glasses between them, Regina and Emma discuss Henry.) Emma: "So your son believes that everyone in his home town is a fairy tale character? (Regina nods:) Hey listen, if you're here to ask about my family history, I'm sorry but I can't help you." Regina: (Smiles:) "That's not why I'm here. Henry only started to believe these things after reading that book." Emma: (Shrugs:) "Seems pretty simple to me, just tell him no more stories until he's old enough to tell the difference between fantasy and reality." Regina: "That's just it, Miss Swan, the problem isn't that Henry believes the stories to be true." Emma: "It's not? (Regina shakes her head:) Then help me out here because I'm feeling a little lost." Regina: "The problem is... that they are true. Every last one of them. (When Emma moves backwards in her seat:) I cast the curse that brought everyone from my world to this one. The land without magic." Emma: "Riiight. Well I think we've found the route of Henry's problems." Regina: (Lowers her head:) "I know." Emma: "You're clearly feeding his delusions." Regina: (Looks up quickly:) "What?" Emma: "Well no wonder he thinks these stories are real if you're playing along with him." Regina: "No, Emma, that's not what I meant. (She reaches for the storybook and turns to a page depicting Emma and Regina's shared magic:) Don't you see? That's us!" Emma: (Glances sceptically at the page:) "I guess there's a faint resemblance... but come on, who are you trying to con?" Regina: "You don't believe me?" Emma: "How can I? What you're talking about... magic and fairy tales... it's impossible." Regina: "In this land, yes, but in the Enchanted Forest-" Emma: (Scoffs:) "The Enchanted Forest? Are you even listening to yourself?!" Regina: "I'm not lying to you, Emma. Everything you've ever wanted to know about your family, who you are and where you came from, it's right in here." Emma: "Why are you doing this to me?" Regina: "All right, you want proof? Your yellow bug is waiting for you outside. I drove it here from Storybrooke." Emma: "You what? So you stole my car?" Regina: "No, I've returned it after the other Emma took it to drive my son back home." Emma: "Oh, the 'other' Emma took it? (Stands:) Okay lady, it's time for you to leave." Regina: (Also stands:) "You don't think I know how insane this sounds? The fact that I'm stood pleading with the one person destined to destroy everything I've built, everything I've worked so hard for? (Emma folds her arms, unmoved by this:) Back home, everyone does exactly what I want them to do. Not because they want to, but because they have to." Emma: (Sarcastically:) "Right, because of the curse?" Regina: "My revenge, my so-called happy ending? None of it is real. Henry is already pulling away from me more and more each day. There is only one way to break the curse and I am begging you for your help." (Emma simply stands watching Regina for a long moment before speaking.) Emma: "Even if I did believe any of this and somehow managed to break the curse, aren't the people of your town going to want revenge for what you've done?“ Regina: (Nods:) "And then some." Emma: "Then why would you want to bring that upon yourself?" Regina: "Because I have read what happens next. (Reaches over and picks up the storybook:) This book contains the story of our past and what I can only conclude is a possible version of our future. Half the stuff in here hasn't even happened yet. (Holds out the book to Emma:) But I have seen a glimpse of what my life could be... and I choose us." (Feeling more vulnerable than she has in years, Regina watches closely as Emma slowly reaches out and takes the storybook.) Outside Emma's Apartment Building. (Sheriff Graham is waiting beside his police cruiser when he sees Regina approaching quickly.) Sheriff Graham: "Regina, is everything all right?" Regina: "Give me the damn keys, I'm driving." Sheriff Graham: "I'm not sure that's a good idea." Regina: "Give me the keys or I will take them from you, sheriff." (Graham pulls the keys from his pocket and hands them over. Running quickly around the car, Graham just manages to slide into the passenger seat before Regina turns on the ignition and, tyres screeching, drives away.) Sheriff Graham: "I take it things didn't go well?" Regina: "I don't want to talk about it, I just want to get home to my son before Christmas." (Regina reaches over and turns on the radio, effectively stifling any further attempts to talk.)

Emma's Apartment. Later That Night. (Emma paces the floor while Shaw tries to make sense of what she's heard.) Shaw: "So you're telling me that a successful, gorgeous woman knocks on your door, begs you to be her Saviour and you just let her go?" Emma: "It's a little more complicated than that. Did I mention she's nuts?" Shaw: "The adoptive mother of your son who you've never told me about?" Emma: "Why would I mention that? It was meant to be a closed adoption for a reason. Did you not hear the 'she's nuts' part?" Shaw: "Even if she is, aren't you even just a little curious to find out about your family?" Emma: (Scoffs:) "You mean my parents who according to that book, just so happen to be Snow White and Prince Charming? Sameen, you and I live in the real world. You can't possibly think there's anything to this nonsense." Shaw: (Flips through the storybook:) “I don’t know, if the people in Storybrooke are even half as hot as they appear in this book..." Emma: "Don't you ever think with another part of your anatomy?" Shaw: (Staring at a picture of a fairy named Astrid:) "I know who's anatomy I'm going to be thinking about tonight." Emma: (Throws up her hands and grabs her coat:) "I need some air." Shaw: "Emma, come on...“ (Slamming the door to her apartment closed behind her, Emma pulls on her coat and heads towards the stairs.) Roof Top. (Pushing open the door to the roof top garden, Emma immediately feels the cool evening air upon her face. Believing herself to be alone, Emma walks towards the edge of the building before hearing a voice behind her.) Apprentice: "Your friend is right you know." Emma: (Spinning around, her eyes are slow to focus as the man steps out of the shadows:) "And who are you supposed to be, Santa Claus?”

Apprentice: (Smiles:) "Perhaps. Tell me, Emma, at what point did you stop believing?" Emma: (Sighs:) "Listen, whoever you are, I'm not in the mood for any more mind games tonight." Apprentice: "Of course not. You usually like to spend Christmas Eve drinking yourself into a stupor so that you can sleep through Christmas Day entirely." Emma: (Unable to argue this point:) "All right, let's say you're right about that. Does that make you my guardian angel? Have you come to show me what my life could be like? Have you come to save me, Clarence?" Apprentice: "In a way, I suppose you could say that. You are destined for great things, Emma Swan. Great things that you can only hope to achieve if you allow yourself to believe in the impossible." Emma: "You're talking about hope? Sorry, but that kinda gets stomped out of you when spend your entire life being rejected by those who should love you the most." Apprentice: "All it takes is a spark. Just one person believing in you can be enough to send you down the right path." Emma: "I walk my own path. Alone." Apprentice: (Nods:) "Naturally, I forgot who I was speaking to. With you, Emma, seeing has always been the only way you have ever truly believed." Emma: "Yeah, well call me crazy, but I prefer to live in reality." Apprentice: "Indeed. Although I do wonder what could cause you to ever take a real leap of faith? If seeing means that you will believe, then perhaps you'd like to take a look over there?" (The Apprentice points towards the edge of the building. Anxious for this to be over, Emma gives the Apprentice a withering look before turning and walking to the edge to peer down at the street below. Suddenly, a flurry of movement gives Emma only a split second to move out of the way before what can only be described as a flying vehicle brushes past her. Looking up into the sky, Emma turns and sees a red and gold sleigh being pulled by eight reindeer flying high above her head. Spinning around once more, Emma sees that the bearded man has now vanished while the sound of sleigh bells can be heard faintly fading into the distance.)

On The Road. (Driving through the night, Emma heads out of Boston while sparing a glance at the storybook which sits beside her on the passenger seat. Smiling to herself, Emma increases her speed, determined to reach her destination as soon as possible.) Storybrooke. Christmas Morning. Mills House. (With the storybook tucked under her arm, Emma makes the long walk up the garden path towards the Mayor's mansion. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she knocks on the front door.) Regina: (Opens door:) "Emma?" Emma: "Hey. So... I read the book." Regina: "In one night?" Emma: "Yeah, once I started reading, I um... couldn't put it down." Regina: "I know what you mean." Emma: "Mm." Regina: "And?" Emma: "And... look I'm not saying I believe everything in there to be true. But, I think if there’s even the slightest chance that it is, we'd be crazy not to give this a shot." Regina: "Hm. Well, according to you, Henry and I are already crazy." Emma: (Gives a nervous smile:) "Then I guess I'll be in good company. If your offer still stands?" Regina: (Steps aside to allow Emma entry:) "Are you sure you're ready for this?" Emma: (Nods:) "I'm ready to take a leap." Regina: (Smiles warmly:) “Me too.”

The End.

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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prorevenge · 5 years ago

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Got an asshole fired and helped a co-worker get a job they wanted.

About 20 years ago, I got a job at a warehouse/ delivery place, pulling and delivering windshields. When I started, there were 6 drivers - 1 old white guy who'd been there since humanity existed, 4 young black guys, and me (white female). I mention this only because, unfortunately, it does become important later. There were also 4-5 people in the office running sales/ admin, including the only other female at the company. She'd wanted a delivery job, but had been told "that's not a woman's job" so was stuck in the office. The guy who hired me made a big deal about how he'd stuck his neck out for me, and was getting crap from his buddies for hiring a woman. There was some undertone about equal opportunity, but I've never counted on that and made sure I went above and beyond.

At the time, it was a locally-owned place, and rules were not really standardized about most things. In theory, each driver was supposed to take orders for the next route scheduled, load up the next available truck, and head out. In reality, there was an unofficial pecking order, and each driver had "their" route/s and truck. As the new guy, I got the less-than-great pickup truck with an open-air rack and various problems; most of the other trucks were box trucks (think small moving trucks) so the windshields wouldn't get wet as they were delivered, and the driver could rearrange things inside the truck if the route got switched around for whatever reason. I also got the furthest-away route with the latest delivery times, so I usually got stuck in rush hour on the way back. I know the rules, though, so I shut my mouth, sucked it up, and waited for turnover to make me not-the-new guy and get a better truck/ route.

Surprisingly, turnover didn't happen. There were the usual problems with 2 of the workers not pulling their weight, but... no one ever got fired. The worst offender was, of course, the guy at the top of the unofficial pecking order, we'll call him Mike. Dude was huge - easily a foot taller than me (I'm not short), I'm pretty sure all he did was work and workout, and he constantly bragged about doing steroids to get bigger. He would only take the shortest run with the fewest deliveries and spend the rest of the time talking sh!t with the other drivers or just randomly vanishing. A couple months after I started, I got some big orders for my routes all in a row, and asked for help so I could gather everything, load up, and head out on time. This was not uncommon - there were several machines used for pulling the stock, so if you finished your orders early, you helped others who were behind. Not Mike, though - you'd think I'd asked him to skin a puppy. Got in my face, yelling about how dare I ask him to do anything, I'm just the new guy, get out of here and don't let him see me again, etc., you get the picture. One of the other guys I'd become friends with pulled me away and helped me get loaded up and out the door, but that never really sat right with me. Mike had never been friendly to me, but after that day, he'd go out of his way to be an ass - nothing big, but enough to seriously irritate me and intimidate the other guys to not talk to me when he was around.

A little while later, I mentioned the outburst to the lady in the office, and she told me why nothing would ever be done about Mike or anyone else. Apparently the personnel guy, we'll call him Tony, had gotten fired from his previous job over a complaint about racism. He'd used the phrase "Black Friday" to refer to, well, Black Friday: the day after Thanksgiving, when sales are supposed to get companies back in the black/ financially solvent. Apparently one of his employees claimed he used it as a racist remark, it got taken to court and somehow, Tony was found guilty and fired. Basically, that meant that he couldn't take any actions against a black worker ever again, because he's got a prior judgement against him. The drivers knew that, and Mike (and one other but he's not important here) absolutely used it to do the bare minimum required to stay employed. That didn't sit right with me either, but I was just a driver, and the new guy, so nothing I could do about it.

Until...

A couple months later, the owner did some necessary maintenance around the place, and one of the things done was getting rid of "my" old truck and buying a new-er one that was half-enclosed/ half open-air racks. The owner apparently said it should go to "whoever had driven the old truck" as an apology for not having heat/ ac in the old one, but I'm not super picky. Offered it to the old guy, because seniority, but he turned it down in favor of "his" truck that he was used to and was fully enclosed. I offered it to the two black guys who actually did their jobs and were pretty decent to me (when Mike wasn't around), but same thing - they wanted their own, enclosed trucks. Ok, cool. Newish truck for me! Spent the first day getting used to it, and stayed late off the clock getting it sparkling clean, inside and out. The only thing it lacked was the new car smell, everything else was polished, cleaned, buffed, shined, etc.

Well, apparently, the fact that I didn't bow and scrape to Mike pissed him off even more, and seeing the "new" truck out back all shiny and pristine was too much to handle. He was already out on a run when I came in the next day, so I loaded up and headed out as per usual. Got back about 5 minutes before his second run of the day was supposed to leave and he came storming out before I could even get out of the truck. Screaming profanity, "how dare you take my truck, get tf out of that thing, get your sh!t out, that's my truck, I'm gonna take it 'cause it looks good and I deserves it, you're just a bitch, you don't deserve anything nice, I'm gonna f**k you up," etc etc.

Side note: I don't tolerate bullies at all, and I don't back down easily. I was always the little kid, growing up, and I learned just how far I could push it, mouthing off and calmly standing up to kids bigger than me because "oh, you're so tough? You're gonna pick on a little girl?" As I grew up, I tended to work in "men's jobs," so I was used to taking some sh!t but also drawing a line firmly in the sand and defending it. I am occasionally surprised I haven't gotten decked a time or two, but I've gotten pretty good at reading a situation.

Back to the story: I'm sitting in the newish truck with Mike standing outside the door screaming profanity and threats at me. For all the sh!t that Mike talked, though, I got the feeling he was used to getting his way without actual violence. I calmly opened the door and got out, but left my personal belongings in the truck and locked the door behind me. He was doing his damnedest to intimidate me, getting up in my space, finger in my face, personal threats, etc. I started walking toward the office, which was all the way on the opposite end of the warehouse, and he followed me the whole way, still screaming, threats getting worse and worse, apparently ignorant to the fact that literally every single employee had stopped what they were doing and was watching us. I walked into the office and just stood there for about 4-5 minutes, staring at the owner while Mike just kept going off. He finally realized I wasn't reacting to him and ran out of steam, and you could see the realization of where he was register on his face, but he glanced over at Tony and smirked, probably figuring he was still untouchable.

In the silence that followed, I calmly said to the owner, "You have four black guys working in the warehouse." He nodded. "And you have one woman working out there." He nodded again, and I saw the light come on. Without looking at anyone else, I said, "I do not want to pull the gender card here, but if something is not done about this situation, I will have to take steps to ensure my safety." I grabbed the tickets for my next run, turned around, and walked back to the warehouse to start pulling the orders.

I'm not really sure what happened next, because all the other guys had mysteriously gotten loaded and left on their runs in record time, and I followed not long after. When I got back, Mike was no longer there, and one of the other guys was training the admin lady to be a new driver. Over the next week, I got quiet "thank you"s from her, Tony, and the other drivers who actually did work. The other slacker guy got fired a while later for possession with intent to distribute, I believe. I left about a year later to drive bigger trucks, but by then we had a pretty solid crew of drivers who helped each other out.

TL;DR: I worked as a warehouse/ delivery person with 4 black guys and an HR guy who'd been fired as a racist for using the phrase "Black Friday," so he couldn't take any action without being accused of racism again. One of the black drivers who thought he ruled the place didn't like that I got a newish delivery truck that no one else wanted, screamed and threatened me as I walked into the office so everyone could see; pointed out there were 4 black drivers and one female. Guy was fired.

Sorry, that was WAY longer than I thought it'd be when I remembered it. Let me know if anything's unclear or this isn't where it belongs.

(source) story by (/u/Manarelle)

#prorevenge #by /u/Manarelle #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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thatfanficstuff · 5 years ago

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The Light in my Darkness - 23

Pairing: None at the moment

Warning: Still sad. Short chapter is short.

A/N: We’ve only got like 2 maybe three chapters left. It depends on how wordy the next chapter gets. The end is nigh.

***

The days that followed were filled with tears and work. So much work. You’d already completed your final projects for your classes and once your professors discovered you had a show at the 107, they were more than willing to release you from attending the last two weeks of the semester.

Your time was split between your studio and the gallery. Steve had already covered the windows so the two of you could start hanging and rearranging your work. Meanwhile you were still working on some last minute pieces which you would occasionally show up to the gallery with.

The opening was now a mere two days away and everything was in place. Steve and you had retired to his office after once last look around. He poured you a drink and handed it to you before taking a seat behind his desk.

“How are you?” he asked.

You frowned at the drink in you hand and shrugged. “Everything looks good. I’m a little nervous but I know I put forward my best. I—”

“I’m not talking about the show, Y/N.”

“Oh.” Steve had very tactfully not mentioned Clint once since Thanksgiving. You had been hoping he’d continue in that vein until roughly the end of time.

“I left you alone because I could see you using your work to process things, but the show’s ready. Your work is done. So how are you doing?” He tilted his head as he looked you over.

You sighed and leaned back in your seat. “He left me because I loved him too much even though I’m pretty sure he loved me too. He’s fucked up and aggravating and I miss him.” You gulped down the contents of your glass and sat it on the desk. “And I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be discussing this with you. He’s your friend.”

Steve gave a little shrug. “So are you. Besides, I like to think I’m a good enough friend I can tell Barton when he’s making a colossal mistake.”

That earned him a soft smile. “Thanks, Steve. I mean that.”

He nodded. “Go home, Y/N. Get some rest. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you Friday.”

***

“Busy,” Clint barked at the knock on his office door, expecting to be left alone after that.

The door opened and Natasha poked her head in with an arched brow and a frown. “Really?”

He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the paperwork on his desk. “I told Wade I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“Good for you. I don’t give a shit.” She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. He ignored her as she took one of the seats in front of his desk. He let the silence stretch. He had no desire for conversation. “Why are you being a dick?”

He glanced up at that. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “You heard me. No one wants to come anywhere near you. I’ve got messages from clients and employees alike wondering what the hell is going on and I have no idea what to tell them.”

“I don’t answer to them. Or you.”

“What about Wanda? Do you answer to her because she’s as tired of it as the rest of us?”

He tossed his pen on his desk and leaned back in his chair. “She called you?”

Nat made a sound of agreement.

Clint sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better.”

“It seems to me that this wouldn’t be an issue if you just kept her. She was good for you.” She looked at her nails, purposely ignoring his eyes on her.

“You know why, Nat. It wouldn’t last. It never does.” He clenched his teeth in irritation with his best friend. He’d told her more than anyone. She should understand without making him talk about it.

“And this is based on your vast experience with healthy relationships?”

“All right, I get it. You think I should have stayed with her.” He just wanted this conversation to be over. He spent enough time thinking about Y/N without Nat bringing you up.

“I do, but that’s not the point.” She straightened in her seat, then leaned toward him. “Why is it that you insist in punishing yourself? Nothing that happened with Laura was your fault. She was a conniving bitch who thankfully represents a small minority of the women out there. Why do you keep letting her dictate your happiness?”

“It’s not about her. Not really.” He turned his chair so his back was to her as he looked out the window. “When I found out about everything…well, you know how I was. Peter and I were supposed to go camping for a week. Try out some prototypes. I canceled on him. He was a little disappointed but he didn’t mind. We rescheduled for another week.”

Clint cleared his throat. “But he knew the prototypes were important and needed to be tested so he decided to go up without me. He was old enough and the site was already reserved. He left me a note. I didn’t find it until after the accident. Until he…”

“Clint.” Her voice was soft and full of pain.

He shook his head. He didn’t deserve her sympathy. “I promised myself then that I would never allow myself to be broken like that again. I had to be there for Wanda.”

“Bullshit.”

He turned to face her. “What?”

“I mean, that was very touching and all, but it’s an excuse.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He’d never told anyone what he’d just admitted to her and this was her response?

“I’m going to be honest. When you lost Peter so soon after what happened with Laura, I was worried. Really worried. I couldn’t see how you were going to pull yourself out of it. But you did it. And you raised a kickass kid in the process, but she’s an adult now, Clint. You can’t keep using her as a reason to not take the chance.”

Nat got to her feet and headed to the door. She paused with her hand on the handle. “If anyone is worth the chance it’s Y/N, and you know it.” With that she was gone.

He buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t wrong about this. Was he?

***

You sorted through the mail as you walked up to your apartment, frowning as you came across an envelope from a law firm. Odinsons Attorneys at Law. Why did that sound familiar?

Once you were in your apartment and had put your things away, you sat in a chair and opened the envelope. You unfolded the single sheet inside and quickly skimmed the letter. You sucked in a breath as you realized what this was. After taking a minute to calm yourself, you went back to the beginning and read it again. This time you went slowly making certain you understood what you were being told.

Without really thinking about it, you pulled out your phone and called Wanda. “Did you know about this?” you asked before she’d even finished saying hello.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Y/N. I know about a lot of things and not so much about others.”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “I got a letter from Clint’s lawyer.”

“What?”

You hummed. “The apartment is mine as long as I am in school. He’s also paying my tuition and having a monthly allowance placed into an account in my name. I’m supposed to make an appointment to meet with them and fill out some paperwork.”

“Holy shit, Y/N. He really does love you.”

Your heart twinged with a jolt of hope you quickly shut down. “Or he feels guilty because I’m your best friend.”

“Guilt is an apartment with his daughter and tuition. Your own place and a monthly allowance is pure love.”

You shook your head, amused at her insistence. “You know I can’t accept this, right?”

“The hell you can’t.”

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging me to take your dad’s money.”

“Oh, sweetheart, take it all. Maybe he’ll come to his senses when he’s broke.”

#clint barton x reader #hawkeye x reader #jeremy renner x reader #avengers fanfiction #clint barton fanfiction #series #the light in my darkness #sugar daddy au

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pythosart · 5 years ago

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A big ol 2019 end of the year update

I felt somewhat compelled to write my end of the year/decade thoughts, but a warning before you read: This one’s going to be heavy, intensely personal, and long. If you don’t feel up to reading that, it may be best to skip it. I promise I’ll go back to shutting up and posting art afterwards. I’m profoundly incapable of being concise, ever, so apologies for the length of this.

2019 was a nightmare.

Some background: In mid 2016, my mother was diagnosed with a rare form of liver cancer. She was given a few months to live. She was given weeks or months to live multiple times, for almost three years. In that time my mom was in and out of the hospital, but spent all her good days living life to the fullest, starting and finishing dream projects, and keeping all of us going despite her own situation. Even when she was bedridden, hooked up to tubes and bags and god knows what, she found time to prop up her loved ones and pursue her hobbies. She even managed to develop new hobbies and interests while otherwise imprisoned by her physical state, something I struggle to do at the best of times even in my young and relatively healthy form. If there’s anything I can make of this experience, it’s that I hope to grow into even half the woman my mother was.

I ended 2018 with my final quarter at SCAD. I spent the entire quarter terrified my mom was going to die while I was away from home. It was horrific, I barely scraped by my last few classes (bless my professors’ endless patience), and immediately left Savannah for home as soon as the quarter was up. I never had room to celebrate finishing college. Any other year it would be a huge milestone, but I barely even care.

This past May, my mother passed away, after three years of petrifying suspense. It happened in the dead middle of the night, while my best friend was visiting for a con, and it still feels like a bad dream. It’s also one of the only vivid memories I even have of this year.

I wish I had more to say on that, but I genuinely think the drawn out suffering and fracturing of my whole world left me unable to fully unpack everything that’s happened. It’s hard to even think about for long, and at times I even half-forget she’s gone. I think of things I want to show her, or tell her, or cook with her. Just the other day I kept thinking I’d tell her how much I liked endive after she showed me how to make it. I found a historical Italian cooking channel that, every time I see it, I just think of how much she’d love it. I knew she’d love Hot Fuzz but never got to show her. Little, stupid things that shouldn’t matter, but they do. They just do.

My mother and I were close, much closer than I am with my dad. Especially towards the end of her life, we had gotten closer, and I felt like I was only just really getting to know her as an equal. I still want to share my life with her, but that chance is gone.

This holiday season has been especially rough in her absence, because not only was my mom the motivational and creative force behind a lot of holiday activities here, it’s the first everything without her. We had Thanksgiving with friends and a catered dinner, instead of spending several days cooking and polishing family silver and setting the table. I won’t be making handmade tortellini with her for Christmas like we did every year. It’s the little things like that.

We’re a tiny family, with over half of us in Italy and lacking much communication due to the language barrier. Family holidays were always small, but there’s just a huge hole how, much greater than the cold numeric value of “one fewer participant.” My mom was always a driving force and a keystone in our support networks, not to mention the main line of contact with the Italian-speaking side of the family, so now the family feels so much more scattered and isolated than ever.

My girlfriend was close to my mother too, and as she’s been living with me for years now and is practically part of the family, I think she took it just as hard as anyone. Cel saw everything I did, and dealt with many of the same uncertainties and traumatic experiences I did.

A month after I lost my mother, I lost my cat too. Galileo was twelve years old, a spry old man who yelled instead of meowed, and just a wonderful cat. I got him when I was in 7th grade, after begging my parents for years to get me a cat. It was my mom who eventually overrode my dad’s hesitations, and from then on Leo was part of the family. He went through a very sudden decline over the course of a week or two, and we learned it was cancer. Feline lymphoma, I think. I had to make the call to put him to sleep, and it ripped what was left of my heart out.

Not that it needs stating, but fuck cancer.

A few too-short months later, I cut ties with a “friend,” which despite how fucking much it hurt, was really for the best. At a certain point one simply can no longer afford to waste energy on a certain kind of person. Unfortunately I’m a persistently optimistic idiot, and it took me too long to cut my losses before deep damage was done. Done to me, my close friends, and even barely involved acquaintances this “friend” dumped on relentlessly and tried to harass into spying on me. Really, if any part of this is unforgivable, it’s that.

All this was, however, a valuable reminder that it’s no good to have any tolerance for habitually dishonest people, even if they think they’re doing it to look “nice.” Chronic liars will gaslight you whether they know it or not, and trying to navigate that in an already damaged mental state is inadvisable. It was an important lesson in picking one’s battles, albeit one learned too late. I’m still holding out hope I can find it in my heart to forgive this person, if only for my own selfish sake so I can move on. I have a lot of experience living on spite, and I don’t want to make a further habit of it.

Naturally all of the above did little to curb my already inflamed pessimism about the state of my country and the world at large, but I need not expand on that, I imagine.

I suppose it would be unfair of me to leave it all at that and only mention the negative, though admittedly positivity is hard to muster these days. A few bright spots of note:

Graduated from SCAD with my BFA in Sequential Art (technically last year, but I did the ceremonial bit this year)

Tabled at Animazement with Woods. We barely broke even, but it was a great time and I plan on doing it again in the new year.

Spent literally an entire month hanging out with my two best friends, which was amazing and exactly the kind of healing experience I needed around that time of year.

Properly did Halloween for the first time in years. I made a costume I’m proud of and we went out on the town… for like an hour, because it promptly started pouring. But fun nevertheless

Started therapy. As of writing this, I’ve only had an introductory session, but it’s a start. Should have started six months ago, but didn’t for reasons to be addressed...in therapy

Started volunteering at the local natural history museum, where I spent like half my childhood. I’ll be doing data entry in collections, but that’s still cool as hell

Got a start on figuring out what I want to do with my life. It’ll involve going back to school for science within the next five-ish years, but it’s nice to have a goal. More of a goal than I’ve ever had, in fact.

Played some extremely good video games (shout out to The Blackout Club and Control)

Made a shitload of unnecessary yet endlessly fun and good AUs with my friends and my one (1) OC

Got an iPad Pro and started learning Procreate, which has gotten me drawing more

Learned a bit of needle felting

2019 was a year of getting much closer to my two best friends, and I genuinely owe them my life at this point. I don’t know where I’d be without them. Nowhere good, certainly.

Woods and Dross kept me talking to people, kept me creating, told me when I was being unreasonable or needed to cool it, heard me out when I needed it but always kept me honest. They helped me keep some creative juices flowing when otherwise I’d have been at a frustrated loss and might have given up for good. If it seems like I’ve kept up my usual art output at all, and if you’ve enjoyed the Lou content (or not, whoops... apologies to everyone who followed me for monster content) you have both of them to thank.

Even moreso, I owe my girlfriend a great deal for being there for me through all of this while she herself was suffering similarly. She and I have had our ups and downs, and been through a lot in the five-ish years we’ve been together. We aren’t the most outspoken couple, but I think our mutual understanding and pain mitigated a lot of the damage this year has done. I don’t think I could have handled it alone.

Furthermore, I really need to thank a lot of other friends and acquaintances I’m not quite as close with, but still talk to. These people especially were willing to call me on my bullshit when necessary, or just talk to me at all, about anything. Even if these acquaintances didn’t know it at the time, there’s a good chance they were dragging me out of one of my frequent existential despair spirals.

I also, weirdly, owe a lot to helping my hen Julia recover from her dog attack. That was around the time that my mom’s health was in its final decline, when I felt the most helpless and despairing. I think having even some tiny something I could do to help was like, the only feeling of control I had in life for a bit there. Julia’s fine, by the way. Still queen of the yard, top chicken boss bitch, etc. Julia was always a kind of kindred spirit with my mom, in a way. Little but not to be underestimated, gray, big personality and commanding presence… Not to mention, she was one of the first in our flock and was always my mom’s favorite.

It would be too much to say I have high hopes or plans of any kind for the upcoming year, but I do have a list of things I want to try and do. Some of which will involve art, and the posting thereof.

Big if on this one, but I’ve also recently started therapy (only took me half a year to work up to making a phone call after the first failed attempt took all the wind out of my sails) and I have…maybe not high hopes, but hopes, for that doing something to help. I should have started therapy two years ago, but the second best time is now, etc etc.

I have a lot of New Year’s resolutions, beyond the usual “get in shape, drink less coffee, blah blah” that I’ll try and write up a little list of separately. Most of them are art-related, so you all will be there to watch me swing and miss I PROMISED I’D TRY TO BE LESS NEGATIVE. New Year’s resolution #1: Maybe don’t make so many self-deprecating jokes.

Anyway, I don’t know how to end any wall of text, be it an OC worldbuilding screed or something serious like this, so... I guess, love yourself, cherish your friends, know when to put your own needs first and when to put your friends’ needs firster. One of the things my mom taught me in this past year or so is that relationships are what you make of them, and that it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. Be generous, be genuine, don’t be a doormat and don’t lie to people you care about, even if it seems kinder in the moment. Savor the time you have with those close to you, and spend time doing things you love. Cliché, maybe, but cliché can still be true. Happy new year, everyone. I sincerely hope it will treat us all better. 2020 may just be an imaginary change of numbers, but I like to think it really does wipe the slate in a way, and make room for all of us to do what we can to be better. Speaking of which, vote. For the love of all that is good, vote.

A little bullet list of New Year’s resolutions, because it’s nicer to look at

Try to get back in shape (of course) - That 30 days of strength thing was good while it lasted, despite my joints hating me

Learn some new recipes, preferably with fewer carbs, you Italian ass

Keep a physical calendar and stick with it for at least a few months

Learn at least one new skill by the middle of the year, whether it’s art-related or something else

Start writing more. Don’t have to share it, but try. Write down ideas somewhere other than Discord where they’re easy to lose

Either reopen Patreon or figure out how ko-fi works. Even if it’s for no money, just to have structure and goals.

Do Animazement again and try out some new product types

Go to SCAD career fair with a decent portfolio

Get better about spending, by whatever method works

Attend some art classes at the local collectives, doesn’t matter what

Play more video games. I swear I only played like three new things this year

Read more classic literature and nonfiction, at least one book per month. I’ve been really enjoying Agatha Christie’s works and am about to start Guns, Germs, and Steel

Read more comics. Basically just consume more media

Do Halloween again, better this time

See friends in person more

Practice accepting whatever shitty thoughts show up and then letting them go, rather than dwelling on them

#not art #text post #death cw

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queen-of-the-avengers · 5 years ago

Text

Words Can’t Describe...

Characters: Chris Evans x Reader, minor characters

Word Count: 1,651

Warnings: just fluff, super sweet Chris, skiing injury

Summary: You and Chris are high school sweethearts. You’ve been through every up and downs there are, and right now, you need him for a really big down.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

This is the December 15th fic for my 25 Days of RPF Christmas and prompt: “you’re in the hospital for the holidays so i came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room i love you merry christmas”

I am doing an 800 Follower Challenge and it would be awesome if you participated! It’s still going on!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Chris Evans became a lot of your firsts in life: first kiss, first time you had sex, first time you slowed dance together, first date, and so many more firsts you hold dearly to your heart. He is your high school sweetheart, and everyone who knew you two knew you would be together forever. Being with someone since high school is so much more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced. Chris knows your ups and downs, has seen you at your worst and at your best, knows what you like and what you don’t like, etc. Some might think it’s annoying to have someone who knows you so well, but it works for you two.

There isn’t a holiday you haven’t spent apart except for the summer of 2009 when he went to film The Losers that came out in April of 2010. You couldn’t spend the 4th of July with him which sucked, but he was happy doing what he loves on yet another film set. You’re so proud of what he’s accomplished and the person he’s become. He’s been through so much and has gotten you through so much in your life, you don’t think you can ever repay him.

There was one time at Thanksgiving when you were supposed to cook the meal for your entire family. Chris’ and your family were coming over to your house for the big celebration. You love hanging out with his family since they are so welcoming and inviting, but there was one small issue you forgot to mention to them when they appointed you the cook: you can’t cook.

You thought you would try it this year to prove to your family you’re more than capable of living on your own. They always did the grunt work for you, but it’s your time to do things for yourself. Chris usually does the cooking, but he’s out with his friends right now, and you don’t want to pull him away from that. He doesn’t get to see them often, so you have to pull yourself together if you’re going to cook this dinner.

Seven pots and pans, one burned ham, and several fried asparagus later, and you’re about to have a mental breakdown in the middle of your kitchen. Chris is coming home soon, yours and his family not long after that, and you’re not even close to being done. The turkey is the only thing you know how to cook since you slather on some spices and throw it in the oven. It’s the only thing you know how to not fuck up.

“Y/N, you home?” Chris asked when he entered the house. He could smell the food burning, but he knows how important this is to you so he decided not to comment on it.

“In here,” you whimpered. Chris enters and sees you in tears at the ruined food all around you. “I can’t do it. I fucked everything up, the turkey is in the oven, but I bet it’s fucked up too.”

“Hey, there is no reason to get upset. Not everyone knows how to cook,” he cooed and brought you into his arms for a reassuring hug.

“Our families are going to be here soon! What am I going to do? They expect a full feast when they get here!”

“Then that’s what they’re going to come home to. We can fix this,” he said positively. You give him a pointed look with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, I can fix this. Just clear out some of these pans and I’ll do the rest.”

“I can’t even cook a simple meal,” you sighed and started clearing out some of the dishes.

“Not everyone can. You’re good at a lot of things, just not cooking. But that’s okay because lucky for you, I love cooking. I’ll even let you help me. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here to oversee everything.”

“I love you,” you managed to smile.

“I love you too. Now, we have two hungry families coming over, so we need to get started right away.”

He saved that Thanksgiving and prevented it from becoming ruined for good. Both families arrived to a table full of food. It was a bitch to clean up, but you and Chris had fun. He’s saved your ass so many times, but you have your fair share of saving as well. Like, for instance, two years ago, Chris got pulled over for speeding and was arrested for it. Luckily this didn’t get out to any news outlet, so you were able to keep it on the down-low. He called you from the station to help him get bail, which of course, you did.

Chris looked so beaten up in the tiny holding cell he’s been sitting in for the past two hours. You were pulled from a work event to come get him, but you were glad to be pulled away. That work event was such a snooze fest. As soon as he saw you, his eyes lit up in hope you would come get him, but you could still see the shame behind that.

“Do you realize how fast he was driving?” the officer in charge told you once you greeted him. “70 in a 45. I should have him arrested for a federal offense.”

“No, please. Look, I know what he did was bad, but no one got hurt. Isn’t that the most important thing? At least he wasn’t driving on a crowded street. It was a back road, and there wasn’t a car around for miles.”

“Y/N,” the officer sighed.

“Please let him go. He’s not off the hook, believe you me. He’s sleeping on the couch tonight. Look, he won’t do it again. I’ll make sure of it,” you promised. Anyone who knows you knows that you can be stern and mean if you wanted to, which usually meant you got what you wanted.

“If I pull him over again, then I’m arresting him and he’ll have to go to court,” the officer sighs and takes out his keys.

“Yes, that’s fine. He won’t do it again. Thank you so much,” you sighed in relief. The officer let out your boyfriend with a glare, and you had to drag Chris out of the police station angrily.

“How did you get him to let me go?”

“That’s my uncle you dumbass. 70 in a 45? What the hell were you thinking?” you gritted out as both of you got into the car.

That was a tough situation to be in since you didn’t want to use the family excuse to have him let go scot-free. The good news is that Chris never sped again and has been a really good driver ever since. That, and you did most of the driving anyway. There’s a ton of other things you and Chris have gone through, but what you’re going through now has got to be the worst of the worst.

He took you skiing a few weeks ago, and you ended up hurt pretty badly. So badly, that you had to stay in the hospital for two months, which means you will be missing Christmas. It’s your favorite holiday since you have a ton of kids on your mom’s side that you love spoiling. It’s not Chris’ fault you wiped out so badly, but you’re angry with yourself that you thought you could do something you knew your body wasn’t ready for. You wanted to show off for Chris and look where you ended up.

It’s bad enough you’ll be missing Christmas with your family, but Chris got called to do some interviews and press events over the holiday. If it was any other time, he would have said no, but you made him take it since you’re going to be stuck in the hospital for a long time. You’ve been in and out of sleep for the past few weeks from the morphine they are giving you, so you’re not exactly sure who’s been coming and going, and who drops off what. What you do know is that when you went to sleep your room looked like a normal hospital room.

When you woke up, it was a whole different story.

Different colored Christmas lights hung from the ceiling, a small plastic tree with fake snow littered the top. The tree was decorated with white lights and small Christmas decorations. Christmas stickers are plastered on the windows, and a small section of the corner was covered with presents.

“What the hell?” you mumble.

“You’re up,” Chris grins from the other side of the room. It takes a few seconds for you to register that he's here, and a grin pops on your face because of it.

“You’re back. I thought you were in Florida.”

“I was, but I came back here. I hate leaving you on such an important holiday so I canceled everything that was planned to spend Christmas here with you.”

“You did that for me?” you squeak. “You did all of this for me?”

“You’re in the hospital for the holidays, so I came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room. I love you. Merry Christmas,” he smiles and plants a kiss to your smooth cheek.

“I love you so much,” you start to cry.

“No, don’t cry.”

“These are happy tears. I don’t know what I would do without you. I can’t imagine my life without you, Christopher Robert Evans.”

“Then you’re lucky I stuck around all these years, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” he jokes. He sees how tired you are, so he takes a seat next to your bed and picks up a book you didn’t realize was on the table next to you. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” you whisper and let yourself fall asleep knowing you’re always going to be caught when you fall.

If you want to be tagged, add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 5 years ago

Text

FFT: dancing around an open fire; adam page

Notes:

This is the second part to second one to know and this was originally sent to me by @kyleoreillysknee on my writing blog, snarkandsarcasmwrites. Just moving it to it’s own post on here so that it’s easier to access.

Summary:

Adam and Giselle are at her parents house and things are finally starting to come out. Fluuuuuuf, holy wow the fluff. part 2 of 2.

Pairing:

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Giselle

Warning:

Uhm... None?

Her parent’s cabin came into view and Giselle took a deep breath in desperate attempt to center herself and prepare herself for what lie ahead. If she knew anything about her mother it was that her mother was most likely going to have a thousand questions -and judgements, that she dumped on her before Giselle even got the word hey out of her mouth.

Adam sensed her tension and he placed his hand over the top of hers. “It’s okay. If I see it’s gettin to be too much, we can go for a drive or somethin.”

“Y-yeah.” Giselle stared intently at the cabin and swallowed hard. “ Thank you.. Again.. For coming with me.”

It was only the fourth or fifth time she’d thanked him in the past hour. He smiled and shrugged it off as if it were nothing. As they pulled to a stop behind a beat up old Bronco next to a grand old oak with a tire swing strung from it, Adam checked his phone.

Naturally, Kenny took it upon himself to check in. He chuckled and read his friends text.

Adam bit his lip and fired off a text back.

– > I’m probably gonna be scarce a few days.

– > I kinda went back to her family’s place with her for the holidays.

–> I know, okay? And yeah.. Maybe me goin back with her is doing that.

– > wish me luck?

He shoved the phone into his pocket, killing the engine just as the door to the cabin was thrust open and an older woman stood in it, pointing a wooden spoon towards the trees.

“Get out there. All of ya. I swear I can’t get a damn thing done without you lot stickin your little hands in all my cookin.” the woman laughed and smiled, waving excitedly as she caught sight of the car sitting behind her late husband’s Bronco.

“Giselle? That you girl?”

Giselle swallowed hard and glanced over at Adam. “ Did I mention they were… a little crazy?” she bit her lip as she met his intent gaze. Adam chuckled and reminded her calmly, “Hey. It’s gonna be fine. I promise. You don’t have to keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Apologizing for every little thing. I’m..” he almost said that he wasn’t the asshole she’d just broken up with, but he went with “I’m perfectly fine with you exactly the way you are.” instead. The smile on her face was more than worth it when he did.

It clicked for him a little. She may not hear that a whole lot, she definitely hadn’t from Sean, if any of the stories she told him and the rest of their friends were anything to go by.

Just the thought of why she probably did that so much had him gripping the wheel. Giselle took a deep breath and opened her door, Adam doing the same, making his way around the car to fall into step beside her.

Her mother, to her surprise, didn’t do what she’d been thinking she’d do. She just pulled her into a hug before nodding to Adam as the hug broke with one of those knowing grins. “He’s the one you’re always hanging around with. The one you talk about a lot.” her mother turned to Adam and pulled the man into a hug.

“Adam, right?”

Adam chuckled and smiled as he nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

Giselle almost reached out to feel her mother for a temperature, because honestly, she’d been expecting a thousand questions and even more hints at ‘potential blind dates’ during the incoming week.

She found herself pressing against Adam as they followed her mother into the cabin. “Well that was weird.”

“What, darlin?”“Figured she’d start off by tellin me all about how she knew Sean was no good, then segue that into her, tryin to pawn me off on the pastor’s grandson or somethin like she did at Thanksgiving when Sean stood me up.. That was awkward, by the way, when she did it.”

Adam chuckled and yeah, maybe in the spirit of just being around her and feeling happier because of it, he leaned in and whispered against her ear, “Maybe I’m kind of a lucky charm then, darlin.”

Giselle’s breath caught in her throat at the way he leaned in - and more importantly, the way it made her feel when he did, and for a second, her mouth opened and closed because it had been… Flirtier than he tended to be.

… I have to be imagining it…

“Maybe you are.” she finally managed to get the words out, leaning into him a little as she did so. She toyed with the front of his tee shirt and stared up at him and he swallowed hard, staring right back down at her.

They sprang apart when Giselle’s mother called out to her from the kitchen.

“And here we go. I knew I spoke too soon. If I’m not back in ten minutes, Adam… Please.. Come drag me away.”

“Gladly.” he promised, chuckling to himself as she skipped down the hallway.

The second she was in the kitchen, her mother turned to her and smiled.

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my mama?” Giselle teased gently. Her mother sighed and then told her quietly, “ I like that one a lot better than Sean. Sean wasn’t..”

Giselle braced herself, tensing. Rather than hold back, she gave a sad sigh and shook her head, meeting her mother’s gaze as she let it all pour out.

“Are you sure you don’t mean I wasn’t good enough for him? Because sometimes that’s how it feels. I mean you stay on my ass. If it’s not about my job, it’s about having a little fun now and then, or about when I’m going to make you a grandma… I just… I don’t know I can do anything to make you happy with me or proud of me.”

Her mother was staring at her, a confused look on her face. And then what Giselle was saying hit her and she sighed and shook her head, pulling her into a hug.

“It ain’t that at all. I just worry about you. If anything, Giselle, Sean wasn’t even close to good enough for you. When I said you were gonna mess up what you had with him last month it was because I thought that was what you wanted. I can’t even begin to tell ya how happy I was when you told me what happened last night. Everything else is just because I worry. You know your daddy died chasin his own dream.. I know what you do is dangerous. Just scares me.”

“Oh, mama..” Giselle hugged her mother back and then reminded her quietly, “Daddy died because he was drinkin and got behind the wheel. Not because of bull riding.”

“But he was on the way to a rodeo.”

Giselle nodded. “His own bad choice is what caused it though. Is that why you got so upset when I left to go audition with AEW?”

“A little, yeah.. Then you not ever bein home. It’s already enough that Madison lives all the way over in Georgia and I only get to see her and the kids at holidays.”

“Speaking of.. I didn’t see Brody and Maddi’s camper?”

“She’s been stayin here since Thanksgiving. After y’all had that fight and you put him on his ass, he took off. Hasn’t bothered callin or anything.”

Giselle sighed and shook her head, grabbing some dough, kneading it into a ball. “I’m sorry. I just thought… I mean you and Maddi have always been closer and I’ve just never really said anything but it bothered me.”

“I know, baby. I just let you be because you were always my big girl. Smarter and more able to fend for yourself when you got to that age.. I realized what you thought and I went overboard tryin to make up.”

“Yeah, you kinda did.” Giselle laughed, holding out the baking sheet lined with biscuits to her mother. “It’s okay though. As much as I whined about it, it kinda felt good.. Except that whole disaster with the pastor’s grandson.”

Her mother laughed and then nodded to the doorway. “ This one.. I have a feelin about him.”

“Mama, no.. He doesn’t see me that way. I.. believe me. That man knows the walking cluster of chaos I am.”

“You didn’t see what I did when he was standin by you on our porch just now, either. Just.. Open your eyes, yeah? Because sometimes, what you really want is standin right in front of you.”

Giselle laughed and shook her head as she raised the lid on the pot simmering on the stove. She groaned as the smell of chicken and dumplings hit her nose and she fanned the lid, calling out to Adam, “Hey! Hangman! C’mere a minute.”

Adam tore his eyes off all the old photos of her lining the hallway, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen. “I didn’t know you rode, darlin?”

“This one had two loves growin up.. Well three if you count fightin and givin me gray hairs.. Rodeo and wrestling. Her daddy used to call her the son he never had.”

Giselle blushed, shuffling her feet. “I actually have horses out in the barn.. And a bull but I don’t think you’d wanna try him. Son of a bitch is the whole reason I spent a good chunk of my summer senior year in a cast.” she grimaced and Adam chuckled, sniffing the air as he stepped over to the stove. Giselle held a spoon up to his mouth, laughing when he took a bite and flinched because it was too hot.

“You have to blow it first, ya crazy! Good lord.” she took the spoon back, blowing on it until the steam wasn’t rising into the air visibly and then she raised it to his mouth again.

Adam groaned and swallowed, staring at the pot. “ Don’t let me go crazy.”

“ It’s every person for themselves.. This is if there is any left after my sister’s little hellions get done, of course. Those kids are like walkin bottomless pits.”

Adam chuckled. She turned and swallowed hard as her eyes fixed on him and she realized just how close they stood. Giselle saw her mom wink as she hurried out of the kitchen, calling out, “Going outside. Those hellions are bein entirely too quiet.”

Neither one of them were backing away. Adam reached out and grabbed the spoon from where it sat on the counter and he pressed into her a little as he reached for the pot, raising the lid. He chuckled as he looked at Giselle and told her through a mouth full, “Might not be the kids you have to worry about eating all of this.”

Giselle nodded and bit her lip, eyes locked on the spoon.

This urge to just grab him by the jaw and kiss him popped up and took her completely by surprise.

“Everything went okay, right?”

“Surprisingly, yeah. I think my mama and I got a lot straight just then.”

“That’s great. I told you maybe if you tried talking to her..” Adam leaned in, dragging his thumb over her lower lip, some of the gravy from the chicken and dumplings was right in the center and he tried to resist wiping it away, but he couldn’t.

He raised his thumb to his mouth, passing it slowly between his lips, giving another groan as he did so.

The way there seemed to be a double meaning in the action had Giselle blushing and wondering where all these sudden little thoughts and urges were coming from. She took a shaky breath and nodded to the pot, making a joke to take the edge off on her end.

“Do I need to leave you alone with that pot, Adam?”

“Not at all, darlin.” Adam was still holding her gaze. He swallowed hard when she moved in just a little closer, raising to her tiptoes to wipe her own thumb across his lip, giggling as she told him, “Yeah, I still say you’re the only other person I know who is as messy as I am when it comes to eating.”

Adam’s lip quivered at the touch and he gripped her hip. He was just about to lean down and brush hair out of her eyes, but the screen door banged shut and three little boys rushed in, a little girl hot on their tail, arguing.

The two sprang apart and Giselle took a few deep breaths. Because despite knowing that what she wanted to do was probably not a good idea, especially not right now, she’d been about to just do it.

She’d been about to pull him down and kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

“Well? You two gonna just stand there all day or are you gonna go wash up for supper?” Giselle’s mother cut through the lingering heavy tension with her question and the two of them hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Giselle’s old room.

Adam leaned in the doorway, eyes darting around as he chuckled. “I knew it!”

“Knew what?” Giselle peeked in from the door that connected the bathroom to her bedroom.

“You like pink. You’re always sayin you don’t, but I knew.. Somehow, I knew. You liked pink.” he picked up a stuffed cow, turning it over in his hands as he snickered and added, “And stuffed animals.”

“Oh kiss my ass, Page.”

… oh… that’s not the part I wanna kiss at all… he had the thought but he tried to shove it out of his head. He walked over to the door she’d peeked out of and right as he was about to grab the handle, she opened it from the other side. He joked with a laugh, “We have got to stop meetin in doorways like this, darlin.. People are gonna start talkin.”

“And?” almost as soon as she said it, she felt her cheeks get hot all over again.

Had she seriously just tried flirting with her best friend?

And why did it seem to feel so very right?

She walked her fingers up the front of his tee shirt and nodded to the bathroom. “You need to wash those hands. My mama checks, trust me.”

“Oh she does, huh?” Adam found himself reaching out and toying with one of her curls, despite his best efforts not to. She stepped closer, nodding. Adam stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He took a few deep breaths. He’d severely underestimated himself here. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know about her. The more hard it became to stop himself from just going for it; despite how bad an idea that might seem.

She’d just broken up with her ex. She didn’t need him putting his own wants first, especially not right now. He washed his hands and splashed some water on his face, stepping out of the bathroom and into her bedroom to find her sitting on her bed, staring at a photo in her hands, deep in thought.

Adam nodded to the photo and after jumping in surprise, Giselle explained quietly, “My dad.” as she held it out to show him.

… you kind of remind me of him… just… a whole lot more confident in yourself and settled and down to earth… maybe that’s why I’ve always kind of been afraid of this unknown way you make me feel. Maybe my mama is right. Maybe all this time I’ve been picking all the wrong ones because I was too scared to try picking the right one..

“Oh.” - the thought that Sean might have actually been right in his outright jealousy towards Adam in the past had her floored.

“Oh?” Adam echoed, staring at her intently, trying to gauge her mood at present but having a hard time because she seemed to be deep in her own mind. Her head snapped up and she bit her lip, taking back the photo that he held out to her, placing it on her nightstand by the bed. He sank down to sit next to her. “Is everything alright, Ele? You know if you’re feelin bad about..” he trailed off at the shaking of her head.

“It’s not that at all. This.. It’s a good thing? I just.. I have to think first.”

Adam nodded. It was literally all he could do. Beyond his next question to her, “Any chance you’re gonna tell me what’s goin on?”

Her answer only made that little sliver of hope he felt start to grow in leaps and bounds as she stood on her tiptoes, fluffed his hair and stared up at him, nodding her head. “As soon as I figure out how..”

“Y’all gonna come down and eat?”

“We better go down or my sister and her kiddos are gonna eat all the food.”

Adam zipped past her and down the stairs, Giselle hot on his heels, both of them sinking into the only two seats left at the table. They made faces at each other to crack each other up quietly through the whole blessing and as it finished, they started grabbing food from all the pots, plates and dishes piled in front of them on the middle of the table.

At one point, she kind of… Leaned into his side when she was talking to her sister about a fight that she’d apparently had with her sister’s ex and Adam chuckled in amusement, listening to a recount of the whole thing with one of the nephews tapping at his arm.

“My aunt really likes you a lot. She acts like my girlfriend at school when she’s around me.”

“Oh yeah, kid?”

“Mhm. She’s always touchin ya or leanin real close.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Adam chuckled as he took a sip of the tea beside his plate.

XXX

“ Yikes. Mama really hasn’t been burning off any of the limbs that fell during that big storm, has she?” Giselle peered through the window and out into the backyard. Her sister leaned in and giggling, she nodded towards the living room across the hall, where Adam was being swarmed with kids, holding the little girl of the group on his knee.

“Angel don’t take well to strangers. But then again, you didn’t ever. And Adam seems to know you like the back of his hand..” her sister was quick to point out. “And you’re always around him on the road, always talking about him when you call to talk to me or Mama.”

Giselle had to say something. She couldn’t just keep what she was starting to think in relation to what her sister said, to herself. It was too big, now that she was really starting to realize just how she felt.

She shut the door and leaned against it so none of the kids could barge in and overhear then go back and repeat before she got the chance to tell Adam for herself.

Something she planned to do soon.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just.. I need you to listen.”

“Okay?”

“I think… Oh hell, forget think.. Pretty sure that I’ve been in love with Adam for a while now and like… I’m kind of starting to realize exactly why Sean was always such a dick about the amount of time I spent with Adam before… I just… What if it’s only me? What if I tell him and he laughs his ass off?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about that.. Are you planning on telling him?”

“Duh. Life’s too short to just like… Bury it or whatever.”

Not to mention, Giselle thought to herself, even if I wanted to forget.. I just have this feeling that it wouldn’t be easily done.

“You know… you could start a fire.”

“What the…” Giselle trailed off as her eyes lit on the growing pile of limbs and leaves out back of her mom’s house. She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “But then the kids..”

“Hon, I can wrangle them. You just take the matches and that jug of gas on the back porch and go.. I’ll even make hot cocoa for you two.”

Giselle eyed her sister and her sister gave a wink. “You’re happy. I’m gonna do everything in my power to make this work. Besides, he’s so much better for you than that colossal pain in the dick Sean.”

She mulled it over a few seconds and took a deep breath. “Okay, yeah. Why not?”

“ Tonight’s perfect for it, I mean.. It’s all chilly out, that means you two can get all cozy.”

“The worst that can happen is that he tells me he’s just interested in being my friend. If I do it now, instead of waiting, I won’t have the risk of making the rest of the week really awkward too, so there’s that…” Giselle nodded and she stepped out into the hallway, leaning in the doorway of the living room.

“Hey, Adam… Feel like helping me build a bonfire out back?”

Adam looked up from what he’d been watching on tv and when he saw that look in her eyes again, it felt like the breath got knocked right out of him. He smiled and stood, nodding. “Yeah.”

He followed her out the door and on their way out, Giselle’s sister held out a bottle of Jameson. “That oughta keep y’all warm and cozy until I make the cocoa.”

Giselle swallowed hard as her gaze met Adam’s and she took the bottle, twisting off the top and taking a sip, almost instantly recoiling. “Holy shit, I forgot about the kick behind that stuff.”

Adam took the bottle, taking a few sips. “Hey, I can pull the car around, right? So we can use the headlights for light.”

Giselle nodded and found her keys in the pocket of her jacket, holding them out to him. Adam took the keys, going out to where they’d parked the car earlier and pulling it over near where they wanted to build the fire. Giselle was already dragging limbs and sticks and leaves, shimmying her hips at the song playing on an old radio she’d apparently plugged in on their back porch. Adam sat on the hood, watching her and chuckling.

He stood and made his way over to her, grabbing the end of a particularly heavy limb. Giselle looked back and smiled.

One of her real smiles. Not one of the ones he’d seen far too many of lately.

She turned to him and held out the match after she’d poured gas over the pile. “Thought maybe you’d wanna… Light it up?”

His hand curled around the hand she clutched the matches in and when he realized that she was migrating closer, he nodded, staring down at her lips a few seconds.

Giselle licked her lips, stepping even closer. “The fire..”

“Yeah, I’ll light it.” Adam chuckled, stepping away. When he glanced back up at her, she was pouting a little. He wandered back over and she leaned against his side. He was staring at the fire, but he could feel her staring, so he looked down at her.

“This is nice.”

“It really is.” Giselle held out the bottle to Adam and he declined. She raised it to her lips again, trying to will herself to just go for it already.

She’d said it best earlier when she said life was too short not to go for what she actually wanted for a change, stop settling for whatever random thing or person caught her eye.

But being right and going for it were… Two totally different things.

They started to play an older song on the country station the radio was tuned into and before Adam stopped himself, he asked quietly, “Wanna dance?”

“Yeah.”

Adam pulled her close and put his arms around her, humming the lyrics to the song quietly. Giselle tilted her face up and stared at him, biting her lip. The hand on his shoulder dug in just a little as she tried to work up her nerve. She pressed completely against him and Adam barely stopped himself from gasping quietly, nose pressed into her hair.

“Ele?”

“Yeah?” her voice came out in a quiet whisper as her mouth brushed right against his once she looked up at him again. Adam gripped hold of her hips, mumbling “I gotta do something, I can’t just..” into her mouth as his own crashed against it hungrily. She gripped his tee shirt and the hand at his shoulders ventured up, fingers tangling in the ends of his hair, making him groan quietly. When her tongue slipped between his lips, he opened up a little more, allowing her tongue complete access as he slid his hands down lower, squeezing her ass and sliding her up his body.

“Me either, I…” Giselle’s words were a breathless whisper as her eyes fluttered open when the kiss broke for a few seconds, just to stare at him. “I realized earlier that I’m kind of an idiot.”

“No, no.. Shh.”

“I am though. I mean it’s been you, this entire time and I was just too afraid to do something.” Giselle admitted, waiting on him to say something. Adam grinned, pulling her mouth back against his as his fingers tangled in the ends of her hair after he sat back against the hood of the car, her legs wrapped around him.

The crackle of the fire behind them had him chuckling, pressing his forehead to hers. “Was that why you wanted to come out and burn a bonfire?”

“It was. I was… trying to figure out a way to tell you that wasn’t me just awkwardly blurting it out.. Why, did you like the idea?”

“I did. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a ride or somethin, I just.. Hell, I’d try but I couldn’t ever do it. Didn’t wanna push or anything, considering last night….”

“Truthfully? I was actually relieved when all that played out. And it really made me stop and think..”

“Oh yeah?”

“I want you.”

“Oh you do, hm?” Adam pulled her closer, hands raking through her hair as he told her quietly, “That can be arranged, darlin.. I think you’ve had me for a while now, honestly.”

#adam hangman page fanfiction #adam hangman page fanfic #adam hangman page fic #adam hangman page oneshot #adam hangman page imagine #// part 2 of 2.

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xxisxxisxxis · 6 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Eight

Part Seven

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC Warning(s): Language, mentions of drug abuse, minor sexual situations Tag list: @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @allieburakovsky @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx@ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog@thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog@ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471

**Let me know if you want to be tagged**

A year and a half flew by like the speed of light, and things were starting to come together for every one of us.

I put school on hold, which Nikki didn't like because he felt it was his fault, even though he was aware I would've put school on hold anyway for Tommy. I didn't even have to tell my parents I was dating Nikki because as soon as mom found withdraw forms from Julliard in the mail, she called me dishonest, accused me of disobeying my parents, and threw me out as soon as I let her know I found somewhere else to stay. I figured she would find out about us eventually, anyway, so there was no reason for me to go out of my way to tell her why I was putting school off. After that happened, I left my house and was living with Nikki once everyone saved up enough money to move out of the crappy apartment. To Vince and Tommy we were just room mates. We knew Mick didn't fall for it because, like Tansy, he also just knew things but he never mentioned a word of it Tommy or Vince, or even confirmed to either me or Nikki that he knew what was really going on. He minded his business, like he always did.

Tansy and her mom had moved out to New York the summer after we graduated because she had been approached for a contract with some modeling agency out there and they were paying for a nice apartment for them to stay in. I was proud of her because she had always wanted to model, however, I was skeptical. She was 5'3" and back then, you had no chance of hitting a runway if you were too short. So Editorials were her only option, but I knew she would be just as happy posing in Vogue as she would be walking down a catwalk.

So with the new album, Tansy modeling, everyone moving out of the hell-hole apartment and Nikki and I managing to make it over a year tolerating each other in a relationship, everything was falling in to place. And it was only getting better.

"'Jesus is Satan?' I raise a brow as I ask, seeing Nikki and Vince smiling and laughing while explaining why one of their sound engineers fled their recording session.

"It's only backtracking, it's not like we're throwing it out there. You gotta look for it." Vince explains.

"Aren't you two just every church girl's dream?" I ask sarcastically.

"Maybe you should start cleansing my soul before I come inside the apartment. It might help exorcise whatever demon you're convinced has possessed me." He says it genuinely, but I know he's full of it from the smirk he gives me. I'm tempted to threaten to close my legs anytime he wants any, but Vince is here and he'd tell Tommy if he knew about us, so I save the threat for later, narrowing my eyes at Nikki.

"Ohh, if looks could kill you'd be a dead man." Vince hits Nikki's arm as Nikki takes a swig of his Jack.

"Whatever, I'm taking a nap." I tell them, stepping to the guest bedroom which is supposed to be my room.

"You just woke up a couple hours ago," Nikki argues.

"I don't feel good." I reply, honestly, the budding feeling of nausea resting in the pit of my stomach.

Vince leans over to Nikki, whispering something in to his ear and Nikki shakes his head, grinning.

"No, not for another week." He says to Vince, the two smiling innocently at me and I ignore them and shut the door of the bedroom, crawling in to the bed.

After a few minutes of laying on my stomach, the nausea subsides and I'm able to go back to sleep for an hour and a half before the door of the bedroom door creaks open. I already know it's Nikki coming to harass me, and the feeling of his lips touching the bare skin between my shoulder blades that's been left exposed by the tank top I'm in, just confirms it.

Another kiss is pressed to the back of my shoulder, then to my cheek and I turn over to face him, enjoying the feeling of him over me.

"I gotta go to the studio." He tells me. "I'll see you later."

"Alright." I nod, sighing as he leans down to press his lips to mine for a second, before going to leave. It's not enough for me, though, and I'm scrambling to the foot of the bed to catch his wrist in my hand and pull him back to me, reminding him some two second peck on the lips is basically an insult to me, and usually is an insult to him unless it's to avoid being late to get on stage or going to the studio.

He chuckles at my desperate effort and pulls himself closer to me by my hips as our lips, tongues and teeth meet. Before I can reach for his belt buckle, he's groaning a little and putting his hands on my arms to push me away a slightly.

"I gotta go, Viv." He breathes out with a wide smile, brushing a few strands of red hair from my face. "We can fool around when I get back." He assures me.

"You'll be wasted when you get back." I argue.

"I won't drink that much." He presses a last kiss to my cheek, patting my hip before he leaves.

One of the many things to know about Motley Crue: "we won't drink that much" = "we'll try not to drink that much...but we will drink that much, and then some, and not remember any of it". Same rule applies to drugs and sex.

He gets back twelve hours later at four in the morning, swinging the front door open and stumbling back in to it with his hand still gripping the door knob to keep him from face planting. I look up from my bible to see him do this, and set it aside to go help him.

"Hey, Viv," He greets me with a slur and I give a sympathetic smile. "I think I drank that much."

"I kind of knew you would." I reply, helping him keep his balance as he steps to our bedroom. He plops down on the edge of the bed, tugging his boots off, nearly falling off the bed as he throws them across the room.

"C'mere." He says to me while I'm standing against the door frame with my arms crossed, watching him.

I do as he says, his hands grabbing at me at pulling me to straddle him.

"You smell like a bar," I tell him, laughing as he nips and licks at my neck.

"You smell good." He replies dopily and I rest on of my hands at the back of is neck, my fingers lacing through his hair.

"It's called a shower," I say. "You should try one some time."

"Fuck you." He falls back on the bed, his arms splayed out beside his head as he closes his eyes. "You know somethin'?" He asks me and I lean forward, my body against his as I rest my elbows on his chest.

"What?"

"I wanna fuckin' tell people we're together." His words surprise me a little.

"If we do that, Tommy will find out. And he will kill you."

"If he wants to kick my ass for fuckin' his hot friend, then fine, because I'm tired of lying and telling them we're 'room mates'." He explains sloppily. "Room mates don't sleep in the same bed naked and suck each others dicks in the shower."

My brows furrow at "dicks" and even drunk, he realizes his error.

"That's not right." He complains, rubbing his tired eyes.

"I don't have a penis, Nikki." I remind him and he gawks.

"I hope not cause I've been seein' pussy anytime I look down there." He says, looking directly at me with wide eyes and I have to try my hardest not to start cackling.

"You need to go to sleep." I move off of him, gently tugging at his hand to get him to move to his side of the bed.

"I got it." He waves me off, dragging himself to his spot, not bothering with the covers before laying down.

He's asleep within a couple minutes and I exhale, getting on my side of the bed before cutting the lamp on my bedside table out and going to sleep.

The next few days are spent scrambling to put together decent Christmas plans, which include picking Tansy up from the airport after she calls and gives us a heads up she's coming to visit.

"What do you mean you won't have time, Vince?" I snap, smearing icing on a cake. "You've had since January of this year to save December 23!"

"Beth doesn't wanna come." He finally says after minutes of going back and forth over the phone about why he can't come to dinner tonight.

"Then leave Beth at home! We all agreed last year to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas together every year."

"If Beth doesn't want to come, I can't come." He explains as Nikki and Mick come in with the beer and more Vodka and Jack.

"Well, no one told you to marry the uppity bitch, Vince." I state rudely, Nikki raising his brows at my language.

"Look, I love you, but I can't make it. I'm sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." He sighs out and I stay silent for a second.

"Did I mention it's also my birthday today? Are you really gonna ditch me, you're favorite red head, on my birthday?" I ask him, in a tone that hopefully sends him on a guilt trip. He doesn't answer me for a good two minutes before groaning.

"You are fuckin’ killing me, Viv." He tells me and I smile, knowing I'm getting my way. "Fine. I'll be there."

"Thank you, Vince." I say before he hangs up. "He is way too easy." Just as I finish saying it, Nikki's digging his finger into the tub of icing and smearing it down my face.

"Nikki!" I scold loudly, grabbing a paper towel to wipe it off my face but before I can, his tongue sweeps across my cheek and I scrunch my face up, not able to hold back the laughter in my throat as he licks the mess off my face, finally giving me a paper towel when he's done. "Beth wasn't gonna let Vince come tonight."

"Oh, no. How awful." Mick pipes sarcastically.

"First of all, it's my birthday. Second of all, it's tradition." I point out o him.

"Not really. We only spent celebrated your birthday and Christmas in one night last year because we were too broke for two different occasions." Nikki says, opening a beer and I give him a look, causing him to pause, look at me, look at Mick, then back to me, and say: "That fucking bitch was about break our tradition."

"Smooth." Mick mumbles to him.

"I need someone here who actually cares about sentiment. Where's Tommy?" I ask, continuing to glop and spread icing on the cake I've just made.

"Tommy's getting Tansy." Nikki tells me. "Like you told him to do, then Tansy's gonna grab all the stuff you'll need to make dinner. It will be fine. Calm down."

"I'm calm." I argue in a not-so-calm tone.

"Yeah, I'm gonna get started on this so I can endure your bitching all day." He opens the bottle of Jack and takes a big gulp.

"Then you'll be drunk tonight and you can't be drunk tonight." I take the bottle out of his hand.

"Then I'll get stoned." He states, stepping to our bedroom. After a moment, he's coming back in to the kitchen, seeming to be pissed off. "Where the fuck is my--"

"I hid it." I say without hesitation, looking over my shoulder at his expression. "It's my birthday."

"I haven't spent one night sober since I can remember. You're not changing that all because it's your fucking birthday. Give me my stuff back, Saint Vivian."

"Mick, tell the Devil's Spawn to 'man up' because one night sober will not kill him."

"Mick doesn't get a say in it because you're still letting him drink!" Nikki exclaims, motioning to the silent man on the couch who's nursing from his vodka.

"Mick has special privileges because he's the most responsible one out of you four any other time of the year." I finally finish icing the cake, turning to face Nikki, who's staring at me.

"Mick's fuckin' stayin' outta this fight and every fight after it." Mick states, leaving no room for discussion.

"We're not fighting." I insist. "We're having a slight disagreement."

"Which will be resolved the second Mother Mary gives me back my freedom." Nikki says.

"Since when does alcohol and psychoactive drugs have anything to do with freedom?"

"Since I was able to do them freely until I started having to put up with you." He argues.

"Put up with me? You say that like you just tolerate me." I cross my arms.

"Anytime I do something you don't think is good enough for you, you give me this look like I just shot a puppy. I can't breathe the wrong way without you looking down on me."

"Probably because when you 'breathe the wrong way', you're actually breathing wrong, do to all the depressants and stimulants you load into your body simultaneously!" I outburst. "I don't look at you that way because I'm judging you, I look at you that way because I'm hoping you won't over do it and croak over, so forgive me for not wanting you snorting and drinking everything in sight tonight because I would like my boyfriend to not risk dying on my birthday but apparently that's too much to ask for, so go for it!"

I'm expecting him to give me the look he's always given me when I try to tell him not to drink, pop pills or snort anything, but he doesn't. I guess it's because it's my birthday.

Before he can answer, someone's clearing their throat, and we snap our attention to the front door, seeing Tansy.

"Welcome to hell." Mick tells her, and she looks at me and Nikki hesitantly, as if she's thinking about turning back around and leaving. I'm sure she is until Tommy pops up behind her, arms full of groceries and a wide, excited smile on his face. Completely oblivious.

"Happy Birthday!" He pipes, walking in to set the bags on the counter and hug me tightly, picking me up. Nikki and I continue to glare at each other while I'm looking over Tommy's shoulder, and when he puts me back down, the two of us put on fake smile so he won't know we're fighting.

"Hey, babe, where do I need to put this?" A man that has to be at least 30 years old is walking in to our apartment, talking to Tansy while holding a Tupperware container.

"What is it?" I ask him, thinking it's food, taking the container.

"Oh, Smack." He says casually and I'm dropping the container in a matter of milliseconds, taking a step back and looking at Nikki with raised brows.

"Vivian!" Tansy complains, picking the container up, going to put it in the fridge but I block her way. "Oh, so, what? All the things these idiots pump themselves full of, you draw the line at heroin?" She asks me.

"I am the line." I inform her. "I am not keeping some stranger's drugs in my fridge."

"It's not some random stranger, it's Sparkie." She explains to me as if that makes me and the man best friends. "My boyfriend." She continues.

"I figured that." I reply.

"Why do they call you Sparkie?" Nikki asks him, skeptically.

Sparkie was an absolute idiot. Think of what strung out, worn down, one shoot up away from being dragged to hell, looks like. He looked like a walking corpse with a peculiar hue of blue to his skin and had sleeves of tattoos to try to mask his track marks, to no avail. A few of his back teeth had rotted out and it was evident anytime he opened his mouth to speak. His bleached blonde hair had grown out to his chest and his pitch black roots were greasy due to lack of bathing. He had frown lines, crows feet, smile lines and greyed facial hair along his jaw. Tansy claimed they had met on the set of one of her photoshoots and he was the photographer's assistant and said that he told her he fell madly in love after laying eyes on her for the first time. Well, Tansy was gorgeous, but she was also naked and posing for Playboy at the photoshoot where they met, so he might've confused wanting to have sex with her with wanting to date her. I prayed he'd only be temporary, but he managed to hang around for five more years until the two of them broke up during the "Girls" tour. I was stunned when she went from dating someone like Sparkie, to dating someone like Axl Rose.

"Freebasing accident. Ether's easy to catch on fire, man." He tells him with a chuckle and I feel multiple brain cells die.

"Fuckin' awesome, right, dude?" Tommy asks as he hits Nikki's shoulder and Nikki looks at me with a smug expression, knowing it's killing me to keep my mouth shut.

"We have room in the fridge, right, Viv?" Nikki asks me innocently and I roll my jaw, looking at Tansy's perfect smile, as if she's silently begging us to like her boyfriend.

"Absolutely." I say, taking the container from Tansy and putting it in the fridge before me and her start cooking dinner.

By the time Seven o'clock is rolling around, dinner's done and Vince is waltzing through the front door.

"Hey, Viv," He comes up behind me in the kitchen while I'm washing my hands, kissing my cheek as he puts a present on the counter.

"Hey," I greet him, seeing Beth occupied with talking to Tansy.

"Who's...?" He nods in Sparkie's direction and I turn the sink off and get in his ear.

"Tansy's boyfriend, Sparkie. His White China is in my fridge and he got his name after a freebasing accident." I educate him and he raises his brows, an amused smile pulling at his lips.

"Tansy's dating him?" He whispers and I nod.

"Jesus," He mumbles, watching as she comes over to us to hug him.

"Vince!" She greets him eagerly, throwing her arms around him and he pulls her to him tightly, catching an evil look from his wife.

"Hey, Tans," He says when she pulls away.

"C'mon and meet my boyfriend." She grabs his hand and pulls him to the living room.

"Um, hey, Devil-Spawn, I need your help for a second." I tell Nikki and he looks up from his conversation with Sparkie and rolls his eyes, stepping to the kitchen.

"What?" He asks me and I drag him to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it.

"Tansy's dating a loser." I voice out immediately and he gives me a look.

”I thought you wanted a quickie. Had I known you were just gonna bit--"

"He's a moron. 'Ether's flammable'? 'Put my smack in the fridge'?" I mock his voice.

"He didn't say the last one."

"Tansy is too naïve for someone like him." I ignore him. "She doesn't know what she's getting herself in to being with someone like that."

"I'm someone like that." Nikki reminds me and I scoff.

"Um, you don't carry a Tupperware of Smack with you, you're not burning yourself in ether explosions, you're not taking advantage of a beautiful blonde girl who just wants to make everybody happy..." I list a few things Sparkie's doing. "Look, I'm not worried about me doing anything because I have the will power of God when it comes to drugs and alcohol but Tansy will do the most ridiculous, disgusting, debasing things to make someone happy. Trust me, she's told me some of the things she felt like she had to do in order to keep some of her past boyfriends and I'm scared he's gonna get her hooked on some of his mess because he'll figure out if he asks her to do anything, she'll do it." I explain to him and he sighs.

"Maybe she's not as naïve as you think she is. I mean, it's been over a year since you last saw each other, so it's possible she's changed and knows exactly what she's doing." He tries to reassure me.

"I'd rather her be oblivious and naïve to the severity of the situation than knowingly be waltzing in to her own self-destruction." I state blankly.

"I wonder who all's gonna be saying that about you when they find out you're with me." Nikki says pointedly and I open my mouth to speak, but close it again.

"You're right. She's a big girl who can take care of herself and I'm being judgmental of Sparkie." I admit.

"You're admitting you're wrong?" He asks me in pretend shock, leaning closer to me, putting the palm of his hand flat on the door beside my head and I cross my arms and avoid looking at him.

"I guess." I mumble, not liking the fact I have to admit I'm wrong and he knows it, basking in the glory.

"Viv?" He asks and I look at the bathroom floor, still not acknowledging him. "Hey," He grabs my jaw gently, forcing me to look at his darkly lined eyes. "You have such a big heart, you worm your way in to other people's lives to try to get them to not make decisions that you wouldn't make, to protect them. But just because you wouldn't choose to do something, doesn't mean it's a wrong choice for someone else."

"Snorting coke and throwing back shots until you can't stand up, isn't a good choice for anyone." I already know what he's getting at and he sighs, stomping his foot.

"If I hear one more 'dude' from Sparkie without some kind of buffer in my system, I'm gonna knock his head into the fuckin' counter, Viv." He states, pointing his finger in the direction of the living room.

"You're doing great." I tell him, taking the hand he's pointing his finger with and hold it in both of my hands. "We only have to deal with him for a few more minutes and then everyone will be gone, and we'll have the place to ourselves," I say, taking one of the chains of his few necklaces around his neck and running it threw my fingers, pulling him to me. "And I'll let you do whatever you want."

His expression darkens at my promise, his lips pulling upward in to a crooked smile as his hands move to my hips and he guides me to the sink, picking me up and putting me on the edge of it,

He's putting himself between my open legs, his finger tips gripping at the flesh of my thigh as his other hand is hiking my maroon dress up, his tongue dancing with mine. I push the thin straps of my dress of my shoulders and his lips leave mine when he yanks the top of my dress down to expose my breasts. Just as his teeth are biting a trail down my skin, the door swings open, causing me and Nikki to scramble to get ourselves off of each other, but it's too late.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #motley crue #douglas booth #colson baker #daniel webber #the dirt #the dirt movie

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juniperhillpatient · 5 years ago

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Richie was experiencing the rare phenomena of having no idea what to say.

He and Eddie had been laying on his bed in silence for about twenty minutes, which was a feat Richie would’ve guessed to be impossible for the two of them until it happened. He’d had a decent thanksgiving himself. He’d spent it with his parents, his grandparents on both sides, Beverly, and Beverly’s aunt. It’d been nice. He and Bev had helped his mom make the mashed potatoes, and she’d let the two of them drink wine with her.

He was starting to get mad at himself for not putting his foot down and insisting that Eddie come over too, though. The thing is, he’d tried. The two of them had gotten into one of their biggest arguments over the matter the day before Thanksgiving, and Richie felt like things still weren’t quite right. He hated it.

He hated Sonja Kaspbrak.

He’d tried to convince Eddie that just because his mom had had a stupid heart-attack didn’t mean he needed to spend time with her. She was fine now, and besides, she could afford to hire an in-home nurse if she wanted. She chose not to, and it was very obvious to Richie that at least part of the reason was so she could manipulate Eddie into continuing to check up on her. Will and Jessica Hanlon had managed to convince Eddie to stay with them and not move back home, but it had not been easy, and Eddie had insisted on spending Thanksgiving with his mom.

He’d come over Friday morning looking upset and Richie had just given him a hug and asked if everything was alright. Eddie had just said no and the of them had gone up to Richie’s room. Now, Eddie was laying with his head on Richie’s chest.

Richie was pretty sure if he had to stare at the ceiling in silence for another second, he was going to go insane.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really.”

Right. Of course not. It was moments like this that Richie felt most inadequate. He didn’t know how to talk about these things. He didn’t know how to make it better.

“Alright,” Richie said. “I get it. Your mom ate all the food and there wasn’t enough left for you or anyone else. Well you are in luck, because we have enough leftovers to feed an army. There’s a fifty-fifty shot the brownies are edibles since Bev made them but that just adds to the fun. Let’s go get some, ok?”

“I’m not really hungry,” Eddie said.

Richie sighed and rolled onto his side so that Eddie was forced to sit up a little and lean on his elbow, so they were facing each other.

“You know what I think we should do?” Richie said. “Friendsgiving. Us losers, Kay, Audra, and Georgie. We can all just bring leftovers from our family thanksgivings. We could do it this weekend. Or today, really."

“Yeah, that could be fun,” Eddie admitted, the corner of his mouth hinting at a smile.

“I can tell from your enthusiasm what a good idea you think it is,” Richie teased.

Now he finally got a smile. “Alright, it’s the most brilliant idea ever. You’re a genius. No one in the history of the world other than you has ever thought of Friendsgiving. You deserve a Nobel prize.”

“I know I do,” Richie said. “I’m kinda amazing.”

“Yeah, kinda,” Eddie said with a soft smile, the sarcasm in his voice gone. He leaned in and kissed Richie and Richie thought, not for the first time, that he had no idea what he’d ever done to deserve Eddie.

The kiss was over much sooner than Richie would’ve liked. He leaned in and pulled Eddie in for a second kiss, hugging himself closer to Eddie.

“You’re the one who’s amazing,” Richie said against Eddie’s lips. “I mean it. I shouldn’t have been such a dick about Thanksgiving. I totally get why you felt like you had to spend it with your mom.”

“Don’t talk about my mom right now,” Eddie muttered.

“Shutting up,” Richie said with a laugh, leaning in for more kisses.

About an hour later, the two of them decided to text the group about the idea for a Friendsgiving.

Trashmouth: so I had a genius idea

Spaghetti: he had an idea that’s been had by 80% of the population before

‘Spaghetti’ changed his username to ItsEddie

ItsEddie: stop changing my username :/

MikeyWay: what’s the idea y’all

BigBill: what did I say about using the term ‘y’all’ smh

StanTheMan: I have to agree with Bill on that one. Sorry babe but no yee yees in the chat

MikyWay: can’t believe farm culture is being slandered in this chat. homophobia at it’s worst :/

BeverBitch: no one in this chat is a cishet mike u can’t claim homophobia

Trashmouth: what about @haystack

Haystack: been meaning to tell y’all something….

BigBill: BEN

StanThaMan: BENJAMIN

MikyWay: ahhaha @haystack thank u king for supporting farmboy culture <3

ItsEddie: let the man speak he said he had to tell us something so shut up

Haystack: soooooooo the whole ‘man’ thing. Not so much

Haystack: Been going to therapy and thinking through some stuff. I by ‘they/them’ now

BigBill: finally!!! another non cissy in the group <3

MikeyWay: <3

ItsEddie: <3

Trashmouth: <3

StanTheMan: <3

BeverBitch: <3 told y’all there were no cishets in the club

StanTheMan: wait so did you just out ben

Haystack: sksdkjaldjal no we’re together rn she asked if she could say that lmao

BeverBitch: yeah damn stan who do you think I am

StanTheMan: I’m SORRY it’s not that I think you’d do that I was just confused. Didn’t know you guys were physically together right now

BeverBitch: It’s ok stan I get it you think I'm a horrible person but it's FINE

StanTheMan: whatever bitch

BeverBitch: ilu2 stan

StanTheMan: <3

MikeyWay: is ben still a good name?? @haystack

Haystack: ily y’all

Haystack: & yes

MikeyWay loved Haystack’s message

MikeyWay: y’all is a good term

Haystack: I like it because it’s gender neutral & the idea of the lgbts appropriating redneck culture is funny

BigBill: ok fine that is actually kinda funny

StanTheMan: I actually never thought about it like that

BigBill: ok i guess y’all just became valid

Trashmouth: well now @haystack has stolen the thunder but do Y’ALL still wanna hear the idea

Haystack: sorry richie

Haystack: yes lmao

Trashmouth: @haystack lmao it’s ok ily & I’m glad you told us

Trashmouth: the idea is to go black friday shopping as a group & get murdered over a discounted vacuum

ItsEddie: stfu richie no it’s not

Trashmouth: it’s not. we don’t support capitalism in this chat.

ItsEddie: the idea is for us all to have a friendsgiving get together

Trashmouth: @BigBill invite audra & georgie

ItsEddie: @BeverBitch invite kay

BeverBitch: when do you guys wanna do it

Trashmouth: today???

Haystack: yess

Haystack: come over!

BeverBitch: bring leftovers <3

BigBill: oh yess

StanTheMan: heck yeah

MikeyWay: HELL yeah

Trashmouth: heckity yes

ItsEddie: fuck ye

Eddie closed the chat with a grin and turned his attention back to Richie. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Richie asked.

“Putting up with my drama mostly. But also for this. For distracting me and planning this whole Friendsgiving thing.”

“Maybe I just wanna hang out with our friends,” Richie said. “Not everything is about you.”

“Whatever,” Eddie said. He leaned in and kissed Richie.

He thought, as he did, how glad he was that he could do that now. They’d been official since Halloween but it felt both like a lifetime and like no time at all had passed. They had jumped right in with ‘I love yous’ the day they admitted their feelings and came out to their friends and the couple thing had come easily to them for the most part. Yet, to Eddie who had been head over heels for Richie since they were eleven, and maybe even before that, every kiss felt like a shock. He couldn’t believe he got to be with Richie in real life. Not a fantasy, or a dream, but for real.

“What?” Richie asked.

Eddie must have been staring. “Nothing,” Eddie said.

“It’s something.”

Eddie laughed and pressed his face against Richie’s chest. “I’m sure you’ll laugh at me for this but I was thinking that thanksgiving is silly and honestly it’s got a messed up racist history, but I am so thankful for you.”

Richie made a soft sound that was suspiciously like an unironic ‘aw.’ Eddie grinned.

“That’s so fucking cute, babe,” Richie said. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Eddie hesitated. “And I’m sorry I’ve been so weird about the holiday.” He pulled his face away from Richie’s chest so he could look at him. “It’s just weird, you know? I’ve never spent a holiday without her. And she kept texting me about how she didn’t want to spend the day alone and how she missed me.”

Richie frowned and Eddie knew what he was thinking. ‘She doesn’t deserve to spend the day with you. And maybe, maybe if you were stronger she wouldn’t be able to manipulate you so easily. She’s just a manipulative bitch and even if she does really care she shows it in horrible toxic ways.’

No. He pushed those thoughts away because they weren’t fair to Richie, who would never think anything like that. He might be thinking that Sonja Kaspbrak was a bitch, or that she didn’t deserve to spend the day with Eddie, but the rest of it was Eddie’s own insecurities. He had to own up to them and stop pretending they were anything but that – personal insecurities.

“I know I suck for letting her guilt-trip me like that, I know it’s weak and-”

“I never said that,” Richie interrupted. “I just said that you shouldn’t let her get to you. It’s not weak.”

“It is,” Eddie said. “I admit it. I just start feeling bad, thinking about her in that house all alone.”

“I know,” Richie said. “And that’s what makes me so mad. You actually give a shit and empathize with her and she uses it against you. It’s bullshit.” He hesitated. Eddie gave him a second. It was rare that Richie hesitated before speaking and it meant he was trying to give the conversation proper care, which Eddie appreciated. “So how was it?”

It was Eddie’s turn to hesitate. He didn’t honestly know how to categorize the awkward thanksgiving dinner he’d had with his mom and his aunts. The thing is, it hadn’t been as bad as he’d been afraid it would be. She hadn’t told his aunts about him being gay, and she didn’t bring it up for which he was grateful. She didn’t bring up the argument they’d had about medicine either. Instead, she and her sisters had talked for a bit about how unfair the criticism Donald Trump got was, and then they’d moved to talking about the food. In short, it had been about like every other thanksgiving Eddie had ever had.

At the end, he’d just left and gone back to the Hanlon farm. Will and Jessica had saved him some food which he ate even though he was already full, and he and Mike went to the back porch after dinner. Mike had smoked and Eddie even took a hit himself.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he said to Richie.

“Then why didn’t you want to talk about it?”

“Because,” Eddie paused, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t that bad but that’s what makes this so hard. Sometimes it seems like I overreacted by moving out.”

“Eddie,” Richie said. It was a mark of the seriousness of the topic that Richie used his real name. “She drugged you and made you think you had illnesses you didn’t for years and said you were sick when she found out about you being gay. One day that’s not awful doesn’t mean you overreacted by getting the hell out of that situation. I’m just so scared you’re gonna go back to that, and I hate to think about it because I just love you and want you to be in a good place and the Hanlons really love you and-”

“Richie,” Eddie interrupted because Richie was starting to do the thing that he sometimes did where he started talking faster and faster as his internal freakout mounted. “I’m not moving back in with my mom. You can relax, ok? I just can’t cut things off completely. I tried that and I can’t do it. I know I should be able to, but I can’t.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Richie said. “You don’t have to. It’s complicated, I get that.”

Eddie kissed Richie and tried to put all the things he didn't have words for into the kiss. Like how grateful he was that Richie understood, and how much he appreciated Richie listening.

“Alright, let’s go pig out on leftovers with our friends," he said.

“Agreed,” Richie said.

They went downstairs and asked Went and Maggie if they could bring some of the leftovers from the day before to a get together for the losers and they were pretty obliging. Honestly, it seemed like they were relieved to get some of the food out of the fridge as it was pretty crowded in there.

As they gathered up the food and debated what to bring and what to leave, Eddie realized something. His mom was his blood, and maybe someday he would cut her off and maybe he wouldn’t but she wasn’t his family. Richie was his family. The losers club were his family. Kay and Audra and Georgie were his family. And the thought of this family that didn’t make him feel trapped or uncertain but instead filled him with warmth and love made it difficult to stop smiling.

A/N: this snippet is part of THIS fic but it’s sort of an interlude & I think it also works as a one-shot so I wanted to post it separately here. I wanted to write something cute for thanksgiving so it’s late but here ya go

#reddie #reddie thanksgiving fic #reddie fic #it fic #reddie thanksgiving #losers club thanksgiving #rose pretends she can write about it

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