#i hate when it's getting bad again and i can feel it
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
I keep thinking about all of the disabled activists and people before me who stranded themselves on the 4th floor of buildings for weeks and crawled up stairs and fought with airline staff and schools and doctors and refused to stop existing in the face of injustice and bigotry no matter how big and scary and hopeless it seemed. Every time I get angry and scared the protests that lead to the creation of the ADA pop up again and remind me that disabled people are so much fucking stronger than anyone has ever given us credit for, and I can't help but be proud of that. And I know not all disabled people feel like we should take pride in our disabilities and have flags or whatever, but I think not just living, but thriving, in spite of a world that wants us dead and gone, in the face of both illness and persecution, and how we've not only bought ourselves forward, but uplifted the disabled people around us, secured more equal futures for everyone who will come after, and truly changed the way so many abled people have seen us for the better is something to be damn fucking proud of.
We have always been here and we always will be, there will never be a world without disabled people because being disabled is not bad, it's a natural part of the human experience and yeah it sucks some times but even when it sucks we have fought to build beautiful, unique, happy lives with people, both like us and not, and that should be celebrated.
The first sign of human civilization is the healed femur. The body of the profoundly disabled person who would have needed help to even just eat being carefully laid to rest after decades of a full, happy life. The medicinal plants showing even before we were entirely human we were doing what we could to not just survive, but alleviate suffering while we're at it. Above everything, evolution selected not the baby who can walk and eat and be quiet, but the one that can ask for help.
Disabled people are not just angry cockroach motherfuckers who refuse to die, we are proof of humanity's HUMANITY. Proof that natural selection selected a species that takes care of each other. From healed femurs and medicinal plants to vaccines and IVs and insulin to now, we are driven to help one another, we are at our strongest when we don't leave our most vulnerable behind. And I am living proof of that. My mother is living proof of that. Every disabled and chronically and/or mentally ill person I know is living proof of that.
And I don't know about the rest of you, but will carry that shred of humanity's true nature inside me like it's my fucking soul. I am scared and angry and hurt, but I have a lifetime's experience being scared and angry, and I can shake off the kind of pain that would make Atlas crumble to dust like it's nothing but a stiff fucking breeze. Disabled people have always been here, turning fear and anger and pain into joy and beauty and connection, and I'm not going to let everyone who came before me down. I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.
It's okay if you're disabled and you've hit your limit, you're too scared and tired and hurt, I won't blame you. But I won't abandon you, either. I might not be able to right all of the wrongs in the world, but I'll be strong, I'll carry all of you with me, I will not give up.
As I've said before, society hates a cripple who won't die, so we must spite them and live anyway.
Please, live anyway. I know if anyone can, it's us.
#there that's my thesis about all this hope it helps#abled people can reblog this btw#pls support the disabled people in your lives they need you#us politics#us election#just for the blacklist#current events#cripple punk#cpunk#disabled#disability justice#disabled liberation
962 notes
·
View notes
Text
Said I was gonna do this later so here I am!!
I know nobody asked me but I'm gonna do it anyway. Because who's gonna stop me? Someone asking?
Hah!!
Im gonna do this with ALL my OC's. Because I can, and because I love all my little creations!
Starting with my currently favorite vampire gal!
Samantha Morales, a.k.a. Sammy Moors
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv This gal vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
With direct answers from the girl herself, for extra cringe roleplay. My favorite.
1. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? If you have multiple, who's your favorite?
SM: I do sometimes. To try and remember what it felt to be human.
...
My favorite is my little green bunny. His name is Jacques.
2. Can you take care of a plant? What about a pet? Or a child?
SM: I can. But how well I'd do, can't tell. Being undead messes with your head a lot...
3. Can you describe your love interest?
SM: I could if I had one. Or if I could feel love. Or anything at all.
4. Do you look good in red?
SM: ...
SM: I prefer pink.
5. Speech, speech, speech! Will you give one? And what about?
SM: No. That kind of self-centered talk is for bloodsucker scum. You wouldn't catch me dead doing something as pretentious as that. They think they're so high and mighty, that they're superior to everything else. That they can take what they want and we'd never do anything about it. But they're nothing but insects, hiding away like cowards in the shadows while feeding off others like leeches. Disgusting and pathetic, weak little creatures unable to keep living by themselves. Parasites. Just the sight of them makes me want to rip them apart limb by limb, making them scream in agony as the life they've stolen leaves their body drop by drop, scurrying away and pleading for mercy as I crush their every bone to--
6. Who will you take advice from? And who WOULDN'T you take it from?
SM: I don't think anyone can really give me any advice that matters, but if I had to choose... Maybe Johnny. Kid's got a good head on his shoulders when it comes to the supernatural. Not like I need it though.
SM: But I'd never take advice from Silver. Too impulsive, and I already have me to worry about.
7. Describe yourself in three words
SM: Monster. Disgusting. Unsightly.
8. Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate you?
SM: I hate puzzles. Wastes of time.
9. Do you empathize with non-sentient things?
SM: More than empathize, I envy them. I'm already unable to feel anything, at least they get to not think about it either.
10. What age do you want to be the most right now?
SM: I wanna be 13 again. Go back to when everything was okay...
11. You won the lottery. Spend, or save?
SM: I dunno. Maybe spend? We do need more silver rounds...
12. Do you like romance in the books you read?
SM: I... I think I used to like it? I can't recall...
13. Name one thing your parents taught you.
SM: Family is everything.
14. Would you agree with the term 'guilty pleasure? Do you have any?
SM: I won't give in to it. I won't, no matter how good it smells. How delicious its crimson gleam looks. How it makes my mouth water at the mere thought of it, I won't. I won't. I won't I--
15. What would you consider a waste of time, other than school and work?
SM: Anything that's too complicated. I have all the time in the world, but every second I waste is another second they live.
16. If money wasn't a limit, what would you wear?
SM: I'n fine with my outfit. I think Silver would be someone better to ask this to.
17. Do you like children?
SM: No. They wound too frequently.
18. Kissing: Tongue or no tongue?
SM: No kissing. That's disgusting.
19. Do you study before tests?
SM: I haven't done any tests in 2 years.
20. What do you like that nobody else does?
SM: Rare meat in burgers isn't too bad... Don't tell Johnny I said that.
21. What would it take for you to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?
SM: Being a bloodsucker. Even if I can't feel anything, that's an immediate deal breaker.
22. Do you like being called pet names? Do you call others pet names? What's your go-to?
SM: I don't, but people have been calling me Sammy or Moors for so long that it feels weird when they don't do it. Old habits die hard, I guess. The only person I have a nickname for is Silver, and that's because he insists on being called Silver.
23. Stability or novelty?
SM: I've had my fill of novelty for a lifetime...
24. Honesty or charity?
SM: Honesty.
25. Safety or possibility?
SM: Safety.
26. Talent or effort?
SM: Effort.
27. Forgiveness or vengeance?
SM: VENGEANCE.
28. Would you date a fixer-upper?
SM: I'd rather not date anyone right now.
29. What recurring dreams do you have?
SM: The blood, it's everywhere... I'd rather not talk about it.
30. What would you do if you knew it would be forgiven?
SM: I... I'm not gonna answer that.
oc asks that reveal more than you think
Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?
Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?
Ask them to describe their love interest.
Do they look good in red?
Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?
Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?
Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.
Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?
Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?
What age do they most want to be right now?
They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?
Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?
Name one thing their parents taught them.
Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?
What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?
If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear?
Do they like children?
Kissing: tongue or no tongue?
Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews?
What do they like that nobody else does?
What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?
Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?
Stability or novelty?
Honesty or charity?
Safety or possibility?
Talent or effort?
Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)?
Would they date a fixer-upper?
What recurring dreams do they have?
What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?
Support the author: all writing | book | ko-fi | Patreon
#This post can't stop me because I don't get asks!#oc asks#I'm gonna do this NOW#And later#FOR ALL MY OC'S#GASHSHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGAH#I AM UNST OPPA BLE#Sammy Moors
35K notes
·
View notes
Text
Dont Belong Part 3
Masterlist Natasha Masterlist
Part 1 Part 2
Word Count: 7175
Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader
Summary: Y/n's infection is hitting her hard and she's still struggling with her feelings on her parents. Thankfully, Yelena is there to help cheer her up and she brings along a surprise that might just make everything feel better!
Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom
Y/n POV:
These last two days in the hospital have blurred together, a monotonous cycle of dull light and beeping machines. The weight of my infection drags on me, leaving me shivering one moment and sweating the next. I've spent far too much time staring at the ceiling, feeling trapped in this sterile room, yearning for the freedom of my life before the mission went sideways. The boredom is suffocating, and I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself with every passing hour.
I feel a constant gaze from my parents who rarely leave my side. It's strange to go from having them ignore you to being around all the time. Part of me feels like things were like they used to be when I was a full part of their family. The other part of me is screaming saying they don't mean it and will soon be gone again.
But today feels different, a whisper of hope fluttering in the air. I've been waiting for this moment, and when a familiar knock sounds at the door, my heart races with anticipation. "Can I come in?" Yelena's voice calls softly, and I can't suppress the grin that spreads across my face at the sound of her.
"Of course!" I call back, the eagerness spilling over in my tone. I sit up a little straighter, my heart pounding as I manage to prop myself up, using the button on the side of the bed to elevate myself.
The door swings open, and Yelena steps in, her expression a mix of relief and worry. Her golden hair catches the light, and I can see the telltale signs of sleepless nights etched under her eyes. "Y/n!" she breathes, rushing to my side, her voice trembling slightly as she takes my hand.
"Yelena! I'm so glad to see you." The words come out a little breathless, and I can't help the surge of emotion that washes over me. Just seeing her makes the room feel a little less confining, a little brighter.
"I can't believe you're awake," she says, her grip tightening around my fingers. "I was so scared. We all were. You had everyone worried sick." Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of my situation lifts just a bit. I don't think I've ever seen Yelena emotional like this before and it helps me realise how bad this whole situation is. She would never allow anyone to see her this vulnerable except for Mama.
"Hey, I'm okay. Well, sort of." I gesture weakly to the IV drip, the hospital bed, and the machines that surround me. "Just a little out of commission at the moment."
Yelena's smile is tentative but bright, yet it's overshadowed by the concern etched on her face. "I just hate seeing you hurt like this. You're my niece and I thought I would always be here to protect you." She shares honestly.
I give her hand a squeeze and share a warm smile when she finally looks up to me. "I can't be protected forever. Besides, I need you now. This recovery is going to be shit and I need you to help me when it gets too much." I reassure her and she nods. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help you through it all. Stark has even set me up on the same floor as you. So, I'll be there whenever you need me." She explains, making my heart warm with the thought of seeing her for a while to come.
"What about the widows?" I ask, knowing how much that means to her. "I've already been able to help so many. Now I need to help you. The others can wait. Besides, Kate can do the research on where we need to go next." She replies. "Who's Kate?" I ask, surprised to hear that she is working with someone else.
"Just a stray that Clint found. She's annoying, but oddly fun to be around. I think you'd like her. I'm sure she'll be around at some point to say hi." She explains with a shrug.
As the initial shock of seeing me seems to fade, I can see the corners of Yelena's mouth twitching upward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It's as if she's flipping a switch, her demeanour transforming from worried auntie to the playful, teasing friend I know and love.
"You know," she starts, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms, "for someone who just woke up from a dramatic hospital nap, you look surprisingly like a zombie. I mean, I thought they had strict rules against bringing the undead into the hospital."
I let out a soft laugh, despite the ache in my chest. "Yeah, well, the food here isn't exactly helping my cause. I'm pretty sure I could survive off of those tasteless mushy meals for a week and still look better than this."
Yelena raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Mushy meals? I'd expect you to be on some gourmet diet, considering all the special treatments they give you. I'm starting to think you should at least get some ice cream as a post-surgery reward." She chuckles. "Now that's the kind of thinking I can get behind. Have a word with Tony yeah?" I reply, feeling my spirits lift. "Ice cream sounds amazing. But what are the odds of that happening here?"
"Zero. But I'm prepared for this. I'll break you out of this place and take you for ice cream. You just need to give me the signal, and I'll burst in through the window like a stealthy ninja." She mimics a dramatic leap and landing in mama's pose. "See, I'll even do my best poser impersonation!" She playfully teases and she now starts to pretend to scale the invisible walls of my hospital room, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness. "You can count on me, Y/n. Ice cream shall be yours!"
I chuckle, the image of Yelena performing an acrobatic escape making the heaviness of the past days lift a little more. "What flavour are we talking here? I hope it's not vanilla. I have standards, you know."
"Vanilla? Please! I was thinking more along the lines of double chocolate fudge with extra sprinkles. And maybe a side of cherry sauce because why not go big, right?" She shares her thoughts whilst taking the seat next to me again. Her hand resting over mine. "Now you're speaking my language," I respond, shaking my head in mock seriousness. "If I'm risking a hospital breakout, it better be worth it." I laugh.
Yelena sits back in her seat, her chest still rising and falling as she laughs at her own hilariousness. She then looks back up at me. "But seriously, let's plan this for when you're feeling better. I'm not above a hospital escape." Her grin is contagious, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders easing. "Deal. Just don't forget the sprinkles."
As our laughter fills the room, I realize how much I've missed this lightness, this camaraderie. It's comforting to think about having Yelena by my side as I navigate the uncertainty of recovery and family dynamics.
But beneath the playful banter, there's an unspoken understanding between us, a bond that allows me to express my fears without words. With Yelena around, I feel like I can face whatever comes next, armed with humour and the knowledge that I'm not alone in this fight.
"Just promise me one thing," I say, my voice turning more serious again. "Anything," she replies, her gaze earnest. "Don't let me give up on the ice cream party, okay? No matter what happens."
"Never! I'll be your ice cream guardian," she declares, puffing out her chest with mock pride. "We will have that party, and it will be legendary. I will personally ensure that you have the sprinkles of life!"
With that promise hanging in the air, I know I can count on her not just for ice cream but for so much more as I navigate this complicated recovery. Even amidst the challenges, I feel a renewed sense of strength.
Though the playful atmosphere soon disappears as Yelena looks at me with a hurt look. "You know," Yelena begins cautiously, glancing around the room as if making sure no one else can hear, "I've been really worried about you. Seeing you like this. It's been hard. I didn't expect to walk in and see my Y/n looking so weak."
"Yeah, well, welcome to the aftermath of a bullet wound," I respond, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone, but her expression remains sombre. "I mean it, Y/n," she says, her voice low. "I can handle all sorts of dangerous missions, but this... this was different. You're my niece. I've seen too many people get hurt, and it scares me to think about what could have happened if things went even more wrong."
"I know. I didn't want to worry you, but... it's not like I planned to get shot," I reply, my voice softening. "I was trying to do my best, and it went sideways."
"It's not your fault," Yelena reassures me, squeezing my hand gently. "But promise me you'll be careful. Don't rush back into missions. I can't go through this again. I thought I lost you."
"I'm not going anywhere yet. You've got me for a while longer," I say with a playful lilt, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Her smile falters, but she doesn't let go of my hand. "You have to promise me you won't get hurt again. I mean it. You don't have to be the hero all the time, you know." The gravity of her words sinks in, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. "I thought I was doing well. I thought it was my chance to prove myself," I admit, my voice quieter now. "Prove yourself? You don't need to do that. You're already a part of this family," she insists, her voice firm but gentle.
But I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy, the bitter sting of doubt that lingers in the corners of my mind. "I don't feel like it," I confess, looking down at our hands intertwined. "Not after everything that's happened. My parents... I don't know. It's complicated." I begin tentatively, not sure how to express the turmoil inside me.
"They've hurt me for so long, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around why they suddenly seem to care. It feels like. I don't know, like they're trying to make up for lost time. They've been... around. Too around, if you know what I mean. They've been acting all concerned, but it feels more like an obligation."
I've felt torn about this since I've woke up. They're around all the time and trying to do everything that can to help me. But all I can think about is how much they have hurt me and if they would ever be able to make up for their past actions.
Yelena nods, her expression serious. "It's okay to be conflicted. They've done wrong by you, and you have every right to be angry. But if they're genuinely trying to change, maybe there's a chance for you to heal too." She suggests, similar to how Steve has these last two days.
"I don't want to forgive them just because they're here now. It feels disingenuous," I admit, frustration seeping into my voice. "I've been raised to believe that actions speak louder than words, and I need to see real change." I state irritated. "Then hold them to that standard," she urges, her voice steady. "Don't let them slide by just because they're your parents. You deserve more than that." She iterates.
"I guess I'm just afraid of being disappointed again," I whisper, feeling a shiver of vulnerability wash over me. It hurt so much when I slowly seemed to disappear from their lives. I don't think I could experience that again. "What if they go back to ignoring me once I'm healed? What's the point of this?" I share, tears stinging my eyes.
Yelena leans closer, her brow furrowing as she studies my face. "That's not fair to you. They hurt you, and it's okay to be angry about that. But you deserve to feel loved and cared for. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for." "Stronger?" I scoff lightly, but inside I feel a flicker of hope. "I barely survived my first mission and ended up in a hospital bed. That doesn't feel strong."
"Strength isn't just about fighting, Y/n. It's about surviving, too. You survived, and you're still here. You're still fighting." Her voice softens, and I can see her eyes glistening with tears. I nod slowly, her words resonating with me. "You're right. I just don't want to get hurt like that again. I thought joining SHIELD would mean I'd finally be seen, but now... it feels like a mess."
Yelena shakes her head, frustration evident in her expression. "No. You're not a mess. You're human. They need to step up and show you that you matter, but that doesn't mean you have to accept their love without question. You get to set the boundaries. You get to decide what you want from them moving forward. But I do believe that you have to give them a chance to show you that they've changed." She shares, taking me by surprise.
"It was years Yelena. How can I move to just forgive them for everything that's happened? Just because they're here for my recovery, doesn't mean it makes up for everything that they've done." I raise my voice getting frustrated that no one seems to understand the depth of how much this has affected me.
She thinks for a moment before speaking up. "I know I can't understand the pain they caused you. When I heard about what they did to you, I was ready to kick both of their asses. But I've seen this determination in them. Especially Nat. I just don't want you to let the anger eat you alive. You deserve more than that. You deserve to heal, not just physically, but emotionally, too." Her words resonate deep within me. I can feel the weight of my resentment pressing against my chest, threatening to suffocate me. "It's just hard, Yelena. I don't know if I can trust them again. What if they just go back to how things were?"
"That's the risk, but it's also a chance for something better. Maybe this could be the start of a new chapter for you all," she replies, her voice filled with hope. "I mean, how many people get a second chance to rewrite their story? You can make it count." She tries to reason with me. "Or I could just end up disappointed again," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Hey, no one said life was easy," she counters, leaning forward, her tone shifting to a playful challenge. "You've faced worse. You survived a bullet wound, for Christ's sake! How about you take that strength and channel it into something more positive? Like confronting your parents." She suggests. "Confront them?" I echo, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach.
"Yeah! You're a badass. You fought off those Hydra agents; you can fight for your own happiness." she encourages. "Don't let anyone else dictate your worth. Not your parents, not Hydra. No one."
"I'll think about it," I concede, knowing that deep down, she's right. Maybe facing my parents isn't just about them; it's about taking control of my own narrative, my own healing. "Good," Yelena replies, her smile brightening the room once more. "And remember, no matter what you decide, I'll be right here, cheering you on. We're in this together, ice cream and all."
As I gaze into her determined eyes, I feel the flicker of hope igniting within me. Yelena is right. I can't let the past dictate my future. Perhaps I can find a way to reclaim my voice, my choices. And with her by my side, I feel like I can face whatever comes next.
__________
The soft hum of the machines is a constant companion, a backdrop to the quiet conversation happening in the room. Mama and mom sit nearby, each offering their own version of silent support. Mama, with her usual calm demeanour, sits crossed legged in the chair near the foot of my bed. Her posture is relaxed, but her sharp eyes betray her constant vigilance. She notices everything, always has, and I can feel her observing me like she's looking for something beneath the surface. Mom on the other hand, has stationed herself at my side, like aways. She's less fussy, thankfully, but still has to be close, like I'm going to disappear if she's not.
Sometimes, I find the silence unbearable compared to their constant and sometimes suffocating fussing over me. I feel on edge, like they're waiting for me to talk to them. I think back to what Yelena said about confronting them and doing it on my terms. But I want to do it in the right frame of mind, and at the moment, this infection is still kicking my ass.
Mama breaks the silence as her well trained eyes watch me for a while. "How are you feeling Y/n?" She asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me, as though she's trying to catch me out if I say the wrong thing. "A bit better." I respond with a slight nod, my words carefully measured. I don't want to give too much away. Not about how I'm feeling and especially not about the swirl of doubt that's been growing inside of me since the incident.
"Are you sure? You're sweating." She points out, sitting up. Mom goes to reach for my forehead, but quickly retreats her hand. She's been trying really hard not to be too much and I'm grateful for that. I should have known that she could see straight through me and notice the discomfort I'm in. "Just a little." I admit. "Is there anything we can do? Would you like some water? Or we could change the quilt for a blanket if that would help?" Mom suggests.
I think for a moment before giving in, knowing that I am burning up a little too quickly. "The blanket would be better if that's ok." I respond, earning a warm smile from mom as she stands and moves to grab the blanket as mama takes the quilt and folds it up. "Better?" Mom asks as the thin blanket now rests over my legs. "Yes. Thank you." I quietly respond.
"You're being strong, but you don't have to be." Mom says, her voice soft but persuasive. Her green eyes watching me too closely. "We're here for you." She states. Something I've heard more these last few days than I have in my whole like.
I offer a tight smile. "I appreciate that." I reply, but there's something hollow in my words, something they both notice. I see it in the flicker of mama's eyes, in the slight frown mom tries to hide. They want me to let them in, to trust them. But I can't. No right now.
The knock on the door interrupts the thick atmosphere. As we all look to the door, a smile grows on my face as Yelena pushes open the door, bursting in to the room with her usual energy. Her blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she strides in, a smirk on her lips. She's a welcome distraction from the unspoken suspicions swirling in my mind.
Behind her, there's someone new. A brunette with wide eyes and a slightly awkward smile follows in her wake, holding a small bouquet of flowers in her hands. It's clear she doesn't quite know what to do with them as she shifts nervously, standing next to Yelena like she's trying to figure out how to fit in. "This is Kate." Yelena says with a grin, motioning to the brunette with a flourish. "Oh, right. The annoying stray Clint picked up." I reply with a grin, my eyes flicking between Yelena and the new girl. I feel a small flutter of nerves in my chest, but I push it aside, trying to appear casual.
Kate gasps dramatically, placing her hand over her chest as if wounded. "Annoying stray? Really? Is that how Yelena described me?" She shoots Yelena a mocking glare, then turns to me with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Don't listen to her. I'm delightful, I promise." She smirks.
There is something instantly disarming about her. Her smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning back before I can stop myself. "I'll be the judge of that." I say, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Kate's laugh is light. "Well, I guess I better make a good impression then huh. I'm Kate. Nice to finally meet you."
As if she suddenly becomes aware of the other two people in the room, Kate suddenly becomes a lot more nervous as she steps forward, holding out the flowers a little awkwardly. "I, uh, thought some flowers might brighten up the place." She says her voice light but tinged with nervousness. "If you don't like them, I can... I don't know, take them back or something."
I can't help but smile at the sudden awkwardness, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. There's something captivating about her, a clumsy sincerity that feels genuine. Like she's not trying to be anything other than who she is. If's refreshing, in contrast to the more guarded and calculated vibes in the room.
"No, no. They're nice. I love them." I say, accepting the flowers with a smile. "Thank you." I say gratefully. Mom steps in to help, taking the flowers from Kate and placing them on the beside table. She flashes Kate a smile, but I can't help but notice the way her eyes flick between me and Kate, like she's sizing up the interaction. Her protective nature is sweet, but right now it feels like an intrusion, like she's watching too closely.
Yelena of course, can't let the moment go without making it awkward. "Oh great. The two of you are already making goo-goo eyes at each other." She says with a snort, dropping herself into a chair next to mama with a dramatic sigh. "I should have seen this coming." She says to her sister. "Goo-goo eyes?" I sputter, my cheeks burning. "Yelena, we literally just met." Kate for her part, looks just as flustered, running a hand through her hair as she laughs awkwardly. "Yeah wow, not even five minutes in and I'm already being roasted. Thanks Yelena." Yelena has a mischievous grin as she gives Kate a thumbs up. "Hey, I call it like I see it." She shrugs.
I glance at Kate again, and despite the teasing, there's something about her that puts me at ease. Something feels unguarded in a way that I haven't felt around my parents lately. She seems real, no hidden motives, no unreadable layers. Just Kate, awkward and charming in her own way.
Mama raises an eyebrow at Yelena's comment but stays quiet, observing as always. Mom though let's out a soft chuckle, her eyes softening for a moment as she looks between Kate and me. "I think it's sweet." She says, but there's an undercurrent to her words. A subtle probing as if she's gauging how close I'm willing to let this new person get.
I shift uncomfortably in my bed, trying to shake off the unease. "Kate seems nice." I say, trying to keep things light. "But you don't need to start planning a wedding already." I joke, earning a loud laugh from Kate.
Yelena leans back in her chair, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Well, you're already doing better than most people who meet Y/n. She doesn't usually warm up to strangers this fast."
"Yelena." I mutter, shooting her a look, but the playful banter is enough to make me feel a bit more like myself again. Even if the tension with my parents still lingers beneath the surface.
Mama exchanges a glance with mom, and I can feel the weight of their unspoken thoughts. They're both protective, maybe even a little suspicious of the new dynamic. I know they're trying to look out for me, but their watchful eyes feel too heavy right now and to be honest, they don't have the right to have any thoughts on this right now. They've barely been my parents for the last couple of years. They don't suddenly have a say in who I'm friends with.
"Well, at least you brought someone who isn't here to lecture me about being shot." I tease, giving Yelena a pointed look. Kate grins clearly relieved the conversation has shifted. "I'm just here for the heist planning." She smiles, her tone light. "Whatever Yelena has you roped into, I'm in." I join in the joke. Yelena perks up at that. "Oh, you have no idea what you've signed up for Bishop. This one here," she jerks her thumb at me, "has a history with getting into trouble."
Kate moves to take the seat next to me as both my parents decide to give us some space and grab some lunch. I'm grateful for them being able to read the room, but I notice the observant and narrow gaze of mama as she passes by Kate. I'm pretty sure I see Kate gulp a little which makes me laugh lightly.
"So," Kate asks, crossing her arms. "what's the plan for today? Ice cream, hospital jailbreak or maybe both?" She smiles, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter. "Oh, Yelena's already promised me ice cream, but she keeps postponing the jailbreak." I tease, glancing over at Yelena who's pretending not to listen.
Kate lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. "Typical. She makes all these grand promises, and then when it comes time to actually execute..." Kate starts teasingly before Yelena speaks up. "I'm literally right here." She complains, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "And for the record. I would have busted you out, but your mother threatened to remove all the mac and cheese from the building if I did." She admits with a child like huff.
"Still scared of mama huh?" I smirk, earning a harsh stare from my aunt. "No!" She defends loudly. "Well, maybe when it comes down to you." She admits quietly, making Kate and I laugh. "Well, well. I've finally discovered the one thing Yelena Belova is scared of." Kate torments Yelena. "Yeah, well don't forget that you're the one scared of me." Yelena points out giving her fiercest glare. Something that makes Kate shrink back into her seat. "Yep. You're right. Sorry." She apologises goofily, making me smile even wider.
There's a beat of silence, but it's not awkward. It's easy, comfortable, and I'm surprised at how quickly I've warmed up to Kate. She's sharp, funny and there's a confidence about her that makes me feel more at ease. I can tell she's someone who doesn't take life too seriously, but there's a genuine warmth underneath the sarcasm.
Yelena is watching us again, her arms crossed, and her eyebrow arched like she's trying to figure out how this is going to play out. "You know, I might actually enjoy watching this." She says, her voice laced with amusement. "You two are way too cute. It's like watching a rom-com in real time." She smirks
"Okay, enough of that." I say quickly, feeling my face begin to flush, this time not due to my infection! I glance to Kate who is grinning like she's in on some joke that I'm not, and I can't help but laugh. "Yelena, don't you have some Widow business to attend to?" I question hopefully. "Nope." She says cheerfully, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "I'm on babysitting duty today." She smiles proudly whilst I just roll my eyes. Maybe I do want my parents back right now!
Kate leans closer to me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Does she always talk like that, or is it just for us?" She questions. "Always." I whisper back, earning a glare from Yelena. "Alright, alright." Yelena says, pretending to be offended, but her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll give you two some space. Try not to flirt too much while I'm gone." She teases.
"And you," she stops in front of Kate, a stern look on her face. "If she so much as flinches you call the nurse. I will have your head if anything happens to her." She warns her lowly. Kate just nods, gulping at the threat. "P-promise." She stutters. "Good. Text me if you need anything. Now have fun being all awkward and flirty." She smirks as she saunters out of the room.
Suddenly, it's just the two of us, the room quieter but still filled with that easy, playful energy. I glance over at Kate, feeling a bit of awkwardness settle in. But it's the good kind that makes my heart race a little.
"So, what now?" I ask, trying to sound casual? Kate shrugs, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I don't know. I mean, we could plot that jailbreak. Or maybe..." She pauses, her eyes meeting mine. "We could just hang out and get to know each other a little better." She suggests.
There's a warmth in her gaze, something that makes my heart flutter, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of excitement. Not just for the ice cream or the jokes, but the possibility of something new. Something good. And maybe, just maybe, I'm ready for it.
Nat's POV:
My sharp eyes have always picked up on the subtle shift in a person's demeanour, the tiniest details that others overlook. Right now, I'm studying Kate Bishop. She's awkward sure. A little too wide-eyed and jittery, holding onto those flowers like she's afraid they might combust. There's a clumsy sincerity to her that I can't decide if I trust yet. Y/n though... Y/n is smiling. Laughing even, and I haven't seen that kind of lightness in her face in far too long. Still, I remain cautious.
I watch as Y/n teases Kate, the easy flow of their banter rolling off Y/n's tongue without the weight that usually accompanies her words. It's almost as if she's forgotten, if only for a few minutes, about the turmoil she's been going through. And while I want that for her, there's a part of me that can't let go of my protective instincts. That part that wants to dig deeper into who Kate Bishop really is, figure out if she's worthy of my daughter's trust.
Because Y/n doesn't let people in easily. Wanda and I have made that even harder for her now. To be able to trust is a difficult thing. I don't want to see her hurt more than she currently is. Not after everything that I've caused.
Wanda's voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she steps up beside me, her arms crossed but her expression soft, watching the interaction with a gentler gaze than I have. "She looks happy." Wanda murmurs. Her voice has that quiet thoughtful tone that always means she's been observing the situation for longer than I realised.
I nod, though I don't take my eyes off of Y/n. "She does." I admit reluctantly. Wanda notices this and quickly makes up an excuse of going to get some lunch and we quickly exit the room. Probably much to Y/n's delight!
"You don't like it?" Wanda asks, her lips twitching into a small smile. She can read me too easily, knows exactly what I'm feeling even when I try to keep it to myself. We hover in the corridor outside of Y/n's room as I sigh. "I didn't say that." I glance towards my wife, raising an eyebrow.
"No, but I know you." She chuckles softly, and it's a warm, comforting sound that cuts through the tension I've been holding in my chest. "Nat, you don't trust her yet." It's not a question, and I don't answer right away. Instead, I look back through the window into Y/n's room. My eyes falling to the pair of them. Y/n has leaned a little closer to Kate, her laughter soft, her smile genuine. Kate's making some grand gesture with her hands, her enthusiasm endearing in its awkwardness. Okay, I think. Maybe she's not so bad.
But still. "I just don't know her." I say finally, my voice low. Wanda hums in understanding, her gaze never leaving Y/n. "But look at her, Nat. She's the happiest we've seen her in a long while." She points out. I know she's right. Y/n hasn't had this kind of lightness in her eyes since the incident. Even in the days leading up to it, she was closed off, burdened by the trauma we had caused her. I couldn't do anything to help her, I couldn't fix what I had broken. And now here comes this Kate Bishop, breezing in like a ray of sunshine, making Y/n smile like it's the easiest thing in the world.
I sigh, crossing my arms tighter over my chest. "Maybe." I admit after a pause, my voice quieter now, more reflective. "Maybe Kate is what Y/n needs right now." Wanda turns her head to look at me fully, a surprised look on her face, but she soon gives me a soft knowing smile. "That's not easy for you to say."
"No, it's not." I say honestly. "But I can't ignore how she's acting. It's good to see her like this." I glance to Yelena who's still grinning like a proud instigator of all this chaos. Y/n has her laughing too, which is aways a good sign. "And Kate, she's not what I expected." I share.
There's an awkward clumsiness about the girl sure. But underneath that, there's a kindness in her eyes, something genuine that makes me reconsider my initial assessment. She's not just some reckless kid, despite the reputation. She cares and that means something.
Wanda places a gentle hand on my arm, squeezing lightly. "It's ok to let your guard down a little." I chuckle under my breath at her words. "I don't think I'm wired that way, Wanda." I reply. "I know." She laughs softly. "But maybe you can try. Kate isn't here to hurt Y/n. She's just, being a friend. Maybe that's exactly what Y/n needs right now." I nod, though my instincts still bristle at the idea of lowering my walls completely. "You're right. But I'm not going to stop being protective. Not after we failed her so badly." My gaze hardens just a fraction. "I can't."
Wanda's expression softens further, understanding in her eyes. "No one's asking you to stop protecting her Nat. Just, give this a chance. What ever it might be." She pleads. I look at Y/n again. She's relaxed in a way I haven't seen her in months. The tightness in her shoulders is gone, replaced by something lighter, freer. And I realise that I'm not the only one trying to protect her. Maybe, in her own way, Kate is too.
"I'll give it a chance." I mutter quietly. "But I'll be watching." Wanda smiles knowingly. "I wouldn't expect anything less." She says as both our gazes fall to our daughter. Just then, Kate says something that makes Y/n burst out laughing, the sound so full of life that it catches me off guard. My heart clenches that it's taken this long. That Wanda and I created an environment where she felt like she no longer belonged in this family.
I know it's going to take time for her to even consider forgiving us. But I know that it's important that she has other people around her that she can talk to and have fun with. If it's just Wanda and me she'll become completely closed off. Maybe being around Kate is exactly what she needs. It doesn't mean I'll let my guard down completely. Not yet. I will always protect her. That's what mother's do. Even if I haven't proven my right to that title in a long time.
_________
As Wanda and I step back into our home, the familiar chaos of our boys welcomes us like a warm embrace. The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, mixing with the sharp, clean smell of wood polish from our recent cleaning efforts. I can hear the muffled sounds of laughter and playful shouting emanating from the living room, and it brings a smile to my face despite the heaviness still clinging to my heart.
Tommy and Billy have been asking about their sister non-stop over the last few days, and every time, I see the worry deepen in their little faces. They've felt the weight of Y/n's absences as much as we have, maybe more.
"Hey, you two!" I call out, my voice breaking through the din. Almost immediately, Tommy and Billy come barrelling into the hallway, their faces lighting up like it's Christmas morning. They launch themselves at us, wrapping their arms around my waist and Wanda's legs in a tangle of limbs and giggles. It's a comforting noise, one that momentarily pulls me away from the weight of the world outside these walls.
"Mom! Mom! How's Y/n? Is she okay?" Tommy's voice rises with excitement, his wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and anxiety. I exchange a glance with Wanda, who stands beside me, her own expression tinged with a protective softness. It's a moment like this that reminds me just how much the boys adore their sister.
"She's still unwell, sweetheart," I say gently, kneeling down to meet Tommy's gaze at eye level. "But she's doing better than she was. She'll be home soon." I try to sound optimistic, but the knot in my stomach betrays me. I know how much they want to see Y/n, and how hard it's been for them to understand why she isn't here with us.
"Soon? Like tomorrow?" Billy asks, bouncing on his toes, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. There's a slight hopefulness in his voice, and it makes my heart ache, knowing they're so eager for good news. Wanda steps in beside me, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder, her touch gentle and reassuring. "She's going to need a few more days in the hospital, honey. She's got to rest and get better first." I watch the way Wanda's eyes soften when she speaks to the boys, how she has an innate ability to make even the hardest truths sound a little lighter.
"But her birthday is coming up!" Tommy exclaims suddenly, his expression shifting from concern to realization. "We have to make it special for her! Can we plan a perfect birthday for her in her hospital room?" His enthusiasm is infectious, and a flicker of warmth spreads in my chest at his determination. Billy nods vigorously, his face lighting up with ideas. "Yeah! We can decorate it and bring her cake! She'll love that!" The energy in the room shifts, and I can see both boys imagining the decorations they might hang, the cake they might bake, and the joy they hope to bring their sister.
"That's a great idea," I agree, feeling a swell of pride as I watch them brainstorm. "But we need to wait until she's feeling a bit better, okay? We don't want to overwhelm her." Tommy frowns slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. "When can we see her?" His voice is earnest, full of longing. I can hear the worry tucked beneath his words, and it tugs at my heart. "Yeah, we want to see Y/n!" Billy adds, his expression mirroring his brother's eagerness.
Wanda glances at me, and I can feel the weight of our responsibilities bearing down. "We'll take you to see her in the morning," I promise, seeing their faces light up with hope. "But remember, she might be tired and need to rest, so we have to be gentle with her."
"Yay!" Tommy cheers, his voice ringing through the hallway, and Billy joins in, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. Their joy is palpable, a reminder of the happiness that can still exist even amidst uncertainty and pain.
Just then, Steve steps out from the kitchen, having been quietly observing the boys from a distance. His presence brings a calmness to the chaos, and I find comfort in knowing he's here. "Hey, how are you two doing?" he asks, his eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene of our little family reunion.
"Mama and mom just told us that Y/n is coming home soon!" Tommy exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement, his hands flailing as he gestures animatedly.
"Yeah, and we're planning the best birthday for her ever!" Billy adds, his voice bubbling over with enthusiasm, his cheeks flushed with energy.
"Sounds like you're all set for a celebration," Steve says with a smile, nodding approvingly. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms as he watches the boys with fondness. "I'll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything." He shoots us a knowing look, one that acknowledges the weight of what we're dealing with, before stepping back into the kitchen.
As Wanda and I stand there, our boys filled with excitable plans, I can't help but feel a mix of gratitude and dread. Gratitude for the moments of joy, the laughter that fills our home, and the love that binds us together. Sadness that our family isn't complete and dread for the challenges still ahead. We're still on shaky ground, still trying to piece together the remnants of our family after everything that's happened.
But for now, I push those worries aside. I take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of our home, and look around at the smiling faces of my children. "Okay, let's start planning for this birthday celebration!" I suggest, my heart lifting at the idea of planning something special for Y/n.
"We need balloons. And streamers!" Tommy states excitedly, his eyes bright with ideas. "And cake!" Billy insists, his mouth already watering at the thought. "What kind should we get her?"
As we brainstorm, I can't help but smile. We'll take this one step at a time. Tomorrow, we'll bring the boys to see Y/n, and hopefully, we'll be one step closer to bringing her home where she belongs. Hopefully, she'll see that we plan to be the best parents to her and in time she'll forgive us. I feel a flicker of hope, ignited by the boys' excitement and determination to make their sister smile, to show her that she is loved and missed.
"Let's get started," I say, my voice full of warmth as I gather them into a huddle, my heart swelling with pride. Together, we can do this. Together, we can find a way to help Y/n heal, and maybe even begin to mend the cracks that have formed in our family.
Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist @oh-thats-cute @bstvst @waiqui @fxckmiup @kosmichs1 @theprincipality
#marvel fanfiction#marvel#natasha romanoff#avengers fanfiction#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff x daughter#avengers#romanoff#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff x reader#wandanat#wandanat x reader
206 notes
·
View notes
Note
#12 please🫶🫶
12, coming right up! tagging also @tsunderelover07, thank you sm for playing <3
(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)
12. "I COULD USE A HUG RIGHT NOW." (1.6k)
you’re startled to attention when your phone pings from where you unknowingly dropped it beside you on the couch.
apparently, it has slid by the edge of your butt in the few minutes of you staring blankly at the off-white wall, and the brief vibration right to your ass is enough to snap you back to reality.
your now sucky-ass reality.
picking it up, your frown deepens even more when you see the text.
(7:04 PM) bestie #1 (mina)💞: i’m so sorry i can’t be there with you rn!!!! i got called in last minute to cover for momo. i really am sorry :(((
you know it’s not mina’s fault, but your heart drops in disappointment nevertheless. not wanting to make her feel bad, however, you quickly type in a reply.
(7:05 PM) you: no worries, mina. i understand :) stay safe out there!
sighing, you’re about to place your phone on the small coffee table in front of you when your phone chimes again.
(7:05 PM) bestie #1 (mina)💞: i’ll make it up to you, promise!! can i send someone there to accompany you in my stead??
you feel your eyebrows furrow in confusion. you vaguely remember kaminari and sero talking about their patrol schedules shifting, and how they complained that they now have to cover friday nights.
kirishima’s currently overseas on a classified mission, although you guess it’s not as classified now, seeing as how he told you and the rest of the squad about being drafted in it.
which only leaves…
you shake your head. it can’t be.
mina knows you better than that—knows that out of the friend group, bakugou’s the one you’re the least close to, and you’re even convinced that the man hates you. you’re not entirely sure, but you’re starting to think he’s purposefully avoiding you—always choosing the farthest seat from you, and never attending hangouts when it was just the two of you and one other person.
he may be making it a point not to smile or laugh around you, too. which hurts, because of the unfortunate realization that mina arrived at a few weeks ago before you can even say hold up.
the realization that you may or may not have a stupidly embarrassing crush on bakugou katsuki.
so… scratching him out, who else could it be?
you’re in the middle of unlocking your phone to ask who she’s sending (because knowing her, she may be asking for permission now, but she for sure has already sent someone), when, as if on cue, a barrage of heavy knocks echo from your doorway.
you freeze.
that can’t be a mutual gal friend of mina and yours. not with the aggressive-ass knocking.
your butt remains stuck on the seat for a few seconds of silence, at least until the rapping comes back on and again, and you stumble your way towards your apartment unit’s front door.
it’s moments like this that make you wish you have a fucking peephole, but oh, well.
patting down your hair in a last-minute, desperate attempt to look presentable, you finally reach for the knob and open the door.
only to be met face-to-face with bakugou ‘it can’t be’ katsuki.
you literally feel your soul leave your body as you lock eyes with the man, who, from the get-go, is already frowning at you.
his eyes rove over your face. “don’t you look like shit?”
you can’t help but return his scowl to him even if you tried. “well, hello to you, too.”
the quip doesn’t seem to bother him, though, who only continues to study you. when they get to your eyes, however, his frown intensifies. “have you been crying?”
shit.
you forgot to check your reflection before you answered the door, but you bet there’s no lying out of this one, what with you crying non-stop ever since you got home—the second you closed the door behind you.
“yeah, well…” you start, rubbing your nape awkwardly. “i’m not sure if mina told you, but i got—”
“laid off,” he finishes for you, nodding. “i know.”
hearing it from another person’s mouth, let alone bakugou’s, sends a pang of pain straight to your chest all over again, and you have to fight the tears that are threatening to well up around the corners of your eyes.
“well,” he speaks up after a beat of silence, “are ya gonna let me in or not?”
you roll your eyes, although it’s more playful than anything, and bakugou catches you, to which he just scoffs. he enters as you hold the slab of wood open for him, closing it promptly as he crosses the distance to the kitchen in just a few strides, already familiar with the floorplan from the countless hangouts you’ve hosted for the squad.
and as he opens the freezer, you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when, as if reading your mind, he holds up two pints of what looks like ice cream for you to see. “brought your favorite.”
you beam at him. “aww, that’s so sweet of mina! thank you.”
at that, his face contorts in a look of offense as if you just unceremoniously pinched his armpit.
you frown. “what?”
he only shakes his head, although that pained expression remains on his face. “‘s nothing. sure, thank mina.”
“…okay? i just did, but okay.”
he tosses you a glare, which you just try to shake off. you’re sure comforting someone isn’t exactly part of bakugou’s repertoire, so you conclude it’s better to cut the guy some slack.
“you’ve eaten dinner?” he asks as he rummages through the rest of your refrigerator, most likely judging you for the lack of ingredients and fresh produce.
“yeah,” you respond. he doesn’t have to know that dinner was a cup of instant noodles you pathetically scarfed down in the convenience store on the way home. you figured you could treat yourself to a grand pity meal for getting laid off, but thought better against it. if anything, you needed to save money, at least until you get hired by another hero agency.
straightening up, he eyes you suspiciously as if sensing you’re hiding something. “you sure?”
you nod decisively, which you can only do because you’re technically not lying.
bakugou stares you down for a couple more seconds before nodding curtly himself, now looking absolutely stiff in the middle of your kitchen.
and as you observe the man, it hits you that you may have just robbed him of the only thing he knows when it comes to consoling a grieving person.
by cooking for them.
you’re not exactly hungry, but you can’t help but feel bad for the pro-hero as he stands there seemingly deep in thought, probably trying to figure out what to do with himself now.
you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you’re about to say.
“but you can cook—” you start.
“come work for us.”
“what?” you ask, the same time he goes: “huh?”
he’s the first one to regain his bearings. “thought you had dinner already? changed your mind, huh, dumbass?”
you ignore his snide pet name. “what do you mean come work for you?”
at that, bakugou shifts on his feet, shrugging. “you know what i mean. come work at ground riot. we have a vacancy that fits you.”
you gape at him. “you’re kidding me?”
to that, bakugou tosses you a deadpan look. “does it look like i’m kidding?”
you don’t have the heart to tell him he’s looking constipated, like he always does, so you keep your mouth shut. instead, you only stand there a few feet away from him, twitching as you desperately tamp down the visceral urge to kiss the man in glee.
he must be getting weirded out, because he only looks at you with an eyebrow raised. “the fuck is going on with you?”
“i—” you begin, clenching your fists.
here goes nothing.
“—just—i could use a hug right now, bakugou.”
“a what?”
you try to ignore the incredulous expression on his face, let alone the scarlet that’s starting to creep up his neck. “as a thank you. for the offer. and you came all the way here to comfort me, right? i could really use a hug.”
it takes him a beat to reply, mouth opening and closing and then opening again, until he settles with: “that’s pushing it, dumbass.”
despite yourself, you deflate at his rejection. you got too carried away by his generous offer and the fact that he’s here—that he went out of his way to accompany you and even bring you your favorite ice cream—that you ended up crossing a line you’ve never dared to cross until now.
you try to deny it, but it stings.
still, you muster as much of a good-natured smile as you can, adding a light-hearted chuckle to boot. “i was just joking…” you mutter under your breath.
at that, you turn your back against him, face flaming in embarrassment as you start to head toward the living room to fetch your phone when you hear him heave a deep sigh behind you.
and before you can even comprehend what’s going on, you feel something tug at your wrist, spinning you on your heel until you collide with a firm chest that can only belong to one person.
your eyes are wide as saucers when you feel his arms gently wrap around your back, pressing you further against him.
“happy?” he grunts, voice low and reverberating against you.
it takes you a second, but you can only nod from where you’re plastered right onto him, his cologne completely flooding your senses, sending your heart into a total frenzy.
so much so that you almost miss the way his is hammering like crazy, too.
#giggling n kicking my feet#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou imagines#mha imagines#mha scenarios#bnha imagines#bnha scenarios#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou imagine#bakugou drabble#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#bkg#2k milestone drabble
157 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Hate You, I Love You- part 4
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.
Summary: Christmas Eve with your family leads you to have a certain revelation.
WC: ~2.5k
You and your ‘girlfriend’ make it down the steps with your fingers interlaced, and you seriously hate the way that it makes you feel things that you know you shouldn’t be feeling for Melissa. You hate her- or you’re supposed to. No, you do. You have to. You always have, and you always will.
Still, you walk down the steps with a practiced ease. Nobody is here yet though, so you take a spot on the couch with your dad while Melissa opts to kiss your cheek and let you know that she’s going to see if there’s any last minute jobs in the kitchen. Your eyes once again linger on the red haired woman’s hips as she makes her way into the kitchen.
Your father coughs awkwardly to gain your attention.
“Hm?”
“Kid, you really have it bad for her, don’t you?” your dad chuckles.
You shrug. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do,” he leans over and wraps an arm around you. You can’t but lean into his embrace. “I haven’t seen anyone look at you like that, and I haven’t seen you look at anyone the way you do Melissa since…”
“Since Todd,” you whisper. Your dad nods silently. You look to him with vulnerable eyes. “She’s… she’s something alright.”
“In the best ways, yes?” your father prompts quietly.
You just nod, and then your ‘girlfriend’ is making her way into the room, yet another glass of wine in hand for you. She settles in next to you on the couch, drapes an arm around you, and rests her head on your shoulder.
“Mom didn’t have anything for you to do in there?” you ask her quietly as you kiss red hair.
“Her and Jo are flying around like chickens with their heads cut off in there. I figured I would be more of a hindrance than a help,” Melissa chuckles softly.
It’s a bit later that your family comes in, and you’re forced to introduce Melissa as your girlfriend to everyone there. She smiles and shakes hands, works her charm, and you can tell that your family is loving having the redhead there. You’re given quite a few impressive hums and thumbs ups as your family makes their way in. The redhead stays close to you as your family members come in. Her hand is always on some part of your body, whether that be on your back, your shoulder, or your hands are entwined. You don’t hate it.
Light conversation is made, just pleasantries and catching up on life at first as everyone makes their way in. You don’t engage much, trying to keep Melissa in the loop with who is who.
But then you settle in for dinner, Melissa on your right, and most eyes turn to you.
“What?” you ask with a raised brow. “Is there something you all know that I don’t?”
Your Uncle Ron laughs. “Kid, I think it’s that you know something the rest of us don’t.” When you give him a blank stare in return, he gestures to Melissa.
“I already introduced you all to her,” you roll your eyes. “This is Melissa, my girlfriend.”
“And?” you Aunt Betty prompts. “How did you meet? When did you realize you two had a thing for each other? How long have the two of you been dating? You know, other stuff like that?”
“Am I being interrogated?” you question with a brow raised, the other furrowed. When your family just continues to look at you with bated breath, you huff out, “You guys are ridiculous.”
Melissa playfully rolls her eyes and sets a gentle hand on your knee. “C’mon, babe. If you won’t tell ‘em, I will.”
Both of your eyebrows creep up your forehead, and you gesture for her to continue. “Be my guest, hun.”
So Melissa takes a breath and begins. “I started workin’ at Abbott a while ago… longer ago than I really care t’admit. An’ I really only had a couple of friends at work. Nobody really seemed worthy of getting to know. Until… Y/N. I usually hate newbies, and I wasn’t willing to make an exception for my new grade level partner, but there was something about her. Something in the way that she stood up for what she thought was right, the way she speaks to the children and holds them to the highest expectations while still providing them with unconditional love and care. Somehow, Y/N wormed her way into my heart- as a professional. And then slowly, as she started to let more of herself shine through, I found myself entranced with her.” Green eyes are trained on you, and you can see the amount of love she has for you- fake love. “I found myself slowly fallin’ for her.”
She presses a soft kiss to your cheek, and you have to cough awkwardly to let out the gasp that your body wants to release. She said those words in such a convincing way that you almost believe her. Unbeknownst to you, her words are genuine.
“And when did the two of you finally get your heads out of your asses and start dating?” your father asks.
“It took a while, but I broke down her walls, walls I would usually have up myself. But we’ve been dating since almost the beginning of this school year when I finally just made a move, and I haven’t been happier,” Melissa tells your family as she continues to look at you in a lovesick way. “I ain’t lettin’ her go any time soon.”
The blush in your cheeks is clear now. You smile and press a quick kiss to her lips before sighing. “Enough about us though.” And then you turn your attention to your cousin and her new job.
Melissa insists on helping clean up dinner and bring out desserts. Of course she does, because she’s the perfect fake girlfriend. Maybe she isn’t though, because that means that you’re obligated to help. You don’t do much- you never do much to help clean up after a day of cooking. So instead, you keep your arms around your ‘girlfriend’s’ waist and rest your chin on her back. Every so often, you’ll kiss her shoulder blade or detach yourself briefly to take a sip of the sangria she had poured for you.
Before you can even think about going to the dessert table for the two of you, the redhead has taken it upon herself to make you up a plate, and she takes some for herself. She knows that you prefer to have tea with your dessert as opposed to coffee that is normally offered. Melissa saunters over to the teapot and fills it with hot water for you. In no time flat do you have your favorite desserts and a warm mug of chai tea to warm your already soothed soul.
But then everything is cleaned, desserts are handed out to the rest of your family, and you’re settling on the couch again. Melissa sits first, and then she practically tugs you into her lap. It’s warm, it’s cozy. You can’t deny that your bodies fit together well.
She seamlessly places herself into your family, and you hate it. You hate the fact that she knows just what to say and do to win over your family. You hate that she’s warm and loving, and she’s being the exact opposite of the woman you know. You sit quietly with her as she jokes with your cousins, completely lost in thought. There was something about the way that your father told you that you had it bad for the redhead next to you and the looks that she was giving you at dinner. Your whole body tenses as you realize: you just might be falling for this side of Melissa.
“Hun?” the redhead furrows her brow and turns to you, concerned. “You okay?”
Of course she would notice the rigidness in your body. You blink a few times before putting on that practiced easy smile of yours. “Yeah, just got a chill.”
“I can fix that.” Your colleague shifts you off of her slightly before standing and fetching a blanket from the bin. She settles back into the cushions before draping the throw over the two of you. For good measure, she pulls you in close, wrapping her arms around you, and kisses your head. “Can’t have my girl cold, now can I?”
Your favorite cousin just glances at you with a smirk, and then she looks at Melissa and makes a whip noise. Your ‘girlfriend’ scoffs, but she presses another kiss to your head as you rest it on her shoulder.
It’s a long while before you finally decide that you need some sleep. Christmas morning may be a lazy morning in your house, but it’s always an early morning.
With a soft sigh, you turn to the redhead next to you. “You about ready to head up?”
“Yeah, if you are,” she mumbles into your hair.
The two of you climb the steps, and you’re oddly quiet as you prepare for bed. Once all of your makeup is washed away and you’re changed, Melissa is already in bed with her glasses on the tip of her nose and scrolling through her phone.
You crawl under the covers and sigh deeply.
“Penny for your thoughts?” your colleague asks you softly.
You hum. You can’t tell her that your mind is whirling with thoughts of how you may actually be falling for this side of her- not the real Melissa, but this fake Melissa that she’s come up with for this elaborate lie of yours. “Just tired. Today was a lot.”
“Yeah,” the redhead chuckles. “But your family is real nice, and I think they believe we’re together.”
You just nod and turn on your side facing away from her. “Night.”
“Goodnight,” Melissa tells you. You don’t see the way that she looks at you longingly. You don’t see the way that her eyes go soft as she glances at you laying in bed next to her, how her green orbs clearly convey that she wants to wrap her arms around you and hold you tight the way that she has been all night. No, your back is turned to her as your mind goes a mile a minute thinking about what you think you may be feeling.
You feel the redhead shift to lay down in the bed a few minutes later, and the glow of her phone disappears as she sets it on the nightstand. A couple seconds later you hear her glasses being folded and deposited next to her phone.
Melissa lays down in the bed on her side, but she’s facing you. It’s not her fault, that’s just how she’s always slept- on her right side. And it’s not like you know she’s facing you. It takes everything in her to not cozy up behind you and pull you against her. Instead, she closes her eyes and hopes that she doesn’t snore tonight.
When you’re certain the redhead beside you is asleep, breathing evenly, you turn as gently as you can in the bed to face her. She’s… she’s beautiful. She looks so at peace. There’s a lot of things you can say about Melissa Schemmenti, but unattractive is not one of those things. In this moment, you can allow yourself to daydream about what a life with this version of Melissa might be like- she’s treated you like a princess since getting to your parents’ house, a far cry from how she acts around you at Abbott.
As you drift off to sleep, the cliched sugar plum fairies don’t dance around in your head. No, instead you dream of what you think might be an ordinary day with Melissa in your life as your partner, and not just your fake one.
The two of you share a wonderful, homemade breakfast together in her house, she drives you to work, kisses are stolen in the break room and in the classroom. And while she still has the edge to her that Miss Schemmenti has, there’s still that sparkle of the warmth that she’s shown you she has outside of work. You find that when she makes a snarky comment in your dream, you don’t hate it. You don’t even dislike it. You can hear yourself chuckling in your dream. That image blurs into another, and you’re just laying on the couch. A shimmer catches your eye as you lay on her, hand resting on her collarbone. There’s a sparkling ring set on your finger. When you look down, there’s a matching one on her own left hand. You hear a baby crying from just up the way, and you sigh.
Melissa just buries a kiss in your hair. “I got it if she doesn’t settle in the next five minutes.” When the crying doesn’t stop, your… is she your wife now in this dream? Your wife shimmies you off of her and heads up the steps. A few moments later, she returns with a little girl in her arms, one that is a spitting image of you.
“Oh honey,” you instinctively reach for the two year old, at least that’s where you would estimate she is in age.
“Baby girl just wanted Momma,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “Never Ma, always Momma, ain’t that right, Sara?”
The little girl just gives a toothy grin as she lays her head on your shoulders.
You sit upright in the bed as your dream jolts you awake. Your heart is racing. Why were you married to Melissa? Why did you have a child together? What the fuck? The redhead beside you doesn’t so much as stir, still fast asleep. The breath is taken from your lungs as you realize: you’re actually falling for Melissa Schemmenti.
When you wake up for the second time that day, you once again wake with a jolt. Your arms are wound around Melissa’s waist, your face is buried in her chest, your limbs are intertwined with hers. Her arm is slung over your own body.
The woman next to you just groans and pulls you closer. You can’t deny that she’s warm. You can’t deny that you don’t hate waking up like this. It’s comfortable, and you don’t wake up freezing your ass off for once.
“Lis,” you mumble.
“Shut up, and go back to sleep,” she grumbles. She buries a kiss in your hair. Okay, you know she’s still half asleep. She wouldn’t do that if she was fully awake and it was just the two of you. And while her telling you to shut up would normally infuriate you to no end, you don’t seem to mind this time. You settle back into her hold with a soft sigh and allow your eyes to flutter shut again. Christmas morning and presents can wait if it means you'll get some extra time in the warmth of your colleague.
TAGS (and let me know if you want to be added): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @therightdimple
#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary fanfic#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti fanfiction
146 notes
·
View notes
Text
Babygirl. We have come so far.
Today, your thoughts turned around to the past. They shook hands with the way we used to treat ourselves. It started off on a note I'd never expect it to start off of, though; look at that picture of me, the one in the natural pool in Madeira. The first time I looked at it, I was truly surprised and shooketh. "Damn, I look thin", as to which niklas said that that's how I always look, I am, in fact, thin. I didn't count, but I think I asked him at least 3 times. "Do I truly look like this?" He did say that the angle might be making me look extra thin, but yes. Suddenly, it all clicked. How to him, I can seem so fragile. So fragile that he'd always let me walk first on hikes to make sure the pace is okay, always carrying the backpack himself. The way he is scared of hurting me, like, physically. The picture looks like a tiny, thin, and fragile girl. Yeah tbh, she also doesn't look particularly strong. You can see her collarbones. Her ribs. Her shoulders. Tbh, she also looks a bit like a petshop. I do think the gopro did something with the angle there, u can't tell me my head is out of proportion to my tiny body, lol. My point is. Today, I was doubting whether or not I should eat those cookies. After thinking if it'd make me thick, I remembered. I am v thin, more weight wouldn't be so bad.
I never expected to truly feel skinny. Or well, 'too skinny', at least. To think I could gain some weight; it wouldn't be a problem. That is very new to me. After 25 years. Some of those years being spend hating my body and my belly and feeling overweight, even if my teacher even told me that being underweight is dangerous, her eyes seemingly insinuating the obvious.
Yet here I am. This one picture. And tbh, the other pics or videos of this vacation, don't have the same vibe. So I do think it's the angle. And maybe a bit of a fishbowl effect. Either way. It got me thinking. And suddenly I was thinking of it again: boobs. I am also reading 'the 7 husband's of Evelyn Hugo', who seduced men with her big boobs. Somehow, booby enlargement came to my mind again. Why? It's been so long. I have learned to love my boobs, yet this blast of the past came into my head. Actually,.. it is just a thought. It is actually nice. A reminder of where we came from.
How I hated my body in the past. And here I am. Loving every single part of it. Frankly, I love my boobs the way they are. Sure, they might not be super big, but I don't need to hold them when I run or sprint down the stairs. Sure, they are soft in the middle instead of pointy, but I think it's fascinating how certain temperatures, moods and touches can change that. Sure, they don't touch, but at least it also won't create a hot brew in there or trap my clothes inbetween or underneath my boobs. Honestly, they are truly perfect. (Even the little pimple on there right now. Even though I am a bit scared; is it truly a pimple? It should be, it behaves like one for sure.) I can cup one into my hand; it is a perfect fit. As if they were made to be held so gently and smoothly. So filled with love. So, ... true. My hand can touch all of its beautiful creases. They don't overflow my hands, nor do I need to search to find them. Sure, some might have bigger boobs, but not everyone likes that. Some people get attention just because of it. I am truly happy to be able to say that a lot of people just like me for my personality. The looks are for sure also there, but at least my boobs don't get eye-fucked or objectified. I am myself. Perfect the way I am. And I am grateful to be this exact way. I think my boobs are adorable, they are cute, and truly. Truly beautiful. Thanks boobs, for being w me always. And I'm sorry that I didn't see the beauty of you guys for a part of my life. I am happy that I do now, since a while. Love u, boobies. Lol.
Anyhow. I wish to send myself love letters. See this is a loveletter to one of the bodyparts which I was insecure about in the past. Let me show them some true love, which is exactly what they deserve.
22K notes
·
View notes
Text
thoughts about obx4
⚠️ obx4 spoiler alert!!!!!⚠️
hi guys! this is just my personal opinion, don’t hate me pls 😭, english is not my first language btw so if anything is wrong, i’m sorry
first of all, what the fuck they’re thinking??? killing jj? this is so unserious, i mean, he was probably everyone favorites character, he passed his WHOLE LIFE suffering and that was his end? i can’t believed that, it’s a terrible ended for the character that i’m preferred think that this is a joke for the next season.
and then, that ridiculous plot of jj not being luke’s son, he passed the last 20 years getting abused by a guy who even wasn’t he’s real father, this is so inhuman, so fucked up, and after we find out that he’s a genrett, he gets an worse father, who’s worse than luke, a father who abandoned him, and knew it that he was alive and didn’t even care about it, come on pate’s brothers you all are better than this, or maybe not.
now, sarah is pregnant and i really think is cute, BUT have you all seen the life that they all live??? how they will be able to raise a child in the middle of all this? i don’t understand why making her getting pregnant now? they really can’t wait the final season to do that?
thank god that sarah and rafe are finally making peace, that’s what i’m talking about guys! one of the only good thing that i can found in obx4 was them getting their brother and sister relationship again, i’m so happy about this, when they hug we realize that after all happened what rafe really need was his sister love, he almost crying and she forgive him OMG that kill me, i almost cry with him too, because all he need right now is a family love, after all ward did to him, he just needs their sisters, sarah and wheezie, love, and i will never get tired of saying this! he doesn’t need a relationship now, HE NEEDS FAMILY LOVE BECAUSE WARD WAS A TERRIBLE FATHER FIGURE FOR HIM, SARAH AND WHEEZIE!
and my last thought about season four is about rafe and sofia relationship… i’m really sorry guys, i think that they’re very cute, fiona and drew have an amazing chemistry between them and fiona is an AMAZING actress, but i just felt that this relationship wasn’t a real needed right now? come on, on season 2 rafe as an coke addicted, an abuse brother, and did so bad stuff with the pogues and his own sister, that the real thing that he needed was a therapist, help and a redemption arc with his sisters, sarah and wheezie, because i can’t see a better option of making rafe more human that do this and i just feel that his relationship with sofia is so undeveloped, she’s just appear from nowhere in obx3 and was put in the middle of this, just to make rafe more human? and don’t get me wrong, i love them, i don’t them to break up or something, i just don’t like what they’re doing with them, if they have a development relationship maybe i liked them more? but i just can’t had along with them, when we have a jiara development, and jarah development and a cleopope development, because i know that the pate’s brother can do it better with rafe and sofia, they just don’t know what to do with rafe’s character anymore and then they start making mess like this.
#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron#rafe obx#obx fanfiction#obx fic#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank x reader#obx pogues#obx season 4#obx4#obx cast#kiara carrera#jj x kiara#jarah#sarah cameron#pope heyward#pope#obx kooks#rafe cameron angst#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fluff#jj maybank#jj mayback x reader#obx spoilers
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
late night with the devil - eddie munson
Eddie Munson x female! reader
Masterlist
Eddie Munson Masterlist
Summary:
Hawkins may think your boyfriend and his friends are devil worshippers, but he’s still just your Eddie.
Warnings:
Smut (18+), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, weed use
Word Count: 3,653
A/N:
So so so excited to post my first Eddie fic! I hope you enjoy!
—
The people of Hawkins were convinced there were devil worshippers among you. Satanic Panic was in full swing, and the targets were right on your friends’ backs.
They had always been seen as Freaks, but the group of metalheads and their love for D&D were under real public scrutiny now. You knew your friends were good people, but now you were being warned to stay away from them by teachers, your parents forbidding you from ever seeing them again.
That’s how you found yourself crawling out of your bedroom window at 11:30pm, your parents long asleep. The wood of the window sill scratched against your arms painfully as you lowered yourself to the ground. You hissed when you landed on your feet, checking for any splinters. You brushed the dirt off your jeans.
Dry fallen leaves crunched under your feet as you walked through your yard. Reaching the front of the house, you grabbed your bike from against the garage. You hadn’t rode it much in the past couple years. Typically Eddie would pick you up in his van, or there was usually at least one person with a car in whatever friend group you hung out with. Obviously that wasn’t happening tonight.
You pedaled to Forest Hills, your anger at your parents only growing as you went. Anger at them for falling for this sensationalist crap, anger at them for turning on Eddie and your other friends when they knew they weren’t bad people. They may never have been Eddie’s biggest fans - they didn’t love that he was on his third senior year and had heard rumors about the small business he ran - but they didn’t have a real problem with him. But now they have let the news and gossip convince them that your boyfriend and your friends were evil.
You were still angry when you rolled past the park’s sign, but it faded as you made the remaining short distance to Eddie’s trailer. You spotted your boyfriend’s lanky legs in his ripped jeans immediately, sitting on the front steps. You climbed off your bike and leaned it against the side of the trailer as Eddie stood, a cigarette in his hand. You walked over to him, rushing into his arms when holds them open for you. You wrap your arms around his waist and he wraps his around your body, holding you close.
“I’m glad you got here okay,” Eddie said, and you could feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. “I hate that I can’t just come get you.”
“I know. Me too.” You looked up at him and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled at him.
“Let me finish this and we can go inside.”
You and Eddie sat next to each other on the steps. He talked to you about his plans for his next D&D campaign as he smoked, you hanging on to every word. Eddie was so creative, and his campaigns were always so detailed. It felt like being told the world’s most interesting story.
When he finished his cigarette, Eddie tossed it aside and stood to his full height, holding out his hand for you. You took it with a smile and he pulled you to your feet with enough effort that you stumbled into his chest once you were up. Eddie laughed, putting his hands on your hips to steady you.
He ushered you into the trailer ahead of him. You had spent a lot of nights here since you and Eddie started hanging out, you always had it to yourselves since his uncle Wayne worked nights. It felt like having your own place together, sometimes.
You made yourself comfortable as usual, pulling a soda from the fridge. You giggled as you felt Eddie’s arms snaking around your waist from behind, curls tickling your face as he buried his face in your neck, placing soft kisses.
You hummed with a smile on your face as you popped open the can of soda and Eddie rocked you back and forth in his arms. “I’m glad you’re here,” he mumbled against your skin. His leather jacket was cool against your arms.
Things had been difficult for Eddie since all this shit had started. He and his friends had always been outcasts, but now it was worse. Now you worried for their actual safety, constantly scared some hick will decide to take the “satan worshippers” into their own hands and do something crazy.
You spun around in his arms, your left arm draping over his shoulder while your right still held onto the cold can. Eddie smiled down at you with that grin that always gave you butterflies. His thumbs rubbed circles on your hips as they rested there.
“Do you want to smoke?” he asked, which brought a grin to your face.
“Uh, yeah,” you said, smiling up at your boyfriend’s tall frame.
He pulled away from you reluctantly with a last minute squeeze of your hip before he was bowing dramatically and rushing off back to his bedroom. You laughed as you drank your soda. You flopped down on the couch, kicking your feet up on the table, nearly knocking over an overly filled ashtray in the process.
Eddie was back shortly after, perfectly rolled joint in his hand as he collapsed on the couch next to you. You sat the can on the table as Eddie handed you the joint and a lighter with a flourish. “Ladies first.”
You plucked it from his hand with a smile, placing it between your lips and lighting it with Eddie’s lighter. Relaxation seems to wash over you immediately as you take a deep drag, holding the smoke in your lungs. You leaned back against the cushions as you let it out. Eddie’s hand absentmindedly played with your thigh as he watched you with interest.
“You’re so hot when you smoke,” he mumbled, and it made you giggle as you took your second hit.
“You are, too,” you said through the smoke and passed the joint to him. He laughed as he took it.
He put on a show for you as he took his turn, holding your eye contact as he inhaled and held the smoke. Then he was leaning forward, free hand cupping the back of your head as he brought his lips to yours and breathed the smoke into your mouth. You inhaled it, the smoke from Eddie’s own hit leaving your mouth as you exhaled. Eddie bit his lip as he watched you, a smirk on his pretty face, before he was hitting it again.
The two of you passed the joint back and forth until the roach was so small it was basically unsmokable. You were feeling infinitely more relaxed, sinking into the couch. Eddie always got extra talkative when he was high and this was no exception.
“So I told him,” Eddie said, head tilted back against the couch as he stared at the ceiling and talked with his hands. “I told him no, we could not reschedule the campaign. It’s the end of the campaign.” Eddie scoffed and looked at you like can you believe that?
You nodded at him, but you were having a hard time focusing on his words. Your brain was working so slow and he talked so fast. You felt some of the fogginess in your brain clear away at the feeling of his large hand on your thigh again. He rubbed it this time, trailing his hand higher and higher. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
He met your gaze with a smirk. He leaned in, his leather jacket audibly crinkling as he moved. You were relieved to feel his lips on yours again, the familiar feeling of his mouth working against yours, his tongue slipping between your lips. You hummed into the kiss, your hand resting on his chest.
“Wanna go to my room?” he asked you, low voice rumbling in his chest.
You nodded and Eddie wasted no time standing from the couch, reaching a hand out for you like a gentleman. You took his hand and he lifted you. He followed you to the back of the trailer where his bedroom was, slapping your ass as you walked. You laughed, turning around to give him a playful glare.
He closed the door to his bedroom behind you. You watched as he went straight for the stereo, putting on some Metallica. He turned around and gave you a mischievous look before he basically tackled you onto the bed, causing you to fall back onto the mattress, laughing hard. He lifted himself above you and you scooted back to lay against the pillows. Your body buzzed with anticipation.
Eddie shrugged his leather jacket off, dropping it to the floor. His ringed hands slid up your legs, from your ankles to your calves to your thighs. You could tell he wanted it bad tonight by the dark look in his eyes, the way he stared at your body like he wanted to devour it.
He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that, too, his guitar pick necklace falling to rest against his bare chest. You rubbed your hands over the now exposed skin, feeling his firm chest, his sides, his soft belly. He sighed at the feeling.
“You’re so beautiful…” Eddie mumbled, hands still rubbing your thighs. His hands creeped forward until they reached the buttons of your jeans. You watched him intently as his long, dexterous fingers undid them with ease, pulling the material down your legs.
His hands slid up your shirt next, feeling how smooth your skin was always did something to him. He lifted your shirt as his hands traveled up until his fingers were grazing your bra. You sat up for him for a second so he could pull your shirt off.
Eddie took in the sight of you laying beneath him in only your underwear with hungry eyes. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you like this before, but it never got old. He never got used to it. His rings were cold against your skin as he felt all over your body, exploring at his own pace. You didn’t mind. It felt nice everywhere he touched you. You could see the bulge straining in his ripped jeans.
“Eddie…” you whined, causing him to break out of his trance and look up at you.
“What is it, baby?” he asked as he kept rubbing his hands up and down your sides. It gave you goosebumps.
“Really want you…” you whined again, lips pouting. Eddie chuckled lowly at that, his fingers gripping your sides a little harder.
“Yeah? You want me?” he asked, looking at you with those dark eyes, laced with desire. Pupils blown wide in lust. Oh, Eddie wanted it bad. “Are you wet for me, baby?” His fingers traced your core over your underwear, finding the answer for himself. He smirked. “All for me?” he asked, eyes shooting up to meet yours.
“Yeah, all for you, Eddie,” you breathed, his light touch where you wanted him so badly driving you crazy. He pressed a little harder, right over your clit, and you cried out with a little “Ah!”
Eddie laughed that sinister sounding laugh once again, then his hands were sliding up your body and around your back, unhooking your bra and tossing it. His hands immediately found your tits, groping them like he was seeing them for the first time as he grinded his clothed hips against your wet panties. You could feel how hard he was even through the multiple layers.
“Fuck,” Eddie groaned, his voice so low you barely heard it. His thumb rubbed over your nipples before he started to roll and pinch them between his fingers. He leaned over, wrapping his mouth around one of them. He was moaning the second he got his lips on you, sucking your nipple into his mouth and running his tongue around it in circles. You arched up into him, only pushing your chest further into his face, which he appreciated.
He switched to your other breast to give that nipple equal attention. You moaned, pushing your hips up to press against him, desperate for friction on your aching clit. Eddie had you so turned on, you didn’t feel like you could wait another second.
When he pulled off of your nipple, he buried his face in your tits, using his hands to push them closer together around his face.
“I could live in here,” he said, voice muffled between them. You laughed hard, running your hands through his hair, giving him full body chills.
He pulled back to place hungry kisses over your chest and neck, biting and sucking against the sensitive pulse point, getting the reaction from you he wanted. You dug your nails into his back harder and he hissed.
“Need you now, Eds,” you begged, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. You needed him to fill you the way only he could.
He pulls back to look at you with those glazed over eyes. “You want my cock?” he asked, looking fully lost in the moment already.
“Yes,” you cried, rolling your hips up beneath him and trying to get him where you want him. Eddie took the hint and got on his knees between your legs. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and pulled them off slowly, savoring it.
He spread your legs wide, big brown eyes taking in the sight of your bare cunt laid out before him, all for him. “Oh, baby,” he groaned, reaching forward to trace a long finger through your folds. He held it up to show you just how wet you were before he popped it in his mouth, sucking it clean.
Eddie reached for his belt, undoing it and pulling it from the belt loops before tossing it to the floor with a clang. He quickly undid his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down his legs, kicking them off. You moaned when his hard length was finally revealed, and he gave you a cocky smirk.
He leaned over your body again, kissing up your chest and neck to place a peck on your lips before he reached for the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling a condom from the box. He sat back up on his knees and ripped the package open with his teeth, sliding the rubber onto his dick.
He stroked himself quickly a couple times then leaned over you, resting his weight on one forearm as his other hand lined the thick tip of his cock up right against your entrance. Your heart thudded hard in your chest at the feeling, you just wanted him inside you now.
Eddie began to push into you, eyes watching your face as every inch sinks into your warm, wet pussy, wrapping around him perfectly. He felt like he was in heaven, and he couldn’t hold back the groan that spilled from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt. Your hands dug into his skin even harder, holding onto him like you’d disappear if you let go.
He peppered kisses all over your face and neck as he let you get adjusted. He pulled his hips back slowly, then snapped them back into you, drawing a strangled cry from your lips.
“Eddie!” you cried, already feeling so much when he’d only just started. You felt your core tighten around him, holding him even tighter, and he hissed as he set a steady rhythm with his hips.
“God, I’ve barely even fucked you yet…” he mumbled, drinking in your already fucked-out expression and mouth hanging open. He couldn’t deny what the sight of you like this did to him, his cock growing impossibly harder inside of you, his balls tightening, and suddenly he worried he’d cum way too fast like he did your first time together. You hadn’t minded, but he had been humiliated, and he didn’t want a repeat.
Eddie rolled his hips against you at the perfect pace. You tangled your hands in his wild hair and pulled him down to kiss you again, which he did eagerly, tongue in your mouth immediately as he tangled with yours and kissed you hungrily.
He groaned into your mouth as he sped up his pace, thoroughly pounding into you now. The sounds of the two of you - skin slapping together, bed creaking, your moans and grunts and whines and whimpers - filled the room, nearly as loud as the heavy music playing over his speakers. It drove Eddie even more wild.
He sat back up on his knees, grabbing onto your hips with a bruising grip and lifting them higher as he began fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts. You nearly screamed, the intense way his cockhead was ruthlessly pressing against your bundle of nerves with every thrust making you see stars in your vision.
“Fuck, you like that?” Eddie gritted out through clenched teeth, his curls bouncing with every wild thrust into you.
“Feels so good,” you managed to say between moans, hands tangling in the sheets since you can’t comfortably grab onto some part of his body right now, even though that’s what you want.
And it did feel incredible. Your mind was fuzzy and you weren’t sure anymore if it was from the weed or Eddie’s dick. You felt your release building inside you already.
“Fuck yeah it does,” Eddie spits out, and he looks like he’s lost in his own pleasure as his eyes fall closed and his mouth parts, grunts falling from his pretty lips with every brutal thrust. His head falls back and he uses his hands to help pull you against him to meet the thrusts of his own hips, making it even more intense, which you didn’t think was possible.
He looked back down at your body, one hand leaving your hip to rub circles on your clit with his thumb. The sudden sensation made you cry out with a high pitched “Oh!”, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie pushed you to the brink with calculated precision. He hadn’t been experienced when you had gotten together, but damn if he wasn’t a ridiculously quick learner.
He could feel you tightening around him, pussy gripping him so good he felt like he might fall apart right then and there. He cursed under his breath, hips moving a little faster as he pushed you to your release. “Yeah, cum on my cock baby, please, need to feel you making a mess all over me.” Eddie was practically begging as he spoke, desperate to make you cum so he could stop holding back.
“I…gonna cum, Eddie, oh shit-“
A proud smile spread across Eddie’s lips as you came undone for him, watching your pretty face twist in ecstasy as you moaned like his little slut, crying out his name over and over. It was music to his ears, and you were a sight for sore eyes as you utterly fell apart. More than anything, the feeling of your tight walls pulsing around him from your orgasm pushed him over the edge and into his own.
Eddie laid his body over yours the second your high subsided. He grabbed your hands and lifted them over your head, intertwining your fingers with his, and he kissed you hard as it finally hit him. Hard.
Eddie whimpered against your lips before letting out a long, low groan, muscles clenching and body trembling as he finished inside you, spilling into the condom. He kept pumping in shallow thrusts until he had spilled every last drop, his body completely spent as he came harder than he ever does on his own.
He didn’t move as you both caught your breath. Eddie’s body felt weak, like he had used every bit of energy he had. Finally he works up the effort to roll off of you, pecking your lips before he does. You hear him as he pulls the condom off, tying it up and throwing it in the trash can before he’s sliding up against you and wrapping his arm around your waist, your naked bodies pressed together.
You turned on your side and he spooned against you, your body fitting against his like a puzzle piece. His hair tickled your shoulders as he placed kisses to the backs of them before laying his head down against you.
“I love you,” he mumbled sleepily. You could tell he wouldn’t stay awake much longer. He had been thoroughly worn out.
“I love you too,” you said back, fingers gently rubbing his hand that was pressed right above your navel.
He hummed contentedly, and you pulled the blankets over the both of you. You had no desire to get out of his bed, to leave his warm embrace. Wayne never cared if you stayed over, and you figured you could sneak back into your own room before your parents noticed in the morning.
You really weren’t concerned with the logistics right now. This was the only place you wanted to be, and you didn’t care about anything else.
You felt your eyes beginning to grow heavy. Your eyes roamed over the familiar bedroom, messy as usual. You looked at his guitar hanging on the wall, the only other lady you’d ever have to share his heart with. Your gaze wandered to the bedside table, a polaroid of the two of you together on display for him to look at every night before he goes to sleep and every morning when he wakes up.
Eddie made you feel so loved and cared for. You hoped you made him feel the same.
You snuggled deeper into the warmth of his arms. You loved your boyfriend. Whether everyone in town thought he was the devil or not.
#eddie munson#eddie#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#stranger things smut#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#joseph quinn#keeryhours writes#eddie munson x you#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie stranger things#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things imagine
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
I think whether or not it is actually hate is irrelevant. What matters is that it's being perceived as hate. Handling being called out for something you did is a skill that a lot of people are bad at, no matter if they are a white cis-het man or not. Often the reaction to it is to completely deny they've done anything wrong. Plenty of leftists struggle with this. The main difference is, because white cis-het men are privileged in society, there is a lot more that can be called out. The main question is, how do you work around this.
Yeah, it's not fair that in order to convince someone of something that you have to put aside your own defensiveness to work around the other person's. That's another hard skill. But that is how you convince people to change their minds about things.
My point is that a lot of people see their demographic being rightfully called out and it makes them defensive. A lot of people see their own defensiveness as a rational reaction and so are not inclined to challenge it. So they hide behind it, they convince themselves that the other person is wrong and making a bad point. So they find other people who will back up that point of view and find community in that. As a result, they get locked into a right-wing echo chamber.
Because people are less likely to remember that there are other people behind the screen on the internet, it's much easier to dehumanize people through the internet. Which makes it easier for people to become radicalized.
The way to fix this problem is on a personal level. You have to tolerate people with different opinions, even if that opinion hurts you. That is the only way to change people's mind. No, it's absolutely not fair. But if you want to do activism, you have to put your own defensiveness aside and meet people where they are, show them empathy, assume good faith (also learn to figure out when someone is arguing in good faith or not). Gently challenge their ideology. Interpersonal conversation and community is how you prevent people from falling down right-wing pipelines.
The point is, there is no way to argue a white cis-het man who believes he is being attacked by the left out of that position. You can't argue someone out of their feelings. You can only prove to them that you are not attacking them. You can only show that you see them as a person and are interested in what they have to say, even if it is the worst political opinions you can possibly imagine. Once they believe that you respect their opinion, then and only then can you change it.
Once again, it's hard, emotionally draining work. It's not fair that it will often fall to minorities to do. You shouldn't have to tolerate someone else's hateful beliefs. But if you want to change them, you have to tolerate the people.
I couldn't have said it better myself.
#politics isn't rational unfortunately#you can't talk someone out of feeling defensive#only building trust will do that#i hope this doesn't come off as preachy or anything#but i feel very strongly about this#this is a huge weakness among leftists#you have to work with people where they are#you can't just cut them off because they don't meet your standards
31K notes
·
View notes
Text
She's a really nice woman who appears to only hate you, but it's just that she's awkward and has a crush on you
You’ve noticed that Jenna Ortega is kind to everyone—her smile is a staple on set, and she’s genuinely sweet with the cast and crew. But around you, she’s different. Reserved, curt, maybe even a little annoyed at times, she barely seems to tolerate your presence. It stings, especially since you’re pretty sure you’ve never done anything to provoke her.
It becomes something of a mystery, and her behavior only deepens it. You catch her stealing glances when she thinks you’re not looking, or she’ll blush when your shoulders accidentally brush on set. When you laugh with friends, she’s always nearby, watching with a small, guarded smile. You can’t tell if she’s irritated by you or just painfully shy.
One night, after filming a late scene, Jenna’s still around, sitting in a quiet corner with a notebook. Taking a deep breath, you decide to confront her—gently, of course, but you need to know why she seems to have an issue with you.
“Why do you hate me?” you ask, only half-joking, as you sit down across from her.
She looks taken aback, stammering slightly as her cheeks flush. “Hate you?” she repeats. “I don’t— I mean, I could never hate you.”
You blink, not expecting the softness in her voice, or the vulnerability in her eyes as she looks down, fiddling with the corner of her notebook.
“I just…” she starts, then lets out a shy laugh. “I’m really bad at this kind of thing. I guess… I just didn’t know how to talk to you.”
“Why not?” You lean in, the tension thick between you.
Jenna takes a breath, glancing up at you before looking away again. “Because I like you,” she murmurs, so quietly you almost don’t catch it.
You sit there, a little stunned, as her words sink in. She likes you. You’d imagined so many scenarios, but this wasn’t one of them. Jenna Ortega, the Jenna Ortega, had been acting strange around you because she liked you?
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but her eyes drop to the floor, and she starts to fidget with her notebook, clearly embarrassed.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “That… was probably weird. You didn’t need to know all that. I’ll just—”
“Wait,” you say quickly, reaching out before she can close herself off completely. Your fingers brush over hers, warm and steady, and she looks up at you, her expression uncertain.
You’re close enough now to see the faint freckles across her cheeks, the way her lashes cast soft shadows under her eyes. She doesn’t pull her hand away, and something about that gives you a little burst of courage.
“I thought you hated me,” you admit with a sheepish laugh, realizing how silly it sounds now. “Every time we talked, it felt like you were annoyed or, I don’t know… like I’d done something wrong.”
Jenna winces a little, but her lips twitch into a small, shy smile. “I wasn’t annoyed. It’s just… being around you makes me nervous.” Her eyes dart up to meet yours. “In a good way. Mostly.”
Your heart stumbles over itself at her admission, warmth flooding through you at the vulnerability she’s showing. Her usual confidence is nowhere to be seen, and you can’t help but find it completely endearing.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you say softly, still holding her hand, “you make me nervous, too.”
She blinks at you, a hint of surprise in her eyes, and then her smile widens, slow and sincere. The tension that had lingered between you two, the quiet distance that had once felt so insurmountable, suddenly doesn’t seem so impossible after all.
You squeeze her hand gently. “Do you maybe want to… get coffee sometime? Just the two of us?”
Jenna’s eyes brighten, a spark of excitement she’s no longer trying to hide. “Yeah,” she says, a little breathlessly. “I’d really like that.”
The two of you share a quiet smile, and in that moment, it’s like the world outside disappears. There’s only Jenna, with her soft gaze fixed on you, her fingers still tangled with yours, and the gentle promise of something new blooming between you both.
#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega fanfic#jenna ortega imagines#° braindead writes
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
Now what?
Whenever I see Trump my brain thinks of my mom and I feel angry about how she died. I have PTSD and I'm actually in the process of seeking out a therapist to address it.
And until I can get some help, I guess I'm just going to feel that anger for a while. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to see or think of him again.
This is pretty bad. And it is really scary. And I hate that one man is capable of causing so much fear and anxiety among the people I care about.
I guess there is one thought I am trying to hold onto.
I recently talked about chronic illness and the "new normal." As illness progresses you sometimes have to accept a new normal and learn to adjust and adapt to it. And every time I was faced with a new normal I was convinced I could not adjust or adapt. But every time I figured it out and found a way to keep going.
I think we will adapt because we have to. We will fight because we have to. But we will need each other to get through this.
Look to your allies. Your friends and your trusted family. Keep those relationships healthy. Do the work to maintain them. Prioritize building and sustaining a personal support system over everything else. Do your part when they need help. Keep in regular contact. Keep the emotional labor as reciprocal and balanced as possible. And don't be afraid to tell them when you feel overburdened. Keep communication healthy so you both feel comfortable expressing hard truths. Open up to them so they feel trusted and make sure they feel comfortable doing the same with you. Try not to lean on one single person too much as they might get overwhelmed.
But also remember to enjoy your friendships. They are not there just to be your therapist. (An *actual* therapist is a good idea if it is feasible.) It's important to laugh and waste time together. Shoot the shit and bond over mutual interests. Or introduce them to your interests and teach them why you love what you love. Ask them about their interests and even if you don't completely get it, be happy that something makes your friend happy.
If you feel like you don't have a support system or it is severely diminished like mine, you'll have to do the work to seek out new people. I'm in that process now after losing my parents. And trust me, I know it isn't easy. I am really struggling to connect to new people. It takes a lot of energy and I haven't had a lot of energy to spare. But I know it is what I will need to help me adapt to the new normal. So I'm going to put in the effort and figure it out. I encourage you to do the same.
You will not connect with every new person. That's okay. Remember this is a process and it takes time. And don't beat yourself up if building your support system is slow going. If nothing else, you are learning and growing and developing tools to help you on this journey.
This community has been so kind to me. You all are a part of my support system. And I feel very lucky to have you in my corner. I love you and I care for you. I'm going to try my best to advocate for what you need. Helping others is another way to keep moving forward. A righteous sense of purpose is a powerful tool in the face of a new normal.
Please take care of yourselves as best you can.
Find your people if you haven't already.
Or find *more* people if you don't have enough.
You are in my thoughts.
78 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi I recently found your page and fell in love with your stories!! I was just wondering if I could request a Percy x reader (maybe Hera’s forbidden child if that's ok) they got together after Percy and Anabeth broke up. And they fight because of Anabeth and how Percy and her are still really close even after the breakup. And reader feels like a second choice and a replacement that can’t compare to the original. something like that but I was hoping that we could get jealous and regretful Percy to
I Needed You - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader
author's note: ooooh ofc i hope you like this!!
warnings: cursing, toxic relationships
genre: angst
word count: 1k
-> heroes of olympus masterlist
✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒
requests are closed
✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒
"you're a disgrace to my name and everything i stand for!"
for years, y/n had tried so hard to gain her mother's approval. she had done everything: she studied until dawn, trained like no tomorrow, sacrificed her life and sanity, and defended this wicked woman to her peers.
but it wasn't enough. it was never enough. because to hera, y/n was only her forbidden child. the mistake, the accident, the thing that was never supposed to happen.
"you are the worst thing that's ever happened to me! i didn't want you, i didn't want you to be here!" the angry goddess boomed.
"yeah? well, i didn't want to be here either!" y/n yelled back, tears welling up in her eyes.
"everyday, i ask the fates why the hell did luke castellan die when it should've been you! it should've been you who didn't make it out! it should've been you!" she screamed
y/n went quiet; she could feel the eyes on her. she could see zeus next to hera, looking down at the marble floors with sincerity.
she knew it was low when zeus empathized with her.
"i ask them the same thing mom." y/n said softly, a tear spilling out of her eye.
she took a few steps backward, before turning around to walk away.
✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒
the cruel words of her mother replayed in her head as she made her way to percy's apartment. she was minutes away from a breakdown as she knocked on his door.
no answer.
she knocked again, this time, percy quietly opened the door. his eyes were flooded with sympathy, but it wasn't for y/n. she looked past his shoulder to see annabeth on his couch, her face in her hands.
"sorry y/n, can you come back later?" he whispered. "annie's going through something right now."
"yeah, sure." y/n said calmly, feeling her heart shatter.
what could be so important?
"is she okay?" y/n asked.
"yeah, she's fine." percy continued. "she just got a bad grade on her test, and she's really upset about it. y'know how much this stuff means to her."
"aw, i understand." she lied.
no she didn't. a test grade? seriously? y/n had just had the fallout of the lifetime with her mother, and she had told percy about having to talk to her mother beforehand. but of course, when it came to annabeth, he had to drop everything.
"thanks." he smiled before shutting the door quickly.
y/n walked back to her own apartment, fingers pressed against her mouth to block the violent sobs. as soon as she got home, she collapsed on the floor and cried.
she wondered the same thing she had wondered her whole life: why wasn't she good enough?
was this a curse her mother had placed on her? the overwhelming feeling of inferiority that would follow her everywhere. she hated herself, she hated everything about herself, and everybody returned the sentiment. from her mother to her boyfriend, she was just unlovable.
and the one time she needed percy, he wasn't there for her.
hours passed by as y/n wept, and once it struck midnight, she had run out of tears. she steadily got up and drank a sip of water before sitting on her couch. she brought her knees to her chest as she looked out to the city.
suddenly, there was a knock on the door. she didn't have energy to talk to anyone right now.
the knock persisted and she opened the door to see sea green eyes staring at her. she defeatedly opened the door and let him in.
"sorry it took me so long, annie was really upset-"
"shut up, percy. just shut up!" she snapped.
he paused.
"what? are you okay?"
"no! i'm not okay! i told you that i had to go talk to hera today!"
"oh shit, y/n, i'm sorry, i completely forgot!"
his face changed as the realization hit his face.
"i don't give a fuck! you dropped everything as soon as annabeth showed up, didn't you?" she asked, angrily. "i-i mean i get it, okay? you forgot, that's fine. but i came to your door, barely keeping it together, you could see the tears in my eyes and hear my shaky voice, but you just shut the door and acted like i didn't exist until now!"
"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry." he apologized, coming closer to her.
"i don't care that you're sorry! i'm sick of you always prioritizing annabeth over me!"
"i'm sorry, i got caught up-"
"i don't care! stop telling me you're sorry if you're not going to change!"
"y/n, please. i'm sorry i wasn't here before, but i'm here now." he pleaded.
"you should've been here before!" she said. "you should've been here when i needed you to be!" her voice cracked.
"don't cry, please, please don't cry."
"but instead, you were with annabeth. comforting her, choosing her, like you always do!"
"i'm sorry, she was hur-"
"she was hurt? i was hurt when my own fucking mother told me she wished i was dead!"
"oh my gods, y/n, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."
"stop saying sorry like you care!" she said, tears streaming down her face. "our entire relationship, you've just treated me like the next best thing. the girl you took because annabeth didn't want you anymore. i'm your second choice."
"y/n." he said softly, walking over to her.
"go home percy. i'm sure there's someone who needs you more than i do right now."
"y/n, i'm sorry." he pleaded.
"no, i've had one of the worst days of my life, and i needed you. and you chose to be with someone else." she said through tears. "so now, you're going to chose to be without me."
"y/n."
she didn't say anything. he quietly began making his way to the door, but she didn't spare him a look. she looked outside the window, at the city lights. in the reflection, she could see him. she could see the regret and pain in his eyes. he opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped. his eyes filled with water as he quietly shut the door and left.
#heroes of olympus#angst#heroes of olympus x reader#hoo x reader#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackson x reader#heartbreak#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson angst#percy jackson x reader angst#percy jackson x y/n angst#percy jackson x reader heartbreak
60 notes
·
View notes
Note
I feel this is somewhat fitting for today,
So reader comforting sev after silco died (I feel she is the most sad out of everyone because she always saw him as some sort of father figure ngl and he sorta neglected her or never validated her)
-���
:( my poor baby. he's like her fucked up bestie/boss/dad
men and minors dni
they send lock or deckard to tell you if sevika's gonna be late getting home.
thieram if she's drunk and moping at the bar.
but ran only ever comes when something bad's happened.
and jinx has never accompanied any of silco's goons on one of these errands.
you assume the worst. your heart drops to your ass at the sight of ran and jinx on your doorstep, both looking haggard and scared.
jinx reaches out and grabs your arm before you can start weeping, shaking you a bit. "relax, would ya? it's not her, she's fine she's just..."
you gulp, looking to ran. they sigh. "silco's dead. she's... just sitting in his office... drinking."
jinx breaks into tears on the walk to the last drop, disappearing in an alleyway for the night. ran is solemn as they lead you to the bar.
"w-what happened?"
"dunno. jinx won't say. think she mighta killed him." ran shrugs. "think she did something bad in piltover too. shit's stirring and silco's dead and sevika's supposed to take over if this happens but--"
"take a breath." you say, patting your friend's back. "'s okay. she's gonna be fine."
this isn't true. but you know your wife wouldn't want you telling her troops any different. sevika's going to wake up sobbing for years to come, just another thing on the long list of losses that haunt her. you'll be there, though, like you are now-- to hold her and let her cry in your chest-- to remind her that she's got you. and you've got her.
she's slumped asleep on the couch when you enter silco's office. ran leaves you alone, closing the door behind themselves as the leave.
"sev." you whisper, gently nudging your wife. she snaps awake, taking a moment to drunkenly register her surroundings and your face, before she bursts into silent tears, leaning forward to bury herself against you. "fuck, honey." you coo, wrapping her up into a hug. "i'm so fuckin' sorry."
"i can't believe he fucking died. he's fucking invincible!" she cries. your heart shatters, and you kiss her scalp.
"sevika, baby. you know he isn't."
"but-- it's my fucking job to make him invincible and--"
"sev." you pull her face away from your chest, wiping up her tears and forcing her to look you in the eye. "it's your job to take over if shit goes south. that's your job. silco was not a god-- he was a man. and there is nothing you coulda done to save him, baby."
"i..." she trails off. you frown, already knowing what she was going to say, your heart breaking.
"you're gonna miss him."
she nods. "i fuckin' hate him, too." she says.
you chuckle, nodding. "i know, baby. that's the power of love."
sevika huffs and leans against you again. "how long do i have before shit gets real bad out there?"
"long enough to come home and get a proper sleep in." you say, dragging her toward the door.
sevika doesn't resist, letting you take her home. letting you care for her.
you kiss her before you leave the office, sweet and chaste but for long enough that you melt together. "thank you." you sigh.
"for what?"
"letting me take care of you before your big debut... sevika... the lioness of the lanes." you tease. sevika snorts at the nickname and rolls her eyes, and your heart flutters in your chest at the sound.
hi if u know who came up with the lioness of the lanes nickname pls lemme know so i can credit them!
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke
107 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello, I finished oot and loved it and so I started majora’s mask today, I’m not that far into it but I’m on the second day and it feels like I’m almost on the third but I don’t know and i feel like I wasted all my time wondering around getting myself acquainted with clock town and I am following a guide and it’s fun but I’m a little anxious about playing it since I’m bad at time management and hate being under a time limit, do you have any tips? And also if you fail to do something within 3 days in game, does your progress save or do you have to start all over again from scratch?
Also sorry for sending some of these, I know your not a guide and it may be a little weird, since your a art blog, sorry
hey! so first of all the point of the first 3-day cycle in majora's mask is that you can't really get anything done. you sort of need to "waste" that first cycle wandering around waiting for certain things to happen, so don't worry if you don't feel productive just yet!
in terms of being worried about the time limit, i understand it being anxiety-inducing but honestly in practice it's actually significantly MORE time than you need. also, after the first cycle you should be able to get a song (iirc it's from the scarecrow in the observatory? but i could be wrong) that will allow you to either slow down or speed up time, and slowing the timer every time you reset makes the rest of the game much easier! usually when I do that i end up with extra time at the end of my cycles.
as for what happens if you miss the time limit, yeah it's going to reset your progress. assume that basically anything you do in terms of dungeons or quests is going to be reset at the end of 3 days. Most of the dungeons are fairly easy to complete within the 3-day timer, but i recommend setting aside one full cycle for each dungeon and not trying to do anything else during that cycle, just in case. you also don't have to wait until the end of the 3 days to reset, you can play the song of time at any time, so if you mess up and feel like you'd rather just start over from the beginning of the cycle don't be afraid to do that! you also don't lose most of your inventory when you reset; you keep your masks and most other items, and you can keep your rupees if you use the bank.
#asks#i love majora's mask but it really is a terrifying game to play with no experience lmfao dont worry the anxiety youre feeling is normal
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
HIII OK SO THIS IS A REALLY SPECIFIC REQ SO IF U CANT DO IT THEN ITS ALL GOOD
so
COULD U DO AVERY X BESTFRIEND!READER (PLATONIC OFC) WHERE HER BESTGRIEND IS LIKE A SINGER / ACTRESS
MAYBE THE READER JS GOING THROUGH A ROUGH SPOT W JAMESON AND AVERY COMFORTS HER.
JUST SOME BESTIE LOVE YK
hi!! I’m SO SO SO SO SO SO INSANELY sorry it’s taken me so long to respond to this request it was literally requested on the 20th of august and I feel so bad!! but I finally finished and I hope you enjoy
title: she’s always there
pairing: avery x bestfriend!reader (platonic)
synopsis: after a fight with jameson you know you need avery at your side to make things right again
warnings: mild swearing
a/n: three months too late but I didn’t forget you, hope you enjoy anon :))
taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast
The door slams shut. The sound echoes through my ears, bouncing around my head, a painful reminder of all that had just exploded. I stumble forwards, my fingers shaking on the doorknob. I want to run to him but my legs are stuck in an invisible cement. So my body gives way and I crumble to the floor.
Tears blur my vision as I shake in a pathetic heap. My chest hurts with each ugly sob. I hate fighting, but I hate this even more. This pain, this agony. I sob harder until my throat is so raw only cracked sounds come out.
I stay there for what feels like hours, maybe even days. I’m heavy with exhaustion and grief. I know I need to get up but I don’t move. I can’t will myself out of this position. Fear flickers in the pit of my stomach. Why can’t I get up? I have no energy, no motivation.
Nothing, I feel nothing.
But even the dread of feeling nothing doesn’t even pull me from the numbness. My skin is thickened with a layer of senselessness. I’m too weighted by my own sadness to move. This happened before, this happened last time, this couldn’t happen again.
I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. The sound almost deafening. I’m taking sharp jagged breaths that I can’t control. I need Avery.
I need her more than anything right now. She promised me if things got bad again that she would be one call away. And she made me promise that I’d call her. I couldn’t break my promise, I’m not a person who breaks their promises.
But I haven’t seen her in weeks and what if she only thinks I call her when I’m struggling? What if she thinks I’m using her? What if she gets tired and just walks out like everyone else?
I usually block out ‘the before’. But I can remember snippets, like how I couldn’t to get out of bed, to get off of the floor, to move, to eat, to take care of myself and how I felt then I’m starting to feel now. An icy coolness is pulsating through my veins, so sharp that I can’t feel it anymore.
My phone is next to my face. I can see it. But my finger feels like they’re being dragged down my a large iron ball and chain. I can’t even reach my phone for my emergency contact. My hollow chest begins to throb.
“Call Avery,” I whisper to my phone, “please call Avery. I need her.”
One ring. Tw-
“Ave,” I murmur, my voice shaking.
She replies almost instantly, “what’s wrong?”
She’s sharp, she’s ready, she’s immediate. She’s going to help me pull myself together, I tell myself.
“I need you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say other than the truth. I can’t sugarcoat anything now. I’m not fine. I can’t move.
“I’m coming,” Avery tells me.
“It’s getting bad again,” I snivel the words just blurting out before there’s enough time for them to be filtered
I feel her freeze for a moment, “bad?”
“I’m stuck on the floor,” I mumble, my throat hoarse and sore, “I can’t move.”
“Just wait there okay,” she comforts, “I’m coming.”
“My life is a mess,” I ramble, not being able to stop myself. I’ve lost control, over my mind, over my body, over my words.
“I’ll be over in two minutes okay, stay on the line with me,” she says urgently.
“I’m sorry,” I say choking out another sob, “I’m so so sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologise,” she says firmly but with kindness behind her tone, “just sit tight and I’m coming.”
“Okay,” I exhale, trying to ignore the lump growing in my throat.
“What happened?” she asks so softly I just want to melt into even more of a puddle of a human being. I’m halfway there, my limbs sprawled every which way, my tearstained face covered by a curtain of hair.
“Everything went wrong,” I tremble, not knowing how else to describe it. The scene plays out in the mind again and again, a pitiless record of pain on loop.
“What’s everything?” Avery asks, her voice so mellow, so gentle, so calm.
“Jameson.”
His name sends a twinge of pain across my chest.
“Oh sweetie I’m sure it’s okay,” she says, “it’s normal for couples to fight.”
“Not like this,” I shake my head as if she can see me.
“Let me in and we’ll talk about it,” she says.
“You’re outside?” I ask my voice opting for the tone of a vulnerable child. She’d arrived faster than I thought she would.
“Yes,” she confirms.
“Door’s unlocked,” I murmur, the words kind of slurring into one another as I said them.
“I might get a speeding ticket tomorrow but it’ll be worth it,” the door opens, “besides Alisa will probably be able to get me out of it.”
“Mmmm,” I respond, feeling tired, each of my limbs weighing me down as if they were made of lead.
“Sweetie you need to stand up,” she tells me gently, I can feel her hand running up and down my arm rhythmically.
“I can’t,” I wheeze, everything was so heavy it ached.
“You can,” Avery replies, “I’m going to help you.”
“I’m tired,” I groan, my vision blurring as my eyelids fall shut.
“Then we can go to bed,” she says.
My lips quiver, “Avery?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs.
“I can’t stand up,” I whisper, the ghost of my voice vibrating against my throat, “I can’t do it.”
“Here then let’s sit up first,” she says.
Slowly she helps me into a sitting position. The world feels a little hazy. My head rolls backwards and thumps on the wall, it’s too heavy to hold up.
A flicker of pain spreads across the back of my head, the first real feeling in my state of numbness. She wraps her arms around me and I fall into her softly crying. I don’t know if it’s the pain in my head or the pain in my heart endorsing the tears but I don’t care.
She holds me tightly and tenderly as if she might never let go. I fear if she does I’ll fall apart and break into millions of pieces on the floor that can never be put back together again. My entire body shakes as my tears dampen my best friend’s shirt.
“Come on,” she says slowly, helping me to my feet after a long bout of silence.
I don’t want to move but my legs are willed too having obtained pins and needles from my static state. I don’t know how she managed to get me thinking about something other than my absence of feeling, allowing me to walk, but she did. We slump down on the sofa together and I curl up into her grip. I don’t want to let Avery go, not when my mind is retelling the story.
“What is your problem with me?” I scoff, putting the dishes into the cupboard not really meeting his eyes.
He’d been offish all through dinner, the one chance we actually had to spend time with each other and of course he picks that moment to be mad.
“My problem?” he says, with a bitter laugh, “you want to know my problem?”
“That is what I just said isn’t it?” I quip back, a bit snarky.
“Where are you half the time?” he asks, a degree of hurt in his voice that makes my heart twist.
I stare at him, dumbfounded as my brain registers the question, “what?”
“I never see you anymore,” Jameson tells me, “I mean any longer without you and I feel like I’m going to forget your face.”
“You do see me,” I reply curtly.
“No I don’t and you know it,” he snaps, a wild looking shining through his emerald eyes.
“Jamie I can’t help my schedule,” I sigh, putting my hands on my hips, “I didn’t choose this.”
“Maybe you didn’t but you’re not trying to do anything about it,” he accuses me.
“I am!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up into the air.
“No you’re not,” he shakes his head, “you’re not doing anything and it’s not fair.”
“Give it a month and-“
“No! I’m tired of waiting,” he says, desperation bleeding into his voice, “it’s always next month this and next week that, I’m sick and tired of waiting for us.” he runs a hand through his unruly hair, “isn’t love meant to come first?”
“I need a job,” I say in a low voice, “I need money Jameson.”
“I’ll give you money,” he groans a pleading look in his features.
“You don’t understand,” I yell, “I need to make this for myself.”
“Why?” he shouts, “I could give you anything you ever wanted!”
“I wanted to earn something, not just be given it,” I try to explain.
“You’ve earned everything you need to,” he presses on.
“Acting is what I love to do Jamie,” I tell him, the passion seeping into my voice, “these auditions are what I love to do.”
“I thought you loved me,” he shoots back.
“I do,” I exhale, “you know I do.”
Jameson shakes his head with a bitter and slightly pained sort of smile, “it feels like all you care about is this stupid work of yours.”
My eyes are squinted shut. I’m trapped in a memory I hate, held captor in a prison of my mind’s own making.
“Talk to me,” Avery whispers, “I’m here.”
“Jamie hates me, I barely see you, I overwork, I can’t sleep, all my auditions are going horribly and I’m just messing everything up-“ I ramble, my voice becoming thicker and thicker with emotion with each word.
“Hey,” she says softly, “just breathe.”
“I can’t, it’s like everything is coming at me all at once and I can’t handle it,” I choke, “I feel like I’m drowning Avery and every time I kick up to the surface another wave takes me out again. It’s this cycle that I can’t make my way out of.”
“Oh sweetheart,” she soothes, “just try for me and ignore all of it for a second and just look into my eyes.”
I meet her gentle hazel eyes, but they blur as tears fill my vision.
“Think about us,” she says, “right now. Me and you together, talking to each other. Focus on the present, stop thinking about the future and the past.”
My mind quiets a little, the raging storm of black clouds and loud sounds begins to dim down into a low hum. It’s still there but less. It’s better. A feel a spark of hope pulsate through my veins, previously darkened by hopelessness.
“Feeling a little better?” she tilts her head to the side.
“A little,” I nod hesitantly. I don’t want to speak too soon, there is still time for things too get much much worse.
“That’s good,” she smiles, “that’s really good.”
I exhale slowly, a little shakily. I lean further into Avery and her arms naturally wrap around me. I’m in the safety and warmth of her arms, her soft touch.
“I’ve got you,” she reminds me, “and when you’re ready, just talk and I’ll listen.”
“I don’t know where to start,” I laugh, buts it’s a forced laugh that I soon regret as if makes my throat ache.
“Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Jameson?” she suggests.
“You’re being so pathetic,” I snap, rolling my eyes.
“And you’re being selfish,” he exclaims.
I stop in my tracks and spin to face him, “for wanting to make something of myself for my life? I’m not you, Jameson. I didn’t get everything handed to me on a golden platter.”
Hurt flashes across his face.
“You think I haven’t worked for what I am today?” he barks, “you think I was just given all of this?”
“I’m just saying it’s not as simple as you think it is,” I groan, trying to walk away.
He stands in front of me, looking deep into my eyes, his tone softens, “I would move the sun and the stars just to spend time with you,” anger clouds his features, sending an overcast of fury to his eyes, “but I don’t see you trying to change anything to see me.”
“I have tried,” I tell him, “but it’s really difficult Jameson and I’m exhausted,”
“Exhausted of what? Of this, of our relationship,” he snaps, quick to jump to some ridiculous conclusion.
“Are you drunk?” I laugh.
“Why do you always think I’m drunk?” he shoots back, venom on his tongue.
“Because you’re spouting nonsense,” I reply, raising my voice a little.
“Of course, of course,” he rolls his eyes in his bout of sarcasm, “I’m the one who’s spouting nonsense.”
“What do you want me to do Jameson?” I ask, a lump growing in my throat, “drop everything for you?”
“Love comes with sacrifices,” he shrugs in response.
“So what I’m meant to sacrifice my entire passion?” I scoff.
He couldn’t be serious.
“No I’m just asking you to at least attempt to make more time,” he says, “I mean don’t you miss me like I miss you?”
“Of course I miss you,” I sigh.
“Then why don’t you show it?” he asks and I can see how much it wounds him, “you’re a closed book around me now. I used to be able to read you so well but now it’s like a blank page.”
“How would you know, I thought you didn’t see me anymore?” I bite back.
“We got into a fight,” I whisper, memories flooding back.
“A bad one?” Avery says carefully, like she’s treading on eggshells.
“He left,” I shrug.
“Asshole,” she mutters in my defence.
“No,” I shake my head, sitting back up to face her, “I was horrible, I would’ve left me.”
Beat.
“But he was horrible too,” I sniff.
“People say things they don’t mean in fights,” Avery points out, reaching to touch my arm.
“Or they say what they’re really thinking,” I blurt out, my mind is too consumed by my own thoughts to filter what I’m saying.
“More often than not it’s things they don’t mean, trust me,” she says, a tenderness in her voice that makes my heart squeeze, “besides Jameson can be a real impulsive idiot sometimes.”
“I love that about him,” I chuckle snivelling slightly, “but… it’s just that lately things haven’t been the same between us.”
“How so?”
“I’m leaving,” Jameson snaps. He’s finally had enough, he’s finally walking out on me. Of course. How could I possibly think someone could really love me as much as he said he did.
“Where are you going?” I ask, a sudden panic clawing at my chest overriding all of the built up anger and resentment.
“Why do you care?” he shrugs, grabbing his keys swiftly.
“Because I love you, you idiot!” I yell.
He stops and slowly turns around. Our eyes connect and for a split second deja vu washes over me and we’re meeting for the first time. I’m falling in love with his enchanting green eyes.
“Do you?” he asks, “really?”
“You’re being such an idiot right now,” I scrunch up my face as I shout, “I hope you know that.”
“If you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and get drunk and spout nonsense like I usually do,” he says, “according to you.”
“Oh come off of it,” I scream, a sudden surge of pure rage appearing.
“What?”
“Stop acting like mr high and mighty on your high horse,” I snarl, “it’s not fair.”
“You know what’s not fair, what you’re doing to me,” he barks, “I’m in limbo here, I don’t know whether you’re coming or going, the only time I see you is when I leave this house and you’re asleep.”
“Then wake me up,” I deadpan, arms folded.
“And make you even more exhausted?” he scoffs, “fat chance!”
“I’m giving you solutions and you’re just deterring them,” I exclaim.
“Because you know they’re stupid solutions,” he explodes.
“Well life is just keeping us apart. I’m always at auditions, he’s off with his brothers, then when I come home he’s asleep and I can’t sleep and then when I finally sleep, he wakes up,” I blubber, “we’re not getting enough time to be with each other and I’m trying so hard to make time, but I don’t have the energy because I’m so exhausted from everything else.”
“And that’s okay, that’s understandable,” she reassures me, “he’s probably just frustrated because he doesn’t get to spend time with you, that shows he loves you, right? Someone who didn’t wouldn’t experience these feelings.”
“I suppose,” I shrug, “but Avery you should have seen him. He was so mad when he walked out. It’s the biggest fight we’ve ever been in.”
“I’m sure things will get better, they always do,” she soothes, “I mean think about to your last fight, how long did that last?”
Barely a few hours, I recall. Jameson and I had never fought for long in our relationship. It was so hard to stay so mad at someone I loved so much.
“What if it’s different this time?” I murmur, imagining the worst.
“It’s not,” Avery says, “trust me.”
“He was just so mad,” I say, biting my lip, “I’ve never seen him look at me like that.”
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Avery tells me gently, “whatever the outcome is, I’ve got you the whole way.”
“Thanks Ave,” I try to smile but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes, “he doesn’t get it, he thinks he does, but he doesn’t.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s getting so angry,” she suggests.
“I wish he would just let me explain,” I groan, putting my head in my hands.
“Why don’t you just communicate that to him?” she says.
“Because I have no time to!” I exclaim, not meaning to sound so defensive and snappy, “I just need to get through this month and then everything will be back to normal.”
“Sweetheart, I think you need to make some time to talk to him,” Avery says earnestly, “in this month. Explain this all to him, otherwise he’s going to keep building up all this anger for no reason and things are going to get worse.”
“Why is he so angry?” I ask in frustration, meaning for the question to be rhetorical.
“Because he doesn’t like not seeing you,” she replies, “he loves you.”
He love me. He loves me. He loves me. The words echo around my head relentlessly.
“I’m stupid,” I say, letting my head hit Avery’s shoulder.
“You’re not stupid,” she replies, putting her arm around me and rubbing small circles on my shoulder with her thumb.
“He hates me,” I mumble into her.
She shakes her head, “he doesn’t hate you.”
“It’s always the same with you, you always want more-“
“I want to see you,” Jameson yells, “is that so much to ask?”
“I will never be enough, you can’t just take me for who I am, what I am, what I need,” I shout back.
“What about what I need?” he questions, “I need to see you and it’s driving me crazy when we’re apart.”
“You need to find a coping mechanism then,” I reply, snarky and spiteful.
He looks at me with a look I’ve never seen in his eyes before. Pure unadulterated hatred. Like he wants me to burn on a thousand spikes after a session of torture.
“Fuck you,” he spits at me, his face so close to mine I can feel his anger.
“Piss off,” I hiss back.
“I will thank you very much,” he replies, swinging the door open.
“And don’t come home,” I snap, “I don’t want to see your face.”
“It’s not like you’ll notice, you don’t see my face anyway,” he calls, slamming the door shut behind him.
“What if this time he doesn’t come back,” I murmur, frightening myself more and more it’s each drastic thought that pops into my head.
“He will come back,” she soothes, continuing to rubbing small circles on my arm, “he always comes back to you.”
She has a point. Jameson always came back, he just needs time to cool off. I hope…
“You’re stronger than you think,” she whispers in my ear, like she can hear the doubts screaming in my brain.
“I don’t feel it,” I grumble.
“That’s what makes you even stronger,” Avery says.
“I’m crying over a boy,” I deadpan.
“Who hasn’t been there?” she smiles, wiping my tears away, “now come on, I’ll get the ice cream tubs, you grab the endless flow of blankets and pillows and we’ll have a movie night.”
I crack a small smile and nod as we stand up. She begins to walk while my legs struggle to follow.
“Avery,” I say, taking a small step forwards.
She spins around with a bright smile, “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I exhale, “so much.”
sorry there haven’t been a lot updates lately I’ve been super busy 🤍🤍
TIG masterlist
#bella writes 🤍#the inheritance games#tig#avery kylie grambs#avery grambs#avery tig#avery tgg#avery x reader#avery grambs x reader#jameson hawthorne x reader#jameson hawthorne one shot#i love jameson hawthorne#jameson winchester hawthorne#jameson x reader#jameson hawthorne
34 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Today I logged into facebook for the first time in nearly 4 years and went through every profile in my friends list (like ~300) and purged out all the assholes (anyone who openly voted for Trump, other conservatives, and those who I strongly believe did). I've done this before so there weren't many but there are a number that have been wishy-washy with being outward in their bigotry and it helps me keep a mental list of people that deserve only the most very basic level of respect that I can muster because they certainly do not respect me nor people I care about nor many of their fellow human beings. Most disheartening is seeing friends and family who continue to put effort into engaging with people who argue in bad faith and weaponized ignorance.
I dated a man for nearly a year who went to women's and pro-choice rallies and liberal groups with me and said many times that he "was on my side" but turned out to be lying the whole time because he knew I definitely wouldn't date him otherwise. I'd known him for years before since we ran in the same friend circle. I wasn't the only one he had fooled. He slowly lifted the mask until we were constantly arguing because of his bigoted and racist remarks. His favorite thing to do was act oppressed and show me the most obvious Russian propaganda that he would get upset at me for fact-checking and asking for real sources. He wanted to argue, so what he hated most was when I refused to argue with him. Nothing I said was going to change his mind, so I wasn't going to humor or tolerate it (we didn't last long after that point, but by that time, I was afraid of leaving without an excuse that would be "good enough" for him). He legitimately wants civil war so that he can play survival hero and feel validated in his hatred. It didn't come on quickly and a lot of the comments started as "odd" off the cuff things through the time that we dated. He was very much pretending to be a kind person and once really called out, that pretense dropped. He thought I was more like him and that a lot of my regard and kindness for others is "fake." Because that's what a lot of people like that do - they fake being kind for optics, they are not actually kind people, and therefore presume that everyone else is doing the same thing. It's given me major trust issues.
Can't say this enough: these people feel validation in their bigotry when you continue to associate with them. They need to be dropped. They need to learn that their shitty beliefs mean that they get shunned. Make them feel uncomfortable. Quit tiptoeing around and coddling their delicate little feelings because they might get upset. It's okay for them to get upset because someone was mean and told them they don't like them because they think gay and trans people shouldn't exist. I once made a post about how a raped 11 year old child should never be expected to give birth, was told that it was "god's will" and like 5 people piled on the guy so badly he told us to stop being "mean" to him and was terrified to talk to me at work ever again (I have since cut all ties and no longer work with him). I'm personally extremely tired of playing nice for the sake of possibly "converting" someone - especially because you can be polite in telling someone to fuck off with their beliefs. Their beliefs are dangerous, are going to result in people losing their lives, and a frightening number of them are completely okay with that. We need to stop being tolerant of intolerance. It is okay to cut people (including family) from your life when all their presence does is bring you stress and harm.
In a similar vain, don't let the people who chose not to vote (or "protest voted") stick their heads in the sand to escape blame. They are just as culpable as anyone else who directly voted for Trump and other conservatives. They need to grow the fuck up.
For a lot of liberals, it's really uncomfortable to be confrontational and feel like you're being intolerant of someone, but it's way past time to play hardball and call them out instead of coddling them, especially as we're going into the holiday season where many of us will be seeing family with shitty views and targeted family that may need someone to stand up for them. Let them know they're shitty and inappropriate and a disappointment and unworthy of your regard because they certainly lack it for others. Obviously still be safe, but many of us very likely aren't losing anything of value in that scenario. Not having bigoted family members in my life in any way has made me so much happier.
A helpful tip to those who may find themselves in a confrontation: do not stay engaged. Let your views be known and then disengage. Because many of them love to argue and feel like they're defending themselves (many are addicted to those feelings of hatred and overcoming "oppression"), what they don't like is being ignored and feeling like you're rinsing your hands of them. They don't deserve your stress and constant efforts. There are ways to open a dialogue when they are willing to discuss civilly with an open mind, but if they bring intolerance, just shut it down.
(via jhig8bd0cczd1.png (PNG Image, 744 × 810 pixels))
3K notes
·
View notes