#but like i’m not planning on staying unemployed for more than like a week i’m planning on applying for another job in a few days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peggysousfan · 1 year

Text

Opinions or Advice, please?

Tbh I need some more opinions because honestly my friends at work may be a little biased.... So long story short my mom forces me to pay rent twice a month. To some that may not be a big deal since I’m almost 21, but here’s my issue and I’ll break it down.

My mom is a retired Army Veteran who gets a check every month for compensation. She makes around $3000- $4000 a month (Which is not taxed because it is from the government itself.) Now my dad makes around $2000 - $3000 twice a month since he works a job and gets paid every two weeks. (This is after taxes so he makes quite a bit)

Now I make maybe $1000 a month which is less than $600 every two weeks. I’ll make $550 if I’m lucky every two weeks because I’m on a biweekly pay as well!

I have credit card debt because my mother has pressured me numerous times to use it while we are out together running errands. Especially when I was unemployed and could barley make my minimum payments (Which my mom had to help me pay until I found a job) Now here’s a kicker... I own 4 credit cards and use 3 different third-party payment plans to pay for large expenses. Now currently she has a loan in my name using one of these third-party options... And three of those credit cards I only have because she needed them and couldn’t use her own anymore.

She does not pay me for these credit cards that she made me take out. I pay them because they are in my name. I also now have my own phone bill which this month was $182 ($82 of which is not mine to pay, it’s my cousins) My mother forced me to get a phone for my cousin and add him on my bill which increased it. He has agreed to help pay it but I always have to pay my bills as soon as my check hits, therefore I will get some money back. Which is a plus side I admit. But he also has no job now so my mother has to help pay the difference which I know she is unhappy about.

To round it up I pay almost $500 a month on these credit cards and third party sources (When I have those small loans taken out. As of now the only loan out is my mothers and it’s in my name)

We never came to a set upon number to what she wants me to pay, she gaslights me into saying I should pay whatever I want to pay, so to be generous(And try to give her as much as I can without her being angry it’s not enough) I try to pay $150 every two weeks, so $300 a month... leaving me with a little over $200 a month for myself. And I will say this, I only ever have enough every two weeks to save and put away $10 because I’m trying to save for a car and an apartment.

In America this isn’t anything. I only have maybe $160 saved up and that took me over half a year to save. Like i said it’s barley anything but i try to set some funds aside if possible.So that’s $20 a month i put away, leaving me with $180 a month for myself at most.

Now my latest check was smaller than I anticipated it would be, taxes ate much more than I calculated they would. So I had to pay her less rent again. Last time I could only afford $50, and this time $100. Now she is cussing me out over text (First thing in the morning after I transferred the funds) because it wasn’t enough. She doesn’t believe me when I say I don’t make anything and my bills take up most of my check. The only reason I didn’t send the extra $50 was because after my bills are all paid, I will have $67 left for myself. And this will have to last me 2 weeks.

Now my mom also tells me to grab groceries sometimes when I leave work( I work in a grocery store btw) Therefore the money I have left over after bills isn’t always for me. Most often its for her and the house, or my cat. And with inflation so high I have to skip lunch more often than not to make sure i have money in my account for her in case she needs me to pay something for her. And I’m not a breakfast eater so I am left to eat one meal a day for over a week.

She says that she stays broke to make sure her house runs and her animals and kids are taken care of. Now I will say her mortgage did go up, which is horrible and I do feel sorry for her. It’s not fair and this country is going to shit, and we as citizens are paying the price. Once she told me her mortgage went up it made sense why she wanted me to pay her rent. But my co-workers say it isn’t my responsibility to help pay her bills and she shouldn’t make me feel bad for trying to save money for myself.

My mom, when she’s angry, says she wants me to get out and that I need a life, but yet I can;t do anything or go out if it affects her life, her household, and her plans. She belittles me and acts entitled as if I owe her every penny I make. Time out of my life, work I put into my job, money I earned. I owe it to her to help her pay her bills... but she makes almost 4 times as much as I do. Not including what my dad makes as well...

We do live on a farm and expenses go to that as well, but my mom doesn’t know when to stop buying animals (Particularly dogs) She doesn’t think of the consequences of the costs and the lack of space in her small home. Most of her expenses could be avoided if she didn’t take on so much, but she refuses to listen to any of us when we say its not a good idea to get more animals. She says its her money and she’ll use it how she wants, and getting more animals will be hard but it’s worth it

But then turns around and says I owe her.

And I will add this. The rent money I send her she almost always uses it on Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts. I know for a fact the last 4 times I have paid her, she has gone out and used my rent money for take out. Not bills she’s struggling with or on animal feed, but luxury. Half the time I won’t even get any because I’m at work. If I’m not she will get me something. I only ever agree because if I refuse she will get angry.

I know this was a lot but I wanted to be as thorough as I could for your input. Honestly I don’t expect anyone to read or comment but... if you do, Am I wrong to be upset here? Should I try and pay her more? Or should I save up and try to start my own life? Opinions or advice please?

#personal #this is a big dump of personal info and i am so sorry #this is a lot #but i really need advice and opinioins #i don't know what to do #i have no friends or boyfriend or life #so im trapped #but i want to be free #please can someone help

7 notes · View notes

wearepaladin · 2 years

Note

Hey Paladin, it’s been a while. DPR here from that job hunt a while back. I’m not sure if you recall my musings to you, but pleased to see Tumblr’s still got the old asks up. So much has happened, but it feels like an update is in order.

Gave up on a more meaningful job and ended up taking a sort of remedial order fulfillment/warehouse job at a local wholesale company. Stayed there all through covid without missing a day - vital infrastructure support and all. Bought my own place with the money saved (condo, but housing has been tough and it’s a step up from renting) and moved in with my long-term girl. Worked my way up through shifts and positions (staying there way longer than I had planned to) eventually catching a lucky break for a highly coveted, bonafide outside sales position spring last year, just as I was getting burnt out. It was so much of what I needed and a great year.

Ran into some team issues though, and ultimately felt like they weren’t quite my people to begin with. A lot of overthinking later and a friend in another business/field said his place was hiring for an account manager position. The good news is my sales experience handling a portfolio of my own customers transferred nicely and being a values-based company, I’d fit right in. Aced the interview process, had a surprisingly great parting with my manager, and I’m 3 weeks into my 6 week training course.

It’s been a breath of fresh air, and the best paying job I’ve ever had. The spot is likewise sought-after in the company and hiring outside for it is.. infrequent I’ve been told, so feeling grateful. They also picked up my girl a few months before me, so hearing from 2 trusted sources about the reality of the place has been reassuring. It feels like we can really build a life together with this company and while I’m still in the early stages, I feel the biggest glimmer of hope I’ve had in a long time about our future (as long as the civilized world doesn’t collapse).

For the longest time it felt like maybe my life got off track being fired instead of quitting that first job and losing out on my then dream job opportunity a few months after... but I’m starting to feel like maybe it wasn’t for naught. Maybe it was putting me on the path I needed to be on to learn some lessons I hadn’t gotten yet. I’ve learned so much about hard work and what real teamwork and positive work culture does/doesn’t look like. I almost don’t recognize the kid I was when I was unemployed in 2019.

Thanks for listening to my story while I wax poetic a bit haha. Keep being a light for others. I’ll still be around! Maybe another update isn’t several years off 😊 ❤️ — DPR

It's been a minute, but I do remember. Don't Plant Roots, short for Don't plant roots in bad places. And that advice was sincerely meant, but you had to deal with the reality of it, just like any of us. And I'm happy to learn that you've managed to get to this new place and it looks like a promising beginning.

21 notes · View notes

ella-animine · 6 months

Text

I’m sad.

I’m really sad.

And I’m not sure what bitching about it here is going to do but if I hold it inside of me it will make me want to explode and I will not feel any better. So I might as well let it float off into the ether here.

I am very sad and very unhappy. I am trying very hard to be upbeat and keep my arms wide and my heart open but it is getting harder to believe that things will work out

I haven’t been truly happy for a long time. I have bits where things are okay, where it’s easier to be hopeful, but it feels like I keep getting let down and shit on

I didn’t graduate happy, I didn’t move into my first place happy, didn’t get a job happy, didn’t make friends happy. I certainly didn’t quit my job happy, or stay unemployed for months happy, but I hoped things would be better when I got a new job, moved to a new city, near my brother who I hadn’t really seen in years (bc he’s always busy) in his house even. I was very hopeful, held my head up and promised things were going to be better, that I would make a good life for myself and my cat.

But it’s been some time, work is dull and I’m not making any new friends despite trying everything that people reccomend, my brother is still too busy, and when he’s not busy he seems to always have an excuse for why he can’t spend time with me. I don’t have a place I can live with my cat bc of a brilliant hairbrained scheme by my brother’s girlfriend that is taking an actual eternity to turn around

And all of that I had been able to deal with. Deep breaths, wishing on stars and 11:11, crossing my fingers at Angel numbers, all the things that couldn’t hurt, even a few strategically planned cries.

But this week has been hard, as I plan and prepare a birthday party, for my brother’s girlfriend, and think longingly of how badly I want a birthday party. I haven’t had a birthday party in a long time. The last one I did eek out wasn’t even full of my friends. They were someone else’s. Someone who’s dead to me. I didn’t even really have a good time.

But I want a birthday party. I never get a birthday party. My birthday is always too close to Thanksgiving, usually the best I can hope for is some cupcakes after dinner with just my parents(my brother hasn’t been to a Thanksgiving with us in a long time) or a candle in the green bean casserole.

And I’m bending over backwards to make this party happen, and I just know this year will be another uneventful, unassuming birthday. They’re coming back from a cruise that day. The only people I know in the whole city, and they’re coming back from a vacation on my birthday. I can’t even say for certain they’ll be home THAT DAY. They may be back in the wee hours of the night. I may not even get to go to my parents for a single candle in a casserole.

And I’m angry. At my brother, at the world, at myself, at everything. For a lot of things.

But more than anything I’m sad

Because I want to believe that things will get better, and that it won’t be like this forever.

But every extra lonely and sad birthday with no one around it gets harder to hope that things will ever be different.

And every time I scrape myself up and tape the broken parts of my heart, it seems like I get punched in the gut again

So I’m gonna cry myself to sleep and try to put on a brave face for this birthday/Halloween weekend. Because no one will appreciate it if I show how I feel.

And I feel sad

1 note · View note

steamishot · 11 months

Text

emotional

ironically and possibly predictably, my mind has wandered often into negative headspaces after no longer having the obligation to complete my studies. in some ways, the studying helped keep my mind sharp, busy, and my mental energy geared for that purpose. perhaps, the worrying/anxiety i used to have about my studies have transferred over to other stuff and i’m starting to make mountains out of molehills again.

matt’s 7 days on/7 days off schedule has been getting better; he’s getting better at work and continuing to slowly learn how to human/live life again. without my studies, i’m more bored and causing conflict where there used to be none. now it’s harder to stomach the idea of being alone on his weeks on, when he’s working 80-100 hours. also, it’s not my ideal to be together 24/7 for his 7 days off in a small studio. i find myself being irritated at the amount of alone time, and then irritated at the amount of together time because they’re both insanely extreme.

i will have weddings to attend in california in august, september, october and november. we’re looking at me doing this more frequent bicoastal lifestyle so i’m don’t feel as socially isolated with my completely remote work set up. i now feel like my time in NYC has basically run its course (it’ll be 3 years this fall), and am struggling a lot with the idea that it feels matt and i are on different timelines on returning to california.

he understandably has a certain criteria for job searching: academic setting, PSLF qualified, inpatient, no open ICU, 7 days on/7 days off schedule; no crazy patient caps. i’m more focused on him just accepting a decent job so that we can be closer to family and friends. however, the uncertainty of when this move is happening is killing me. we’ll likely need to renew our lease next month so we’ll have the apartment until sept 2024, and then pay to break the lease early if a good opportunity comes up. it’s hard to daydream about a life in california (where to live, when to buy cars, what car to buy, future family plans, etc) when everything is up in the air. the more i daydream, the more disappointing it is to know the reality is “unknown”.

i’ve been stuck in this negative loop of “it doesn’t seem like we want the same things”, “am i in the right relationship”, “can i continue to sacrifice/put my wants and needs on the backburner”, etc. so the first few days back in LA i’ve been quite sad internally. on friday, i had a movie night with J & M, and we had some deep talks afterwards. i feel most open with them, as they’re 6-9 years older and pretty vulnerable people. i shared my thoughts - it’s kinda like in either scenario (we stay longer vs. come back sooner for a less than ideal job) there will be resentment on a given side. J asked me if i’m seeing the scenario through the lens of my own or as a unit? admittedly, i have been looking at this more of my own lens because we aren’t engaged or married yet - and also why it’s a harder thing to sit with. J & M told me it’s a tough situation to be in, but that i don’t have to rush things because it seems like we’re working towards the same path, just at different speeds due to some uncontrollable factors right now.

it also helped to hear things from J’s perspective as a male, to understand the need they have to work hard and be a provider for the family, which makes their job itself very important. now upon reflection, i see my mindset as: “i’m done with my studies, now it’s time to go home, and you need to be on my timeline” which is definitely quite selfish and very self-centered.

objectively, it feels like i’m in mile 24 of the marathon and wanting to give up. i have to look at miles 1-23 and see how strong and far we’ve come to be like, alright home stretch let’s go.

it feels like a completely different world at home compared to nyc. living at home with my senior, semi-retired parents and my grandma. my bro has been unemployed for 5 months now and does not act with any urgency. SIL has been handed a business by my dad but putting in very minimal effort while still collecting the profits. bro and SIL chill everyday and are happy; my parents babysit for them multiple times a week and cook food for them. they spent 3 months in cambodia on an extended vacation where her parents basically funded it all. they don’t have an incentive to work because everything’s taken care of.

it was almost triggering for my SIL to ask if things in nyc are “chill” for us, similar to how she asked my mom why she didn’t go to cambodia for vacation with them. i’m like girl, some people out here are working very hard. not everyone can happily live off parents and unemployment lol.

anyway, on a happier note:

i finally got my teeth cleaned and my filling fixed by my dentist, always enjoy conversations with him

at the dentist office, my dad’s friend coincidentally had an appointment time similar to mine and we were waiting at the office together, communicating in teo-chew (it’s these weak tie relationships and sense of feeling at home/family that i’m missing)

had a really nice time kayaking with my younger cousins, and taking my mom and grandma out (on this note, it does feel a bit tiring that i’m the default planner and initiator to do something more special for the family)

got to hang out with ada - she cried being around me at first because she didn’t recognize me, but now after playing with her more/taking her to do nice things - she likes me again?!

went by myself to a HIIT class at a silverlake studio for the first time - i definitely feel more “adult”/independent. also finally, in my 30s, it feels like i can actually afford to go to workout classes.

building a relationship with my younger cousins

0 notes

darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

The Dark Team (part 13)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx )

Warnings: creepy man, hungover (alcohol mentions), abduction mentions.

Chirping birds woke you up as the light hit your face. It was a slightly sunny morning, you could see. A cold one, too. Your head ached; yesterday’s wine was stronger than you’d think. You remembered very little, and the hangover weighed on your feet as you tried to stand up. Soon, that weight redistributed up to your head, dizziness almost throwing you back in bed.

With much more effort than before, you got up and walked slowly to the kitchen, glancing around. Last night, a sticky kid fell asleep on the doorframe. You chuckled and decided to not wake him up. Loki was nowhere to be found; must be sleeping in his own room, if he had one by then.

An ibuprofen and some cold water later, you checked the time. It was so early; six in the morning. You decided to get working already; maybe someone on the team was awake. If not, you could at least take things off your to-do list for the day and get time free at noon to play videogames with Peter, or help him with that Lego Stark Tower he has been trying to build for almost two weeks now. A nice walk in the park to get some fresh air until some coffee shop opened; that’s what you needed.

The streets were emptier than you’d imagine, and then you realized it was saturday. Peeping in, a coffee shop next block was already opening, and people were lining up to get in. You made sure to have brought money and a laptop with you, and as you reached your pockets you realized you had your suit on, under normal clothes. Well, at least I’m prepared for anything now. Even a sunday morning in a lovely coffee shop, you thought, laughing to yourself. If Tony saw you like this, he’d recall that word he says you inherited from him. Paranoid. But no, Stark, I’m just hungover. Good to know your first instinct once you get up off bed is to suit up. Tony'd be proud. And a little disappointed, too.

You got a table far from the window, wall behind your back making sure nobody could eye your laptop. Once you were settled in and your coffee was getting cold, you started working. You were so glad you were out of the public eye, so you could afford yourself all of these outside activities. Sounded stupid, but if you were to have dinner with Sam, or Steve, or Thor, you’d have to also deal with paparazzis all night long. Actually, in dining out with Thor, paparazzis would be the least of your problems.

“Hey”, greeted Bucky from the other line. “It’s so early, what are you doing up?”.

“Buck, it’s already ten”.

“Oh”, he said, and you heard a sliding curtain by his side. “Oh, there it is. Sunlight”.

“Why are your times all twisted?”.

“We stayed up until five”.

“Doing what?”.

“Let’s say the mini bar was not so mini”.

“Oh my God”, you laughed, and checked for your work on the laptop. “At this point, I think the only one who didn’t get drunk last night is Spidey. Ah. Listen, I’ve arranged today’s plan, and it has to go right or else you can get abducted again. And we don’t want that, okay?”.

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now. Didn’t we already get the stick?”.

“That’s the point, there’s more… you know, bottles hanging around” you lowered your voice. The coffee shop was almost empty, but just in case, you kept it under your breath. “That’s why you gotta get into Hydra’s last base again. Do not go alone”.

You instructed Bucky and then he tried his best to put you on speaker to the rest of the team, but failed. None of them could actually figure out how to do it; Steve was even less familiar with cell phones, and Thor… well, not even elaborating on him. The only Asgardian who seemed familiar enough with Midgard’s technologies was sleeping soundly on the compound. You had to explain the plan thoroughly another two times individually, and then finally hung up and got to work, sending them coordinates and turning off Hydra’s hacked security cameras.

Once they were already in, you had not much more to do. At least for a few hours, they’d be completely submerged in there, and your help wasn’t needed anymore. You still planned for some outcomes and didn’t even notice the man standing in front of you.

“Excus…”.

“OH... my God”, you gasped, taking yourself off your hyper focused state. The man chuckled. His teeth, yellow, seemed like he didn’t know anything about dental hygiene. His clothes were perfectly cleaned, though, in a tidy office-type suit; but his hair was hidden by a peaked cap that barely let you see his eye expressions. Very weird looking. Hard to read. Just now unemployed? Dressed like that to get attention? You frowned and closed all tabs, opening a fake account of email and some cheap online magazine. “What do you need?”.

“Can I sit here?”.

“No”.

He smiled weirdly and manspreaded in the chair you told him not to sit in. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“What are you doing?”, he asked.

You ignore him and keep pretending to read your mails, eyeing how many people were in there too. It was getting fuller than before. If he wanted to steal your laptop he’d have to do it in front of all of these people, and cross the whole coffee shop. He wasn’t planning on stealing. You made a security copy of all the files anyways.

“You have pretty eyes”.

You ignored him again, but now understood his intentions. God, people could be so shameless sometimes. You literally told him to go away. You’ll repeat it, just in case he would actually listen this time.

“Go away”.

He chuckled and stayed in place.

“I just want to talk, sweetie”.

“Sure. I’m not interested”.

“You have a boyfriend?”.

“I have a very strong fist”.

He got closer, leaning on the table, and lowering his voice said “You’re working on the supersoldiers mission, yes?”.

You froze. Suddenly, the creepy man was a bigger threat than you’d anticipated. Your hand hovered over the gun in your pocket, holding strong eye contact with him.

“Who are you?”.

“What do you have in your pocket?”, he teased.

“Wanna find out?”, you threatened.

Looking over his shoulder, an all-too-familiar fifteen year old hid behind a pile of coffee cups from the bar counter, holding his breath to not laugh. You sighed and broke the tension.

“Funny. Very funny. I almost shoot you, you know”.

“That’s not a very good instinct”.

“Not an instinct, I truly wanted to shoot you”.

“You sure were, pancake”, he said as he transformed back into himself, still in those ugly clothes covering half his face. As he looked down to himself, he frowned and changed his clothes to an Asgardian armor. “But your mortal bullets would be no more than a caress to my skin”.

“Let’s give it a try, shall we?”, you cocked your gun, joking. He laughed, and Peter got increasingly nervous as you played with your toys in a public and safe place, surrounded by civilians. “Don’t worry, Pete, it’s fake”.

Peter sighed in relief as you clarified and put it back in your pocket, and Loki smirked, knowing perfectly well you just lied.

“Why don’t we get something to drink, too, mr. Loki?”.

“Yeah, whatever you want, kid”.

“Not a kid”.

“Apologies. Actually, can you order it? I’m afraid Midgardians don’t usually take kindly to my presence”, he asked. Peter nodded.

“I do, mr. Loki”.

"What?".

"Take it kindky".

Loki smiled and raised his eyebrows, a bit confused. Muttered an “I’m glad” and instructed him to get an americano, while you packed your laptop in the backpack.

"How's the incognito working out for you in your shiny armor?"

"Better than before. At least now I'm comfortable while getting the same bad looks I always get anyways".

"Shapeshifter can't manage to hide, how ironic", you said, giving him one of the new earbuds, with an attachable mic. "Since you have good strategy plans and you sort of know what you're doing, work with me".

"I thought we were already working together. You know, in this stupid thing called The Dark...".

"Yeah", you interrupted him, rolling your eyes once again. "From behind the scenes, I mean. This is so you can listen to whatever my earbud hears. Don't bite your tongue if you have any inputs, I'm running out of solutions".

Your phone rang again as you were getting up.

“Yes?”.

“It’s all gone to trash, y/n. We need a new plan, I can’t find Buck anywhere. What’s your backup?”, rushed Steve’s voice. It sounded like it was from a public service phone, and the static didn’t let you hear Steve’s surroundings. Loki looked at the floor, concentrating. He didn't find anything either, and was too far away to read his mind.

“Wait. What do you mean you can’t find him? You were supposed to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t get kidnapped again”, you said, opening your laptop again and looking for Bucky’s location. He didn’t have it on him.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant with ‘it’s all gone to trash’”.

“Okay, don’t freak out. Where are you?”.

“Hydra’s last base, top of the buil…”.

“Hold up, I have another incoming call”. You put him on hold and see who’s calling. It was Bucky, this time. You sigh out of relief. Peter watched you two concerned while approaching you with two coffee cups. You gestured to him to not talk, and Loki had started to type things in your computer. “Buck, where are you? What happened?”.

On the other side of the line, you didn’t get a specific answer. You heard muffled noises that you still couldn’t quite figure out what they meant, and more than one person behind the phone.

“Buck, you there?”, you asked once again. Bucky’s voice filled the silence with a heartrending scream of agony. You almost dropped your phone, and your heart beated to the speed of light. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. They have him. “Buck!”.

“Three hours”, called someone, probably one of the Hydra butchers. “You have three hours”.

“Three hours for what?!”, you tried to hold them on the line while tracing the call. It was from a specific coordinate, nobody could get there unless they teleported. Luckily, you had the perfect person for the job. Loki looked at you quizzically.

"Do we not have better people on it? Can't Stark go?".

You returned to Steve’s call, while thinking about some other alternative than taking you three there (including Peter). “They have Bucky. Location’s very far away from where we all are, so you try to get out of there and go to Asgard with Thor; they’ll try to kidnap you too, and Hydra’s resources are global. No, don’t argue, you screw up, now you do exactly as I say”.

“Do you think they’re the same that hijacked the ship on the first part of the mission?”, asked Loki once you cut the call.

“They might. We have to go get him, there's no other way. The rest of the team comes back tomorrow and they can't leave”.

“No, I have to go”, said Loki. “But I’m supposed to stay with you two and make sure you’re not endangered, and I’m sure if I leave you here all alone, you’ll try to come by your own means”.

“Which means”, you added, “if you take us with you, you can make sure we don’t endanger ourselves”.

“This is a terrible idea”.

“But the only one so far”, you convinced him. “Pete, feeling like going on a dangerous mission?”.

“Hell yeah!”, he said eagerly. Loki was not very fond of his enthusiasm.

“I can do this”, you assured him. “Do you trust me?”.

“Yes”. He didn’t hesitate. “But I don’t trust them. You two will stay behind me facing the danger, alright? Nothing of wanting to play heroes”.

“Got it. Let’s suit up, fellas. Bucky’s waiting”.

66 notes · View notes

barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

The One with the Engagement Picture

Ayy, using this to try new ones. Another for @thatesqcrush’s FRIENDS challenge.

Peter Stone hadn’t always been as much of a partier as he’d become, and he would certainly reject the term womanizer. Anyone he dated or slept with knew that he just wasn’t ready to settle down anymore. Maybe it was because he’d tried to do that once and ruined it. When he tore his ulnar collateral ligament, he’d accepted he wouldn’t be pitching anymore, and slowly an ocean seemed to settle between himself and his teammates. He was bitter, and they were busy. As the partying stopped for him to heal and return to school, there was one woman he found himself content to spend nights with on the couch with. It was the first time since he’d been an adult that Peter was in a serious, monogamous relationship, and he thought it suited him.

Dahlia had moved to Chicago for graduate school, and she was thoroughly unimpressed with his baseball background. Did she think it was cool? Sure. Was she understanding they’d be going to games? Yes. But, he had to teach her how the game worked and let her know which of his friends even played when she met them. She was more interested in dragging him antique shopping or to old bookshops where he’d have to keep her from falling off of a ladder. While she learned his world, Peter got far more comfortable than he ever expected to with pin curls, vintage compacts, and inspecting dresses for sweat stains or cigarette burns. It made her happy to invest time in it, so if she’d wear his old jersey tucked into her high waisted jeans and go to a game with him, he’d take pictures of his pin up at the rockabilly festival they drove out to.

When he proposed, he was nauseatingly proud to find a mid century ring at the vintage jewelry store she loved. The owner knew him from each time he had followed her through, shopping bags in hand as she purused. That meant he had help from a woman who knew Dahlia’s ring size and which cut she’d like the most; he picked correctly anyway, she’d said. He’d been careful to plan an outing to the park, packing a picnic and red and white checked blanket. He had a friend hiding to capture pictures, and it felt like the timing was perfect. Soon enough, he had a picture of her, hand over her mouth as he asked her to marry him sitting on his desk at home, and one with her showing off the ring as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, his arms slung around her waist, sitting on his office desk.

Things were easier then, when he was working and she was in school. Their schedules still aligned, so they could see each other in the evenings. Then, she finished her MFA and taught night classes in order to make ends meet while she worked on her next novel. They’d met not long before the first was published, and he’d read a preview copy the first weekend he knew her and dug up poetry she’d published in volumes stored at the university. His brain didn’t work like that and he liked that about her. He was more about practicality and comfort. She was creative and artistic, comfort be damned.

The change in schedules made things hard. Peter wasn’t good when things got hard. The transition to not seeing each other much during the week, even though they lived together, quickly coupled with wedding planning stress to create arguments they hadn’t had before. Instead of quiet togetherness, they’d bicker. He got home late, so they didn’t see each other before she left to teach. She had to pick something up after work, so he was asleep when she got home. Dahlia wanted to plan the wedding, and Peter was getting nervous because he hadn’t watched many marriages stay happy. He pushed off decisions, avoided picking a venue. After a while, she got an offer to teach creative writing in New York.

“I could have normal hours, Peter. We could see each other. You know you’d get a job in New York.”

“I’m not going back there, Dahl.”

“It’s a big city. You wouldn’t even have to see him. We wouldn’t even have to tell Ben, would we?”

“No.”

“So we just keep not planning a wedding and not seeing each other? Do you even want to marry me?”

“You know I do.”

“No I don’t!”

“Then maybe you should take the fucking job without me.”

The minute he said it, he regretted it. The way Dahlia’s face fell and tears came made him feel stupid. She’d spent her weekends helping him with physical therapy. She’d taken the shitty adjuncting job to stay in Chicago until he was a little more established. She was patient about maneuvering the strained dynamic between Ben and Peter Stone. Hell, she wasn’t even asking him to go back to New York forever. It was a year and then the university would evaluate if they’d offer her a permanent position. They could be back in Chicago after a year. And now she was crying. He hadn’t made her do that before, not because she was sad.

“Fine,” she managed, jaw shifting as she tried to get the tears to stop. “I’ll go then. I can’t keep doing this. You won’t plan the wedding. We fight all the time. And now you want me to go? Here’s your fucking ring.”

If Peter had been used to having a girlfriend or wanting her to stay, Peter might have developed the skills required to do more than stare as Dahlia shoved her clothes into a suitcase and clutch the ring in his outstretched hand. He might have thought to fly to the city when he realized she’d actually gone ahead and moved and show up at her apartment unemployed and ready to go to the courthouse to prove he needed her there.

Instead, he steeled his jaw over the next few weeks. His arm had healed the first year of law school, so he simply returned to his circle of friends that went out and dated whoever and covered for each other. He always ignored the ones in a vintage dress or with dark curled hair. Those were the ones who could hurt him. Who let him pretend afterwards that it was Dahlia beside him, and they were married and happy.

When he moved out the apartment they’d shared-it was too much there now- he picked a painfully modern place and filled it with sleek modern furniture, The antiques she hadn’t taken were sold, and he finally felt that maybe he’d scrubbed his life of Dahlia, save the engagement pictures he kept in the top drawer of his desk. She had probably responded to the break up like an actual adult and moved on. Had a husband and career. Maybe even a baby. He hated the thought, so when he thought it, he’d pour another drink. And it was fine, because he’d just distanced himself from everything that could make him think of her. And that was fine, really it was. Peter had been a playboy before. He was a partier. He was an ex-baseball player. And he was fine.

Then his father died.

Peter felt the solitude then. There hadn’t been anything new and hard to process since Dahlia left. He wandered New York and wondered if she was still there somewhere or if she’d gotten another teaching job somewhere. When McCoy convinced him to take the ADA position after Baba’s trial, he couldn’t say no, and one of the engagement photos found a new home in the top drawer of his new desk. SVU was harder, and it found its way out more. He’d hold it in his free hand, sipping a drink as he tried to channel the advice she’d have given him.

“Ben liked her,” Jack said softly one day. “He had a copy of that picture until the engagement ended.”

“I was an idiot.”

“Aren’t we all at some point? Learn from it.”

Peter left it out after that. It faced him from the corner, and he remembered feeling grounded. That was what he really missed. Dahlia had given him a place to land. His dad had always felt unstable, and he wasn’t close with his mom. He wasn’t even always at home, staying with his aunt periodically. And then he’d made a happy stable home with Dahlia and ruined it.

When Pamela died, he stopped partying for fun and started using it to numb himself, but one night, he met a woman with dark brown pin curls and fair skin. She’d left when Dahlia’s name fell from his lips. That’s when he knew he had to reach out. He had to know if there was a family or a set of kids or a job in another city. He needed closure.

“Hello?” She sounded confused when she answered, and he suddenly remembered it was nearly midnight. He also remembered she never checked caller ID. Oh God, or she’d deleted his number.

“Dahlia?” Papers stopped shuffling and he could hear her sharp intake of breath. He could almost picture her, perched in an armchair, probably a yellow velvet one, with wide eyes and hair pinned up for the night and tied in a silk scarf as she graded or proofed her own manuscript. Maybe it was a friend’s manuscript.

Oh God, what if it was a husband’s manuscript. Another writer. She’d like that.

The cool metal of the picture he kept at home was pressed into the skin of his palm before he whispered, “Dahl, it’s Peter.”

“I know,” she said softly. “You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m not.”

“What happened?”

“Pamela.”

“What happened to Pamela? I can be on a plane to Chicago if you need someone. Or if you need help in the city, I can arrange things. Check on her.”

“How do you know I don’t have someone?”

“Would you be calling if you did?”

“I’m in New York. Where did you end up?”

“They offered me a permanent position. How long have you been in the city?” He could tell she was trying to mask hurt that he hadn’t called before now. But what was he supposed to say? Dad’s dead so I live here now.

“Since January. Dad died. I prosecuted an ADA. Then I took his job.”

“Ben’s gone?”

“So is Pam.”

“Pam’s gone?” He let out a shaky breath, chest tight. “Send me your address.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Address or I start calling your baseball buddies.”

“I’ll text it.”

“I’m not hanging up until I’m there.”

“Is it creepy I keep the engagement photo on my desk?”

“We’re not touching that right now Peter. You’re drunk and not okay.”

She was true to her word, not hanging up the phone until she arrived at his apartment. When he opened the door, he saw her just as he’d imagined her. Her hair was pinned in the silk scarf and a silk robe was tied over her pajamas. She had thrown it on over the same babydoll top and short sets she’d always been hunting down patterns for so she could make them herself and she’d slid on flats.

The sight of her made him feel tethered again, though he had had enough more to drink between the initial call and her arrival that he had gone from tipsy to unsteady. He went to hug her, and Dahlia carefully kicked the door close, locked it, and maneuvered him to his big leather couch that she looked terribly out of place on.

“Let it out, Peter,” she whispered, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck like she might float away or vanish. The cry wasn’t like anything he’d let her see before. He’d been careful and controlled anytime something hurt, glossing over details that could make it worse to give her a pig picture. But now, he cried like he was alone, heaving sobs with snot and tears and drool as he clutched her.

She settled into the couch enough he was basically curled in her lap. That’s how he woke the next morning too, curled against her torso with his head on her shoulder. She’d fallen asleep with her cheek pressed against the top of his head, and he was both embarrassed and relieved she was still there. Carefully he untangled himself from her, wanting to clean up before he had to face her. Face the fact it was his own fault he’d had to deal with it all alone.

He came out to find her having obviously used the guest bathroom to rinse her face, though she was clad in his boxers and henley now. She was too averse to pants for his sweats. And like the angel she was, Dahlia was cooking. He was, however, mortified to see what she was holding as whatever she’d put in the oven cooked was the engagement photo he’d been clinging to when he called. But he could also see she seemed to be looking at it fondly.

“Your interior design is terrible,” she teased gently, setting the frame aside. “I left you so much of the good stuff.”

“I couldn’t bring it from Chicago.”

“Peter, you forget I brought it from Chicago.”

“When I looked at furniture we found together, it made me miss you, so I got rid of it.”

“I kept mine because it made me remember you.”

“I’m the one that was an absolute moron.”

“It was easier then, huh?” she said softly, picking the picture up again. Their smiles were wider. There were fewer lines on their faces. Ben and Pam were in New York alive, and Dahlia and Peter had forever in front of them. Peter didn’t need to talk to her about something he didn’t want to remember.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry I let you go.”

“I’m sorry I let you. I shouldn’t have left the first time we fought. I knew how you were.”

“You were right to. I went for what I knew would hurt.”

“We can address all of that later. For right now, do you want to start talking or eat and then talk?”

“It’s my fault Pam’s dead.”

“You need to elaborate on that one, Peter. Because I’m sure there is more happening than you’re saying.”

“I didn’t drop a case. A victim tortured her attacker. We didn’t know for sure at first. A cartel was involved and they threatened to hurt Pam if I didn’t drop the case. We had guards, but they massacred Pam’s facility and took her. Diaz killed her in the gunfire. Dahl, she recognized me. She called for me, and he killed her. It’s been months, and I just, I feel so lost.”

“Peter,” she whispered, pulling him close.

He stiffened at first. He’d expected disgust, not sympathy. This was his fault. That’s what he’d been telling himself for weeks, distracting himself with booze and bars and women like he had done when he wanted to pretend his family was fine, that Pam wasn’t sick, that he was close with his dad. This time though, the hurt was bigger.

He was crying into her shoulder again, and he suddenly wished he’d been smart enough to call the minute he’d arrived. That she’d been there at dad’s funeral and for the trial of Rafael Barba. Maybe then he wouldn’t have even taken the job. He’d have recognized something bad was brewing. Instead he’d gotten his sister killed and was clinging to Dahlia in the early morning light of his kitchen.

“It happened in May.”

“Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“I didn’t mean to call now.”

“How have you been coping?” He was quiet, shifting awkwardly. “Baseball methods?”

“Yeah.” He was ashamed to tell her, and she squeezed him gently.

“I went with baseball methods after we split. You’re a single man. I don’t like the thought and it’s not healthy, but it’s better than other things you could’ve done.” They didn’t speak much as they ate. Neither one knew what to say to the other any more, but she didn’t want to leave him alone and he shouldn’t be left alone. When he did speak again, his voice was gentler than it had been in a while.

“Can we go antiquing?”

“You want to go?”

“I want to carry your bags and think about sweat stains.”

“How does that help you?”

“Is it manipulative if I say that’s the last time I was really happy? Because if you say no I won’t be mad. It’s just true.”

“It could be. But I believe you. I think it’s the last time I was really happy too.”

“Really?”

“Depends? Did I pretend to understand baseball between our last antiquing trip and moving?”

“No. You moved in the off season.”

“Then really. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been fine. I love work. I love writing. I love the city. But I like everything more with you. Even if you’re a jock.”

“I thought I was happy before you. But I wasn’t.”

“You have to take me home first so I can get ready.”

“Deal.” And that’s what found him in her living room while she got dressed. He wasn’t stupid; Dahlia was the same as she’d always been, so he was waiting patiently as she brushed out her set curls and did her make up. She came back out in a pretty shirtdress, one he felt sure he’d found for her a long time ago, and keds, and Peter knew he’d do anything to get this back. The feeling of groundedness, that maybe they could be a team again, awe she was even agreeing to comfort him on any level.

She led him through new vintage shops now. They were in a whole new state after all. He decided that maybe baseball methods didn’t work, and he talked to Dahlia. This time he really talked though. He’d brushed over stories about his father and Pam. He didn’t like the bad ones or the feelings they could bring up. Besides, Ben Stone was a saint, didn’t you know? Peter hadn’t ever been talk about his father, so he kept that habit up with Dahlia the first time. He also told her the truth. He’d panicked over marrying her because she was his first real girlfriend and the prospect of settling down and having her grow to hate him like his mother had his father scared him. That one was a revelation to her.

He’d basically moved in with her a month after their outing to go antiquing. She preferred their old furniture and her vintage collection. Besides, Peter, I have a built in vanity here! The engagement photo in the park was replaced on his desk a year later. It showed them now in a different park in a different city with different lives to the ones so long ago. They also had different methods of communication, meaning they’d weathered fights as they adjusted to things again. The same ring was on display, however, and the same smile was plastered on Peter’s face as Dahlia pressed a kiss to his cheek.

#thatesqcrushFriends #peter stone x reader #peter stone #peter stonex oc #law and order #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit

58 notes · View notes

puckngrind · 3 years

Text

Skating Lessons: series finale - J. Anderson

Summary: Josh enters the bubble

Warning: language, smut, quarantine, NHL bubble

Word count: 1,697

Series Masterlist

Your mini honeymoon was exactly what you needed as life became somewhat busy as soon as you returned. Leaning against your bedroom's door frame you watch your whole heart packing for the bubble.

"What do you think about this suit Mace?" Josh holds up his blue and gray checked suit jacket.

"It's your lucky one. It would be good." Mason grabs one of Josh's London shirts. "Momma will wear this while you are gone." Your eyes water immediately knowing your son is completely correct.

"You are right baby boy." You chime in whipping your eye. Josh walks towards you and wraps his arms around you.

"You okay?" He whispers in your hair and you nod and then sorta shake your head. "Yeah, what I thought." He pulls you closer and you feel his heart pounding.

"Momma, it will be okay. We can watch the games and Facetime and by the time Josh gets back he will officially be my dad." Josh looks at you with so many words but says nothing. The emotions spill out of your eyes. Josh brushes it away with this thumb.

"Correct, Bud." Josh kisses your cheek. "You will be Mason Anderson as soon as the courts say so in a few weeks." Josh squeezes your hip tight keeping you attached to him.

"And I can call you Dad, right?" Mason's face lights up and you nod but your words get caught.

"If you want to. You can call me Dad now too." Josh clears the emotion out of his throat too and breaks free of his grip on you and picks Mason up swinging him around. Mason's laugh is contagious.

"Okay you two. We have a busy two days before the bubble and Mason needs to get to bed." You kiss Mason's forehead.

"Dad, you going to read me a story?" Mason looks up at Josh and skips out of the room to his.

"Did you just...?" Josh points.

"You better go. Our boy needs a story read then you can come tuck me in." You wink and the smirk you love comes across Josh's face before he almost runs to Mason's room. About 30 minutes later Josh returns to your room and locks the door behind him.

"Why Mrs. Anderson, you don't even know how turned on I am?" Josh crawls up the bed where you are leaned against the headboard.

"Turned on eh?" You throw your most Canadian accent at your husband which makes him grunt.

"Well, knowing I'm not getting this for some time may have something to do with it or how hot you are or..." Your lips press to his stopping his train of thought.

"I love how normal Mace calling you Dad felt, you know?" You run your hand down Josh's jaw. "It's exactly what I've always wanted." his lips move from your ear down your jaw.

"And to think you fought me for how long on how right we were?" Josh's fingers move his London shirt off your body in such a quick move it takes your breath away. "Babe, whatever happens, wherever we go... we do it as a family." Josh presses his forehead to yours then moves strategically down your body. "Where was I?" He nibbles at your panties and moves them out of his way.

"Josh." You moan out as his lips find your core. Your brain goes fuzzy the way Josh makes you feel instantly. So focused on you pleasure with the countdown to him leaving that it has intensified your orgasms which washes over you quickly. Moving is way back up to kiss your lips softly.

"Look at me (y/n)." Josh breaks the almost silence as you come down from your high and you open your eyes to look at him. He smiles softly whispers he loves you and presses himself fully into you. You wrap your legs around his hips and he moves quickly. Tightening your grip on his back and your body coming up to meet his. Josh presses deep and you tighten around him which makes him swear into your shoulder as he releases deep inside. A few hip thrusts more and you find a second high and feel the weight of Josh on your hips.

"Wow." You breathe out trying to catch your breath. Josh laughs and moves you both so he can spoon you.

"How the fuck am I going to survive this bubble shit without you?" He kisses the shell of your ear and you turn to face him. Moving his hair out of his face and staring into those eyes of his that say so much.

"It will just make the sex better when you get back." You press your lips to his.

"Maybe Mason should go to your parents for the weekend when I do get back then." He laughs.

"Funny J." You wiggle and move to shower. "I can make that happen." You tiptoe to the shower and Josh mumbles something about being the death of him while quickly following behind.

Before you knew it, Josh entered the bubble. You looked like hell when he finally could Facetime you from his hotel room.

"Babe, are you feeling that bad? I can try to leave. They aren't going to let me play the play in round." Josh looked concerned and you tried to not sniffle.

"Josh, I'm fine. Just a summer cold. Have an appointment for next week if it doesn't go away." You assure your husband.

"Send Mason to your parents if you need to rest." Josh stands to pace.

"Josh, I'm fine. Let's talk about what you wanted to talk about." You sip your tea and wish he was just next to you to snuggle into.

"Well, there are a few teams interested in me." Josh starts and you cannot focus with the pounding in your ears. Him saying your name returns your focus. "If I don't stay in Columbus we will keep the house or buy a new one to be our summer place. Okay?" He runs his free hand through his hair for maybe the tenth time.

"Of course Josh. You are mine. Mason will be yours next week. We..."

"Wait, next week?" Josh's voice picks up and you laugh.

"Yup. Got the information today about the adoption finalization. So by the time you are back home he will officially be your son." You cannot help the smile that hurts your cheeks.

"Best news ever. Now how long I'm gone is really up to the boys. Hoping to go far so I can play but I want to be home with you so fucking bad." Josh lands on the bed and you want to agree but you know it's not what you should say.

"We have all summer. Remember, I'm unemployed, Mason doesn't have school plus aren't you sick of us since the pause?" You sit your tea down and look at your husband and he knows what you are doing.

"Yeah, no, yeah. Babe, you know what I mean. Plus, I think the word is stay at home mom not unemployed." You roll your eyes at him. "Oh, my parents are going to try to come to the fence tomorrow during my free time." You laugh thinking of Josh in a cage and Gary assessing the structure.

"That's amazing. I know they miss you but I wish they could give you a hug. Maybe if you make if farther they will let them in since we canno..." A knock on Josh's door makes you stop.

"Fuck. I have an eval and need to go get my nose abuse again. Love you so damn much." You kiss at the phone and say your goodbyes.

The team getting eliminated in the first round was the exact opposite of what you wanted for Josh professionally but knowing he would be in your arms in the matter of a day was exactly what you needed. h The girls planned on meeting the team with signs at the airport. Mason was in his new jersey the team sent him after is adoption became official. Natalie linked arms with you as you moved from your seat towards the door. You nod. Mason held the sign and you waited as Josh's teammates move down the steps and find their families spread out. Then you see him. Hair still wet, longer than you remember it when he left and his beard longer but trimmed. He moved his sunglasses to his head and almost runs down to you. Picking you up and spinning you around kissing you like he's never done in front of anyone ever.

"Welcome home J." You finally break free.

"Welcome home Dad!" Mason jumps up and down sign still in hand.

"Mace, you took care of Momma so well. And look at this!" Josh leans down to hug Mason.

"Look!" Mason turns around to show Daddy instead of Anderson across his back.

"That's awesome Bud!" Josh looks up at you and you mouth the team. "I love it."

"Mason, did you show Josh... Dad... uh... Did you show him your sign?" You bite the inside of your cheek and flick your finger towards Mason's sign that has almost been forgotten.

"Let me see this." Josh helps Mason move it into his view to read.

"I drew this!" Mason points to the jersey in the corner.

"Welcome Home Daddy! Anderson party of... four. Fu... Does that say party of four?" Josh lays the sign calmly down and you nod your head pulling your lip into your teeth. "Does that mean?" Josh places his hand between your hips as he stands.

"Yes, Josh. We are having a baby." You whisper and Josh has you wrapped up into his arms kissing your lips again. You hear the cheers from your hockey family.

"I... I... I love you so damn much!" Josh whispers in your ear and you feel the energy of your announcement.

"I love you too J. Best decision I've ever made." You look down at Mason, up at Josh, then hold the slight baby bump you have hiding in your jeans. "Best skating lesson ever." You giggle taking in your family and what you've built.

34.

Note from writer: Thank you for those who have been patient waiting for this series to finish. It's been my baby and I wanted to make sure I wasn't writing based on emotions from Josh's trade but what I really wanted for this trio.

#skating lessons fic #77 andy man 17 #series finale #I cried so be warned #J Anderson fic #long overdue #My first series

47 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 11: A Turkey Called Marv

Summary: Nat, Clint, Evans, Lawson and the rest of her SHIELD team throw Katie a leaving party once news of her resignation spreads across the Triskellion before Katie and Steve head to New York to spend their first Thanksgiving as a couple with Tony, Pepper and Bruce.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: None for this chap, bar a bit of bad language and teeth rotting fluff

A/N: Accompanying One Shot- The Life Of Marv.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 10

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

November 2013

News of Katie’s spectacular resignation spread like wildfire through the Triskellion. Evans, Lawson, Natasha and Clint had all been pretty upset but had understood when she had explained why she was doing it, even if Natasha didn’t necessarily agree. They had no intention of letting her go quietly, however, and the team took it upon themselves to organise a small Leaving do at Lori’s which was in full swing. Background music was playing, food had arrived and the drinks were flowing. Steve was talking to Lawson, Rumlow and Evans by the bar, leaning against it, an easy smile on his face as Katie stood with Clint and Natasha a bit further down the bar as Clint was talking to them about his latest home improvement plan.

“So I thought about putting in a pool.” Clint mused, “Now the kids are bigger I thought it might be nice to have one. Maybe even a pool house round it for bad weather.”

“How ambitious.” Nat quirked an eyebrow.

Clint grinned. “That’s my middle name.”

“Really?” Katie asked. “I always thought it was Robert.”

“What?” Clint looked at her as Nat snorted out a laugh. "Francis. Why would you think its Robert?“

Katie shrugged "You look like a Bob.”

“Wait… so it’s not Ambitious?” Nat asked, winking at Katie. “How boring.”

Katie nodded, draining her glass. "Bob would have been better.”

"Right,” Clint started, pulling himself taller. “I hate both of you.”

The girls laughed and Nat turned to Katie. “So what’s in the pipeline for you now Nova?” “I have no idea.” Katie shrugged and she didn’t. “I guess I’ll just get more involved in the family business.”

“You gonna move to New York?” Clint asked. She shook her head. “Probably spend a bit more time there but, I’m not moving back.”

“Nah, she can’t leave lover boy.” Natasha looked at Clint and Katie rolled her eyes. Truth is Nat had hit the nail on the head. No way was she leaving Steve in DC to move back to the tower. Although they had only been together seven months she had spent over a year of her life being ‘with him’ one way or another and the thought of him not being there terrified her.

“You know, to be fair Nat, they’ve been going out a while now. Things are probably starting to cool off.” Clint teased “Oh trust me, there’s no problems in that department.” Katie sniggered, looking over to where Steve was stood.

“And would you look at that. I’m out of alcohol…” Nat said, suddenly “And so is Stark.”

“There’s a bar over there,” Clint pointed

“Cheers…”Natasha took Katie’s glass and handed it to him along with her own. Clint shook his head taking the glasses with a sigh.

“So… now he’s gone…” Nat glanced over at Steve then back to Katie “Gimme details…”

“Details on what?”

“Throw me a bone here Stark. I’m working on a dry spell.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my sex life?” Katie groaned. “You’re constantly trying to get me to talk about it.”

“Hey, look, up until a few months ago I was convinced he was a virgin.”

“Well then you’re a dumbass.” Katie smirked “Like I said, he’s Captain America, had girls throwing themselves at him back in the day.” “So he was until the serum?”

“I never said that.” Katie flushed.

“You’re such a shit liar.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“Ok, answer me one question and then I’ll drop it.” Nat pressed.

“What?” Katie snapped with an air of playful frustration. If she was honest, it was quite nice to have a girlfriend to chat to about these kind of secrets.

“Did the serum enhance…everything?” Nat wiggled her eyebrows.

Katie glanced over at Steve and smirked before she looked back at her. Fuck it.

“Well if it didn’t, I’ve no idea how he managed to stay upright before.” she smirked "I’m a lucky woman”

The red head threw back her head in a dirty laugh, a laugh that Katie had never heard from her before and it made her snigger at the sight of the normally composed assassin letting loose.

“What I miss?” Clint asked as he reappeared, handing them their drinks.

“I’ll explain when you’re older…” Nat said, patting his chest fondly.

*****

The next two weeks flashed by and before they knew it, it was the morning before thanksgiving and they were at the Tower in New York. Last year Katie and Steve had spent Thanksgiving as friends. This year they were spending it as lovers, and Katie was also excited to be spending it with Tony, although she would never admit that out loud.

Steve was also looking forward to it as well. Tony had mellowed to him somewhat over the past few months, especially when he had found out Steve was supporting Katie’s decision to quit SHIELD and not trying to stop her as he had original thought the Captain would. He was also looking forward to Katie’s damned fine cooking as well. Despite the fact that Tony had offered to cater in as Pepper was away until the very last minute, his girl had insisted on cooking it herself, especially now she had plenty of time on her hands.

As such, Steve and Tony had left her in the kitchen area of the main living quarters at midday to head down to the lab to discuss some further upgrades to the Tower. When they left Katie had been surrounded by bags of flour and ingredients, and when Steve returned he found her at just gone 5:30 surrounded by 3 pies (one apple, one pumpkin and one blackberry) pans of vegetables prepped ready for the and a turkey in the oven ready for JARVIS to turn on in the morning. She was stood at the sink, gently humming, the kitchen now clean and the smell of her baking making his mouth water.

“What are you doing Soldier?” Katie asked, jumping a little as Steve’s arms came around her sides, reaching for the sink, effectively trapping her between the counter and his body.

He laid his chin on her shoulder. “The dishes,”

“I’m only leaving the pie dish to soak.” She informed him, turning her head to give him a quick kiss. “The rest are going in the Dishwasher.”

“Oh because God forbid her majesty would actually wash a dish.” He teased and she rolled her eyes.

“You don’t wash them much either. How many brushes did you break last week?”

“The plastic is bad quality.” Steve pouted.

“Nothing to do with your ridiculously large hands being too rough.” “You weren’t complaining last night.” He grinned, lips warm against her neck as he gently nipped under her ear. Katie squirmed a little and then swatted him in the face with the dishtowel, and he laughed out loud.

“Seriously though Doll face, are you nearly done? You’ve been in here all afternoon. You do know we’re not eating till 3 tomorrow, right?” His hands squeezed her hips and she tossed the dishcloth down and turned to face him, her hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders.

“Yeah but the more I do now, the less I have to do tomorrow, and let’s face it, it’s not like I have anything else to do, on account of being an unemployed bum.” She shrugged making Steve laugh again. “Plus, I just want everything to be, you know…right.” she shrugged, and she did.

“It’s a dinner.”

“It’s Thanksgiving” She corrected him.

“Yeah, and last years was pretty cool, remember?”

“Yeah but…” she trailed off, biting her lip. Steve knew that look well enough now to know there was more to this.

“What?” He probed gently.

“Nothing, just, well I never had a boyfriend over for Thanksgiving before. Or Christmas come to think of it.”

Steve smiled “I like being your first…” Katie grinned. The whole ‘I like being your first’ thing had started off by her saying it to Steve but they’d fast come to realise that they actually both had a world of inexperience between them when it came to relationships, and it was nice that they could be each other’s firsts in a lot of ways. “Honey, tomorrow is gonna be great.” He assured, tipping her face up to look at his “Don’t sweat it.”

“Did you seriously just say don’t sweat it?” she sniggered.

Steve groaned “I told you I spent the afternoon with your brother…”

She giggled and leaned up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“Getting kinda tired of catching you two making out in a kitchen!” Tony chose that time to waltz in and open the fridge door, pointing to them as he did so. “You got your own floor, piss off and go use it.” ******

Katie woke the next morning to find Steve’s side of the bed empty and cold. It wasn’t unusual for him to be up earlier than her, she knew he would either be out running, in the gym or making coffee. She climbed out of bed and walked to the blinds of the bedroom, instructing JARVIS to open them, the AI being one of the many perks about being 'home’. The New York skyline stretched below her and as she glanced down she saw the people gathered on the sidewalks, attention turned to the streets, obviously waiting for the Thanksgiving Parade. She had asked Steve if he wanted to go and watch it in person but he had said he would prefer to stay in and watch from the tower as he didn’t fancy getting mobbed in the street. Being recognised by one person every so often was fine but in those crowds if one person spotted him then it would spread like wildfire. Besides, as he had pointed out, her floor had an awesome view so they could watch out of the window with a drink. Katie frowned as suddenly a large brown turkey shaped balloon floated in front of her eyes. The parade wasn’t supposed to start until nine and that meant by the time it made its way to the Avengers tower it would be… she turned and glanced at the click and gave a yelp. She had slept in until Ten.

Steve heard her before he saw her, not that he needed super hearing to hear the loud yell of "how fucking late?” coming from the bedroom. Grinning to himself he turned back to the griddle on the island of the kitchen, flipping a pancake with one hand and drinking a coffee with the other. “Why didn’t you wake me?” Katie grumbled to him as she leaned in the kitchen doorway, taking him in for a moment. He was freshly showered, dressed in a loose grey t-shirt and sweats, hair still a bit damp and spiked up in a way that made her smile. “Because you were up early yesterday and I thought I’d make you breakfast for a change.” He shrugged as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the back of his shoulder. The smell of his shower gel mixed with the smell of the pancake mix, made her nuzzle her nose into him to inhale deeply. “You smell good.” She eventually spoke again. “Good to know.” A grin tugged at the corners of his lips at the fact she was still clinging to him. “I just saw a giant inflatable Turkey.” Her hands dropped and slid under his T-shirt, gently rubbing at his stomach. “What?” Steve paused. “The parade”

Steve smiled. “You know when I was a kid, the parade was the best part of Thanksgiving.” “Yeah?” she mumbled, her cheek still pressed to his shoulder.

“Yeah. Me and Bucky used to come into Manhattan with his family and my ma if she wasn’t working and stuff ourselves on popcorn and warm mixed nuts” He smiled to himself at the memory. They always picked out their favourite balloons, ate until they thought they would burst, and made Rebecca, Bucky’s younger sister laugh till she cried by pretending they were in the marching bands. But once the war started, the parade had ended. He had never realized that they started it up again until Tony and Katie had mentioned it last night as they had sat eating takeout. Part of him had wanted to go to the street to watch it but after seeing that morning how crowded it had been on his run he was happy to watch it from the comfort of Katie’s floor. He turned to face her for first time that day, her arms still round his waist. Her hair was pulled up into a pony tail, face fresh, eyes bright and she was, as ever, in one of his shirts and not a lot else. He leaned forward to give her a quick kiss and when he moved away, she quickly closed the space to give him another, letting her lips linger on his for a second. “I’ll burn the pancakes.” He murmured and she grinned, pulling away. “I’ll make fresh coffee.” She pat his chest and turned to the machine. “Hey JAR…Hit me with some Christmas tunes, buddy” “The usual Miss Stark?” “As long as it has the Pogues on…” “Wouldn’t dream of not doing” the AI replied and then the apartment was flooded with the sounds of ‘Fairy Tale of New York.’ “It’s November.” Steve turned to look at her, but she simply grinned to herself and turned around, singing to him. He couldn’t help but laugh, he knew from last year that Christmas for her started at Thanksgiving and ended on New Year’s Day. Plus the fact that the previous year she had spent Christmas day fighting a bunch of exploding super soldiers meant that she was going to enjoy this year as much as possible. He shook his head, a low chuckle escaping before he turned back to his pancakes. They dragged the cushions off the couch and ate breakfast sat by the huge floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, Katie sat between Steve’s legs as they both watched the parade. Suddenly, a large green balloon floated by the window and Katie gave a loud squeal when she saw what it was. A Hulk float. An amused smile spread across her lips as she watched the balloon bob in front of the window, twisting to the sides in the air as it wrestled with the wind. “Oh my God!” Katie giggled again, gently tapping Steve’s right calf but he had already spotted it. A massive shield was coming out, followed by Iron Man’s mask, Thor’s hammer, a bow and arrow, Natasha’s Red Widow symbol and her own Nova star. She turned to look at him, a little smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth and when he met her eyes the smile broke out across his features. Laughing in disbelief, he shook his head, turning his attention back look at the shield float bounce down the street. “That’s pretty cool.” He allowed himself a slightly smug and amazed sigh, and it was. If anyone had told him all those years ago that one day he would feature in the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade he would have told them that they were mad. Yet there it was. He found himself smiling as he thought about how his ma and Bucky would have reacted. When they had finished eating, Katie leaned back into him a little more, slouching so that her knees were bent and her feet rested on the bottom of the window. His arms reached round her neck, and he kissed the back of her head as they continued to watch the floats, the gentle sound of Bing Crosby “White Christmas” now playing through the room, the two of them simply enjoying the closeness of one another. ***** Eventually it was time to head downstairs and join Tony, Bruce and Pepper for their dinner. Katie and Pepper left the men to it and finished off the prep before calling them all to the table. As was tradition, as ‘head of the house’ Tony carved the turkey with his usual, trademark drama and they took it in turns to give a few things they were thankful for. Tony was thankful for his friends, family and a decent brand of scotch he had in the cupboard for later, Pepper was thankful for being so fortunate and being surrounded by people she loved, Bruce was thankful for being welcomed into their family home, not just for today but since he had taken up residency just after the Chitauri Battle, and Katie was thankful for being in the presence of people she cared for, and for the last year being so much better than the previous twelve months. She shot a wink at Steve as she said that and he beamed before he realised they were waiting for him.

"Okay, well…” He cleared his throat. “I guess I’m thankful for being given a second chance, being welcomed by you all…and for, err, you.” He grinned at Katie who gave him a playful roll of the eyes but the flush on her cheeks told him she had understood.

“Awww.” Pepper smiled, as Tony made a gagging noise which resulted in Katie throwing a carrot at him. He pointed at her, frowning.

“No food fights on my floor, Kiddo.” He said sternly and she simply raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of her wine.

The food was good, not that anyone expected anything else. Both Tony and Banner managed two servings whilst Steve made it through three. And then there was the pie. Steve scoffed down a piece of each, whilst everyone else could only face one, but no one cared. And he found himself secretly pleased that there was enough left for him to scoff later on.

“I’m so glad I wore leggings.” Pepper sighted, leaning back and massaging her stomach.

“Tell me about it.” Katie moaned. “I’m so glad this denims have an elasticated waist.” She pulled at the middle of her long maroon peplum style top. “Think I’m having a food baby.”

“Yeah, I gotta hand it to you Kiddo…” Tony leaned back in his chair, undoing the top button of his pants and massaging his stomach “That was absolutely awesome.“

Steve’s hand dropped to his girl’s leg under the table and he gave her knee a little squeeze as she reached for her wine glass, before he moving his arm to drop it round the back of her chair. "I certainly prefer the Turkey dead and cooked anyway” Tony added and Katie groaned. “Are you ever gonna let me live that down?” She looked at him. “No” he shook his head. “What’s this?” Steve asked, setting his glass down. “Did she not tell you about the time she brought home a live Turkey one year? Katie sighed as Steve sat up, turning to her, smirking "No…” “I was seventeen and going through a meat is murder phase.” She waved away the comment with her hands. “I was in the way home and saw him. He was the only one left in the farmyard so I liberated him” “By liberated she means stole.” Tony quipped, standing up to retrieve two more bottled of Rijoca from the wet bar as laughs rang round the table. “No one came looking for him.” She shrugged. “Marv lived a happy life for five years in our back garden” “Marv?” Bruce looked at her, a smile creeping across his face. “After the character from Home Alone.” She replied simply

“You had a turkey called Marv?” The scientist deadpanned and she nodded.

“He was a great pet. Used to chase Tony around” “The bird was a fucking menace.” Tony frowned, topping everyone’s glass up. Settling back into his chair, Katie noticed Pepper giving him a look and he started suddenly as if he was remembering something. He leaned forward and looked at Katie. "So I know we don’t do Thanksgiving gifts kiddo but I was thinking yesterday about something you said to me once, about having a vision for a publishing company.”

Katie stole a look at Steve who simply shrugged. It was true, when she had first graduated she had thought about setting up a publishing company, but one that dealt with unknown writers. Her favourite books in the world were the Harry Potter series and during her degree she had been lucky enough to attend a small seminar held by JK Rowling, who had openly discussed her life before becoming a famous author. She had been a single mother, struggling to make ends meet, and even after she had written the books it took her years to get a deal, being rejected by four different publishers before Bloomsbury (a small, independent group) took a chance on her and it paid off for both of them. Katie loved the rags to riches story and since then had always harboured a desire to do the same thing for other authors but it had never really been much more than a pipe dream.

“It was an idea I once had.” She shrugged, looking at Tony. “Then things went a bit crazy.” “Well… how about we make it a bit more than an idea?” Pepper said. “What?” Katie frowned, looking at Pepper, then he brother who nodded. “I want you to put a proper proposal together, business plan, mood and story board that type of thing.” He said, waving his hand in that Tony-esque manner “Then we’re gonna look at what we need to set it up and take it to the board. Run it as a Ltd company under the Parent company of Stark Industries, but you’ll be the Managing Director.” “I…, I can’t run a business!” She stammered. “Didn’t you run the UK branch of SI for a while?” Bruce looked at her, smiling. “That was different.” She pressed. “Why?” Steve asked. “Shut up Steven.” She shot without even looking at him.

There were a few chuckles round the table before Tony continued. “Look, you don’t need to work.” He shrugged. “You have enough capitol behind you plus the revenue from the business as it to live your life out as an IT girl, but we both know you’ll end up killing someone if you get bored, and that’s likely to be Cap seeing as you see him most so this is for him as much as you.” “Thanks Tony.” Steve tipped his glass to the Inventor who winked. Katie pondered. It really had been a dream of hers since leaving Uni, putting her degree and passion into her work and she would be lying if she said the thought didn’t excite her but it was a hell of a big commitment, and what if it all failed?

“I’ll help you.” Pepper smiled at Katie who was biting her lip. "I’ll proof read the proposal and I’ll be there every step of the way whilst you set up.” She leaned back in her chair. "The week before Christmas there’s another board meeting. I suggest we use that to pitch the idea.”

“I think this could be a great opportunity for you and Stark Industries.” Tony looked at Katie. “And you’ll get full autonomy over it all, I promise.” This was amazing. She looked at Steve who nodded encouragingly. “What is it you keep saying to me? You’ll never know until you try?” he smiled at her. She took a deep breath and looked around the table before throwing caution to the wind and letting out a huge grin. “Ok. Fuck it. Let’s do it.” **** After another half an hour or so of chatter, and a bottle of champagne to celebrate Katie’s agreement to the business idea, everyone chipped in to clear the table before retiring to the plush living area of Tony and Pepper’s floor for more drinks and chat. Then the alcohol really did began to flow, Steve and Tony moving onto the scotch, the soldier watching as everyone around him descended into that well recognised drunken haze. And then out came ‘Drawing Without Dignity’, a game Steve had never played before which was really rather vulgar, but he couldn’t help but enjoy it. The game fast slid into chaos which was to be expected with an extremely competitive Super Soldier who had a natural advantage as he could actually draw, an equally competitive billionaire and a normally mild mannered scientist who also was quite cutthroat when it came to winning it turned out.

Pepper and Katie spent most of the time sniggering at the bickering men, and at the point when they were laughing that much when it was their go, the three boys got so frustrated they banned them from playing. For that, the next time Steve asked Katie what one of the more risqué sayings meant (he had cringed at a fair few of them over the course of the evening) she lied to sabotage him earning her a full on Captain glare. “That was a pretty shitty thing to do.” He grumbled at her as Tony and Bruce were both howling with laughter. “Not my fault Captain Badass doesn’t know what Rimming is!” Katie shot back, wiping away her tears. Steve had to bite back his own laugh at the ridiculous nickname, instead he fixed her with another glare which she returned with a simple shrug of her shoulders. The game ended, and Steve and Tony called it a draw, which was probably the easiest thing to do since Pepper had stopped taking count and tallying towards the end. It was now well after ten pm and Steve looked around the room as Tony stood up, a little unsteady on his feet, teetering back over to the bar.

“I think maybe we’ve had enough.” Pepper hiccupped slightly looked at Tony who had been reaching for another bottle of liquor, wheeled round slightly too fast causing him to stumble into the bar.

Katie cackled as Tony looked at Pepper “Shut up Mom.” he grabbed another bottle of scotch in one hand and the open bottle of Krug the girls were drinking in the other. He walked carefully over towards the sofa, as he dropped down into it heavily, handing the champagne to Katie who was on the floor in between Steve’s legs, her back resting against the sofa. She took it and poured herself and Pepper a glass, quite pleased that she didn’t spill any.

“You know he…he can’t get drunk!” Tony handed Bruce a now full glass, pointing to Steve.

“That’s sad.” Bruce surmised, taking a sip of his drink before Tony sat bolt upright, and pointed at the scientist.

“Hey, I wonder if Hulk can get drunk?”

“That’s an…that’s an…ex…exper-expediment I don’t think we should do.” Bruce shook his head, hiccups punctuating his speech.

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head as Katie cackled.

“But it would be for science purposes.” Tony pressed

Bruce wrinkled his nose and shook his head “No Code Green.” “Spoil sport.” Tony sniffed

They stayed for another hour or so, until Pepper fell asleep. Katie’s cheeks were flushed pink and when she asked for a bottle of water Steve knew it was time to go. After asking Tony if he needed help clearing anything up, which he declined stating housekeeping would be in at some point tomorrow to deal with it, Steve stood up, surprised to find he actually felt a little bit of a head-rush. Ok, so maybe the three bottles of scotch they’d managed to go through had had a little effect after all, but he felt the fizziness ebbing away as he pulled Katie to her feet and she grinned up at him.

“Wanna carry me Soldier?” she asked.

He arched an eyebrow and in one swoop had her over his shoulder, causing her to shriek with laughter as she clutched at his navy blue cardigan jacket.

“Night!” She waved from her upside down position. Tony and Bruce waved distractedly from where they were now trying to mix some form of cocktail at the bar.

“You can put me down now.” Katie patted Steve on his back as they boarded the elevator. “Steve…”

He smirked to himself, ignoring her giggles and protests, swatting lightly at her ass, and didn’t put her down until they reached the bedroom where he tossed her onto the bed and set about showing her exactly how thankful for her he was

******* If you want to read more about Marv the Turkey, check out the One shot: The Life Of Marv. As with all SSB One Shots, they don’t need to be read to understand the main story...consider them tasty little side dishes.

********

Chapter 12 Part 1

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark #chris evans #chris evans characters #mcu #mcu fanfic

70 notes · View notes

thevioletjones · 3 years

Note

31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

88 notes · View notes

btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

Series Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

AN: a loooong update where we get YN to Korea Previous Chapter here

The three of you made it safe and sound to your new brownstone across the river in New Jersey. Joe has a job lined up, but at the moment you and Xavier are unemployed. On this particular day, you are in your room job hunting when you hear a knock on your bedroom door and then see Xavier gently push it open. “Fly your ass to Korea. Now. Here,” Xavier throws a book at you. “I bought you a Korean dictionary.”

You roll your eyes. “Namjoon speaks English. And I can’t read the characters or whatever so how will a dictionary help. And, I’m not going to Korea.”

Xavier crosses his arms in front of his body. “Girl. You are still in your twenties. You have no job. There is a hot man who is also your soulmate across the ocean. GO TO KOREA.” You pick your phone back up, ignoring him. You hear him let out a frustrated sigh and leave the room. You didn’t know what you wanted. You didn’t tell them that Namjoon had passed along his schedule to you and that he would be in Korea for 6 weeks starting in two weeks and that he had offered to buy you a plane ticket. You kept going back and forth. Fine. Fuck it.

YN: Hey! I’ve been thinking and I would like to come visit. As long as it’s not too much trouble and won’t interfere with your schedule

You let out a breath and put the phone down. One thing you have learned is that he keeps very strange hours and there is no way of knowing when he will be awake, when he will be performing, or even what country he is in. You are shocked when you receive a reply instantly.

NJ: It’s no problem. I will be working a lot of the time, but there is also some free time blocked out so make sure you’re ready to do some sightseeing as well on your own. I’ll rent a noona for you.

YN: I have no idea what that means but ok. Sounds exciting.

NJ: You can rent tour guides. An “older sister” to translate and show you around on some of the days.

YN: That would be amazing! Ok. Sounds great!!

NJ: I’ll book the flight and email you the information.

YN: Awesome ^_^ Thank you so much.

You try to keep your cool. You really do. But it doesn’t last long as you sit the phone down and walk out into the hallway. “Xavier!”

“What? Brat.” You hear him call from the living room.

“I’m going to Korea!” You say with a big smile on your face.

“Holy shit. You’re doing it!?! Really? When?” He sits up straight on the couch.

“I’m not sure. He’s booking the flight.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. IT’S HAPPENING. Come. Sit here. Let’s watch some Kdramas. We need to prepare you.”

You roll your eyes but join him on the couch anyway.

--3 weeks later--

The flight isn’t too bad. When Namjoon booked your ticket you did secretly wonder if he would spring for an upgraded seat since you know...you guessed he was rich. You did not expect that he was going to pay for a first class seat though. The comfort of the seats and the fact that food was actually delicious helped to balance out the longest flight you had ever taken in your life. You managed to get some rest on the plane, but not very much since you were so excited and nervous. You had not seen each other for a while. And the last time you saw him you were both naked.

When you arrive you don’t have any bags to collect; you just brought your carry-on. You know you are going to do a lot of shopping while you are there and had decided you would just buy a suitcase there. You walk down to departures and scan the crowd looking for your name. This was so exciting. You had been the person in the crowd holding a name placard before, but you had never had it done for you. It helped that it was one of the few names written in English. You smile and walk over to a man in a suit. After confirming each other’s identity, you follow him out to a black SUV with tinted windows. He takes your bag and you slide into the backseat.

YN: Hey! I’m on my way to the hotel. When will I get to see you?

NJ: Yeah….about that. There is no way I would be able to just be going in and out of a hotel without anyone here noticing. This isn’t LA. We can’t really go out in public much here. The driver will be taking you to my apartment complex. Once you get here, you will let security know who you are. They will provide you with a key and directions.

You weren’t expecting this at all, but it made sense.

YN: Umm ok. Sounds like a plan.

You hoped to God someone at the security office spoke English. Oh well. You typed some things into your translation app just in case and tried to enjoy the scenery. It was a city, but it seemed a lot cleaner than LA. Less sunny, and more modern. At least the parts you were driving through.

After a fifteen minute taxi ride that has brought you into a very fancy part of Seoul you try to keep your cool as your driver assures you that this is the location you are supposed to be at. It is fancy looking as fuck and has a giant ass gate around it. The driver pulls up and shows his credentials and then pulls up and rolls your window down.

The security officer stands there, looking at you. You pull out your passport and state your name. He looks over a sheet of paper and nods. Handing you an envelope that feels like it has a keyboard and some papers in it. You thank him in shitty Korean and the driver closes the window. You open the envelope.

“Hey. If you’re getting this, I wasn’t able to get off work in time to meet you. The driver knows which building to go to. Use this key to go to unit 4106. Text me when you get there. Sorry!

Namjoon”

The chauffeur drives between several of the buildings. The streets are lined with trees and there appeared to be several small gardens between the buildings. The car comes to a stop outside building 4. The driver gets out to open your door and hands you the bag. You thank him and head into the building.

The apartment building was a lot like a luxury hotel, you find yourself thinking. It was decorated similarly with gilded light fixtures and a marble floor. You scan your key card at the elevators and head up to the 10th floor.

It becomes very obvious from the minute you walk in that this is Namjoon’s actual apartment. His giant shoes are all over the foyer. You purse your lips and take out your phone.

YN: YOU DIDNT SAY IT WAS YOUR APARTMENT

NJ: Relax sweetheart, the guest bedroom is for you. I’m hardly ever there. Make yourself at home and I’ll see you later ;p

YN: THATS NOT THE POINT

NJ: You’re welcome. Stop being a brat and enjoy.

You pout a little bit. Fine. Fine. You’ve already slept with him so why does it matter if this is his apartment. Because it feels so much more intimate, you think. You enter into the space while texting Xavier.

YN: New chapter in the Kdrama series.

You knew Xavier would normally be sleeping, but he was so excited and wanted to make sure you made it safely he was wide awake.

X: Oh no, what?

YN: he didn’t arrange for me to stay in a hotel IM AT HIS APARTMENT.

X: AHAHAHAHAHA HOLY SHIT. Is it nice? Is there like a waterfall? Does it smell like rich people? Send pictures!

YN: I don’t think I should send pics since he’s famous, but there are no waterfalls that I can see. It smells normal. Actually no, it smells new, like people don’t really live here. Stay tuned for updates.

X: Has he dicked you yet?

YN: -_- he’s stuck at work. And I’ll be in the guest bedroom thankyouverymuch.

X: Yeah….ok…..suuuuuuure.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to wander around the apartment. It is the size of a house. There is a small terrace running along the side of the unit and three open rooms that flow together. I guess rich people need more than one living room? You wonder. They are all furnished with couches and art. The floors are a beautiful Marble. Or Granite. Some expensive imported thing. You notice several plants on the wall as well as out on the terrace. Huh. I did not think he would be into plants, you find yourself thinking.

YN: Nice plants

NJ: My pride and joy

You smile and walk into the kitchen. It looks like a showroom. You doubt much cooking goes on here. If you could afford to eat out all the time you would too. You open the fridge and as predicted, it is mostly empty. There are a few bottles of water and some random condiments. Panic strikes you as you begin to wonder if there’s a coffee maker in this apartment. This could be a deal breaker; you might have to flee to the Marriott. There isn’t one sitting out. You frantically open cabinets. You make eye contact with a very fancy looking Espresso maker. Ok. You will learn how to use this beast. You sit it out on the counter and plug it in. Crisis averted for now. You continue through the rest of the house. You quickly find the master bedroom. Big bed. That’s all you take note of before closing the door. You don’t want to be nosy. You wander to the other end of the apartment and find an extra bedroom and an office. You don’t go to the office, but do take your stuff into the guest bedroom. You are feeling tired and starting to feel hungry.

YN: When will you be back? Is there a convenience store nearby? I need coffee and/or food.

NJ: Sorry. It will still be a while. Actually there are several stores on property. The closest one is in building 2. Here, download the app. I’ll send you the login info.

YN: Thanks.

You change out of your traveling clothes into real clothing and head to the market. The apartment complex’s layout is fairly easy to understand once you look at the app. You walk over to tower 2 and ride the elevator to the market level. It looks like the atrium of a cruise ship. There is a giant crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the lobby area as well as beautiful indoor trees, glass art bulbs, probably a peacock or two wandering around, and some light music playing in the background. Oh God. I should just starve. This is too fancy. I need to leave.

You turned to leave when you heard a voice speaking politely in Korean. You ignore it, and then hear the same voice ask in English, “Excuse me, Miss. Can I help you?” A short man in his 50’s walked over. “I’m on the concierge staff here. You must be new.”

“Ah yes. Thank you. Umm...Coffee please?”

“Of course. Take-away or beans?”

“Both please?” You ask, trying to keep it simple and very thankful for the English.

“Yes of course. If you just get me the unit number I can actually just have it sent there. Also there is an ordering and delivery app you can use next time if you would like to save yourself the walk.” The man explained while he typed some information into a tablet.

“That’s very helpful. Thank you. For today, now please.”

“Very well miss, please insert your chip or resident card here and sign,” he turned the tablet towards you. You inserted your debit card.

“Thank you. Please wait.”

You take a seat in the fancy lobby area and get out your phone. You had some messages from Namjoon.

[NJ]: Oh, there is also an app you can download and order groceries to the apartment.

[NJ]: I usually eat at work so I forget about it.

[NJ]: Sorry, you probably already hiked there.

A smirk crossed your face as you started to type a response.

[Y/N]: Sorry, I just saw these. And no worries. It’s a beautiful part of the complex. I was a little overwhelmed to be honest but the concierge was very helpful! 10/10 recommend.

You take a picture of the lobby area and send it to him.

[NJ]: wow, yeah that’s beautiful. I haven’t actually been there myself.

The concierge returns, handing you a coffee and a bag of coffee beans. You thank him profusely one more time.

“My pleasure. Take care.”

You sit the beans down and pose with your coffee cup, snapping a selfie to send to Namjoon.

[Y/N]: There, now all is right with the world ^_^

[NJ]: :) See you soon!

You travel back to the apartment and unpack your suitcase. You try your hardest to stay awake, but at this point you have been up for over 24 hours and you can feel the pull of sleep. You’ll just lay down for a nap.

---------

It is dark outside by the time Namjoon gets off work. He feels bad he couldn’t meet you in the car at the airport, and even worse that he’s kept you waiting for hours. You haven’t answered any of his texts these past few hours either. He opens the door to his apartment. The lights are off. Did you leave? He wonders. He flips on the light and sees your shoes by the door which put a smile on his face. You must be sleeping. He hasn’t actually been in his apartment for about 2 months. It was mostly the same as he left it, except most of the time when he returned the apartment had a stale smell from having been left empty. This time it smelled like coffee and girl.

He enters the main living area and finds you laying in a small blanket nest on the couch with a laptop on the table; a coffee cup resting on a coaster next to it. He smiles and goes through to his bedroom to deposit his travel bag. He washes his face and changes clothes and then proceeds to nervously pace. Should he wake you up? You were probably tired, but at the same time, to prevent jet lag you shouldn’t sleep too much, and he wanted to hang out with you. He wrestles with this issue for a while and then decides he will try to wake you up.

He gently shakes your foot, “Hey sleepy. Wake up.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmm…” you respond. What’s happening? You kick the thing bothering your foot. So annoying. You hear a deep voice laugh. Oh shit, where were you again? The shaking of your foot resumes and you crack open one of your eyes and see Namjoon sitting on the couch. “Heyyyy.”

“Hey there sweetheart. Nice seeing you in Korea.”

You feel your heart do a little flip flop at the way he’s talking to you but you want to play it cool. “Yeah. It’s good to be here.” You stretch out and move to sit up.

“How are your legs doing?” He asks.

“Good. They get stiff pretty easily and I still have to do my exercises everyday but they don’t hurt most of the time or anything. I get pretty bad headaches from time to time, but you already knew that. Sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s fine, I just carry aspirin around with me now.” He shrugs. “Did you get any food? Should I order something?”

“Yeah. Order some super Korean food.” You are fully awake now.

“Yeah? You serious? It’s not going to be like Koreatown food.” He teases

“Might as well jump in. If I don’t like it, there’s always rice, right?” You smile.

“That’s true,” he takes out his phone to order dinner.

“What did you do today?”

“Today was planning for the Festa. Even though it’s months away we have to make sure we have enough content planned just in case there are any unforeseen delays.”

“Cool.” You say. You had done your basic level ARMY research so you were somewhat familiar with their different activities.

“How was your flight? You should probably get up and stretch those legs around. Get up.” He pushes your shoulder playfully.

“Ughhh….fine. By the way. Nice apartment. Is rent like 20 grand a month?” You stand up groaning slightly like an old woman. Damn stiff legs.

“Uhh...I paid 6 million dollars for it up front so I don’t pay rent. Do you want anything to drink?”

It’s a good thing you weren’t drinking anything when he dropped that little factoid on you or you would have spit it out comic-book style. Jesus. That explained the security and Gucci grocery store. “Uh water please.” You walked over following him to the kitchen. “It’s good to see you by the way. Thanks for inviting me.” You slowly remember how to speak like a human again.

“Sure. I wish I had more free time to spend with you, but I’m glad you were able to make it.” He fills a glass with water for you. “Wait a minute! Before I forget,” he jogs out of the room and returns with a small box. “Here, this is for you. We were in Australia last month and I wanted to get something for you.”

You are surprised. It didn’t occur to you that he would think about you or buy you something. Until a few months ago you had considered yourself a nuisance. “Wow, thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that.” you say, taking the box, “I hope it’s a tiny KNOIFE or tiny koala or tiny kangaroo,” you open the box. It is an adorable mug with a Koala on it superimposed on the Australian Continent. It says in English, “Lucky Australian Koala.” You burst out laughing, cupping the mug with both your hands in front of your face. “This is perfection. Thank you so much for my authentic LUCKY AUSTRALIAN KOALA, I cannot wait to drink out of him tomorrow. Seriously. “ You sit the mug on the kitchen table. Fuck it. “Come here,” you gesture, and pull him in for a hug. His body feels solid against your and he gently wraps his arms around you. You give a firm squeeze. “Thank you for the mug and for flying me out here.” You pull away and smile at him.

He looks away almost shy, “It was nothing. I figure I still owe you a few for the pen incident.”

You take a drink of the water. “Yeah. You have had some dickish moments.”

“Speaking of dickish behavior...do you want to talk about what happened with Ben or…?”

You shrug. “There’s not a lot to say. Ben apparently met his soulmate about 4 months before the car accident. He tried to stay away since we had already agreed that we didn't care about stuff like that. But he couldn't. I don't know when he started seeing Jessie behind my back. They were apparently banging all summer in the apartment and while I was in the hospital.” You take another gulp of water. Namjoon is surprised that he isn’t feeling much anger or sadness coming off of you. “After I got all my shit out of the apartment and had a chance to calm down, I couldn't be too mad about it you know? You and I had already slept together and most people aren't as stubborn as us. So really, how could they resist? I mean I was angry and sad at the time but at this point it seems like a lifetime ago. "

Namjoon had never asked about what had happened with Ben before, assuming that if you wanted to talk about it you would have brought it up. " Wow. "

"Yeah. I mean that's waaaay oversimplified but that's the gist of it. Anyways. Everything was a mess for me for a while. You know I stayed with Xavier and Joe and then Xavier's husband got a really good job offer here so we all picked up and left LA."

“And now you’re in New York.” He finishes your thought

“Yeah. Well Jersey technically because rent is $1000 less a month. But I’m applying for jobs as assistant director at tv stations and theaters. I’m hopeful something will come up. I can’t really teach fitness classes anymore.”

Namjoon listens thoughtfully, feeling like a jackass for never asking about this stuff before. What kind of soulmate was he?

“Well, let me know if you need a job reference.”

“Ahahahaha,” You laugh awkwardly. “No way. I don’t want people thinking I only got a job because I know someone famous.”

“Sweetheart, that’s how everyone gets jobs in the industry.” He leans against the counter.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You fidget

“You know I’ll just text Xavier and he’ll tell me the companies you applied for.” Namjoon flashes his dimples at you.

You scowl. “I didn’t realize you two were so chummy.”

“Hey, we bonded a lot in the hospital.” His phone let out a chirp. “The food is at the security office. I’ll be back in a few. Make yourself at home.” He heads over to the foyer to slip his shoes on.

You decide to unpack and then wash your face and brush your teeth before returning to the main area where he has just returned. “That was fast”, you comment, meeting him near the door and taking a bag from his hands.

“I rode my bike over.” He replies, following you to the kitchen.

“They let your clumsy ass ride a bike?” You tease, pulling food out.

He lets out a laugh, “Yeah. Just remember, only one of us has got hit by a car.”

“Touche. Touche. Alright. I don’t know what any of this is, so I’m going to go wait at the table like a lazy bitch.”

“Haha, fair enough. I’ll bring it over. “

You head over and have a seat at the dining table, placing your water down. This feels so weird. So intimate. He joins a few minutes later placing a bunch of food on the table along with a spoon and chopsticks.

“I’m sure there’s a fork around here somewhere if you need one.” He says as he opens the lids on the containers.

“I lived in LA where we ate sushi almost every day, I think I’ll be ok.” You sass back, ,looking over all of the delicious food. You start to dig in. He sits waiting to see what your reaction will be. You flash him a thumbs up as you chew. It’s definitely good. He smiles and begins to eat as well.

Dinner is relatively quiet. You had no idea how hungry you were until you started to eat. Some of the foods had a texture you didn’t quite care for, but overall you liked it all.

“Wow. That was delicious. Thank you so much.” You smile

“It was. You’re welcome.” He gets up and starts to clear the table and you join him.

You continue to yawn involuntarily as the two of you straighten up the kitchen,

“Do you want some coffee or a nap?” he asks.

“I’m going to try and stay awake a little bit longer. What does the rest of the night look like?”

“Relaxing. I am exhausted from work. And you don’t look so fresh yourself. LEt’s watch a movie or something.” He says it so casually. Like this is a normal thing the two of you do. Like it hasn’t been months since the last time you saw each other and you left him naked and alone in a bed. You feel your heartbeat speed up.

“Hold on, I’m changing into some comfy clothes before I make this commitment.” you get up and head towards your room.

You come back in leggings and a shirt. Namjoon has re-positioned himself on the end of the couch. You sit next to him. “Ok, all set,” you grab your blanket.

“You take your comfort quite seriously,” Namjoon laughs as he hits the play button.

“Definitely,” you respond, yawning. After about half an hour, It’s dark outside, the night spilling into the living room. You are trying to keep your eyes open. You feel Namjoon put his large arm around you. You don’t resist, you nestle into it. You feel the warmth of his body radiating against you. It feels so nice.You try to stay awake but your eyelids grow heavy. The next thing you know, you wake up slowly, not quite oriented to where you are. Your face is sweaty. You take stock of your surroundings. You are still in the living room. You must have fallen asleep while watching the movie. You move a bit and realize you are not alone. Namjoon is asleep as well. Underneath you. Oh god. You probably trapped him. Is that your drool on his shirt? You wonder. But you know that yes, it definitely is. Jesus [Y/N].Not making a great impression here. Must sneak out so the drool will dry before he wakes up. You move as stealthy as possible off of him, which is very difficult since you found yourself laying between his legs. How did you even get like that? You had gone in for a light snuggle to see how it would be received and then apparently passed out dead. No more starting movies when you were tired. You knew it was your weakness.

The poor man probably had to pee and was stuck, forced to lay underneath you until he fell asleep. Is he snoring? Huh. Well ok. You drool and he snores. Very attractive individuals. You grab a blanket from your nest on the other side of the couch and put it on top of him. You sneak down the hallway to your bathroom, pee and sneak into your bedroom. You lay down and try to fall asleep, but your heart is beating fast as all you can think about it falling asleep on Namjoon. You feel your face grow warm. You are a mix of turned on and embarrassed. You turn off your light and wonder if he will still want to go sightseeing with your drooly-ass tomorrow. @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ghostkat23 @cuteipat @marianeamine@thisisval @almonte12 @themisunderstoodblackswan @bobbyboops @betysotelo18 @katerbees

#bts fic #bts writing #rm x reader #bts rm fanfic #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #bts namjoon x reader #bts soulmate au #bts rm x reader #bts rm x you #rm x y/n

52 notes · View notes

misskatebishop · 3 years

Text

Make my messes matter

Word count: 2090

Pairing: Steve x Tony

Warning: Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: Tony has a bad day at home and Steve comforts him.

Tony rests his head against the cold metal, holding tightly his bag against his chest. He closes his eyes while the music fills his surroundings. It’s almost midnight and he has nowhere to go. Nowhere to sleep. Tony feels the tears prick his eyes, biting his lower lip to not allow a sob to come out. He’ll not cry. Not anymore.

He didn’t do anything wrong, but Howard never believes him. Not surprising, though. Yet, being kicked out of the house wasn’t something he was expecting. Of course, he had plans to move out from his parents long ago, but he’d never put them in order. He hoped that he would have more time. More time to build and secure life for himself. A life where he wouldn’t need Howard’s money to survive. But at 18, life isn’t what anyone expects it to be.

It’s a funny and ironic story that he wanted to grow up when he was a kid, and now he wishes he was a kid again. He wishes he didn’t have to worry so much or feel so overwhelmed at such a young age. But he’s Tony Stark and people expect better of him. They expect too much when all Tony wants is to work on his own projects. He wasn’t ready to assume a high post in his father’s company. Not yet. There was so much he wanted to do.

So many places to go. So many things to see, to listen to, to touch, to know. He didn’t want to spend his life in an office, barking orders around, filing paperwork. He wanted so much more to himself. Of course, Howard couldn’t see it that way. He said he was tired of Tony’s excuses to assume his place in the world, he was tired of having supported him his entire life, just for Tony to refuse when he’s offered the post of director in the R&D department. In fact, he’s tired of Tony. He’s been tired of his son long ago. And Tony was tired of living from crumbs. Crumbs of love. That’s not what life is supposed to be.

After Maria’s death, things just got worse. Howard became a constant burden on his shoulders, always asking and demanding more of him. As if he could never be enough. As if Howard had fed him his entire life just to reap the fruits of his work now. As if Tony owes him an entire life and that he should be paying back now. Tony couldn’t see an exit to himself. He couldn’t see a light out of that. He felt like a bird constantly locked in a cage. Unable to sing his beauty. To become what he was born to: fly freely. Spreading beauty in the world.

But Howard could never understand the meaning of such simple words as no, or I’m not ready or give me more time. He crushed Tony into expectations that he may never be capable of achieving. It hurts. So after being hit, insulted, mocked, he was done, then Howard screamed for him to get the hell out of his house. His house, he emphasized. After all, Tony couldn’t be more than a mere tenant living under his father’s roof while he worked out his life.

Fuck.

He’s so fucked up.

The automatic voice sounds inside the train, letting him know that he will descend in the next station. Tony sighs, looking at the empty wagon. There is some freedom in it, to be able to walk away and don’t look back. To be able to follow his own path. But for an eighteen-year-old, unemployed, and who just had graduated, freedom is always frightening. There isn’t any expectation of life. What could he do? He’d had to work his way out of this. To start job-hunting, and conciliate it with his master’s degree, which he just had been admitted to. Scary. Terrifying. So lost.

No prospect of life. No home. Just a few banknotes and his credit cards in his wallet. A couple of clothes in his bag. Nothing to offer. Why would someone take pity on him? Why would someone take him in?

Tony tucks his headphones inside his bag, holding on a post as the rails brakes, the sound is almost comforting for the fact that tonight he has a destination in mind. Tomorrow, he will think about somewhere else. But for tonight, he prays that he can count on Steve.

For his misfortune, Howard chose to kick him out at the moment that his closest friends were far away. He didn’t know Rhodey’s location since he was on a mission for the Air Force, and Pepper was in Vancouver for the next three months. He had nowhere to go, but Steve’s.

Tony was afraid of how Steve would react when he knocked on his door at… Tony glances down at his phone, 12:41 a.m. He had hung out with Steve before, he could say that they were friends. Steve is a good friend, actually, but Tony feels more for him than he’s able to voice and since he had embarrassed Steve at a party weeks ago, when he vomited on his shoes after drinking too much, then told him he loved him in front of everyone since then Tony hasn’t answered his calls or texts until he finally stopped receiving them.

Fate is a bitch, though, and here he is asking for shelter for the very same man.

Tony strides through the streets of Brooklyn, he doesn’t know the neighborhood very well, but he knows where Steve’s building is. Tony gasps, rubbing his hands together to warm them up a little bit. It’s November, but the weather gets especially cold at night. He can see his breath whenever he exhales. Tony hurries up the stairs, getting breathless easily due to his heart condition. At least, he’d remembered to pack his medication, only enough for the next two months, though.

Because being homeless and unemployed is not enough in his list of failures, he also had to have a chronic illness.

Tony stops before the door with the number 13. He raises a fist, taking a deep breath. Steve must be sleeping, and he hates the fact that he is about to disturb him. Tony looks at the stairs again, thinking that he could wait there until morning, but Steve would be mad if he knew that Tony didn’t call him. Tony knocks hard. Harder than he should. Maybe, he should call Steve’s phone, although, after weeks without any news from him, it would look weird. It was already weird standing here in the middle of the night after confessing. Tony raises a fist again, wondering if Steve would really get up and check the door but before he could knock again, the door opens.

“Tony?” Steve frowns, staring at him. He rubs his beautiful eyes. Tony feels helpless, unable to acknowledge the emotions in his features, he can’t tell what Steve might be thinking just looking at his face.

“Steve, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I-” Tony starts to say.

“You didn’t. I was watching a movie,” Steve says, looking at both sides of the corridor before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Tony does. Steve locks the door behind him, throwing the keys on the kitchen counter. His apartment is small, but it’s cozy and it serves Steve well. It feels warm inside here.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Steve takes Tony's bag from his shoulder, putting it on the couch. Tony sees a movie he doesn’t know playing on the TV and a blanket and cushions on the couch. “Are you hurt?” Steve’s blue eyes scan him from top to bottom.

“No. I-I am fine,” Tony assures him.

“C’mon here. You must be cold,” Steve goes to the kitchen, and Tony follows him timidly. “It’s still hot, I made it minutes ago.” Steve hands him a mug filled with hot chocolate. It smells so good and tastes incredible when Tony takes a sip. “Nothing better than hot chocolate to warm you up,” Steve smiles.

Tony agrees, adding in his mind that there’s nothing better than hot chocolate to push away the distress in his chest. Tony rubs his eyes, feeling them dry for the fact that he had cried earlier, and Steve must’ve noticed how red and swollen they are because he asks again:

“What happened, Tony?”

Tony ponders if he should tell the truth or just invent an excuse. He ends up with the truth because it’s Steve, and he hates lying to Steve.

“My father kicked me out. I have nowhere to go.”

Steve looks… He doesn’t know how Steve looks. Pitiful? Sad? Relieved? It’s hard to know. Steve is only three years older than him; they met in an art exposition months ago in the National Academy School of Fine Arts. Pepper is passionate about Arts, and she dragged Tony along that day. It was his lucky day that Steve was exposing his work there, they ended up talking and exchanging phone numbers. After that, Tony asked him out to a few parties, one of which embarrassed Steve in front of everyone. He couldn't forget about that. But nothing really happened between the two of them, except for some stares and slight brushing of hands.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“I don’t wanna bother you, but--”

“Of course you can stay, Tony,” Steve cuts him off, walking in his direction.

“Oh,” Tony lets out when Steve's big arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. “It feels nice.” Well, Tony didn’t have the intention to say it out loud. He steps back, breaking the hug. “I-I-” what?

“Yes, it felt nice, too,” Steve looks almost fond of him, but… Tony didn’t want to get attached. He couldn’t, what if Steve didn’t love him? Tony feels already loveless. He couldn’t bear the thought of being fed with crumbs again.

“Thanks,” Tony says, he passes through Steve to wash his now empty mug. “I really appreciate it. I didn’t think you would take me in after that party.”

Steve comes to his side, a frown on his face.

“What? Why?”

“I-I embarrassed you in front of everyone. I literally threw up on your shoes, then I--” Tony stutters nervously because he always feels nervous next to Steve. The blond always gives him butterflies in the stomach, he just can’t help it.

“Oh, no. Why,” Steve shakes his head, looking confused. “Why would you think that, Tony? You almost passed out. You leaned on me all the way back. Why would you think I was mad at you?”

“Why would you not?” Tony blurted out. “You took me to my house, and I--” Tony breathes deeply. “I thought I had embarrassed you in front of your friends, I made a scene, and I told you--” he stutters. “I-I didn’t want to make it weird to you. I understand if you--” Tony shakes his head, gulping. He couldn't help but frown when Steve laughed.

“I was more worried about you than embarrassed. Trust me, Tony. You didn’t call me to tell me you were okay the next morning. I was worried. You didn’t answer my calls either. I thought you had changed your mind about what you said,” Steve sounds… sorrowful.

Tony blinks. He really thought Steve was mad at him, he really thought… Did he really misunderstand it all? It wasn’t possible, right? Steve was just being his usual self, kind and nice. He couldn’t really...

“Wait, you…” Tony points to Steve.

“You didn’t embarrass me,” Steve shrugs. “I love you, too. I called to tell you that but you didn’t answer me.”

“I--”

Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, tiptoeing to reach his lips, aware of Steve’s hands sliding to his waist to support him. Tony tastes the hot chocolate in Steve’s mouth, and it somehow suits him because Steve smells like home. Everything about Steve is cozy, lovely, and adorable. Tony feels a warmth flowing through his body, the feeling of safety invades him. He knows he can trust Steve, somehow, he knows, he wants to believe that Steve will not abandon him. Perhaps, that’s a love that he can let himself get attached to.

Steve breaks the kiss, still keeping Tony in his tight embrace.

Tony rests his head against Steve’s chest. “You can stay for as long as you need, Tony,” Steve kisses the top of his head. “It’ll be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

#steve rogers #tony stark #stony #stony fic #stevetony #steve x tony #steve rogers x tony stark #marvel #marvel fic #mcu fanfiction #hurt/comfort

17 notes · View notes

obstinaterixatrix · 3 years

Text

Tagged by @madseason

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

this looks fun lmao. I’ll sort/date them backwards by date published. also it’s been long enough that I might as well include secret fic in the batch too just because there’s a fair amount of them.

being known, being loved, and other disasters you’ll never recover from (ORV) 2021 | After saving the world, almost destroying the world, and somehow surviving the end of the world—not exactly in that order—Kim Dokja spends his time unemployed.

a home to keep (out of reach) (Kamen Rider W) 2021 | After being on the run for a few weeks, Wakana knows that the best way to avoid getting caught is to be paranoid.

“I can’t stay” and other lies to tell (ORV) 2021 | “It’s almost hard to believe,” Yoo Sangah says, wiping away some lingering tears as they leave the hospital.

a fallen star won’t forget the distant sky (ORV) 2020 | There’s a feather-light touch against Yoo Joonghyuk’s head.

on your mark, get set...! (ORV) 2020 | “This was supposed to be about bullying Kim Dokja,” Han Sooyoung says as Jung Heewon secures a knot in the handkerchief now shackling her to Yoo Joonghyuk.

“an acquired taste is just a ■■ing hostage situation” (ORV) 2020 | Han Sooyoung doesn’t need long to pin down why Yoo Sangah’s in the party.

two sides, same coin (SVS3) 2020 | Considering how long and chaotic their courtship had been, Mobei Jun’s marriage to Shang Qinghua is remarkably uneventful.

plan and profit; a failsafe two-step strategy! guaranteed success! what could possibly go wrong! (SVS3) | The dilemma of whether or not the maybe-horny flower caused the, well, brief mouth-to-mouth between Shang Qinghua and his king has become secondary to the discovery that Mobei Jun, as it turns out, might be... rather fond of him!?

call and response (SVS3) 2020 | As much as it pains Mobei Jun to describe himself as such, he is undoubtedly a pitiful man.

on the dangers of indulgence: an unfortunate autobiography by airplane shooting towards the sky (SVS3) 2020 | Some time ago—years, literal decades by this point—Shang Qinghua wrote something self-indulgent.

withered leaves among decay (Original) 2020 | Ōu Qiūfēi finds a body in the woods.

Inspiration Strikes! And The Muse Is...! (Gopri) 2020 | The expression should be more… gentle, probably.

what happened to death of the author, bro (SVS3) 2020 | Once again, it’s time for Shang Qinghua to receive feedback from his most devoted reader.

misery and company (P5) 2020 | Summers in Tokyo have always been somewhat unbearable.

night flowers shirking from the light of the sun (Original) 2019 | The city of Tiěyáng is, frankly speaking, not that important to the Shénxià empire.

grey before dawn (Ultraman R/B) 2019 | Okay.

a little friendly advice may or may not go a long way (P5) 2019 | Guys.

a beef bowl's worth a thousand words (or something like that) (P5) 2019 | Do you have plans this afternoon?

the future looks bright (let's hit the kill switch) (Overwatch) 2019 | Hard light is a pain to deal with.

Light Chasers (P5) 2019 | So, things are getting weird.

there’s a bunch of these that could’ve probably been the same fic instead of two separate oneshots but I’ve never liked the pressure of a wip and I never know if I’ll get an idea for a follow-up.

patterns............ I’m bad at analyzing my own writing. the opening lines definitely skew longer as time goes on, but the one-word openings are outliers I think? definitely most of the opening lines just kind of toss you in... I guess...?? I think I tend to use the opening paragraph as a hook over just the opening sentence. maybe. out of this batch, my favorite opener is “So, things are getting weird.” strong start lmao. being known comes as a close runner up, though.

@dragonomatopoeia @r4bbitdragon @sinelanguage @randomidiocyncrazies @stuffandsundry @internetkatze @wovenstarlight @shesgayfolks @hirokiyuu but anyone who wants to Just Go For It (Or Ignore It)

#writing ramble #long post #if we’re mutuals and you write fic please consider yourself tagged (if you’d like)#there’s a couple folks where I’m like... hm... I’d like for them to do this... but I don’t want to break into their house by tagging them #if they’re not into it #or I might’ve just forgot someone. also a possibility.#also the color coding is cute thanks tumblr user madseason

13 notes · View notes

fromthecouch · 3 years

Text

I have always watched too much tv - an introduction.

A personal history of my relationship with the small screen.

My grandparents, who were my main parental figures growing up, didn’t work 9 to 5s. My grandfather worked as a bus driver for the Chicago Transit Authority, for over 20 years. His schedule often fluctuated. My grandmother worked as an expeditor for architectural firms. She made her hours and often came home later in the evening. For a significant part of childhood and all of my adolescence, I spent a lot of time alone. Sometimes I would go to my friends’ homes after school or my younger cousin would stay for the evening; however, from 3:00 PM-8:00 PM on weeknights, my main source of connection to other humans was through our living room television, the screen of my family’s desktop, and the pages of fiction.

It was not until recently that I learned of the term ‘latchkey kid.’ I had been watching the A&E Freaks and Geeks documentary on Amazon Prime when I noted the phrase. It had been used during an interview portion of the documentary when one of the production team members used it to describe Bill Haverchuck. The documentary cut to a scene of Bill, one of the show’s “geeks”, sitting in front of a television, laughing hysterically, with grilled cheese and Entenmann’s chocolate cake on a TV tray. The interviewee recalled their childhood similarities to Bill —the experience of a latchkey life. I was immediately intrigued and paused the documentary to turn to Google.

youtube

Freaks and Geeks, Episode 14: Dead Dogs and Gym Teachers

The search brought me to the Wikipedia definition, listed as “a child who returns to an empty home after school or a child who is often left at home with no supervision because their parents are away at work.” I reflected more in-depth on this and found myself assessing my relationship to fiction and how it raised me.

I have always watched too much tv. I used to read voraciously. I would buy random ‘pre-viewed’ DVDs from Blockbuster and played them in rotation until I got my hands on a new batch and a new rotation started. My grandparents often enabled my habit as a reader, yet I would go through books too quickly for my family trips to the library or Borders to keep up. Most of my planned reading for the week would be completely consumed by the end of the night on Tuesday or Wednesday, so the rest of my weekly time alone, I would turn to watch things.

At a young age, I viewed watching television as infinite. Since it was before the era of eBooks, there was a limited number of hours that my books could sustain me for each week, but television would always be there for me. I watched everything — movies, children’s shows, reality television, teen dramas, daytime television, sitcoms, documentaries, sometimes even infomercial channels. Fifth grade is when I truly became in awe of all that the small screen had to offer. My grandparents had upgraded to the premium package on Comcast. We went from a few dozen channels to having HBO, The N, Discovery Kids, multiple channels of MTV, channels that played history docuseries around the clock, the Filipino variety show channel, and so much more.

As a kid, film, literature and television was how I got to know the world. When I was a teenager, I more actively started to engage with what I was watching and reading. Fiction helped me dream of what I wanted for my life. How I consumed television and film during those years laid the groundwork for who I am as a person now. That was also when I had begun to use fiction to feel less lonely, to escape from the pressures of turbulent home life, to relate to my peers. I had curated a group of friends that also had independence thrust upon them at a young age. Watching tv with each other over the phone and renting films to watch together on the weekends was a big part of how we related to one another — the common interests that bound our friendships, as mutual indoor kids. My high school years also coincided with Netflix’s shift from delivery rentals to mainly streaming, which allowed us to consume a new set of content, in an entirely new way. With adulthood approaching, we segued into the era of series binge-watching.

I was diagnosed with panic disorder and major depression when I was in my sophomore year of university. It was around that time that I became more cognizant of the way that I used television and film as coping mechanisms. Sometimes they served healthy coping mechanisms, sometimes they became more like distractions, and numbing agents. Whatever the case, I sometimes doubt that I would’ve gotten through some of my lowest times without the fictional characters, places and storylines of my favorite shows.

In 2017, I struggled with some chronic health issues, nothing serious, but very debilitating. It took me a year to stabilize. At that time, I hardly saw my friends. I had to quit my job and was unemployed for a full year, living with my boyfriend’s family in an unfamiliar suburb. I was too ill to hold down a full-time position. I was always in pain. I entered the longest depressive episode of my life, which made reading, my first love, feel daunting. I also struggled with a lot of vestibular migraines. The aftermath of those lingered for days and sometimes left me in a fog that made the words on a page feel painful.

I still had television though. On my worst days, I often only had the bandwidth to make doctors’ appointments, eat oatmeal, and rewatch television series I had already seen. The Chinese Restaurant episode of Seinfeld made me smile when I otherwise felt numb. Buffy the Vampire Slayer made me feel resilient when I felt incapable of basic human functions. Daria made me feel understood when I felt completely isolated from my peers.

Seinfeld, Season 2 Episode 11 The Chinese Restaurant

On my better days, I could venture into a new series, which involved more attention. I mainly consumed television rather than movies for the most part, as I didn’t like having my time spent with characters and plots to feel limited. (The major exception to this was the MCU, due to the span of central, interconnected plots.) With access to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime and HBO plus, I found television to again feel like my main connection to other people. When I felt like I didn’t have anyone else, I had Mr Robot, Atlanta, Glow, Mozart in the Jungle, Westworld, Stranger Things, Game of Thrones, Black Mirror, Big Little Lies, Insecure. When the pain from my migraines, GI issues, ovarian cysts, and mundanity of my newly “sick” life made me feel terrible, watching the fictional lives of others helped me escape. Watching these fictional lives, helped me feel like I was surrounded by others and living their lives with them when my own life felt on pause and isolated.

In 2018, I was fortunate enough to get on a successful diet and medication combination that allowed me to stabilize my health, move back to the city, reestablish my friendships, and resume my career. Even so, I still have more mild depressive episodes. I still get medical flareups. I am still a normal person who occasionally faces conflict, as that is just life. When I’m in those darker places, television is often both a distraction and connection that helps me recalibrate. Now here I am, at my current age of 27, and I still depend on fiction to be there for me.

Once the COVID-19 lockdowns and restrictions started in March of 2020, I, like everyone else around the country, found myself limited in social interaction. I maintained some level of relatedness to others through my cat, my boyfriend, group texts with friends, and my Zoom work meetings. Yet, television was again a big part of how I related to the human experience. Television persisted in reminding me of what life was like pre-pandemic and what it could be in the future. It has helped me keep boredom and restlessness at bay. Through this time, I’ve found myself watching many series that I would have never watched otherwise. I have also found myself analyzing the series that I watch more thoroughly and with more curiosity than I had the capacity to in my youth and during my time of medical distress.

This year was also the first year that I have started writing for leisure, since high school. Being so online over the past year, I’ve often found myself with many thoughts to collect, package cohesively, and express, yet I’ve felt very limited by the current platforms I often interact with. I often feel like I cannot articulate meaningful thought on platforms like Instagram and Twitter, which are limiting by word limit and social media norms. My newfound revived interest in writing has often collided with my enthusiasm for television, film, and pop culture, more broadly.

It may be true that I watch too much television. It may also be true that television was one of my first true friends and in many ways an extra parental figure. I want to move beyond watching too much television. I want to openly explore television, what it means to me, what it means to the collective, and examine the things that we love to watch or have loved to watch with a critical lens. That is what I hope to express on here.

#television #film #mental health #chronic illness #personal narrative #self

9 notes · View notes

polygarnstars · 3 years

Text

facts about me that you could state to my face that would hurt more than that ask did

I own three copies of Okami HD, and have beaten exactly zero of them

I paid $40 for Balan Wonderworld, knowing full well that any enjoyment I drew from it as a game would be ironic, and I plan to spend another $10 on the novel so I can be mad about the fact that approximately two percent of the story actually made it into the game

I played Kingdom Hearts as a kid and was attracted to Zexion, and given I am currently attracted to another edgy squenix bastard with emo hair in the form of Therion Octopathtraveler, my taste has apparently not changed since I was ten

I played Sonic 06 and thought it wasn’t terrible

I learned and did a partial speedrun of PMD Red Rescue Team for the sake of getting on someone else’s Let’s Play of the remake

I tried streaming once, only to have to stop because my capture card ate my sound card

The last week and a half of my Spotify history is comprised almost entirely of the Persona 5 soundtrack and various covers of those songs

I’m a furry who can’t even decide on his own fursona’s species or design

I spend so much time reading Nuzlockes, challenge runs of Pokemon games, games for children, I was brought on as staff of the official forums

I do the aforementioned work as Nuzforums staff knowing full well that it is a volunteer position while I am unemployed in real life

I watched the Kirby anime as a kid instead of doing my schoolwork. Years later, I plan to rewatch it in its entirety instead of seeking employment

I voted for Bandana Waddle Dee in the Smash Ballot

On that topic, I’m a Kirby main! I played through the entirety of World of Light using only Kirby! Like, I love Kirby, but who the fuck mains him unironically like that? I don’t even do that strat of succing your opponents and spitting them out over the blast zone where they can’t recover or taking them down with you, like, cmon

I was in anime club in high school

Despite owning it, I’ve never played Among Us, but I still watch other people play it regularly

I didn’t realize the Guardians of Ga’hoole series was a WW2 allegory until I read the TV Tropes page in high school

I got into Kingdom Hearts for the Final Fantasy stuff, and yet to this day the only Final Fantasy game I’ve ever beaten was the DS rerelease of Final Fantasy III

I 100%ed Breath of the Wild less than three weeks after it released, and proceeded to help various streamers do the same, because I had literally nothing better to do with my time

As a teenager I uploaded two mashups, one of All Star and In The End, the other of All Star and Lonely Rolling Star, to YouTube because in the summer the only device I had to get online with was a Nintendo 3DS, I wanted to be able to listen to them year round, and my 3DS would not play Soundcloud uploads

I’m currently making a mashup of the Balan Wonderworld credits theme and Wonderwall

I think Pokemon peaked in Gen V and I trust Spike Chunsoft with the series more than I trust modern GameFreak

I have owned literally every Animal Crossing game except Amiibo Festival, but I do still own Amiibo from the sets released for it

I’m still waiting for Pikmin 4!

I’m still waiting for another real Chibi-Robo sequel!

I’ve still not beaten the prior games in the series despite owning them, but I’m still waiting for Bayonetta 3!

I dip dill pickle spears in chocolate pudding Snack Packs and I enjoy it

I know all the lyrics to the opening of Pichu Bros. in Party Panic, that anime special that was viewable exclusively on Pokemon Channel

I plan to romance Ann in my first playthrough of Persona 5 Royal purely for the sake of cucking the cat. I do not plan to do this because I dislike Morgana, but simply because I think it would be funny

I say KEKW, Pog, OMEGALUL, and Sadge in real life, with my actual human mouth

I have spent money on microtransactions for mobile games

I bought well over a dozen packs of the Unbroken Bonds Pokemon TCG expansion in an attempt to obtain a rainbow rare Reshiram & Charizard GX. I found zero of them

Until earlier today, when I cleaned out my drawers of old clothes I no longer wear, I owned two Big Bang Theory shirts. Instead of burning them like a reasonable person, I donated them to my local Goodwill for some other poor fool to find

At the age of 23, I still cannot swim

I’ve gotten used to every other bug in my house, including the bees in the walls and the stinkbugs who refuse to just stay outside, but whenever I see a silverfish I consider committing arson

I collect dice but do not play D&D or any other TTRPG, I just think they’re neat

I’m too physically weak to take apart a PS4 controller

I haven’t ridden a bike in a decade, and at this point if I tried I would probably fall over or ride uncontrollably into the street and be hit by a car

I still have art on my wall of a Pokemon character I made in sixth grade at the absolute latest

I buy sketchbooks despite not drawing traditionally literally ever

I cannot draw on a normal tablet, because I look at my hands instead of the screen, and so I had to buy a 2-in-1 laptop to do art

I bite my nails

I compulsively pluck the hairs from my legs

Despite compulsively plucking the hairs on my legs, I cannot be bothered to do the same for the ones that have grown into a unibrow

When I was a child a goose whacked me with its wing

I’ve been bitten by two dogs, one of which bit me twice

Despite domesticated animals hating me, I’m the world’s worst Disney Princess, having taught a grey catbird to recognize Zelda music and having watched the entirety of Avatar the Last Airbender with a baby mourning dove perched in the bush outside the window watching with me

I spell grey grey instead of gray despite being American

I’m American

I’m still on tumblr in 2021

do with this information as you will

#new ask game: send me anon hate but make it targeted

8 notes · View notes