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taechaos · 3 years

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Your Boy, No?

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: You can't stand seeing Jungkook with another girl, so you give him a piece of your mind in a stranger's bedroom by becoming his outlet of sexual frustration.

warnings: losing virginity, riding, degradation

a/n: jungkook's character is not exactly submissive, so i added my own twists to this request. i hope you don't mind @madygswich c:

word count: 2.5k

You can't stop pouting. Holding back tears when seeing a woman perched up on Jungkook's lap while they make out has proven to be difficult, but you're trying. It hurts your heart; hell, you're aching everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know he's doing it to get a reaction out of you when his eyes are throwing daggers at you with his tongue down another girl's throat.

Following Jungkook around like a lost puppy isn't ideal, especially at a frat party. He never gives you the time of the day if it's not out of menace, but you aren't willing to give up on him. It's just not possible when you are so in love with him, and so fucking jealous.

More than Jungkook, you're mad at the girl. You want to rip her heart out, make her suffer for ever touching the love of your life. You're becoming irrational, mentally cussing her out for being a whore while you stop yourself from breaking down in a house filled with horny young adults. You don't know a single person here, and you have to deal with your pent up emotions all by yourself.

You choke out a sob when Jungkook starts kneading the girl's ass shamelessly with her skirt hiked up to her back. They're being so inappropriate in the kitchen of a stranger's house, while you can't even take a sip from your spiked drink in the bustling living room. You abruptly stand up and throw away your plastic cup when Jungkook's hand disappears elsewhere, and you have an idea of what he's about to do. You march over to him, looking absolutely tiny next to the overbearing college students and you don't notice Jungkook's sinister smile as he watches you fume.

"Let go," you sound hoarse, and not at all intimidating when you push the girl off of his lap. She stumbles at the force, but you pay no mind to her confusion as you pull Jungkook up by his arm to drag him away. You think it's the anger and adrenaline giving you so much strength, but it's Jungkook amusing himself by allowing you to take him upstairs.

"This isn't a therapy session, little girl," he yells over the music, "I didn't come here to listen to you cry."

You huff and let a single tear slip before harshly wiping it away. When you reach the hallway, you enter the first bedroom you find. It's occupied by a foreplaying couple, but you're driven as you hiss, "Out!"

They leave at your demand, and you're confusing a lot of people tonight. Jungkook is surprised by your sudden aggression, but he doesn't stop with his remarks, "the chihuahua's gone mad."

"Shut up, Jungkook!" you whirl around angrily to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"

He quirks a brow. "Do what to you? I'm sorry, am I the one who forcefully brought you here? Am I tripping or are you?"

You push at his chest, "you're a fucking whore! Tonguing a girl in front of everyone, in front of me?"

His shoulders shake in silent laughter and you cross your arms when he starts cackling loudly. The music is drowned out and muffled behind the door, but it's nothing compared to how hysterically Jungkook is laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask lamely. He throws his head back as he clutches his stomach, and you're starting to get annoyed. You push him on the bed, but he's still laughing. "Quit it already," your voice wavers, but you don't back down as you smack his chest. You place your knees on both sides of his hips to limit his movement and cover his mouth to shut him up.

His crescent eyes turn intense instantly as he glares at you under his hooded lids. He exerts only a tiny bit of his energy into pushing your hand away and you weakly collapse on him. It's foul play to compete with his muscles, and you realize he can snap you in half if he wanted to regardless of your rush of adrenaline.

You sit back up as he lowly speaks, "The fuck's it to you? I wanted to fuck her, and I was going to until you stepped in as if you're my girlfriend. Tell me why I shouldn't go back to her right now." He clasps his hands under his head, making himself comfortable with your weight pressing against his crotch.

"You know why," you huff with a frown, and you look so cute in the dim lighting with your baggy knitted sweater bunching up on the sleeves, sitting on his bulge with so much innocence in your expression. He's smitten, but it doesn't show in his cold stare. "I'm your girl, and I won't tolerate you messing around with other women. It's slutty!" You slightly bounce for emphasis, but your knee-length skirt hides your actions. Jungkook feels it with you, and his eyes trail down to your lower region.

"My girl?" he parrots with a raised brow. He gazes back into your eyes. "You do my homework."

"I don't care. I love you," you plead pathetically, "please say you love me back."

"Wasn't I a whore just a second ago?"

"You were! Apologize to me," you harshly yank his head back by his hair. He doesn't react in the slightest, so you softly add, "please."

"Oh little girl," he sighs, "are you really trying to dominate me right now?"

"I am dominating you. Promise me you won't kiss another girl like that again. I won't forgive you a second time."

"Yeah? What's my loss?"

"Well, you're lazy in school," you bluntly state, "and no one loves you like I do. No one would try to cater to you like I do. I'd do anything for you, Kookie." You tug down your skirt to take it off and plop back down on him before saying, "Including sex. You can only use me for your sexual needs."

He's enamored by your words, but he doesn't dare share it with you. Instead, he thrusts upwards and you yelp when you jump. "Go on then," he says nonchalantly. "Show me how much of a slut you are."

"U-Um, okay," you stutter and start unzipping his black denim jeans. You've seen a lot of porn videos to make sure you were prepared for the next step with Jungkook, but you have no experience with penetration.

And he realizes that rather quickly when you're so meek with your actions. With a groan, he asks, "You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

"I've been saving it for the right guy," you answer with offence. This is a special occasion, and you want him to take it as seriously as you do. But it's definitely not a good idea to be snarky with him when you can barely remember the steps for safe sex. "Do you have a condom?"

"It's in my pocket," he grumbles and points at his front without taking it out himself. You're excited and nervous as you tear the wrapper and take out the preservative. You have no idea how to put it on, but you're topping so you clumsily push down his briefs. Jungkook is surprisingly throbbing under you, and you blush at the sight of his erection.

He stops himself from teasing you and saying that the girl from earlier gave him this boner, but he doesn't want to be cruel yet. It's your first time, and truthfully, he jacks off to thought of you too often anyway. He can handle being somewhat nice by staying quiet, but that doesn't mean he would teach you how to put on a condom.

You slip it on with little struggle, and don't waste any time in positioning his cock in your entrance. Before he can stop you, you sink down on his length with a painful moan. He wants to tell you that losing your virginity in this position is the most painful, but instead he groans, "Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?"

It hurts so fucking bad. Your tear ducts are like clockwork as they water instantly, but you lower yourself down to the hilt anyway. You're quite literally sitting on his cock as you try to catch your breath because God, you're in so much pain.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asks, but he's more worried about controlling himself from fucking into you before you can adjust. It's difficult, but he's trying.

"Jungkook," you whimper quietly with your eyes screwed shut, "it hurts."

"You're so fucking dumb for doing this, but you feel so fucking good," he pants as he holds your hips.

"Thank you," you muster out in a breath. A few seconds pass until the pain starts to numb, and you move against him very slowly. Your walls are stinging, but it feels like Heaven for Jungkook who you clench down on.

"Go up and down," he instructs with a bit lip. He tries to move your hips, but you're resisting in fear of another shock of pain. "Come on!"

"Can you wait?" you hiss through clenched teeth.

He's trying to rile you up when he says, "Sana wouldn't take this fucking long."

And it works, because you bounce once. "Don't say her name!"

He groans at your tightness, and he can't believe how wet you are. You're dripping on him, and he curses himself for holding back because of your hopeless romance. He can't entertain your conservative way of going on about this any longer, so he continues, "She would have made me cum by now, but this prissy princess can't even get a move on."

It's almost pathetic how one push from Jungkook makes you start moving, and it feels less uncomfortable to hop up and down against his pelvis. The filthy sound of slapping skin mixing with the generic radio music is making you feel so slutty because it's so stereotypical, but when Jungkook moans, it brings heat all over your body. You take your sweater off when sweat begins to cumulate on your temples, and he commands, "Take off your bra too."

He's thrusting into you as you unclasp the black material, freeing your breasts as he finds his new eyecandies. You are so pretty, your nipples are so hard, and your cunt sucks him in so perfectly. It almost upsets him when he realizes how much pleasure he's deprived himself of; the amount only you seem to be able to provide, because it's beyond physical intimacy.

"Good girl," he exhales and gently slams into you with his hands fondling your tits. You smile coyly through your tears, and he asks, "Does it still hurt?"

You contemplate for a second, because you don't feel the best yet, but you don't want to disappoint Jungkook either. "I-It doesn't," you lie.

Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes; he really wants to believe you so he can chase his high, but he sees right through you. He slaps your tit without mercy and chastises you, "don't lie. I thought this was your little moment of control."

"I'm sorry," you pout as you slowly ride him.

"Another lie," he slaps your other tit more harshly and you yelp.

"I'm not lying!" you plead and hasten your pace, desperate to sell your lie. It's working, because you're starting to feel a knot in your stomach the more you adjust.

He moans with you, and you lose yourself when he stills your hips and begins to fuck you himself. It's rough, loud, and the pain is your pleasure. His balls slap against your skin as he easily slides in and out of you with the help of your arousal. Your love dawns on him when you're so turned on for him without any foreplay, and he's on cloud nine because nothing can compare to being inside you.

The setting is so unlike you, fucking in someone's bedroom with a bunch of people behind the unlocked door who can barge in at any given moment, but he finds it so sexy. You only care about being with him, and you really do look like his slut now.

His hands start holding onto your ass, kneading it until it turns red with his fingerprints, and he demands you to kiss him. You're out of it, your ears are ringing and you can only moan out his name, but you can't bear to ignore him. Your lips fall on his, and the kiss is sloppy with his tongue all over your mouth. You can't keep up, but your chest swells with pride when you realize how needy he is for you. He goes as far as to spit in your mouth, and you swallow it without hesitation.

"You want me to play with your clit?" he murmurs against your lips, and his voice sounds so airy and melodic to your ears. "Hm? Want me to make you feel good, little slut?"

You whine without a clear response because his lips feel so soft and wet, and that's the only thing you can focus on. All you want to do is kiss him and he doesn't stop you from doing so, but you're even more overwhelmed when he starts touching you while penetrating you. "No," you whimper, "I'll cum."

"A slut can take it," he grunts and rubs your clit faster, and you come undone all too soon. You moan loudly as you tremble, shaking as he rides out your high with a pinch to your clit. You're numb when you collapse on top of him, but he's relentless with his thrusts. He's using your body as you intended, and he's vocal with his pleasure and teasing climax. It's remarkable how he holds you up when you've gone limp and still fucks you just as hard.

You want to record his voice when he starts to whine pathetically, but you have no energy left within. He's panting in your ear, and it's not long before his hips fall on the mattress with a sigh. He's surprised by how powerful his orgasm was, as he fills the condom with his release instantly. His cock is still nestled inside you as both of you recover from your climax.

"Get off," he taps your thigh, and he pushes you off when you don't obey immediately. Your spell has worn off as he starts to dress himself. "I'm going back to the dorms." You listen to him with your mind in a haze. "Unless you want to get raped on your way without me, get the fuck up now."

"Can you carry me please?"

He shrugs and swings your arm over his shoulder, picking up your body with ease. He collects your clothes in his hand, but doesn't hand them to you as he steps out of the room.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I'm naked-"

"You're my girl, no? Be a good slut and shut the fuck up."

Dangling off his shoulder with your bare tits pressed against his back, you close your eyes and drift off on the way to campus.

Boyfriends typically drop their girlfriends off anyway, right?

#bts scenarios #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook imagines

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

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Troll In Luv: Part 2

Previous: Troll in Luv Pt. 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers; Non-Idol AU, Angst eventual Fluff

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Making Out, Kissing

Summary: Your hand is forced, and the only way to come out on top is to reckon with your ex and apologize for past transgressions... er tweets.

Note: This fic is dedicated to, written for, the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it it’s totally trash... jk. mostly.

This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange!

Banner by me.

Tag List (is this how you do it no ones ever asked before): @unicornbabylover

Thursday: Jimin’s Apartment

Jimin hadn’t just moved on up, he’s leveled up completely. Gone were the Ikea pieces that he’d spent hours assembling, only to realize they’d given him the wrong part and he’d had to trek back to the store to rectify it. Gone were the plastic plates and cups he’d collected from Penny Pitchers at the bar across campus. Gone were the free t-shirts and dance company sweats he’d torn or cut to make them more comfortable for practice.

In their place, Jimin had picked out custom fabrics to cover his chairs, found small batch glass plates and bowls to line his open kitchen shelves. He’d sourced a Persian rug from a little hole in the wall shop that had been in the neighborhood for seventy years and had runners made from their remnants. He’d curated his space, and his wardrobe, to fit the Jimin he’d always been. Each piece made up for the times that he could only hold onto cheap knock offs, embarrassed when someone noticed a shirt he was wearing from a bag they’d donated to Goodwill.

Stepping into his space, it was hard not to gawk. Every inch of this apartment screamed maturity, knocking you off your feet. Had you been missing out on this for years? This Jimin, adult Jimin, was far more impressive than you’d realized. It was hard not to feel your heart hurting, yearning for the years you had been together, the moments shared, the love that had blossomed in your youth.

This was going to be more devastating than you realized.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Jimin asked. He took your jacket and purse, hanging them on the steampunk inspired coat rack.

“Um, water would be good, thanks,” You said, moving through the entry way to the kitchen. “How long have you lived here?”

“Uh, two years? But I just finished decorating maybe a month ago,”

“It’s incredible,”

“Thanks, how’s the magazine?”

“A fucking shit show,” You took the glass from his hands, careful not to let his fingers brush against yours.

“Hoseok mentioned that things have been getting more, challenging?”

“Yeah, that’s the nice way of putting it.”

“Hm,” Jimin hummed, sipping his own water.

“How’s your job? I don’t, I know Hoseok and Tae and Jungkook have told me about what you do, but, what do you do?” You phrased your question carefully, knowing precisely what he has been up to. You’ve seen his campaigns, his work on water bottles and stickers around the city, not to mention his designs being picked up by Target and thrown onto pillows, blankets and beach towels. He’d won an award last year for his artwork that had been picked up and used as the home screen on the most recent Mac Book, Mac Book Pro and Mac Book Air. He was being considered as a new graphic artist for Penguin Publishing, working on new book jackets as well as negotiating a seven-figure deal with Target, only to be outbid by Costco.

Jimin was everywhere, but he absolutely didn’t need to know that you knew that. He didn’t need to know how angry you were that neither of you actually ‘won’ your breakup.

“Well, I graduated with a degree in graphic design and a minor in dance. After I discovered I didn’t want to dance professionally, I got a job in graphics. I kept working on projects and three years ago started my own company. My work has been in a lot of different places, which, I’m sure you’ve seen,” Jimin sipped his water, pouted lips glistening as the liquid graced over them.

“Awfully cocky,” You smirked, long lasting Charlotte Tilbury, Glastonberry purple lipstick marking the glass.

“Or I know you well enough to know that you’ve been keeping tabs on me,” Jimin had no need to be cocky, he knew he was right. All he had to do was be confident.

“That’s an awfully big assumption for you to make. But it’s cool, it explains why your apartment is Architectural Digest ready. Unless, you have a girlfriend with excellent taste who designed it all,” You were baiting him, and in the internal monologue that never shut the fuck up, you were beating yourself up over the fact that Erin had been correct.

Jimin rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you just ask if I’m seeing someone?”

“Now why would I be that direct?” You questioned.

“You’ve been sitting behind a computer screen, trolling me for years instead of just talking to me. I should’ve expected you to find some roundabout way to ask if I’m single,” Jimin set his glass on the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest, defiance brooding in his dark eyes.

“Look, I know it’s fucked up, that I’m fucked up. It is the sole purpose of me going to therapy,” You explained.

“I would hope so,” Jimin scoffed. He’d never been indifferent to you, but you supposed you couldn’t expect anything less than anger after years of unwarranted harassment. Mentally, you kicked yourself over the fact that Claire had been right.

“Jimin,” You sighed.

“What?” He snapped.

“I’m sorry,” You stared into his softening eyes, the ones you’d spent years trying to replace, burning the memories into your retinas once again.

“Sorry for what?”

“For everything,”

“Care to be more specific?” He moved towards you, gliding from the far side of the kitchen to stand opposite you, elbows leaning against the cool granite of the countertop he custom ordered.

“I have loved you since we were fifteen, okay? When you left, when I left,” You sighed, there was never going to be a poetic or graceful way to lay out your tumultuous feelings, but you owed it to yourself to try. “I never told you how much I loved you, or how much it hurt when you just, you moved on so quickly, and I didn’t know how to tell you that I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want to break up, I didn’t want to fall into another cliché of high school sweethearts preemptively breaking each other into pieces because of college. I wanted us to be the cliché that lasted, that worked. But you just, I’ve been hurting for years and I didn’t think you’d care, because you didn’t back then, so why would you now?”

“So, you harassed me on the internet?” Jimin asked.

You rolled your eyes. “It didn’t start out that way,”

“How did it start?”

“Someone sent me a link to your profile, and I just, retweeted with a stupid comment and you responded. In my gut, I thought, I felt, that you knew it was me. Why else would you engage with it? You didn’t engage with anyone else,” Your rehearsed explanation made perfect sense, you’d spent years crafting it, tweaking the language, ensuring there were no loopholes.

“You checked?” Jimin’s smirk was back. Fuck him, it looked good against his angelic eyes.

“I’m a journalist, Jimin,”

“Still, you checked,”

“The point is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been needling you for years. I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you how much I loved you, I’m sorry I’ve been a massive bitch, rivaling only Heather Chandler. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, and I’m sorry Claire wrapped you up in this stupid article that I am no longer participating in. I’m sorry that even after I changed my fucking Twitter handle and you knew it was me, that I kept being a mythic bitch. I’m sorry for being the villain in your life.”

“I’m sorry too,” Jimin rushed to say.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I was a coward back then, too scared by what Yoongi and Namjoon said about dating in college. I should’ve, I should’ve fought for us more than I did.” He admitted.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize the colossal mistake he had made, but by then Yoongi and Joon had planted the seeds in his mind that no one in their right mind makes it with their high school sweetheart. What a naïve notion, to stay with the same person you’ve loved since puberty.

“Remember when you came back for my dad’s wedding?” You asked.

“I regret that,” Jimin told you.

“I cried for two days,”

“I’m sorry,” He couldn’t look at you, his years of unsaid apologies waiting behind his pouting lips.

“It was such a dick move.”

Jimin smiled softly, he had missed the way you over exaggerated your speech, adding emphasis to superlatives, the slight way your eyes rolled when you were trying to make a point. A habit you’d developed in high school, he was glad to see you hadn’t replaced it with a new inane ritual. He still very much liked this one, found it endearing even after years of missing out on it.

“I know,” He conceded.

“I can only assume it was on purpose.”

“It, yeah, yeah, Hoseok said you were getting cozy with Seokjin,” He explained.

“I was,” You nodded.

“Was?”

“He broke my heart, sometime after you showed up to New Years with what’s her name on your arm and proceeded to make the after-hours dance party in Dirty Dancing look like the Russian Ballet. Oh, and can’t forget you nearly fucking her in the kitchen as the ball dropped, which Yoongi made a very dirty joke about it.”

You hadn’t kept a list of all his transgressions… but you had kept a list of all his transgressions, all his missteps, all his calculated moves, only to plan your own counterstrike. Erin had been right, you had started the Twitter battle, but Jimin had poisoned the blood between you long before you tweeted about it.

“I was drunk,” He excused.

“You did it on purpose,” You rolled your eyes, Jimin had forgotten how cute that was too.

“I did,” He conceded.

“I wasn’t fucking Seokjin on the dance floor for everyone to see,” You tossed back the rest of your water, eyes glancing at the living room where a framed photo remained. Prom, you in his arms, Hoseok beside you, Namjoon eyeing Caitlin Anderson, his date that you had made a point to not allow in the photo. She wasn’t sticking around, why ruin your group pic? (Namjoon still was pissed about this, though he hadn’t spoken to her since he left for college.) You were all too preoccupied with rules to drink, do drugs or smoke, so while your classmates were getting wrecked, you went bowling until 2AM. Jimin had climbed into your bedroom, after supposedly dropping you off, and you’d promised each other the world.

It didn’t last through summer.

Jimin sighed, a hand running through his bleached locks, tugging gently at the ends. “You weren’t.”

“You didn’t have anything to prove, Jimin. I had already gotten the message. Too fucking loud and too fucking clear.” Your voice became small, the heart of your hurt, the source of your pain, bubbling up to the surface.

“What was that message?” Jimin noted the change in your dynamic, your hand moving to play with the earring in your top hole, twirling it thoughtlessly as your eyes drug themselves from your prom photo back to him.

“That you didn’t want me,” You whispered.

Jimin let it sit in the air, the real reason you had harassed him, the real reason you were sitting in his kitchen, tears forming, lip trembling. This entire time, you had thought he didn’t want you anymore, didn’t love you, didn’t think you were his sun and moon.

“Is that why Seokjin broke up with you?” He asked.

“That he didn’t want me?” You questioned. He was toeing the line, danger signs would’ve been flashing, horns and sirens wailing telling Jimin to back the fuck off.

“No, that you still wanted me,” He clarified.

“Yeah, something like that,” You mumbled.

“I wanted you too,” Jimin admitted.

“Bullshit,”

“You think I would bring around random girls if I didn’t think you would be there? That I would parade around, embarrassing myself, just to show off whoever was on my arm? Do you really think that little of me?” Jimin demanded, his anger that he’d long thought he’d worked through coming back to the surface. He was no longer calm, no longer sympathetic to your puppy dog eyes.

“Jimin, I don’t know what to think of you! You broke my heart because of something Yoongi said, Yoongi, who doesn’t date let alone love anyone other than Jungkook, and then proceeded to what, listen to Namjoon?” Standing from your seat, you pushed the stool back under the immaculate white countertop. “What the fuck did they know about our relationship that I didn’t? Why were they making decisions about us, us, you and me, Jimin? Why did they have power and I had none?”

“I was, I was scared,” He admitted, his voice meek against your thunderous admissions.

“Bullshit! I was scared, you were cavalier.”

“You don’t meet your person when you’re fifteen!” He yelled, anger coming to a head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You’re yelling back, returning decibel for decibel. Stool pushed back, hand through your hair, blazer coming off to reveal the cheetah print blouse underneath. It was too hot in his apartment, too hot to have this conversation sober, too hot to be staring at him, the man who knew everything, everything, about you. It was too much for him to be confessing that he was a pussy.

“No, I’m not,”

“Park Jimin, you fucking asshole.”

“I’m so-

“No, no you’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be standing in front of me, trying to pawn off your emotions as fodder in some naïve fallacy that says you can’t grow and mature with the person you love at fifteen. You are absolutely fucking unbelievable Jimin.” Untucking your shirt, you moved towards the living room and the open window.

“I’m so-

“Shut up! You don’t get it, do you?” You asked, the tears stinging your eyes begging to be released.

“Get what?” He muttered. You hear him plop down on the couch, and you know he’s slumped back, legs resting against the reclaimed wood coffee table, hands tucked behind his head, watching you.

“You, Jimin! Do you understand who you are?” You turned, the cool air soothing against your shoulders.

“I thought I did but apparently not, so enlighten me,” He requested.

“You love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You crave love, you seek it out from your friends and family and yes, your girlfriends. You remember every detail, every expression, every glance carries weight in your eyes. You love the hardest, you hurt the deepest, and when you said you didn’t think we’d make it, what else was I supposed to do other than believe you?”

“I was an idiot! I was a child!” Jimin ran an unsteady hand through his locks, again, his nervous habit coming out in full force. “I was 18 and all I wanted was to elope, but I couldn’t because I had to make a name for myself. My parents demanded it from me, what was I to do, get lost in you? I was already drowning Y/N! All I breathed was you and fuck me if I wasn’t ready to commit to you but I knew you didn’t want to be the Topanga to my Cory so what could I do?”

“There are a lot of things you could’ve done! You could’ve said something to me. You could’ve been amicable. You could’ve shared your fears and your hopes with me, Jimin. You didn’t have to parade around with girlfriend after girlfriend and tell me you didn’t want us anymore!”

“I thought you were falling in love with someone else!” Jimin said.

“Why does it matter what I was doing? Whenever you saw me, did you see me flaunting my new relationship in your face? Why did you, why would you think that I was ever over you?”

“You were with Seokjin for two years,” Jimin answered, it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Oh, so I have a stable relationship and you assume it’s okay to be a dick?” You quipped. Sitting on the couch, your body relishes in the ease with which you let off a little tension.

“No, you had someone else,” Jimin turned, arm propped on the back of the couch, body facing yours.

“Doesn’t mean you had the right to treat me the way you did,” You hadn’t been this close to him in years, his breath mingling with yours. You could see the crinkles near his eyes, from moments when his laughter was the only thing on his mind.

“I wanted to marry you,” Jimin reached his hand towards yours, intertwining your fingers, still a perfect fit.

“But you didn’t,” You remind him.

“I haven’t,” Jimin’s eyes were set your hand, your ring finger naked, heated gaze willing a diamond to be made out of the hair around you.

“Jimin,”

“We’ve been here for hours, we’ve rehashed the past, but not once have you said why you kept trolling me,” He turned his eyes back to yours, pleading softly for you to tell him that what he thinks you mean is truth, not willful thinking.

“Because, Jimin. You’re so fucking dense sometimes,” You rolled your eyes, how did he not get it?

“Because isn’t an-

“I love you! You fucking asshole. I love you. I keep tabs on you because I’m still harboring some insanely poetic, pathetic, sociopathic love for you, Jimin. My first love, my only love. I know I’ve been a massive twat, I know it, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ruining the last five or so years of your life, I’m sorry for tweeting at you and about you. I’m sorry that I never said anything to you during college. I’m sorry I asked your mom not to tell you that we still talk. I’m sorry that I can’t seem to let you go. I’m sorry that I still love you.”

The tears fell freely, cascading down your cheeks and neck, path only interfered when Jimin brought your face into his hands, thumbs moving meticulously to wipe the falling droplets. He’d always loved cupping your cheeks, holding your face delicately between his hands. He loved the intimacy, the care, the inability to hide anything from each other.

“Marry me,” Jimin said, voice clear over your sobs.

“What?”

“Let’s go to city hall, get a license, let’s just, get married. Now, right now,”

“Jimin, we’ve hardly-

“I know my mom talks to you, she told me. She’s always told me. I still, I still talk to your dad, too. He texts me like once a week,” Jimin confessed.

“You do?” You couldn’t believe it, your parents knew too?

“I’ve always loved you, always. I knew-

“You asshole! You fucking suck! Why did you make me pour out my heart like this only to tell me you fucking knew? Was this a ruse? Oh my god, are you The Duke? Am I Daphne? Quick, make haste to the gallery wall in your hallway so we can stare at the photos of your years without me and pretend that our hands touching isn’t the sexiest thing to happen since Regé Jean Page boxed shirtless,” You rambled in between wiping your dripping nose against your blouse sleeve. Words spilled from you, tumbled out from your lips at a speed you hadn’t reached in years. Jimin always knew how to get you so worked up air seemed like a luxury.

Jimin stood to retrieve a tissue box from the bathroom.

“This wasn’t a ruse; I didn’t know you’d come over to talk about our relationship, our past. I was going to reach out I just, I thought you hated me.”

He sat back down, this time closer, knee bumping against yours, leaning in to speak in docile tones.

“When have I ever hated you?” You questioned.

“I can think of at least one hundred occasions where you’ve said that you have,”

“Such an-

“And you keep calling me names,” Jimin rolled his eyes. You’ve always loved how he rolled his eyes, subtle and gentle, but deadly and effective.

“I love you means you don’t have to say you’re sorry, so I won’t say it again,” You countered. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips.

“But I’ll say it, because while you’ve been angrily tweeting me, a poor attempt at showing your feelings,” Jimin braced for the contact of your hand against his shoulder, a gentle hit, accompanied by your own eyeroll and scoff. “Listen, I too have been an asshole. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I do accept your apologies, and I do forgive you. I love you, always have,” Jimin had taken both your hands in his, and gently, he placed kisses on each of your knuckles.

“Jimin,” You murmured.

“What Y/N?”

“I accept your apologies. I love you, so much, and I’m sorry I wasted the last few years instead of just saying that I wanted us to try again.” You turned your hands over, mimicking his gesture by placing lingering kisses across the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us during college. I’m sorry I brought girlfriends to family events, I’m sorry my actions made you think I stopped loving you.”

“You didn’t, right?” You peered up at him, lips leaving the palm of his left hand.

“Never,” Jimin held your gaze, watching as you sat up.

“Even when you were dating skanky girl number three, with the nose ring and the summer house in Montauk? That you brought home for spring break and asked if you could bring to Namjoon’s parent’s anniversary?” You questioned.

“You really want to rehash everything, don’t you?” Jimin chuckled, your ridiculousness knew no bounds.

“I mean, we don’t have to right now we-

“Can I kiss you?” Jimin leaned forward, cherry lips finding purchase on the delicate flesh on the inside of your wrists, a sensation that specialized in making your toes curl.

“You think that’s wise?” Your voice, a breathy groan embarrassingly needy, seemed to belong to someone other than you. Someone who needed Jimin to toss them over his shoulder and fuck into his $2,000 sheets.

Jimin laughed, “You were my first kiss, my first time, my first everything. You think now, as adults, kissing is going to ruin us getting back together?”

“I just mean that, do we need to let this simmer before we, you know,” You bobbled your head, hair moving around to match the giddiness bubbling inside of you.

“We don’t have to have sex,”

“Yeah,” You sighed, “but don’t you like, really want to?”

“And you call yourself a journalist!”

“Shut up!”

“You’re being ridiculous! Of course, I want to,” Jimin’s docile laugh sent a shiver down your spine.

“I am being cautious, I need to know that you, that you want this,” You reiterated.

It hurt to have to ask Jimin to give you something he already had, to give you his love again, to give you his trust. But it wasn’t you who ended this relationship, it wasn’t you who thought your relationship wouldn’t last through college. You knew you could work through it all; it was Jimin that walked away shattering your heart and your trust. It was Jimin who was scared of being with you, Jimin who needed to prove he was going to make this work. Jimin who had lost it all and needed to fight for you again.

“You’re asking me if I want to have sex with the love of my life, after years of not being able to touch her, to kiss her, to love her the way she’s earned?” Jimin asked.

“Yes,”

“To borrow a phrase from you, fuck you for thinking either one of us has any self-control. Especially when it comes to each other. How many tweets have we exchanged? How many times have you asked Hoseok about me, or my mother?” Jimin cupped your cheeks again, eyes darting from you slightly parted, purple stained lips to your eyes. “I’m in this, for good, and I will tell you every day until you believe me again.”

“Me too, though you should know I’ve picked up a few new habits I’m sure Taehyung has told you about,” You leaned into his touch, cheek warming at the light callouses that remained from his overeager workouts, and mic twirls he mastered in too many nights singing karaoke with Jungkook.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve started wrapping my hair. And I’m also still allergic to kiwi,” You reminded him.

“Good, who needs a slimy green fruit with too many seeds?”

“Truly no one, except Australians,” You laughed and your pun.

“Remember that day before senior year, when we got smoothies, but they didn’t tell you that they’d put kiwi in it, and you had to go the emergency room?” Jimin’s hands have dropped from your face, instead clapping together, head tossing back as his laughter overtook his body.

“Or the time after watching Friends, Joon decided he wanted to make a kiwi-lime pie despite the fact we told him not to put kiwi, and he did anyway?” You laughed with him, head leaning against the arm that he had extended across the back of the couch.

“You wanted to kill him,” Jimin agreed.

“He forgot he had put it in! Then forced me to try it! I still hear his voice, ‘Y/N, please just a bite. Please, I worked really hard on it, come on, just a taste, please’. I swear to you, Sara Bareilles heard him and saved it for the Waitressmusical,” You laughed.

“I don’t remember who was more pissed, your mom or you,” Jimin added.

“He offered to pay for my hospital visit,”

“He paid it all off, didn’t he?”

“Before the month had ended, he didn’t even work out a payment plan, and bought me a new EpiPen,” You couldn’t stop laughing. Namjoon, the ever-lovable oaf, had never stopped apologizing for badgering you into eating his fucking pie. You couldn’t even tell if it was good, the minute the kiwi hit your tongue, your body reacted.

“He’s always been, responsible,” Jimin was calming down, high pitched squeaks on longer radiating off his vocal cords.

“To a fault,” You sighed. “My mom gave it all back to him, she saved it for the day he graduated college and got into med school.”

“Was he shocked?”

“Pleasantly so,”

Jimin hummed in agreement, his arm moving to drape across your shoulders, your body relaxing back into him. Your head found its way to his shoulder, and slowly you breathed in his scent. He’d changed colognes since the last time you’d been this close, this vulnerable with him. You liked it, fresh and crisp, with undertones of sandalwood and something that smelled like Kimchi, though you knew Jimin enough to know he’d probably eaten some for lunch. You liked it, his warmth pulling you to him, the safety of his embrace reminding you of all the days and nights you’d spent just like this.

“Jimin?”

“Yes?”

“Did you, after we broke up did you ever, fall in love again?” You craned your neck to try and catch his expression.

“No, I got close, but I never did. Did you fall in love with Seokjin?”

“It’s complicated. I loved him, I did, but I wasn’t in love with him,” You moved ever so slowly out of his grasp, trying to gage his expression.

“Did you think you’d get married?” Jimin leaned closer. His movement, calculated and timid, hatched the cocoons in your stomach into full butterflies, beating wings against your insides.

“No, well,” You tilted your head, a habit from Hoseok, and licked your bottom lip. You should’ve remembered to put Aquaphor on your lips before leaving the cab. “One time I thought maybe we might work out, maybe we’d find a way through, well, you. But he never, he always kind of knew that my heart was still tied up with yours.”

Jimin watched as you wet your bottom lip, tongue gracefully moving to swipe across your flesh, hoping to take the place of your tongue with his own.

“Did he, did he bring me up when he-

“Dumped me?”

“Yeah,”

“Kind of,” You blinked quickly, eyes trying to discern if Jimin was in fact moving closer, or if your vision was playing tricks on you and trying to zoom in on him while he moved way.

“I’m sorry that I, that I was used against you. I’m -

“Jimin, as much as I would love to iron out the details of Seokjin dumping me, and I’m sure negotiating the terms of us getting back together, and naturally filling each other in on the last few years we’ve been apart…” You licked your lips again, “Your lips keep getting farther away from mine and I really, really need to kiss you.”

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice, and lunged forward, pinning you beneath him, hips pressing into yours, pressure of his body against you, holding you to him.

“I missed you,” Jimin said before closing the space between you, plump, soft and supple lips pressing aggressively against yours. You knew he’d be stained purple, the thought of him walking into whatever We-Work adjacent workspace his office was in, with purple tinted lips and bruised flesh, thrilled you.

Jimin had always been your favorite person to kiss. Tasting like nostalgia and 7/11 Slurpee’s that you’d split on summer days, half blue raspberry, half cherry, two large straws and a sugar hangover that almost always led to naps on the hammock in your mom’s backyard. Kissing adult Jimin, experienced Jimin, Jimin who had slept with other people besides you, was intoxicating. Skilled in the way he used his tongue against yours, nibbling your bottom lip before diving in, he’d learned a few new tricks that had you moaning underneath him.

“You know,” You started, his lips gnawing at the flesh of your neck, hot kisses and love bites decorating you a shade of purple you wished Charlotte Tilbury sold. “I still haven’t seen your bedroom.”

Jimin laughed, “Oh so now you’re going to be direct?”

“When have I ever been subtle?”

“Clearly not in your Tw-

“Jimin,” You interrupted, index finger silencing his lips. “Just, take me to your bed and make love to me. I promise, I swear, I won’t troll you on the internet ever again, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin couldn’t stop smiling as he stood, adjusted the waistband of his flat front chinos, and reached for your hand. “Come on, we’ve got five and a half years and a shit ton of tweets to make up for.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood, hand in his and followed him down the hallway, past the gallery wall and into his bedroom, where you clocked another photo from high school, this time just you and Jimin, his parents and brother, smiling at high school graduation. You turned to him, ready to comment but cut off by his lips again, hands pulling you towards him, arms wrapping you in his embrace.

As you drowned in Jimin, in the way his bare skin felt against yours, how his hands moved, tender and lovingly on your skin, relearning routes and maps he’d written many moons ago, it was easy to remember why you’d fallen love with him, and even easier to remember why you’d never gotten the love you shared. Jimin was attentive, passionate, loving, giving… he took his time with you, waited for you to be ready, brought out the best in you in every situation. With his voice in your ear, his sounds overriding the previous iteration you’d had on lock from your teen years, his hips grinding into yours, reclaiming what he had once lost, Jimin rewrote the future you hadn’t been able to imagine since he broke your heart.

In his ministrations on your body, his love personified in how he made your toes curl, your mind blank, your body his, Jimin vowed to love you, to stand by you, to hate who you hate and love who you love. To feed your every obsession and call you on your bullshit. He promised to protect you, to ensure you never eat kiwi, and to tell you he loves you at least three times every day, beyond earning your trust, beyond you believing him, beyond putting a ring on your finger and giving you his last name (if you wanted to take it). He vowed to never leave, not when it gets tough, not when he is scared, not when you spew that you hate him, which you inevitably will. In return, you promised to give him the world, which he admittedly had whenever you were with him.

Love was complicated and messy… and it pissed you off to no end to know that all it took was a few years of dragging Jimin on Twitter to get the love of your life back.

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doberbutts · 3 years

Text

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was beaten by his father so savagely that he went deaf, while his father’s girlfriend watched and did nothing?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was abandoned and locked inside an empty apartment until the 1950s equivalent of CPS was tipped off he was there and took him to save him from starvation, because dear old grandpa and his girlfriend at the time didn’t want a defective child once they figured out they’d permanently fucked him up?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he bounced from foster home to foster home until he was held down and raped by one of his foster brothers, tried to tell his foster mother, and she just called him a faggot and left it at that?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was finally reunited with his mother and had to scrape together a living by eating stale bread and running errands for what turned out to be local gangs, because she was too poor to feed another mouth?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he watched a black man shot by police bleed out in the street?

Where was my father’s male privilege when teachers who should have caught his deafness instead made him believe he was failing his classes because he was stupid because that’s just how black people are?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he got the tar kicked out of him by his white classmates who felt emboldened by their female teacher’s anti-black racism?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he brought the subject of racism up with the school board after a cross was lit on fire on his desk, and he was dismissed by both male and female staff?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he struggled to find a job after completing college, completing a master’s degree, which he paid for exclusively with scholarships earned from his competitive essay writing, because no one wanted to hire a disabled black man?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was accused of assault by a white female student who could not keep her story straight and eventually admitted she had made it up because she wanted to put her black principal back in his place?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was violently cuffed and illegally searched while I sat in the carseat and he was forced to comfort me through the window?

Where was my father’s male privilege when his wife, my mother, was immediately disowned by her entire family for associating herself with him? When she was forced to make a choice between a future with him, or her family? When he sees this echo with his children, and my sister’s children have still never met my brother-in-law’s family despite more than 10 years of marriage?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he came to pick us up from school and my school refused to let him in until the cops verified he was exactly who he said he was? Despite his name matching his ID, the lanyard he wore stating he was a principal at a nearby school, and the name on the school registry as being one of my parents? Despite me being called into the office to peek through the blinds at him and verifying that yes, this was my father?

Where was my father’s male privilege as neighbors who protested living near a black man repeatedly called the police on him as he pulled into the driveway of the house he’s lived in since I was born, let himself in with his own key, with ID to match the address and having known these neighbors by first name? To the point my white-passing mother had to diffuse the situation?

My father is straight and cis. My father is black and disabled. My father is a survivor. My father is a lot of things, and I have a lot of complicated feelings about him, but he is not trash. He has not skated through life as though it’s easy. His life was significantly harder than my mother’s, and her life wasn’t easy either. He has been hurt by men. He has been hurt by women. Some of the instances he has been hurt, my mother was directly sheltered from because she is a woman.

Her father was also an angry drunk, but deliberately did not take his anger out on his daughters, preferring to beat his son bloody instead. Mom has the trauma of watching her father beat the piss out of her brother and having to patch him back up after, but never of having been beaten herself.

Mom found herself in compromising and dangerous positions at times, but was protected from physical harm by her brother and the other men around her who saw it as their duty to protect the girls from that sort of thing. Literally the only good thing about rural purity culture.

Mom has a history of speaking out against racism and discrimination when she sees it, but has never needed to throw a punch in her life, because there was always a man around to protect her from the resulting fight. The men might not have agreed with her views on race but they were connected to her and thus duty/honor bound to protect her if someone tried to jump her because she wouldn’t let them beat up the black kid or told them to stop bothering the asian kid.

Mom never once had to stop and consider that it would be kinder to her partner to break things off.

Mom has never been falsely accused of assault because it’s just assumed that women don’t do that.

Mom has never been accused of trying to kidnap us because it’s believable that a white woman has mixed race kids that are darker than her but inconceivable that a black man has mixed race kids that are lighter than him.

Mom has never had the police called on her for entering her own house in their very white neighborhood.

Mom has only been pulled over once in her life, and the cop was far more interested in what my sisters and I were doing in her car than anything she might have potentially done.

My mother is straight and cis. She is also a white-passing POC and disabled. My mother is a survivor. My mother is a lot of things, and I have a lot of complicated feelings about her, but even she admits that her life was easier than my dad’s.

Cis, straight men suffer. White men suffer. My uncle is also a white-passing POC and a survivor. Do you know how much pent up anger he has? Still has, even though my grandfather changed and got better and apologized and owned up to his wrongs? Even though my grandfather’s been dead for years now? My uncle is sullen and prefers a bottle to take away his pain, pain he’s not been able to process, not been allowed to process, and he’s been that way since he was a child, which is not surprising considering what I’ve been directly told the beatings entailed... and things are always worse than what you’re told when it comes to that.

And all of that anger and resentment and rage and pain builds and builds until one of his sisters pokes him a little too hard about it and then he roars at them and storms off and he knows it’s wrong to take it out on them and he knows it’s not fair and that they only mean well but it hurts and he knows no other outlet besides lashing out because that was the only thing he was ever taught. Men get drunk and then get angry and then get violent. So he stops himself at yelling because he knows he can’t hit in anger, and he leaves and bangs doors behind him and stomps off until he calms down.

And you can say “dude needs therapy” and you know... you’re not wrong. But why would he ever seek it? When he sought help as a child he was told to be a man and suck it up and harden and grow some balls. His mother didn’t intervene to help him. You know, I know, he knows it’s because she was afraid her husband would turn on her. But it still hurts to know your own mother let your own father do that to you. Repeatedly. Over and over and over again. The most help he ever got was some first aid from his sisters when my grandfather decided he was done being angry. His teachers just knew him as an angry, sullen boy who frequently got into fistfights with other angry, sullen boys and chalked new bruises up to that.

If you grow up like this, betrayed by everyone who is supposed to help you, then why would you ever consider seeking outside help as an adult?

And if your reaction is- see? He is a violent man! He is part of the problem! He could seek help and won’t because he is a stubborn man that wants to make his problems into women’s problems by relying on his sisters!

Then you fail to understand that my uncle is the way he is because of unprocessed, repeated trauma and betrayal that he was actively discouraged from seeking help to free himself of the cycle and start to heal. And his sisters were the only people in his life that did not harm him in that way, so at this point his sisters and his wife are the only people he trusts when triggers get poked and the pot boils over.

He does need therapy. He’s not likely to ever seek it out. And it’s because he was born a boy that this happened to him, and it’s because he was born a boy that no one was willing to help when he needed it most.

These men are not part of the queer community. They still were made vulnerable, and needed help, and did not get any, because of that same logic that drives these feelings about men not needing to be helped or included or assisted today. It’s not progressive just because the logic is coming from the queer community this time instead of conservative christians.

#tbh the majority of my mom's family is functionally white #they are a large part Native but that only comes up when it's convenient #mostly they're Irish and lean real hard into the being white thing #and tbh if you called one of them a POC to their face they'd probably punch you #even though by definition they ARE

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dreamsofnude · 4 years

Text

An Ode to a Past Love

This is the hardest thing I will ever write.

It started a little more than six years ago. I met you at a concert in Philadelphia. I didn’t think much of you then. You followed me around all day with those big blue eyes and I thought nothing of it. You annoyed me actually.

You were persistent, and I liked that about you. You annoyed me, but you had so many traits that I admired. You were easy to talk to. You were kind. You knew how to make me laugh. We shared similar interests and values. But of course, you were just a friend.

Your entire existence conflicted with what I wanted in life; with who I wanted in life. You were wild and had experienced so much in just 18 years. You didn’t want to settle. I was 19 and in my first year of college, and didn’t know what my future held. I had a very clear idea in my head of the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. You weren’t it.

You were always persistent. Despite how busy I was working and going to class, day after day we would text, talk on the phone, Facetime, send each other Tweets, and so on. There was never a time where we weren’t connected. I loved to hate that about us.

I turned 20 and decided I wanted an adventure. You were in bootcamp in North Chicago and I suggested that I would come visit. I had never traveled on my own. You agreed, and we made arrangements. Little did I know, that this would be the trip that ruined me forever.

I got on the plane, full of excitement and butterflies. I didn’t know why I was feeling them. I was just going to visit a friend; nothing major. We were going to meet downtown at Ogilvie Station. I got lost trying to find it. When I first saw you exit the train platform doors, we ran up toward one another and embraced each other with a force and closeness I had never felt — and that is when my life changed.

I didn’t know what was in store for us. I didn’t know that our first kiss was going to be on the top of the ferris wheel at Navy Pier that night. I didn’t know that we would spend the evening tangled in that hotel room bed. I didn’t know what was happening, and honestly, I didn’t care. I was happy. For once in my life, I felt happy.

I went back to Pennsylvania, and you went back to bootcamp. You got assigned to be in San Diego a month later. The distance between us just got larger, but I didn’t care. I wanted it to work.

You came back to Pennsylvania before they sent you to San Diego, and I promised I would drive 3 hours to see you. I will never forget that day. Unfortunately, it would be the last time I saw you for a few years.

We continuously found ourselves in a rigorous cat-and-mouse game for the years to follow. I would date someone; you would talk to me. You would date someone; I would talk to you. When it failed on both ends, we talked to one another. I didn’t mind it though, because we always found our way back to each other again.

I was in my last year of college. You called me one December night, drunk out of your mind. You confessed your love for me. You said “I want you from the beginning to the very end.” Though it didn’t make sense, I knew what you meant, and the cycle started all over again.

We decided to plan a visit after 3 years of not seeing each other. I flew to San Diego to spend 10 days with you in your apartment on the naval base. It was the new start with you I had craved for years.

We got a little drunk one night and got carried away. I found out two months later that I was pregnant. We agreed on an abortion. I want to say more about this but it’s hard for me to put it all into words. It still haunts me to this day.

I asked you if I could move to San Diego to be with you after I graduated college. I wanted us to finally be in the same place at the same time. You told me no. Later I found out it’s because you had a local girlfriend that you didn’t want me to know about.

At 23, I decided to move to Chicago after graduation and have a new start. I wanted to be with you but you still had a few years left in the Navy, and you didn’t want me to be in San Diego. I figured, Chicago was where we got our start, why not go there and make it our forever?

You told me you were afraid of me. You said you were afraid of how much I loved you, and how much you loved me. You said you were afraid of how intense and serious our connection was. You confessed to the secret local girlfriend that I had my suspicions about, but said you didn’t want to be with anyone else ever again. We finally made it official and started dating. I shouldn’t have forgiven you then, but I did. I should have hated you then, but I didn’t.

Things were rough because of the distance, but one thing was certain: the love we had for each other was on fire. We were wildly passionate about one another. We made several trips back and forth to see each other, but each time left us with wanting more. I have come to learn from this situation that sometimes just loving someone so much is not enough.

I always had my suspicions about your girl best friend. I knew in my gut she liked you, and that she always had. You denied these statements every time I made them.

You asked me in April if she could move in with you and your other roommate because there was an opening and her lease was up. I was not keen on the idea. I believe I said no several times because of how uncomfortable it made me feel. Truth be told, I didn’t trust her. I knew she would try something. Eventually I gave in, and said she could, but that there would be some ground rules in terms of what questions I could ask in order to ease my mind and reassure me with her being around. As I’m sure you recall, there wasn’t much reason for me to trust you either.

We broke up in May — two weeks after I resigned my lease for the apartment you were supposed to live in with me. I was now stuck by myself in a city that I hated. I hated the lifestyle. I hated the people. I hated the apartment that I once loved. I hated everything, but somehow I didn’t hate you.

We kept in touch, constantly actually. You still called and texted me every day. We still told each other about our days. We were both unprepared for what was to come.

My mental health started to decline rapidly. My therapist wanted to admit me to in-patient therapy, but I didn’t have the money. You sent it to me so that I could get the help I needed.

Time went on. I got a little better. I was released from the in-patient facility, and quickly started acting out. I was doing drugs and partying a lot, and you stuck to your reserved roots. We still talked every day. You were concerned, but just wanted me to have fun and feel free. I took advantage of that. I’m 25 years old and still sulking over my ex-boyfriend, so what better way to cope with the loss than with partying and drugs?

You came back to Pennsylvania for the holidays, and I promised I would drive 3 hours to see you, just like I had done years before. I will never forget that day. It was the first time I had seen you in person since we broke up.

We spent the day together in Harrisburg; we went to the bookstore and the coffee shop, walked around the city, and sat on the swings at the park. I asked you about a photo of you and your roommate that looked very couple-like that was on Instagram, and I said, “You know how this looks, right?” You denied and said that it was just because your other roommate didn’t want to be in the photo.

As the sun started to set and I knew I needed to make my journey back home, I felt so strongly in my gut that I didn’t want to leave you. I would rather die than be apart from you again.

I dropped you off at your cousin’s house. We didn’t even hug goodbye. We were both hesitant to leave but knew it’s what we had to do. I started to drive away, and not even 30 seconds down the street I started hysterically crying. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I called a friend to calm me down and he said “You need to tell him, Lydia!” — so I did.

I texted you and told you I was crying. I said how I regretted not hugging you goodbye. You replied almost instantly and said “I regret not kissing you, so there’s that.” I abruptly turned the car around and headed back toward you.

I picked you back up and you kissed me immediately. I hate to say it but my soul left my body with that kiss. I had craved it for so long. I had craved you for so long. We couldn’t stop so we drove to a clearing in the woods. You know the rest. You played Heavenly by Cigarettes After Sex as I drove you back to your cousin’s house.

I started on my 3 hour drive home that night, intoxicated from your kiss and the connection that we built once again. I didn’t know that would be the last time I saw you.

Time went on, and things were good. You said how you wished you could come home to me. We talked about visiting each other again, but you were unsure of the timing because you were trying to start a new job. We were desperate to make it work; well, at least I was.

You started to grow distant. I asked you about it several times. I asked you if there was someone else. You told me you just were afraid of hurting me again. You said there was no one else.

Valentine’s Day rolled around, which is a particularly hard time for me because that is the anniversary of the abortion I had for what would have been our child. The day was already off to a rough start. I had a disgusting gut feeling that something was going to happen that day, but I tried to brush it off.

I happened to look at your roommate’s Instagram story and saw a post of beautiful flowers on the table in your home, captioned “Thank you my love,” with you tagged on the image. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. My worst nightmare had come true.

I asked you about it, you initially denied and said how the two of you talked about needing more plants in the house so you thought buying her those flowers would be a nice gesture. On Valentine’s Day? You always thought I was a fool. I knew you were lying. Sparing the details, you eventually confessed to having been with her for quite some time.

I know that my actions were toxic as a response to trauma, and for that there is no excuse. However, my intentions were never evil or to hurt you. I was lost. I was hurting. I was dealing with the greatest loss I had ever experienced. I was fighting for my life, and my mental illnesses were winning.

I said I wanted to come to San Diego. In the heat of the moment, I did not express the intentions of that statement clearly. I really just wanted to come to talk to you in person and explain everything that I had done, face-to-face, so we could fix it. But, it was interpreted as a threat. Now, I sit here with a 3-year restraining order.

I left out so many details from our story as I find them to be sacred — for you and me only. I have done a lot of terrible things to you, as you have done a lot of terrible things to me. We can’t take back what has already happened. I just wish you wouldn’t have given up.

Time has gone on and I’ve grown so much as a person. I have learned to deal with my mental illnesses more proactively. I’m finally doing things that make me happy. I’m leaving this city I hate to move somewhere I actually want to be. I am living for me now, not for you. I hope you’ve changed for the better, too.

There are so many things that I would go back and relive if I could, as well as go back and change. Surprisingly, I wouldn’t turn you back into a stranger. But, I didn’t know that was our inevitable outcome.

The last time we spoke was March 14th. Don’t worry, I’m not counting or anything.

This is the hardest thing I will ever write. I hope you read it.

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experimentaldragonfire-fics · 4 years

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experimentaldragonfire’s SU Fic Rec List

Stuck at home? Running out of stuff to read? I figured I’d put together a semi-comprehensive series of fanfic recommendations so that all the hours I’ve spent on AO3 over the years can be considered at least vaguely useful. A lot of these are quite old, so if you’ve only read more recent fics, you might find something that you haven’t seen here!

Please feel free to add your own links and recommendations--I personally would love more reading material! This list will focus on SU fics, but I’ll probably make more for other fandoms going forward if anyone’s interested. Bear in mind that, as I’ve mentioned, since many (most) of these were written a while ago, they might not represent exactly how the plot of the show progressed (though they now provide a pretty interesting look at the older fanfic tropes/theories!)

Also, upfront: most of these, when ships do appear, are Lapidot or PearlRose--clearly, I’m very narrowly-focused on what I read. And if one of your fics is on here and you want to be tagged, let me know and I will do so!

Steven Universe Fic Recs

General (None or canonical/background/multiple ships):

histories by avulle (T, F/F, Gen)

“Pearl (pearl) is born in what would have been the year 100,492 BCE. (She is not older than the entire human race—but only just.)”

An introspective look at the Crystal Gems through the years, written in a style that’s practically poetic and absolutely gorgeous.

Inferior Blue by hTeDruknenPotaT (M, Gen)

"Your name is Lapis Lazuli. Lapis is a fun thing to name your child when your last name is Lazuli, and when your name is Lapis Lazuli, blue seem like a nice color to dye your hair. It's fortunate that blue is your favorite color, that you manage not to despise it after all the blue you've been surrounded by all your life."

Lapis Lazuli meets a strange young boy who helps to heal the scars of her past.

The first time I read this fic, I stayed up until 5AM and cried into my pillow through the final chapters. And it continued to make me cry every time I reread it. Massive angst warning, but if you can handle fics that are beautiful but tragic, this is for you.

capacity by broken_halleluiah (G, F/F)

After a routine council meeting, Pink Diamond insists on repairing a broken piece of equipment. The result is far more than she bargained for.

A fic speculating on the nature of Pearls in Homeworld society, written well before we got to see any of that in canon. As such, it isn’t entirely in-line with later canon, but is still entirely worth reading.

Breaking Down by PTlikesTea (M, multi)

Rose's world view is shattered by a black market pearl and the realization that everything she knows about them is wrong.

An extensively long series of shorter mostly-self-contained stories exploring a version of Homeworld society where Pearls are considered as little more than disposable property. Major warnings for Pretty Much Everything--definitely keep an eye on the tags--but this is an iconic series of works, started in 2015 and predating many of the later revelations about canon Homeworld.

A Gem and Her Pearl (Rose) by Potential Violet (G, gen)

Blue Diamond forces Rose Quartz to get a pearl, changing Rose's life, the pearl's life and the course of Gem history. All relationships begin somewhere, this is the beginning of Rose and Pearl's.

Another take on Rose and Pearl’s meeting, and the status of Pearls in Homeworld society (there’s a bit of a theme here with these recommendations). Again, predates most canon revelations regarding the topics, and predates all of the canon information about the Diamonds.

Pearl, Interrupted by AceyEnn (E, multi)

In August, Steven Quartz Universe was born.

In August, Rose Quartz died in childbirth.

In December, Pearl decides she can't handle any of it.

Or: Pearl Tries To Kill Herself And Ends Up In A Therapy Group Run By Her Best Friend's Mom (Well, One Of Her Moms).

Human AU focusing on Pearl dealing with Rose's death--or rather, not dealing with Rose’s death. Major content warnings for suicide attempts, self-harm, etc (please read the tags), but overall a very well-written story. Still updating, despite being first posted in 2016!

Lapidot:

in which Peridot is Not At All Surprised by the sudden appearance of a new waiter by gaySpaceRock_exe (G, F/F)

Peridot meets the new waiter at her regular restaurant and immediately falls head-first in love.

Cute and fluffy, what more do you need in a fic?

Homesick by DrPaine (G, F/F)

An encounter at the Galaxy Warp.

Short oneshot predating the Peridemption/Barn Arc, can be read as friendship rather than romantic.

Observation by DrPaine (G, F/F)

Peridot is a technician, meant to catch every detail. Not something she’s very fond of, but making yourself aware of your surroundings can be helpful, when you’re slipping into troublesome thoughts.

Incomplete but very much an introspective look at Peri’s character as perceived back in 2015-ish. Not as much focused on romance as on concepts of identity and anxiety.

Of Stage Lights and Stage Fright by AcrylicPaint (M, F/F)

All Lapis wanted was to participate in the local production, but there was a minor element she hadn't taken into consideration when she agreed to take the leading role, and that was; dealing with the cute techie's constant staring.

That, and the fact she was beginning to stare too.

Human theatre AU, and an excellent completed multichapter fic. I remember that when I first read this, I was in high school and part of the musical, so it was a very topical read--and now it’s the height of nostalgia.

No Regrets by Raptor_Red (E, F/F)

No Regrets, or, the story of how Peridot tried to romance the blue-haired tattoo artist from the parlor across the street

A personal favorite! The writing in this fic is just so nice to read, and though I’m not usually a fan of tattoo artist AUs, this one really managed to make the whole concept make sense within the story. I can’t count how many times I’ve read this fic. Please read this.

12 O’Clock at Your Local King Soopers by InsomniacArrest (T, F/F)

Lapis works late night shifts, Peridot is somebody's overworked assistant, they both need more sleep and better people skills: the grocery store story.

Is it a Lapidot fic rec list if I don’t include 12KS? Probably the most iconic fic for this pairing, with good reason. Also, consider this a recommendation for literally everything IA has ever written--there are too many good fics to name them all individually, otherwise they’d comprise half of this entire list.

Of Meteors and Minimal Speech by Waypaststrange (moonbeatblues)(F/F)

In which things at the barn settle down, nobody speaks much, and strange lights appear in the sky.

Vaguely fluffy oneshot, very cute!!

Awkward Office Encounters by SilverEyedRukia (T, F/F)

Due to a broken down air conditioner on a scorching hot day the computers' overheated systems need fixing. Luckily for everyone a blonde technician is up for the job, but unbeknowst to them the IT nerd turns out to be someone they didn't expect her to be, especially not Lapis who kind of asked her out on a date already.

Human workplace AU, starts off relatively comedic but gets into Emotional Territory towards the end.

Camp Pining Hearts by kamanzi (M, F/F)

Peridot and Jasper return to summer camp after their freshmen year of college--this time, as counselors. Peridot is disappointed to learn that nothing is quite the same, especially her relationship with her best friend. Whose fault is this? She blames Jasper's girlfriend.

“‘Let’s go back next year and be counselors,’ she said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ she said.”

Human summer camp counselors AU that’s definitely long enough to use up some stuck-at-home-self-isolating time.

A Week by teamchaosprez (E, F/F)

Who knew that a single night of drunken sex could push Peridot and Lapis from being roommates with a mutual crush to regularly fucking and maybe - just maybe - eventually becoming girlfriends and standing up to the homophobia surrounding both of their family lives.

A human college AU focusing a lot on working through interpersonal relationships and coming to terms with emotions

Set Me Free by cym70 (T, F/F)

Being roommates gives Lapis and Peridot a lot of time to get to know each other and, despite their rocky history, they might just be able to make something entirely new.

A friends-to-lovers fic, post-Barn Mates. Very sweet!

Waltz of the Nian by QuickYoke (T, F/F)

Lapis doesn't understand fusion at heart, but she does know she's an unideal partner for it.

Lapis' relationship with fusion, and also Peridot. A fic that basically encapsulates the ideal of profound prose that makes you feel things, even if you don’t precisely know how or why.

Pushing by Like Hearts by mautadite (T, F/F)

“Sounds like you’re really counting on that road trip magic.”

(Peridot and Lapis do Midway City, and Empire City, and Plateau Ville, and all the places in between.)

Canonverse road trip, because every rec list needs a “the characters go on a long journey together and find themselves, and each other” fic. And because this fic made me feel so many emotions.

A thousand years (F/F)

I have died a thousand years, waiting for you.

Childhood friends-to-adult-lovers human AU, one of the fic tropes that always just punches me in the face with feelings.

#fic rec list #su fic recs #lapidot fic recs

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angel-emmerson · 4 years

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Rage | Self - Para

violence and domestic violence mention tw,

brief racism and homophobia mention tw

Ángel was 6 the first time he understood that his anger could get him attention. He was so used to being pushed aside, used to being forgotten about that when a bully on the playground pushed him over and his rage surged enough for him to fight back, it was the first time all the adults around actually took an interest. Granted it was mostly to scold him but they were at least paying attention, they saw him, labeled him a problem child but at least there was a label to hold onto. It was his biggest concern when he met Jan and Dawn Emmerson, that they might not be able to love such an angry boy but they could and they did. They helped him become a happier boy, a loved boy.

Still that rage never settled.

At 13, he learned that sports were a good way to handle the rage, to put it all into pushing other people down on the field on his way to the goal, to learn about how to protect his teammates so that they could win. In this way he learned that his rage could be productive, specific and used in a way that didn’t create worse consequences. But off the field that rage never quite settled, it led to slammed doors and loud music blasting from his room, it led to sneaking out and showing up back home with a black eye or bruised lip, always looking for a fight and always finding someone who wasn’t afraid to give it to him.

At 15, his rage almost ruined his life, when an opposing team member shouted a racial slur at him and a homophobic one at his mothers and he was sure that he would kill the guy, sure that if his teammates hadn’t interfered that he might. A threat of charges being pressed, a threat of a juvenile detention center and instead he found himself sitting in a group of people almost twice his age openly talking about how anger had taken over their lives.

The meetings persisted and he was able to find a balance, able to understand that the anger didn’t have to define him. He didn’t want it to, he wasn’t a mean person, he loved the people around him, his family and friends, his boys, his community. But when the anger started it seemed to be never ending, like a grenade; no one could stop him. But college was a time for reinvention, a time for forgiving his past, forgiving his biological parents, a new chapter, a new him.

At 20 he learned how damaging it could be when that rage was turned against him, when his girlfriend got so angry she threw a glass bottle at his back, the glass shattering and cutting at his skin, the slap to his face afterwards shaking him to his core, making him feel like that six year old on the playground again, making him realize once again that he was not the only one with anger. He could still remember that night, the way she had so quickly apologized, the way she told him she’d never do that to him again but he knew better, he knew that once that rage was there it would never disappear and it was what he said to himself as he packed his things and left, spending the night on his RA’s futon, wondering when he had become a person so willing to accept such a twisted version of love.

So he pushed himself to get better, pushed himself to be the best at his sport, pushed himself to take things less seriously, to focus on himself, to pull away from the serious and commit to not attaching himself, commit to being a man of the people. It was why he ended up turning down his pro offers to go home, why he turned down his boyfriend when he asked him to move away because he was terrified of what it would do, terrified that if he wasn’t near his family the rage would take over and swallow him whole, that he’d go back to being a boy that everyone could ignore.

So at 21 he started again, returning home with nothing but good stories and love, with an appreciation for the life he had, with a gratitude for the people who would always lift him up, who would always remind him of why happiness was so beautiful to hold onto, why he had to work hard to keep that rage away, why it would never be worth it to let it go. Therapy, a steady job, a house and two dogs, no partner but enough of a romantic life that he never had to feel too alone, at least it was what he told his mom’s when they asked. It wasn’t that he didn’t get close to people, he just failed to feel that trust, failed to be able to look them in the eyes and believe that they wouldn’t hurt him. So he focused on all the things that wouldn’t hurt and even in the lowest moments he was able to keep pushing, able to find a way to let the little bits of rage peek through without causing much disruption.

But at 32 he stood in front of his biological father, their eyes meeting for the first time in his life and the rage broke free, snapped and ripped through him. He felt it in the punches he swung, felt it when his biological brother tried to tackle him down, felt it when they slammed him against the police cruiser, felt it as he pressed his back against the cold concrete of the cell. It had taken over and he knew in that moment that it would take absolutely everything for it to go away. He felt it as he sat there waiting for his parents to get him out, feeling like he had never run far enough away from that kid on the playground, that he would always be the problem child, no matter how much he laughed or dance or joked, it would never change that he was broken, never change that he had been given up for a reason. That he had been abandoned so carelessly.

Now, at 33, he sat in the same building Quinn had his meetings in, his hands wrapped around a shitty cup off coffee as he mostly stared at the ground, ashamed, tired, wishing he had just stayed in that cell and been sent away forever. A selfish thought, a pathetic one but he had been so sure he was over everything, so sure that he had grown and in one moment, he had seen the same fear in his mother’s eyes, seen the way people looked at him as the party ended and he had become the thing he feared, become the type of man that people looked at and found a reason to be afraid.

When the group turned to him to see if he wanted to share, he took a deep breath, running a hand over his face as he gathered himself. “For the past..5, 10 years I felt like..I felt like I had things under control, you know? Like I had my routine and there was always shit that was unexpected but nothing crazy, you know? Like...like everything was something I could handle, even if it happened to someone I loved, we could handle it. But lately I-I feel like I have no control, you know? No certainty and I thought it would be exciting but it’s scary and I just get..angry,” he sighed out, “So fucking angry and it..terrifies me. Like, like I look in the mirror and I’m like who is this motherfucker staring back at me? I mean I thought I knew myself, I’m so fucking..in tune with myself but I can’t stop being so sad, it’s like..it’s like I get these moments of feeling fine and pushing through and as soon as my feet settle, as soon as I’m reading to breathe another fucking wave crashes in and reminds me I ain’t shit. Just a little fucking useless dude who after 30 years can’t stop being fucking angry. And it’s like, all the meetings, all the therapy and yet I don’t...I don’t feel like I’m being strong, I feel weak as shit and it’s like all the anger I feel feeds on that and there’s no turning back.” He sighed and pressed his hand to his face, “You just..ever get tired of being a person? Like...fuck, man.”

He ended it there and sat back, managing a slight smile as someone next to him reached out to give his shoulder a squeeze and people around him nodded in affirmation. It was always a comfort to know he wasn’t alone but it never made it easier once he walked out of those doors and had to face the consequences for his actions. He listened through everyone else, actually listened, forced himself to engage and make space for other people’s pain, hoping to level out his own. He lingered around afterwards, caught up with some old friends, made some new ones, put some numbers in his phone with he promise to reach out, especially in the lowest moments.

He walked outside, his heart still feeling heavy, the rage no longer lingering underneath but fully spread throughout, waiting for a chance to jump, waiting for any moment. But for now he could breath and so he did the one thing he always did when he felt lost, when he felt like he had no fight in him left.

He went to see his moms.

#self para #violence tw #domestic violence tw #racism tw #homophobia tw

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the-minyard-twins · 4 years

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Andreil Fic Rec

I’ve always wanted to do a fic rec so here we are! I’ve read a lot of Andreil recently and these are my top 28 favorite Andreil and AFTG fics

1. Trust Fall (And Welcoming Arms) by SpangleBangle

85k | Explicit

Life goes on after the Foxes win the championship, and for Andrew and Neil it’s uncharted territory with only each other for guides. Maybe it’s time to put away some of those hard edges, and learn how to touch more softly, and speak more honestly. And if they falter, they have their family to help them get back on their feet.

2. Learning To Feel (When You’ve Forgotten How) by thegirlwiththeprettybrowneyes

43k | Teen | No Proust AU

On the night before his first day of therapy at Easthaven, Andrew blows out his legs and decides he isn’t going to bury his feelings anymore, consequences be damned. In return, he gets a schedule change, and a very strange new therapist. /////// “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you,” Andrew finished, looking anywhere but at Neil’s face. Neil looked like he had just realized the sky was blue. “You like me,” Andrew sighed. “Yeah,” he said, resigned “Yeah, Neil, I like you,” /////// No Proust AU

3. Broken by Jeni182

34k | Explicit

Andrew attempts suicide and he and Neil try to navigate his recovery and healing together.

4. Waves by Jeni182 (sequel to Broken)

94k | Explicit

Broken Part II - Neil and Andrew try to navigate life post Andrew’s suicide attempt now that he’s in Denver and Neil’s in his last year at PSU.

5. Funky Happenings with the Fox Family by dobbypussypopper

29k | Teen | text!fic

naughtygayweedcrime: did I rlly just see neil say woke

naughtygayweedcrime: what a surreal timeline we live in

dumbfool: allison is trying to teach me how to meme so I can get hip

naughtygayweedcrime: bless your poor soul

davidwymack: sometimes I regret living

davidwymack has muted exyllent, damnwilds, + 7 others for 30 minutes

6. Something in Return by reaching _my_summit

31k | Mature

“Andrew Minyard, how will you celebrate winning your final college Exy championship?”

“I’m going to Disney World,” Andrew deadpans.

- - -

Andrew’s final year at Palmetto State comes to a close. His future is upon him and there are plans to be made. Years ago, Neil asked Andrew to stop smoking in exchange for something. Andrew finally knows what he wants in return.

7. The Unloved Kids by AlrightDarlin

35k | Not Rated

“I intend to treat them the same. I need strong athletes, not toddlers,” Wymack starts, but sits back with a sigh, running a hand over his face. “But hypothetically, if I had to look after a bunch of toddlers on the weekends…”

Betsy’s eyes crinkle with her smile. “Are you asking advice?”

“They’re screwed up enough,” Wymack says, “I’m not trying to make it worse.”

(David Wymack takes his little nightmares and does his best to corral them and love them within an inch of their lives. He can’t change what happened to them, but he can be there for them now.)

8. Turn it Off by elawless

10k | Mature

“It hurts…so much…too…much” He choked out between breaths. “I want to let go so…bad. I am so close”. He lifted his head to look at Andrew and saw no blue in his eyes and believed Andrew was real, but the rest of the pain was. It was just enough for him to trust Andrew with what he would say next.

“Stay. Give me Neil back. Don’t leave.” Andrew could no longer cover all of his desperation, his voice seemed to crack on the last word.

“Just let me turn it off. Just for today. Neil will come back. Bring him back, for the both of you.”

9. VW Actually Means “Very Weird” by exyjunkies

15k | Gen

If it was just going to be the two of us, then why bring the Volkswagen?

So that if I end up murdering you on this road trip, I’ll have enough space for clean-up.

Neil and Andrew take on the Pacific Coast Highway over the span of two and a half weeks, with a surprise for one of them at the very end.

10. Puzzle Pieces by Nikotheamazingspoonklepto

59k | Explicit | Series

Neil’s life is a puzzle, the people in it are the pieces that give everything meaning. Together they make a picture of happiness.

11. diet mountain dew by reaching_my_summit

2k | Teen

neil thinks andrew is very pretty. he tells andrew exactly that.

12. For Science by ClockworkDragon, DeyaAmaya

8k | Explicit

“Here’s what I propose: we’ll play a game, and I’ll even let you pick which one, but we’re going to set some stakes. I’m not going to let you talk big and walk away free of punishment if you lose.” Without hesitating, Kevin asked, “Fine, I choose Trivial Pursuit. What are the stakes?” Allison put a finger to her lips and tilted her head, as if she was actually thinking of a response and didn’t plan this whole thing days ago. “Hmm, did you know the spirit store recently added fox themed thigh-high socks to their stock? They’ve become quite popular amongst cheerleaders.” This statement seemed to throw Kevin off because he just stared blankly at Allison until she continued. Andrew was not, however, an idiot. He could see where this was going. “How about whoever loses has to wear the socks for an entire school day; including morning and evening practices?” “Holy shit,” Nicky whispered. “You are one devious bitch.” Allison winked.

13. ain’t no rest for the wicked by dearhappy

8k | Teen | Lucifer!AU

“You really expect me to believe that?“ Neil asks, "Especially when his girlfriend said that he’d always been worried about what you’d ask for in return, and that he called you the Devil.”

“I don’t lie,” Andrew says simply. “You can think whatever you want.”

“Why was he so worried if that was all it was?”

“He made a deal with the Devil,” Andrew says, “Tell me you wouldn’t be worried about that.”

14. Not Damsels, not Knights by my_unlikely_hero

93k | Mature

Neil is not a damsel, Andrew is not a knight, Riko is not a dragon. Nobody gets saved. Not really.

Or: Riko goes too far, and Neil is left in pieces.

15. The Continuing Adventures of the Nine-Nine by gluupor

48k | Gen | Series | Brooklyn 99!AU

A series of short, ridiculous, mostly plotless stories featuring the Foxes as the cops of the Ninety-Ninth Precinct.

16. Not Only You and Me by orphan_account (part of a series)

18k | Explicit | Porn!AU

Andrew, Neil and Kevin film Foxy’s first gay threesome porn scene.

Cue the feelings.

17. High School Science by fuzzballsheltipants

30k | Teen/Explicit (parts 1-3 are Teen and part 4 is Explicit) | Series

High School!AU

18. False Equivalence by sunrise_and_death

22k | Teen

Some part of her had known it would come back to Neil. He was the one who had cracked the twins the first time. Of anyone, he was the most likely to have a solution for this as well.

Although the events of the previous year resolved a lot of issues, Katelyn quickly discovers that not every problem has been addressed. As she attempts to map a future in which Aaron has both her and his family, she finds herself once again working with Neil Josten—to unexpected results.

19. trans andrew by aceaaronminyard, autisitcandrewminyard

30k | Explicit | trans!Andrew

a fanfic series for a tfc au where andrew minyard wasn’t registered into the system as andrew doe but as erin doe.

mostly set post-tkm. mostly porn.

20. Advice and Amusement by Autumnalhogwarts

11k | Teen

After a series of failed attempts to woo Renee, Allison turns to Andrew for help. As Renee’s best guy friend he’s in a unique position to offer advice. However, that doesn’t mean he’ll be willing to.

21. Kidnapped by Shell_Writes

21k | Explicit

Neil and Aaron get kidnapped by four deranged men while the team is on a camping trip. shit happens and they have to escape this horror house. together.

22. Return of Dad!Mack by SensationalSunburst

14k | Gen | Series

Dad!Wymack & Mom!Abby

23. For He’s A Jolly Good Felon by gluupor

4k | Teen | Felon!Neil

What’s a guy to do when he’s forced to go to his conservative, homophobic aunt and uncle’s for Thanksgiving dinner?

Why, invite along his ex-con, tattooed, argumentative roommate as his fake boyfriend, of course.

24. make my heart shake (bend and break) by WaifsandStrays

4k | Explicit

Aaron develops a fascination with Kevin’s dick, has a sexuality crisis and feelings and fails to process any of it.

25. Across the Water by transandrewminyard

13k | Teen | trans!Andreil

Perhaps several years too late, or maybe right on time, Neil Josten runs away from home and tries to dream a new life for himself. How poetic that his first night out on his own would deliver him to a stranger who seems to understand everything he’s been through, and then some?

26. Prompt: Andrew and Neil get to babysit Sophie by orphan_account

14k | Mature | part of a series

What it says on the tin, basically.

Aaron and Matt leave for a few days and ask Andrew and Neil to babysit Sophie. Baby-sized exy is involved. Also lots and lots of angst. But there is a happy ending!

27. Salt Bros and Roller Derby Vixens by moonix

14k | Teen | Series

Roller Derby!AU

28. Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by priorwalter

12k | Teen | Felon!Neil, Author!Andrew

“So,” Neil asks as he washes his paint-covered hands in the kitchen sink, “Christmas.”

Andrew glares and says nothing. This year, Neil and Andrew are spending Christmas with Andrew’s brother, Aaron Minyard. Aaron Minyard, Andrew’s twin whose existence was unknown to him until two months previous. Aaron Minyard, an orthopedic surgeon with a wife (an oncologist, naturally) and two daughters. Aaron Minyard, who grew up with a mother that chose him.

Andrew Doe has survived until age twenty-nine without any biological family, and his life turned out pretty good, considering all of the reasons it shouldn’t have. At age twenty-nine, Andrew’s book becomes a bestseller and leads his long-lost twin brother to him. Familial drama ensues.

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #andreil #aftg fic rec #fic rec

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

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The Mistakes We Made - Chapter Thirteen

Summary: When her high school girlfriend comes back to town after two years with a baby and a terrible story she won’t tell, the Librarian has to deal with the feelings she had worked so hard to keep at bay.

Notes: Trigger warning for depiction of an emotionally abusive relationship

Hey, after you read this chapter, please read this. THIS IS NOT HOW THINGS GO IN REAL LIFE. If someone is stuck in an abusive relationship, where the other person has emotional and economic power over them, they most likely won’t just get upset, remember an old friend and snap. People usually need support from loved ones and even therapy to get out of these situations. Johanna’s escape only happened like this because this is fic.I just really don’t want anyone thinking that I agree with the whole “well if they’re suffering why don’t they just leave 🤪” narrative, okay?

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7) (chpt8) (chpt9) (chpt10) (chpt11) (chpt12) (chpt13)

There was absolutely no way, Johanna told herself in order to calm her frazzled nerves and thumping heart, that her parents wouldn’t fall in love with Hilda. True, they had all but disowned her, but they didn’t even get the chance to talk about it! It had been more than a year before, and now her baby was already smiling and mumbling adorable sounds, and goodness, Johanna missed them! They hadn’t been the best parents in the world, not by far, but that didn’t mean she was okay with being estranged from them.

She knew Torrin wouldn’t approve of her trying to call her parents, so she’d waited for when he’d gone away to college, having Hilda as her only company, to make the contact. The phone rang one, two, three times, until it fell on voicemail.

She took her cell phone away from her ear, looking at her dad’s number on the screen. She could try to call her mother, but she didn’t think she had the energy for that. It was something that should be done face to face, anyway. Still, she felt a pang of disappointed that she hadn’t been able to talk to them, but also a relief of some sort. Every day she felt her disposition to argue and defend herself wane more and more.

Her phone left in the bedside table, Johanna got up from the bed and picked Hilda up from the playpen they had put in their room. Maybe she should take her outside for a while. She had a feeling they could both use the fresh air.

_#_#_#_

Torrin was in a good mood that day. He had kissed her when he arrived from Ericsonberg, and now, after eating his dinner, he was even playing with Hilda. Not to say he was a cruel father, or anything of the sort. He just seemed to feel more comfortable letting Johanna take the lead in their child’s life.

It was a perfect opportunity. And yet, she still felt her legs tremble and her voice failed as she walked closer to him. He was sitting on the sofa with Hilda in his arms, waving a stuffed animal around in front of her face. As soon as she saw Johanna coming, however, she began to make distressful sounds and wiggle in Torrin’s hold.

He looked at her, giving her a lopsided smile. “I think she wants you, Jo.”

Johanna was all too happy to hold her baby. It gave her something to focus on something other than the anxiety of having to ask her husband for something she knew he wouldn’t want. But when she looked into Hilda’s eyes, she could almost pretend everything was okay.

“Torrin, I need your help with something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

She took a deep breath, focusing on how calm Hilda looked now. “I want to talk to my parents. To try to… fix things between us. It’s been long enough that they might have changed their minds, and I wanted to visit them. If you could just watch over Hilda while-“

“No.” He cut her, and she looked up to find him looking at her with anger, and, dare she say it, fear as well. “I don’t want you running off to talk to them.”

Long seconds went by, during which she could do nothing but stare into his eyes. “Why?”

Her soft question had him in a nervous state. He got up, running his hands through his hair, and began pacing in front of the fire. “Because they’ll hurt you! They’ve made it perfectly clear that they don’t want anything to do with you anymore, and I don’t want you to have to hear this from them!”

Her experience with him told her it was better to allow herself to be subdued before he got more agitated. It was what she would have done, but she felt something inside her burn, like an ash that had been cooled down smothering back to life. A ghost voice in her brain, a memory of a laughter that carried on the wind and eyes that looked like stars.

”You may think I overreact, Anna, but I’m not letting him talk like this to me. You wouldn’t either, if you were in this situation.

Johanna couldn’t remember what exactly had happened that day, but she remembered she had agreed with Maven in the end. She’d never let anyone talk like that to her. So why was she allowing this now?

“Don’t…” she began wondering if it was really worth it to pick this fight. “Don’t tell me to do with my relationships. You’re my husband, and I know you love me, but you can’t try to protect me from heartbreak like this. I am free to care for whoever I want, even if it may hurt in the end.”

“What?!” He turned to her, his pacing stopped abruptly. Johanna got up on instinct, hugging Hilda closer.

“We’re married but you do not own me! I’m tired of people telling me who I have to be and who I have to love! I want to give my parents another chance, Torrin! Why can’t you support me on this?”

“Because they can’t know!”

Johanna twisted her body so as to not have Hilda in front of herself as Torrin picked up the fireplace poker and, in a fit of anger, brought it down on the couch. She had already seen him breaking things when he was drunk, but she must have made him truly furious for him to do something like this while sober.

This had not been what had surprised her, though. The sound of fabric being ripped apart merged with his grunts, Hilda’s cries as she was disturbed by their raised voices, and Johanna’s own heart beating on her head, making her wonder if she’d heard him right.

Her parents couldn’t know?

When he stopped hitting the couch, most of his anger gone, he dropped the poker to the ground with a muttered “sorry”, and then looked at his wife’s horrified gaze.

“I reckon I shouldn’t have exploded like-“

“What do you mean?!” She was the one to cut him off this time. “What do you mean they can’t know? You- you said you had told them!”

His eyes widened, his body perfectly still as he realized what he’d let slip during his anger. And, most of all, he realized that he wouldn’t be able to convince his wife that it had been a mere confusion of his anger addled mind.

“Babe… it was the best at that time. Please, I beg you to understand, everything I do, I do-“

“For yourself!” She all but screamed, slowly walking backwards. She couldn’t believe this. This was not supposed to happen. She had already come to the painful realization that he was not the good man she had believed he was, but she had believed, he had convinced her that she was the light in his life, the one person he would never, ever hurt.

And yet, it seemed he had turned on her.

Realizing he had to change tactics, he forced his eyes to tear up, his face merging into a pitiful expression. “Please, Jo. I- I love you!”

Johanna’s breathing was coming quicker now, and everything that had happened during their marriage began to fall into place.

She had been manipulated again.

She broke into a run, extremely mindful of Hilda, and climbed up the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. Torrin’s steps could be heard behind her, but she hurriedly opened the door to their room and locked him out, the sound of the lock closing the wooden door feeling like a sweet melody to her.

Her chest was heaving as Torrin banged on the door from the outside. He was shouting about how he loved them, and how there was a reason for everything he did, although very curiously he never said what this reason was. He groveled and begged for forgiveness, but it was not going to come as easily this time.

Doing her best to ignore everything that was coming from his mouth, Johanna calmed Hilda down, entering the bathroom and closing the door, so that it would be completely silent. As soon as the baby had stopped crying and whimpering, she walked back into the room. Though Torrin hadn’t gone away, Hilda didn’t seem to mind his voice anymore.

Johanna pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, the only person in this world she had never doubted, and set her on the playpen by the window. With that done, she got moving. Her old suitcases were taken out of the closet, and quickly filled with all her most important belongings.

Maybe she would forgive him. Maybe she would find a good explanation for his actions after all, and maybe she’d come back and continue to live here. But she needed to be ready for the worst outcome.

As she filled her suitcases with clothes, her hope began to flare. If he had lied, than that meant her parents still loved her! She’d be welcomed in their home, and they’d help her overcome this.

But then, if they hadn’t disowned her, why hadn’t they called her? Had something happened to them? Maybe, she thought as Torrin finally stopped his spewing of nonsense, he had lied to them too.

Given what she now knew about him, it sounded awfully likely. Thank goodness now she’d be able to explain everything to them, and surely they’d stick with her. But would they listen to her for long enough that she’d be able to clear the waters? They hadn’t really trusted her in a long time. No, she’d have to talk to them, but she wouldn’t be able to rely on them, at least not at first.

That made things significantly more difficult.

From the other side of the door, Torrin apologized once again, but she heard him getting up from where he had been sitting on the floor. He said he had to go back to Trolberg in order to help his father with something, but they would talk more about this when he came back tomorrow.

Not likely, Johanna though as she closed her first suitcase. When she heard his car start running, she went to the window to watch it going away, waiting until it disappeared on the road to unlock the door and make a run for Hilda’s nursery. She filled her smaller suitcases with her daughter’s things, as well as a bag that they had bought with Hilda’s name on it. The crib would have to stay: she had no idea how to disassemble the thing, but at least the stroller was foldable.

In few hours, she had put a good chunk of their belongings on suitcases. When she tried to leave with the first one, however, she found that the front door was locked. She gasped at it, astounded by Torrin’s disrespect for her.

A few deep breaths later, she told herself that maybe he had locked it on impulse, he hadn’t meant to trap her. But then she looked at the little table they kept beside the door and felt like screaming in frustration. He had taken away her key.

Johanna tested the two other doors on the house, finding them both locked as well. No matter. She still remembered a few tricks the Girl Scouts had taught her.

It had been years since she’d picked a lock, so it did take her a while to get it right, every second she took making her feel more anxious. He could come at any time now, and his outburst earlier made her realize that, if he did get violent with her, there was nothing she could do. No other houses nearby, no one would hear her if she shouted.

She had once thought it was ridiculous to even imagine him being anything than a complete gentleman to her, but with the truth out in the open, she wasn’t so sure anymore. She eventually got the job done, and began filling her car with their things. Fortunately, he hadn’t remembered to take her car keys.

She buckled Hilda to the baby seat when she was through, and then went back into the cabin for one last thing: the playpen that remained on their room, where Hilda had happily waited while her mother got everything ready for them to go away, blissfully unaware of anything that was going on around her. It was far easier to disassemble than the more sturdy one that they had put on her nursery, so it would have to do.

Johanna started the engine, and the little blue car came awake. She took breath after breath making herself ready for what came next, even though she she didn’t really know what that was. There was only one thing that felt wrong, and she had to get rid of it.

The golden ring on her finger seemed to mock her with its shine and extravagance. She had once thought the big ruby at the center of it gorgeous, but now it’s colour looked dark and suffocating to her. She slid the ring off of her finger and put it in the glove compartment.

Going to Trolberg right away would be a mistake. He would be there, and that wouldn’t help her at all. She’d spend the night, and maybe some of the next day in a hotel in a city nearby, take the chance to rest and regroup her thoughts. Then she’d focus on getting her life together.

She didn’t know exactly what came next, but it had to be better than what she was leaving behind.

_#_#_#_

“And then… well, then the next day I found you. And now we’re here.”

Johanna finished her story on that note, and now that it was all out, it felt like the weight of a whole galaxy had been lifted off of her shoulders. She had been willing to tell this story ever since her second day in Trolberg, when she had gone to her parents, hoping to be reunited with them at last only to have that blow up on her face as they sided with her husband. But what she hadn’t realized was that, up until tonight, she hadn’t been ready to tell it.

She had been thinking that this story had began with their marriage, and that it had mimicked Johanna’s relationship with Maven. She had thought that those were two separate episodes of her life, both ending up with her bruised and manipulated, but tonight her mother had shown her the missing piece of the puzzle.

”She’s telling the truth”, her mother had said, clearly hating every syllable. ”She’s telling the truth”, she had said, but her eyes told even more.

”She’s telling the truth”. The sentence had rung over her head repeatedly as she helped Maven clear her cuts. Her mother had looked way too stricken for someone who was only admitting that another person was honest.

No. Not only had her mother told her that Maven had been telling the truth, but that she’d been lying. Maven was right, her mother had stepped outside the party that night to defend Torrin, because that’s what she’d been doing all along.

The story of her high school heartbreak and her current one were not separate. They were one and the same, beginning when she was eighteen and escalating until the present moment. It was one long, tragic tale, and now she could finally, finally see that Maven was not the villain in it. Not on purpose, not on accident: she was one of the victims as well.

Johanna didn’t even have to look up to know that Maven looked horrified, but she did anyway. Her mouth was hanging open, and her brow was creased. Tears had left wet trails on her face.

“Oh, Anna.” Maven whispered, and Johanna took her hand, which was lying on top of the table, lacing their fingers together. “That’s horrible.”

“I know.” She sighed, running her thumb over the back of Maven’s hand. Gods, she’d missed Maven so much! She hadn’t allowed herself to truly be in her presence ever since that fateful night when her father dragged her to the mayor’s party. Now that she was sure she could do it again, simply let herself go and enjoy the happiness of being with this woman, she remembered just how addictive it was.

“Are you going to tell the police? About the things you found out?”

Johanna shrugged. “I probably should, shouldn’t I? But I don’t think I will, at least not yet. I need to sort out my own life first, and well… I have no proof.”

Instinctively tightening her grip on Johanna’s hand, Maven nodded, understanding the situation. A wave of silence fell over them. Maven had no idea of what she could say to that confession. She could say ‘I’m sorry’, but that felt hollow and meaningless. Sorry wouldn’t fix what had been done to her. Besides, she was not the one who had to apologize to Johanna.

“Hey!” She said suddenly, and Maven looked up at her face. She hadn’t even realized that her gaze had fallen to their joined hands. “We still have to take a look at your scratches, don’t we?”

Maven nodded, taken aback by the sudden change of subject. She let Johanna lead her to the couch, where she sat beside her. She had washed the scratches in the shower, but she supposed Johanna would want to check on them. Maybe use more of that medicine to help them heal faster.

The first aid kit was still on the coffee table, and Johanna sprayed a substance on a piece of cotton again. She gasped softly when she lifted the sleeve of Maven’s pajama top: more worrying than the scratches, she had began to bruise, and they were already looking ghastly.

As there was little she could do about it, Johanna resigned herself to simply pressing the cotton against the scratches as softly as she could. The cold sensation made Maven’s skin tingle, but it didn’t bother her this time. Itself amazing to have Johanna fuss over her, and even though it was quite a selfish sentiment, she couldn’t seem to help it.

When she had done all she could with her arm, Johanna lowered her sleeve down, and gently asked if she could lift the hem of the shirt in order to see Maven’s side. Permission granted, Johanna continued to gingerly tap the cotton to the scratches.

“Why did you do it?” Maven asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think about them, or even allow them to be spoken. Johanna’s closeness was intoxicating, and she blamed her carelessness on it. “Why did you tell me all these things?”

Johanna took her hand away and sat back, searching Maven’s face for something. Maven immediately missed the contact, little as it had been, but continued speaking anyway. There was no coming back now that the words were out.

“That day we fought.” She said, a wave of drowsiness overtaking her despite the tense situation. It had been a long day, and despite everything, being near Johanna was a powerful tranquilizer. “You said some things… it didn’t sound like you trusted me very much.”

“I know what I said that night.” She sighed and raised her hand to Maven’s face, running her fingers through the strands of silky hair that had fallen over her face with the way she leaned her head against the couch. “I even believed what I said that night. But not anymore.”

Unable to resist, Maven leaned her head against Johanna’s hand, looking much like a cat after affection. “What changed?”

When Johanna didn’t answer, Maven opened her eyes, which she hadn’t realized she had closed, and met her troubled gaze.

“My mother.” She said. “For weeks I had been coming to this conclusion, but it all clicked into place tonight. All this time, my parents have been doing their best to assure my happiness. But they wouldn’t let me choose what that meant. They decided that it was Torrin and stuck to that. They’ve been doing all they could to get me to be with him and to protect him, and… this night she realized what a mistake it has been. And that made me realize that none of what they told me about you is honest or reliable. They had been doing it to help their agenda all along”

Maven blinked. If not for the stinging sensation of her wounds, she’d suspect she was dreaming. Or that she’d died and gone to heaven, a very peculiar heaven where she was told exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Then whose opinion about me is reliable, would you say?” She said it half jokingly and half seriously, smiling as she felt Johanna’s hand on her scalp.

The woman returned her smile, though Maven would say Johanna’s was ten times brighter. Her happiness had always left her with the feeling that it could light up a whole world, and she was thrilled to be the cause of it. “I will be trusting my own judgement from now on, thank you very much.”

It could be just Maven’s tired mind, but it did seem like Johanna was leaning closer. “And what does your judgment say?”

Her whispered words were taken right out of her mouth as their lips met. They both exhaled deeply, almost a sigh of relief. Johanna’s hand tangled itself more tightly into Maven’s hair, and Maven put her left hand on Johanna’s shoulder, fingers caressing her collarbone. After so long apart, not only physically but emotionally, the kiss felt like coming home after a long, painful journey.

Unfortunately, they soon needed to draw back to breathe, and when they did, they looked into each other’s eyes with equal measures of wonderment and surprise. Though Johanna had been the one to begin the kiss, she couldn’t say she’d done it out of anything other than pure instinct and need. It was not at all the best time for her to get involved with someone again. Still, she definitely couldn’t say she regretted it. Especially not when Maven was looking at her like she was the most wonderful thing in the world.

“We should go to sleep.” She said, even when she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Maven and her voice was husky with emotion. Maven nodded.

“We still have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do.” Johanna leaned in again, pressing a kiss to Maven’s forehead this time. “But it’s going to be okay.”

It was all going to be okay. The truth was out now, and there would be no secrets between them. There was no way to go but up.

#fic: tmwm #my fic #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #hilda librarian #hilda librarian fanfic #hilda johanna #hilda's mum #hilda johanna fanfic #tw: abuse

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ellewritesfiction · 5 years

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Wouldn’t it be Nice (5 times Tony mentions kids + 1 time Bruce does) for @sciencebrosweek

Day Five: Pressure

“I just – I just feel like sometimes, you know, you get to monopolize the shitty dad narrative.”

Bruce flinched to hear Tony say that out loud but he knew it was true. It wasn’t his fault, he was always sensitive to Tony, to Tony’s past and his feelings, but he also knew it was hard for Tony to open up about it knowing everything Bruce went through.

“And can you tell Bruce why you feel that way, Tony?” Maria asked and Tony sighed and stared at the wall. Bruce knew he hated rehashing all this shit.

“I know he knows but – it’s because even though my dad might have smacked me around a couple times and you know, fucked me up with his alcoholism and narcissism and whatever – he didn’t literally kill my mom in front of me. Like? That’s pretty hard to fucking top.”

Bruce stared at the floor. What was he supposed to say? ‘It’s okay, Tony,’ sounded pathetic. It wasn’t okay. None of it was okay.

“And how do you feel about this Bruce?”

Bruce sighed but he knew this was why they were here. Because otherwise he just wouldn’t talk about it. So he had to force himself through.

“He’s right – it’s not fair,” Bruce responded honestly, risking a glance over at his husband. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what you went through.”

Tony turned to him and gave him a tight smile.

“I know – but it’s still hard to talk about it with you. And yeah, I know –” he said, turning to Maria and holding out his hand “– at this point, that’s on me. I get that. But that’s why we’re here, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re here,” Maria said. “Bruce says he cares and is willing to listen – do you not believe him?”

“No,” Tony huffed. “Of course I believe him. I’m pretty sure Bruce is the only person who’s ever even tried to listen to at least half the shit I say.”

Tony shared a small grin with him at that and it made Bruce feel a little better as he grinned back.

“Then what do you feel is so difficult to talk to him about that you need me?”

But then his grin was gone and he shuffled his feet a little, trying not to shut down.

“I just feel like it’s – it’s hard for him to understand –”

“Can you talk to him?” she interrupted and Tony sighed out a long frustrated huff and turned to Bruce then, not really able to look him in the eye.

“I feel like you don’t understand that... despite the fact that my dad was a dick... I – I still want to be a dad.”

Bruce tried to keep his face neutral in light of that confession but he swallowed hard and wrung his hands together a little, wishing he was anywhere but there. The pressure to say the right thing was intense but there was no right thing to say.

“I don’t,” he confessed, so softly he was almost afraid they didn’t hear it and they’d make him repeat himself.

“What don’t you understand?” Maria prompted gently. “That Tony still wants to be a dad?”

“I don’t understand that,” Bruce admitted, “but I also don’t understand how – how he knows he’d be a good one.”

Tony laughed but it wasn’t mean and though they were sitting in two separate chairs, a few feet apart, Tony leaned over towards him. “Babe...”

“Do you not think Tony will be a good dad?”

“No, I – I mean,” Bruce winced and looked away again, hating to admit any of Tony’s flaws in front of him. “I used to think he didn’t have the patience for it but, seeing him with our niece, I... I don’t know. I think he deserves to be a dad. It’s more like – how does he know he will be a good one? Because I... don’t.”

“Bruce,” Tony said sadly and Bruce buried his head in his hands like he could block it all out if he just tried hard enough.

But Tony? It was impossible to block out Tony.

“Bruce, baby, come on – you are the sweetest, smartest, kindest man I know,” he said. “I would have killed to have you as my dad, are you kidding me?”

“You don’t know that.”

“Hell yeah I do – I braved an entire fucking year of couples counseling to win you as my husband, didn’t I?”

He could practically hear the grin on Tony’s face and Bruce couldn’t help but laugh at that. Tony always knew what to say to make him feel better, no matter how inappropriate.

“Besides – doesn’t your dad make you want to try to be better?”

Bruce thought about that a minute, staring at the pattern of the tile on the floor, green and white with flecks of grey and blue, ugly in it’s sterile simplicity, forcing the rest of the room to make up for it’s gaudiness.

“He makes me scared I can’t be,” Bruce said at last, the real crux of the issue.

“Why is that?” Maria asked softly after a moment and Bruce fisted his hand into his palm anxiously.

“It’s genetic, isn’t it? I – I can’t escape what he’s done to me. He is me.”

“There is no scientific proof of that,” Maria argued and Tony got up and sat down next to him, so close their thighs were pressed together.

“But it’s there – always. I can feel it,” Bruce continued, forcing himself to say it, ignoring the feeling of Tony’s thumb stroking along his knee. “His anger lives inside of me and I – I get scared sometimes that I can’t control it.”

“You would never hurt anyone,” Tony soothed but Maria stopped him.

“Bruce needs to feel free to express his fears, even if to you they seem unfounded,” Maria chided softly. “Have you ever hurt anyone before? When you felt like this?”

Bruce huffed out a sigh, staring at his shoes. “Of course. Not so much recently but when I was younger, before years of therapy or whatever – any time I got frustrated enough I would snap. Yell, throw things. I – I hit a girlfriend of mine once.”

He was pretty sure he had never admitted that to anyone outside of his college therapist and the guilt saying those words brought back was nearly unbearable. Bruce could feel Tony’s surprise like a tangible thing. He wanted to dig a hole for himself in the floor below and crawl inside of it where he never had to feel Tony’s eyes on him again but at the same time – Tony had to know, Tony had to understand. His fear wasn’t unfounded. It was very, very real.

“And this happened how many times?” she asked, somehow managing to keep any judgement from her voice.

“Once. Just once.”

“And how did you decide to deal with that?”

“I don’t know I mean... We broke up, obviously,” Bruce admitted, wishing Tony was still in his seat a few feet away instead of up against him, carefully holding his breath. “I had just started therapy and... we talked about it. A lot. Obviously I felt terrible. I still feel terrible. I hate talking about this but if we – if I had a kid and...”

He trailed off completely, the obvious conclusion easy to draw. But instead of backing away even further Tony slid his hand back across his knee, holding it open for Bruce to take, right between his knees, right in his line of sight and he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was beyond selfish but he grabbed Tony’s hand and held it tight.

“This is before you were medicated for your depression?” Maria asked and Bruce nodded numbly.

“Yeah, this was... I don’t know. Twelve years ago now.”

But sometimes it still felt like it was yesterday and he would look at Tony and he would think they needed to get divorced because what if he snapped? What if he did it again? How could he ever live with himself if he did that to Tony?

“I’m not going to say it’s impossible that you would ever hurt anyone again but from what you’ve told me, you’ve been medicated now for over ten years. You’ve been in therapy extensively on and off for over ten years. You are here now, discussing this now, because you have developed healthier coping mechanisms that would prevent you from reacting that way in the future. You can see that, can’t you?”

Slowly Bruce looked up at her, feeling a little blindsided by that assessment. Sure, of course he tried, he was always trying, but...

“Everyone feels anger, Bruce. Everyone is a few bad decisions or painful experiences away from snapping. It’s how you choose to manage that anger, how you choose to react that matters here.”

He knew that, he did. He’d been told that in therapy before but... Could it apply here too? Was trying enough? Sometimes it felt like no one else in the world could feel anger the way he did and...

Bruce was still gripping Tony’s hand so tight he was sure it was falling asleep but he couldn’t help it and he looked at his husband hesitantly, unsure what he would find there when he met his eyes but... But it was just the same look he always saw, the same steadfast love Tony always had for him.

“But aren’t you scared?” he whispered because he was fucking terrified.

“I have never once been scared of you,” Tony told him back, exuding a confidence Bruce struggled to understand. “And today is not going to be the exception.”

#science boyfriends #stanner #tony/bruce #past abuse tw #science bros week #my fanfiction

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wittywallflower · 5 years

Note

One of them (probs Pen) getting so jealous she sprouts out she is in love with Schneider

Here it is!

Group therapy leads Penelope to an epiphany about her feelings for Schneider

“Penelope, we havent heard from you yet.” Pam kept her voice admirably neutral.

“I don’t got a lot to say.” Penelope waved off the group therapy leader with a smile.

More than one eyebrow went up. The Cuban was not known as being the wallflower of the group. Penelope knew that and didn’t fail to notice the disbelief on some faces.

“Really.” She insisted “Things are really good right now. I don’t need to take the time away from people with problems they need to talk about. You’ve all listened to my problems plenty.”

“And we are always here to help with those.” Pam said. "But its important for all of us to take the time to acknowledge and celebrate the good things as well. Seeing each other succeed and be happy is a reminder that its possible for all of us, no matter what we are dealing with.”

The women around the circle nodded at that. The therapy meetings helped them in a lot of ways. They had shed a lot of tears together but also shared a lot of smiles and a lot of laughter.

“So, Penelope, would you like to share the good things with us?” Pam asked.

“Okay, well”, Penelope rubbed her palms down her jeans as she considered where to begin. “As you know, i finished my exams. I am officially an NP.”

She took a moment to preen as there was another round of congratulations from her friends.

“And honestly, its like I can breathe again. So much of the pressure is off; no more tests, no more studying, no more researching the reproductive habits of frogs, as if that’s ever going to come up when i am treating bronchitis.” She shook her head, pantomiming shaking off that mental load. “I’m not even nervous about doing the job, I actually feel totally confident in my abilities.”

Which was a marvel when she remembered how she used to second guess her decisions as a nurse, asking Dr. Berkowitz for a consult on so many things she wouldn't question these days.

“Mi mami’s doctor is really pleased with her health, she’s not even fighting me about some of the dietary changes anymore. Elena is an essay writing machine right now, she is raking in so many scholarships for college. So that’s an anxiety attack i don't have to have until next year. Let’s see, what else… Alex has his first serious girlfriend now.”

That had the group chuckling and those who had mothered teen boys expressed their sympathies.

“Yeah, I hear that.” Penelope continued. “But I’ve met her and her family goes to my church. She’s a real good girl. One of the ones we would have called stuck up prudes back in high school, you know? Even Alex couldn’t charm her into anything too bad.

“My tax return was very nice this year. Oh, and I tried that tapas place 3 blocks over on Cayuga street with Schneider last weekend! Food’s a little pricey but the drinks are cheap and really good. We should all go sometime.”

The expected reaction would be for the group to enthuse about a new place to grab post-therapy cocktails but instead Penelope met mostly questioning faces.

“So you’re finally dating that dude?” Ramona asked.

“What? Schneider?” Penelope shook her head in denial. "No, we just got dinner together.”

“Just the two of you?” Penelope nodded in answer to that. “The two of you at a trendy new restaurant on a date night?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a date. We eat together most nights.” she said.

“At home with your mom and kids, not alone out on the town. Did you split the bill?”

“Well, no, he paid.” Penelope had to admit, but she was quick to explain. “But that’s just because he lost a bet we had."

I don’t know,” Ramona said, "still sounds a lot like a date. Do you two usually hang out together when one of you isn't having a crisis?”

“No.”

Not without the rest of the family around. But for the group, that just made their solo outing together seem more significant.

Jill tried to back her up.

“It better not be a date. Doesn’t that Schneider guy have a girlfriend?” she asked.

“Actually, they broke up.” Penelope had to admit.

“Really?”

Jill raised an eyebrow and grinned at the other women, who she had spoken to at length about Schneider’s attractiveness after meeting him at Penelope’s place. Then Penelope’s car was in the shop once, requiring Schneider to drop her off at a meeting. They’d all taken a good long look for themselves that night; after that he became a regular topic of admiring conversation.

“So if he isn’t dating her, and he isn’t dating you… what’s he doing Friday night?” Jill asked.

The group laughed and Penelope joined them at first but then waved the idea off.

“Actually there’s some old musical airing on one of the Spanish channels that night, he promised to watch it with my mom,” she said.

It was really sweet of Schneider to agree to that. The old films tended to make Lydia emotional with memories of home and her Berto. Schneider loved listening to her stories and was always good at cheering the older woman up with requests for dancing lessons or some gentle flirting.

Penelope sensed the stares from the group again. What? It wasn’t that weird for a man to sacrifice his Friday night to keep an old lady he wasn't even related to company. At least not if that man was Schneider. He did macrame with his tenants so they wouldn’t get lonely, por dios. Abruptly, Penelope shifted gears.

“But if you want, Jill,” she joked, elbowing her friend in the side, “I can ask if he is free Saturday night.”

Jill shook her head with a grin. “I’m busy Saturday, what about Sunday? Does he go to worship? 'Cause as we all know i can rock the hell out of a sundress, and he’d look real good on my arm walking into church.”

The whole group cracked up at that.

“I’ll take him Saturday night!” Another woman piped up. “My cousin is getting married and a hot, rich guy will make a better date than Tom from the mail room at work.”

“No one is forcing you to take Tom.” Penelope pointed out.

“Yeah but its a wedding and going to a wedding alone is just asking for pity.” she said.

Penelope really couldn’t deny that after her own experience at Victor’s ceremony. She’d actually been tempted to ask Schneider to be her date to that. So she wasn’t sure why it rubbed her wrong now to think of him being someone else’s wedding arm candy.

“So, what’s wrong with Tom then?” she asked.

“Um, he’s not a really rich, really hot, really tall Canadian that i want to climb like a maple tree?”

The eruption of ribald laughter covered Penelope’s silent reaction.

‘Hey, he went to your daughter’s quinces right? How does he look in a suit?”

The reminder of Schneider in his suit, weirdly-sexy with that smooth face and no glasses hiding those bright blue eyes of his, … Penelope couldn’t help it, she blushed a bit at the memory.

“Wow, that good huh?” Jill teased her when Penelope didn’t answer. “You know, I have a wedding to go to in 3 weeks myself…”

More laughter. These women loved to talk smack and riff off each other. Penelope knew it was an all a lot of bluster and bullshit. Usually she gave as good as she got. But she was quiet now, strangely unsettled by the words flying around her.

“Is there a waiting list a girl can get on?” was asked with seeming earnestness.

Yeah, so what? So Schneider was kind of hot; kind of really hot. That had never affected Penelope’s opinion of him, or how she treated him. He wasn’t some piece of meat.

“Yeah, I don’t need him for a date,” Ramona stated the obvious, “but I wouldn’t say no to him helping me change my brake pads.”

“My mom’s retirement party is in March. Does he do the fake boyfriend thing, or will that cost extra?”

“Cost extra? If Richie Rich isn’t paying for everything, what’s the point?"

The jokes came fast and easy, but Penelope wasn't finding them very funny. What was he, some sugar daddy for these girls to use and discard? Sure, maybe he did stuff for her sometimes that didn’t exact fall under a landlord’s duties, but that was different. They were friends, they did things for each other, took care of each other. It wasn’t like that.

She was special.

She tried not to acknowledge the thought, just like she tried not to face the fact that she didn’t want to share that with anyone. She didn’t want to share him.

Being quiet really wasn’t a Penelope trait, so her friends took pointed notice that she wasn’t joining the banter. They had been hearing about this guy for years, wondering when or if the two would ever stop dancing around each other. Of course, it is entirely possible for a man and a woman to be close friends on an entirely platonic basis.

But its also possible to be in denial when one’s feelings start to change.

They had listened over the years as he became increasingly important in her life. And they certainly were not above baiting Penelope into admitting it.

“Hey Pen, you’ve seen him in bike shorts. What’s he packin’?” one bold voice asked. Penelope went rigid in her seat. “Now there’s one tool of his I’d like to borrow!”

Oh hell no.

“Well, you can’t!” Penelope snapped.

“Well, if no one else is using it…”

“He’s not a gigolo, or some boy-toy for you to play with!” Penelope exploded. "He’s been through a lot and he’s had too many people let him down!”

Pam settled a hand on her arm and Penelope realized she had been shifting in her seat in agitation. “Penelope, we’re just joking around. You know that. Can we talk about why it bothers you so much?”

“He’s such a good man and so many people look down on him and treat him like he is worthless, even his own family. I don't want that for him. He deserves better.”

“We know he means a lot to you-”

“Yeah. He does.” Penelope cut Pam off. “I don’t know what I’d do with out him. I rely on him to help me with my anxiety attacks. I trust him with my mami and my kids. I, I…”

She groped for the words, trying to find some way to explain it to these women. To make them understand that Schneider’s presence in her life was a blessing, that any person would be lucky to have him around. How to make them see what an amazing guy he is. And also why she couldn’t stand anyone else getting the same special Schneider treatment she got. Didn’t want to do it all without his help.

The group didn’t make it easier for her. They could sense Penelope was on the cusp of a revelation. There were no jokes now, no pointed comments about Schneider’s abs, or queries into any desire Penelope might have to run her tongue over them. They knew that when Penelope got started, sometimes it was best to just let her go, let her ramble and rant and rave until she led herself to the obvious conclusion. They had been waiting for her to work this one out.

Penelope looked around at the expressions on their faces. No one seemed surprised by her spirited defense of Schneider. More impressively, no one was even smirking in that “haha, got you to admit you don’t hate him” kinda way. Suddenly it seemed like the group knew her better than she knew herself. Like they knew what the denial had kept her from acknowledging all along and knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“Holy crap, I love him.”

Penelope breathed out a sigh at the intense realization. It was a surprise. Of course. When had she fallen for the man-baby? But judging by the feeling of relief, the loosening of a tension she hadn’t even known she was holding, it had been a long time coming. She smiled, feeling like another weight had been lifted from her chest and she was taking a full deep breath for the first time in years.

Then her mind started to race again. Her smile fell and when her eyes darted around the group again, they had a slightly panicked look in them. Acknowledging her feelings was one thing (one damned difficult thing), but acting on them?

“Well, what now?!?” she asked in a panic.

#alvareider #odaat #penelope alvarez #ollyhooper

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ianbrunner · 5 years

Text

Opinions and Thoughts on Elizabeth’s Warren’s Plan for Student Loan Forgiveness and Cancellation of Student Debt

As a graduate student who is on track to finish their program in two weeks I’d say I have a vested interest in Elizabeth Warren’s program to make college free (or at least affordable), and especially in the loan forgiveness program. Now, I don’t owe a ton of money. If I worked really hard and budgeted to an extreme extent I’d probably be able to pay off my loans in a relatively short amount of time, but as someone struggling with mental health concerns this isn’t really an option. I’ve had friends do this, and while it must feel great to be young, have no debt, and a well paying job due to your education, it also takes a severe mental toll on a person. The people I know who have done this avoided going out to movies, or buying books, or doing things in general because they couldn’t afford it. They lived in small apartments in which they were cramped and became isolated because while their friends were off doing something that cost money they were trying to pay off their loans before they hit age forty. On the flipside, one could make small payments over a long period of time, however, having that weight, having the shadow of debt looming over you is terrifying and something I would never wish on anyone.

Warren writes that student loan debt is “...acting as an anchor on our economy,” that it’s “...reducing home ownership rates. It’s leading fewer people to start businesses. It’s forcing students to drop out (sic) of school before getting a degree. It’s a problem for all of us” (“I’m calling”, 2019). Warren’s plan aims to “...cancel $50,000 in student loan debt for every person with a household income under $100,000”, and to continue to provide relief for people making more than that by lowering the amount of relief by “...1 for every $3 in income above $100,000, so, for example, a person with household income of $130,000 gets $40,000 in cancellation, while a person with household income of $160,000 gets $30,000 in cancellation” (I’m calling, 2019).

Warren also claims that:

An economic analysis from leading experts on student loan debt finds that my plan would provide at least some debt cancellation for 95% of people with student loan debt (and complete and total student debt cancellation for more than 75%), provide targeted cancellation for the families that need it most, substantially increase Black and Latinx wealth, and help close the racial wealth gap” (I’m calling, 2019).

And that, it would “...likely provide a boost to the economy through ‘consumer-driven economic stimulus, improved credit scores, greater home-buying rates and housing stability, higher college completion rates, and greater business formation’” (I’m calling, 2019). When I think about this, it almost seems too good to be true, and while I’m not a economist or a politician I have no choice but trust what Warren claims and hey, we’ve got to start somewhere.

Now I’ve never seen a professional therapist for my anxiety (gee, who’d have thought a college student couldn’t afford therapy?), and while my university provides resources for students like me I also couldn’t find a timeslot that fit my availability due to classes and field experience. Because of this, I found myself in a position where my best option was to let my grades slip as my mental health suffered. Now that I’m graduating and can see the light at the end of the tunnel my biggest fear is my loans. The cost of living in a major metropolitan area paired with loan repayment is enough to make a healthy person anxious let alone those who are already struggling. I’m not afraid of hard work. Going from from my Bachelors degree in English to my Masters in Education meant that not a lot of my credits transferred. My advisor thought that I would have to do an extra semester to graduate. Instead, I took six classes every semester for three semesters including the summer break. I worked my ass off to be in a position to graduate on time and even now I’m considering applying for a PhD in English. But you know what makes me most hesitant to pursue this? You guessed it, my debt.

In July I’ll be moving to Atlanta to live with my girlfriend. Between the two of us we owe around $80,000. I’d like to take a moment to let anyone who doesn’t owe money like that (there aren’t many in our age group) to step back and remember what it was like to be in their twenties with the world ahead of them. Now add the fear of crushing financial burden to that. We’ve all seen the memes that Millennials are killing off businesses, but I very rarely see someone point out that Millennials just don’t have the finances to do what people our age did a decade or two ago. To us, life is school, and then work to pay off the loans, work to pay off the car, work to pay for the apartment, work to get a little ahead in case the worst happens and an unplanned medical bill pops up or the car breaks down. It’s no wonder that my peers are stressed out, tired. It’s no wonder that some of us eat junk food every day, or fall asleep watching Netflix five days a week instead of reading a book, it’s no wonder we don’t get enough exercise. Simply put, we can’t. We cannot pursue our hobbies or dreams because we’re wearing the shackles placed on us by our educational system and capitalism. Education should be a thing that frees you. That allows you to experience the world more fully and drives you to be a participant instead of an observer, but here we are looking forward to the prime of our life, and instead of seeing a garden to go out and play in, we’re seeing the oncoming shadow of debt. I’m not necessarily saying education should be free, after all, educators are providing a service to their students, but something needs to be done about the costs of education and whether or not Warren’s plan is the way to go, right now it’s the best thing I see.

References

I’m calling for something truly transformational: Universal free public college and cancellation of student loan debt. (2019). Retrieved from https://medium.com/@teamwarren/im-calling-for-something-truly-transformational-universal-free-public-college-and-cancellation-of-a246cd0f910f

#Elizabeth Warren #Opinion #College #University #loan forgivness #debt #millennials #mental health #anxiety

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lgunity · 6 years

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1)Thanks so much for this blog. Finally some sane people in the alphabet soup community. I'm a lesbian, I'm still in the closet. I honestly feel like ending my life because I don't belong within the LGBT community or with straight people. Both are extremely misogynistic and homophobic towards lesbians. Some gay men literally treat lesbians the same way straight people do, they always need to go into oppression olympics with us. They think we have it easier because straight men see us as walking

2)pornograohy and treat us as nothing but sex object for their gaze. It's fucked. I got into a fight with a bunch of gay men telling me that lesbians have it easier and that being raped and forced into marriage is better than being killed. I told them neither of us have it easier, we suffer the same but in different ways. They of course didn't listen and told me to "suck some dick" and threw some misogynistic phrases at me. I'm sick of bisexual women thinking that not dating them for whatever

3)reason is biohobic. Even if it was, I still have the right to turn you down for whatever reason. Lesbians don't owe bisexuals a date or sex, many bisexuals are lesboohobic. I'm beyond sick of trans people telling lesbians to suck cock. No. I'm a female homo, it's not possible. Conversion therapy at its finest. But the more they push this, the more likely they're going to eradicate themselves. And then you have the typical heterosexuals telling me that lesbians need a "good dicking" or that

4)lesbians sex isn't real sex or whatever. On top of all of this, I never had a girlfriend (I'm 18) and I feel like I'm never going to get one because of the non existent dating pool and I hate dating apps. I was I was straight, I'm going to fucking die a single virgin that everyone hates when I come out to new people. Fuck my life. I want to end it all.

anon, i’m so sorry you feel so alienated because of lesbophobia from so many groups/people. that is definitely something a lot of us can relate to so i can’t tell you things are better than they actually are.

however, i will say, don’t give up. eighteen is very young and while it’s totally normal to feel scared and left out, please remember that lesbians are typically more understanding of women not having a huge amount of sexual/relationship experience by the time they’ve left college. many lesbians live in communities and under circumstances where it’s difficult or impossible to come out or date and many lesbians have sex for the first time when they’re much older - many in their 30s or 40s even.

you have so much time and so much to do in life. work on everything else, develop your interests and any career goals you may have. if you’re already balancing school and work, it will be much more difficult, but see if you can do something on the side that is only for you and helps you unwind, away from the anxieties of social media - maybe learn to play a musical instrument, or paint or journal? a sport if that’s what you like. just some suggestions, you’ll know what suits you best.

and this is something i’ve probably said before on this blog but in a very strange way and without us asking for it or finding it pleasant, the whole current “debate” around whether lesbians deserve the right to choose our partners free of coercion, has forced many of us to reassess how much one-sided labor we’ve been doing for people, just on the assumption that they do care about us as human beings. we’ve taken minimum basic respect for us from the wider community for granted, but we’re the ones who got taken for granted. as a lesbian resisting the combined liberal and conservative lesbophobia, i’ve found a lot of clarity and confidence, even if it’s not always fun. not to slip into “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” rhetoric - just a reminder that a certain bleakness is normal when you realize a truth that most people are oblivious to. your sense of self is probably already very strong. this is really good and important even if you have to stay in the closet for the foreseeable future.

connect with other lesbians. i know the online dating scene is headache-inducing, you have my sympathies. either way, cultivate friendships with lesbians here if irl is impossible. and it might seem miraculous or something that only happens to other lesbians, but someday you can meet someone and be able to go out with her and be intimate with her without having to compromise on your boundaries or your politics. there’s a lot of lesbians who feel pretty much the same way as you do and more are starting to talk openly about it.

i also suggest talking to a counselor or therapist, but see if you can find a female professional who is not a lesbophobe - feel free to message me or any other mod if you want us to find out someone like that in your area, if you want.

live, and live as well as you can. be a selfish lesbian who puts herself first, since the world has had enough doormat lesbians. take care.

- Mod Jia

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hotgirlinahotcar · 6 years

Text

* headcanon free-for-all

tagged by: several of you for other things (that are started but still in my drafts...). And with all of y’all already tagged in those too... instead of re-tagging the same people for the same stuff... new thing... tagging: @conviictus / @melioriisms | @cunninglinguistx | @governingmouse | @governinglion | @nicophaught | and everybody else who wants to | non-rp-blogs: just replace ‘your muse’ with one of your fav chars to write about notes: the following answers are heavily influenced by headcanons {d’oh} and whatnots and are subject to change if we ever actually find out more about Gidge...

♥ is there an article of clothing that means the most to your muse? Yep, several. Nope, not her jackets. All the special shirts and other garments that weren’t initially hers but somehow ended up in her possession for some reason or other... (except for stuff that was just discarded or forgotten at her place that ends up in her closet without having any special meaning to her).

❀ what does your muse’s daily routine look like? Most days Gidge gets up at the asscrack of dawn to go surfing - unless the weather won’t permit it (in which case she either goes back to sleep, wakes up her woman for a different kind of workout or catches up on chores and whatnot instead). After a quick shower she then shows up for work barely on time and spends her day there being her glorious sapphic psychologisty self... then after work there really isn’t much of a routine anymore, it’s more of a day to day thing... either back to the beach, or when stuff is piling up, it’s time for chores/errands/paperwork etc and she does the adulting thing. The nights that are all about her girl and spending time together doing whatever they feel like really are her favs though (especially when those also happen to include beachy-surfy and/or lesbionic stuffs). If she’s single though, she might turn her axe-effect up to 11 and hit some lezzie nests for starters... Just hanging out with friends in general is never a bad idea either. And of course the more or less sporadic lazy and quiet nights in are good for the soul too. Naturally, with a lifestyle like that, there also are the days when she’s just beyond exhausted because all that lack of sleep for various reasons caught up with her and she just goes to bed early to recharge properly.

◎ does your muse plan for the long-term or short-term? Both. Realistic goals and all that. Of course she’s only human though, so while she may have the sapphic psychologist skills professional knowledge beneficial to maintaining a healthy balance in general, advice is always easier given than taken. In consideration of that, in most matters, she not only encourages clients and friends alike but also tries to live by it herself. On the flip side of that, nothing wrong with indulging in occasional crazyass notions either. Even the wildest dreams come true for some people after all... In advice-mode she’d also insist on cautioning against actually expecting the more unrealistic stuff to happen though. Cause that kind of thinking has the potential of providing the ideal environment to the birth of delusions.

◆ what is one secret your muse has? Her girlfriend Franky is probably the biggest one... and the canon one... other than that, in verses where she did the pro-surfing circuit thing, it’s not so much of a secret as a part of her life that she just doesn’t share with people at work... with the long lost kid trope, there’d be that... then I have plenty of ideas about the reasons why she got into psychology in the first place... like being forced to go to a mental institution/straight camp when she was a teenager... as in shit was done to her there by the people who were supposed to help her and it becomes her calling to provide therapy done the right way and save people from suffering the likes of what she had to endure... lotsa stuff along those lines. And then there’s the ever classic infinite roulette game of insanity: ‘paid for college (or whatever) by being/got rich by being/gets off on being/leads a double life as/is undercover as/used to be/is mistaken for/pretends to be/wants to be/is forced to be/is being lured into becoming/is basically the same person {cause you’re playing the same muse - a stripper/porn star/lingerie & nude model/hooker/high class escort/assassin for hire/notorious thief/criminal in general/heir to a famous crime family/rockstar/other type of celebrity/is married to/divorced from/related to (somebody rich and famous)/vampire/mermaid/witch/werewolf/alien/ghost/superhero/immortal/time traveler/pirate/ninja/dinosaur/rocket ship/shark toast/swirly whirly junglepants/several or all of the above/is basically the same person {cause you’re playing the same muse - and somebody knows/finds out/stumbles over the intel/gets dragged into it/starts investigating by looking into something unrelated/gets an (anonymous) tip/comes from that world too (and is either keeping the same secret or the complete opposite, is well known for it/comes from another but equal/similar/conflicting/antagonistic situation/is basically the same person {cause you’re playing the same muse}’ {you get the point, these could all go on forever and range from slightly canon-divergent to the crackyassest bloody shit you could ever imagine... Now, I’m not saying I could imagine Gidge in any and all kinds of scenarios, but I’m never not up for at least spitballing, no matter how cracky and insane it might seem.} {Back to the serious side though, I love the whole secret thing so much, so there’s gazillions of headcanons/ideas that I have, but not too many that I’d just ascribe to Gidget in general, so it really depends on the thread.}

ϟ who means the most to your muse? why? Her girl. She’s the love of her life and the world wouldn’t make sense without her in it. And while Bridget had a life before her, since she met Franky/Lorraine/*insert your muse’s name if you wish*, she can’t imagine ever going back to that because she doesn’t even remember what she was living for before she experienced the love they have for each other.

☛ what is your muse’s biggest regret? {I’m gonna leave this basically open for now because I think that would heavily depend on plot and thread and whatnot.} For example, if she did have a kid that she lost somehow, obvi it’d be that... but ‘kids are gross’ versions of her never even would’ve had said child and thus would have entirely different biggest regrets... ex pro-surfer Gidge might forever mourn the loss of that career and might not ever stop resenting whatever ended it... {so yeah, options, options, options... with variations... and alternatives... so just scroll back up to that roulette wheel and we’ll leave it at that until something specific comes along.}

❥ is your muse cool? She thinks she is anyway... XD Nah, she’s chill, but she def has that adorkable side too. Especially when she’s actively trying to be cool... like that ‘I’m not a screw’ scene... {Sorry babe, but your inner Elsa had her gloves on there...}

✯ which three traits define your muse? {Actually... lemme change this one a bit... you can do either version, whatever you prefer.} to be answered at some point in the not so distant future {So I just realized this is just gonna make this post a lot longer and doesn’t even quite fit in with the headcanon thing anymore anyway and can easily be a whole other tag thing by itself...}

♕ would your muse hug a monster? *smiles at @governinglion with wide open arms* {PS: Dude, we really should start talking about starting something... I even have a couple of ideas I’ve been meaning to shoot at ya but haven’t yet cause my ADD is playing fucking pinball with me atm...}

❣ is your muse a fighter or a lover? What’s with the ‘or’? It’s entirely possible to be both at the same time... Just sayin... So yeah, definitely both. Particularly so when the lover brings out the fighter. (That goes for kinkyass passion-motivated activities as well as the ‘my love for you will make me fight to the death and I ain’t letting nothing and no one get in my way’ thing.)

✎ what does life mean to your muse? Biologically, she’s pro-choice. Philosophically... okay, yeah, nope... not gonna go there. To answer in some profound yet vague and still revealing way I’d have to write a fucking epos. So I’ll pass. Your call whether you wanna ponder the meaning of life or disregard this one too.

Disclaimer: Actually this was a meme before I misappropriated it for this. So all credit for the questions goes to whoever wrote them originally. @vhsmeme I think... I hope you don’t mind that I turned it into a tag thing instead. By the time I realized I should’ve fucking asked you first, I had already written most of the replies... so...

But yeah, not cool to just assume it’d be okay, and I acknowledge that. Sorry!-ish. In my defense tho... there’s a hugeass ‘free-for-all’ right there in the title... I just realized that... XD

#conviictus #cunninglinguistx #governinglion #governingmouse #nicophaught #playing tag and stuff #headcanons #wishlist #gidget the surfer girl #sapphic psychologist #gidget's secret past #take courage from her as your prize #she's a mystery girl

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threenorth · 3 years

Text

7 years - one of the best day's of my life.

(I always thought it was July *insert dates* but since the occasion of the anniversary I had to look back at the photo in where the girl holds a weapon of a doctor and it read it said June...

- I've decided to make this now because the actual day will cripple me..)

(Edit: on June 1st ill send this... But not the actual date because i will be not online or responding.)

...

....

.....

......

Dear ,loml,Girl,Freind, Lauren,Rose

I had a mental break down on our third day in the cinema in where because I wanted to make you happy for the rest of your life, but i knew i wouldn't be able to so i left to the best of my ability to get out of your life because i knew that i would probably be the reason you never are as happy as I've always wanted you to be....

In the movie(tfios) tjis was reinforced i relaized within all disillusions of reality in my terrible mental state of mind that the only way hazel grace gor her happyness Augusts had to not be in her picture anymore.

i will have to let you go completely and it's gonna be extremely difficult for me to do that as you were and still are the girl i thought id marry and spend the rest of my life with... But the times they are changin' *blows a humonaca * Remember me to one who lives there... She once was a true love of mine.

So i decided it was for the best to cutt the ropes to the reinforced bridge and let it collapse under it's own weight and oh man it was an ugly and it hurt to watch it implode but it had to, i wasn't doing any better within my fight but i was about to be knocked down more than I could ever realise.

Maybe i can work on myself and try this therapy thing but they only told me i was depressed and there wasn't enough criteria to help with my other issues that i know was wrecking my life...

I was hoping you would stick around but i forced you away, i didn't want to hurt you as my demons were eating my mind that's the last thing i would want is to hurt you ever in anyway shape or form...

I wished everyday to hold you in my arms like the days previously so i hugged my pillow and cried till there wasnt any tears...

i don't like touch expect handshakes

I never even liked kissing my girlfriend's in person but you made me want to feel every inch bump and scar every little last part of you because you made me fit back together with one hug...and I've never felt so alive...

We never got to look under the stars by a camp fire with smores all cuddled up in a sleeping bag watching stars on your roof but you would of told me stories of the universe...

I would of told you how when i look to the stars i see the same beauty as you... those stars still do that.

I would of hoped you would of told me your life story that i never wanted to know because i knew it was rough, maybe you might of seen why i never spoke about mine in fear of traumatising you...

One day when dying your hair You asked me if i liked i blonde hair or black hair i didn't care as long as you were happy but I remember saying something like but your gonna have to dye your hair as i thought it was naturally black and you corrected me to say you were a natural blonde.. I could see you in your long blonde hair down to the knees and smile loaded to kill and that it does now, you would of had some books in hand on the way to your writers den log cabin the back woods of Washington or Oregon woods with a fireplace to make tea and write the book you wanted to make and i hope you write still... I stopped because it hurt to much.

Your smile even in black hair made me feel like this life was worth living and with a it cutt deeper -*sentence reacted*- then *redacted*

I waited years for my next trip to America and the day i would break news to you that i was coming and more so to co and i hoped it would be one day but i got three and i am forever grateful.

I remember hiding behide the door because I wanted to surprise you, and man you jumped through the roof then suffocated me with arms and played with my hair no one has ever done anything remotely close to that ever since as i want to keep my distance with everyone... Three days later i had to go to ohio ugh midwest family trump voters, the door was open and i didn't have time to knock i just had to go we had an hour before the flight and i was granted 5 minutes i had and would of hoped you would of known my voice i called out, i hadn't relaized with my undiagnosed autsim i caused you a panic attack and I'm truly sorry i caused you pain in anyway as you told me a year later and i was truly shocked my fear of hurting you had happened and even when i thought it was safe to rebuild a bridge it wasn't because i knew i couldn't control my actions... I was unstable and i had to leave again.

Back to the 5 mins on day 4 I told you i had to go but i never said goodbye Because to me it wasn't goodbye it was till we meet again... I was hoping shortly in the sense but i knew it might be awhile longer but not 7 fucking- *reacted*

I gave you the gifts i wanted on the first day but it was better to wait...

I gave you chocolate to remember the sweet taste of life.

I gave my favourite t-shirt to snuggle even with a dot of blood from my shaved face for those conservtives in the Midwest.

I gave you the weapon of the doctor to keep you safe when i couldn't be there.

I gave you an anchor necklaces to remind you that you calm the seas that are rough, and you wore it to your home coming with your blue prom dress oh man you were the girl id take to my ball/prom/home coming dance that's why i never attended mine.

I gave you a hallowed book to well at the time ultimately keep secrets in the library of old books and i was hoping it was big enough for the sonic screw driver but ultimately it would hold whatever secrets the girl wished to hide.

I gave you tea to help keep you warm and calm on those lonely bitter cold winter days, the lemon grass and ginger warms the soul and cleans.

I remember in my last turn away the hazel eye's of a girl and i saw the universe, i saw her long blonde hair and i want to make into French braids I don't know how to braid but I'd learn anything if you asked me to within reason... Because i have a few disabilities but I would try to do what ever i had to... In 2013 with my time to heal i was told to make some goals for my life...and here is some of them...

* go to college and get a degree (I spent 3 years working and trying to figure out what to do and 3 years doing it achieving this in 2018*)

* get a good job (*i got this this year because in 2019 i was diagnosed with high functioning autism and it made me spiral into doom where everything that happened to me made sense like why the kids use to call me Sheldon Cooper)

I just wanted a girl not any other girl but the girl who I found through a mutual tumblr and my word... 2012 what a year...

I have very few things left on this list and I have to make peace with that and i don't like looking up at the stars anymore but i know your on the other side of the world looking at the *more or less/slightly different* same stars.

I have a tattoo planned for you but I don't want you to know what one is you but I'm sure you're know.

You always had a way to see right through me so my re-creation my look of style was born from your vision for me with the twist of capt was my favourite avengure hes super human nothing more then enhancing his ability. I just tried to be a good man and ultimately I don't want you to feel bad for anything because your already as cute as i wanted you to become and now it's my turn to evolve and since working

I've been able to I must work out at the gym i must go to uncomfortable places,deal to my own problems one at a time little by little and i would hope by the time you read this I'm on new meds for my issues and funny how money can't buy happiness but it can buy me temporary relief but when I return whenever that is... if you are still out there wherever you are i want you to know i that.... live your life and you told me you don't want nothing to do with me so i will go my separate way, but i will always be here for you...

I thought id reach a few weeks ago because I had my first time went manic in 3 years but I couldn't control it i was stuck in mania for two weeks i tried tell you but I said things i never I asked the answers to things racing through my head... Amd now i have to live with the answers i feared and I alreday knew to be true i didn't want to know it i wanted to keep my dreams of being with you one last time this time the right time and you could of seen the man i wish i was, I'm just stuck in the middle of all these things...

Ultimately i want you to know that no matter what comes my way I've keep breathing I've never self harmed since promising you and my biggest trial is yet to start and your words haunt me but they must be the only words in my brain that aren't mine that i know aren't mine and I tried to keep my tabs on you to make sure that you were okay i didn't know if you would ever want to hear from me as the last thing i herd was i give you panic attacks and axiterty and now you give me panic attacks and axiterty.... I don't worry about them because you mean so much to me and don't worry about me I'll be okay eventually I'm in my final stages of evolution and I'm just a tad slow to catchup...

I've recently found out i have extremely flat feet that's why i gave up sports and couldn't run very far without pain and now i glasses to see clearly with an eye stigisim in where the over bearing load of one eye being more powerful has thrown my body... It is only the beginning finally and ultimately not the end but a beginning.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to try get back to reality... It just so happens all my medical conditions from birth really fucked up my mental health.

I'm glad you are free and happy... I ju-*redacted*

If you ev-*redacted*

I'm *redacted*

I've been stuck in space for to long and now I'm grounded I'm trying to repair our friendship...

Edit 3: I've been referred to the hospital, it would appear that i was depressing myself to cope to turn my brain off from reailty and with my truma of bullying for years at schooling that ultimately fucked me over as when trying to revist reality causes me to be manic and psychosis with visual hulusnate....i had asthma and so i could never get deep enough breaths to recenter myself during axiterty attacks and i stopped taking them because i didn't need them for fitness but i needed them for my panjc attacks that then led to my depression that i didn't take my medications for just breathing fucking air.

It's funny how everything has intertwined it's self into my life of old...and my new live...

A girl that isn't the same person i once knew said You have to be brave enough to get your diagnosis, I'm scared but i know that i must.

I'll be o -

I'll be okay...

*tears*

I wish i knew all my issues sooner before they come back haunt me but i never had all the answers and now i do...

7 years on from... (because i know the date... *the day we...)

I'm burning a sun to say goodbye.

I finally can say goodbye to you. If not in person but the only way I can.

This isn't a suicide letter.

I'm sorry

I *redacted*

I don't *redacted*

Don't *redacted*

Yours

Always Charlie,the Beautiful Mind,

RlF

Personal Sidenote;

I would of mailed a letter but I have no address.

I would of called but i never got a phone number.

Burn after reading...

i might write you a letter sometime again but I haven't decided when to as this is something I've wanted to do for years but didn't know what I'd say to you without hurting either of us.

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