#dramatic bitches over 4 million years strong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nayutai · 4 years

Text

Sleep Walker

⇢ Genre fluff (this nearly killed Jesus Christ fluff authors are powerful)

⇢ Pairing Jimin x OC

⇢ Word Count 4251

⇢ Summary Jimin finds himself wandering into a 24-hour coffee shop after his efforts to sleep have proved unsuccessful where he finds more than just the caffeine boost he needs to get through his day

⇢ Notes this goes out to my love bug @tae-tae-drives-me-kray

Working the night shift at a 24-hour coffee shop makes for a very boring shift. Most of the customers clear out by the time that two o’clock rolls around and those who do pop in are on their way to their own early morning shifts and generally don’t stay long. They also don’t usually start arriving until at least 4:30. For Amira, this means that she can eat snacks and binge watch Supernatural until the day time people show up for the most part. At $11 an hour it’s a pretty cushy gig if you don’t mind the fucked up sleep schedule.

The sound of the bell above the door tinkling loudly just before three sends Amira flying from her perch on a stool behind the counter. Whoever it is giggles melodically at the flurry of creative curses that come out of her mouth as she rises to your feet dramatically. She gives them a dirty look that softens at the way their eyes twinkle even in the low light of the cafe.

“Are you okay?” At least they have the decency to ask about her well-being after nearly giving her a heart attack. The lower half of their face is covered in a mask and a baseball cap sits low on his head. If it weren’t for the fact that this person’s eyes look so friendly she’d be standing a lot closer to the silent alarm and the baseball bat that her manager allows her to store under the counter.

“Just peachy for someone who was on the verge of death. What would you like to order?” He rattles off the name of some frappuccino thing with an assload of ingredients and Amira has the sudden urge to beat her head against the granite countertop. Being that she works night shift, most of her barista knowledge circled the memory drain a long time ago due to the fact that the most complicated thing the early morning demographic orders is flavored iced coffee. A walk in the park compared to the science experiments that the daytime crew is required to mix up throughout the day.

“I’m gonna keep it real with you, chief. I forgot how to make this but I don’t have the authorization to do refunds so if it’s bad you’re stuck with it.”

“At this point, it could be dishwater and I’d drink it as long as it’s got caffeine.”

And yet he ordered one of the froo froo drinks Amira thinks to herself. Those drinks have the least amount of caffeine out of everything on the menu. He’ll be asleep before he even finishes his drink.

“Well if caffeine is what you need, this drink isn’t what you want. I’ve got just the thing though.” You put away the clear cup for the frappucino with his consent and reach for a regular coffee cup. “What’s your name? I know you’re the only one here but it’s against store policy for any cup to leave this hellhole without a name on it.” He seems to panic at the thought of giving up his name, a wary look morphing his gaze. Her brows creases as she watches him contemplate how he wants to answer what she thinks is a very simple question.

“Jimin...” He says after a minute.

“Ha, that’s cool. There’s a guy in BTS with the same-“ Amira’s hand freezes halfway through writing his name as her drowsy brain starts connecting some very important dots. The news lady on channel six had said they’d be in town this weekend but never in a million years did she expect something like this to happen. She peeks at him from beneath her lashes. He looks ready to bolt out the door at the slightest provocation so she do her absolute best to remain calm for his sake.

Alright, sis you can do this. Just stay cool, calm, and collected. Mama ain’t raise a loser you can do this.

Jimin visibly relaxes when Amira starts writing again and turns to start making his drink. It’s a special concoction she makes for her fellow graveyard peeps. It’s strong enough to knock a donkey on its ass which is why it’s such a hit. One of her regulars, a long haul trucker, tells Amira all the time that he doesn’t know how he’d make it through his long drives without the liquid defibrillator that he practically orders by the gallon. Definitely doesn’t seem safe but he’s got an incredible driving record and he always brings her a fistful of the soft peppermint candies she’s partial to.

“Thank you for not freaking out. I’m not really supposed to be here.” Jimin mumbles as he accepts his drink. He loves interacting with fans but not at two a.m when he’s barely able to stand up from his lack of sleep.

“I gathered as much. Not many global superstars stroll through here at this hour or at all really.” Amira give him a smile that she hopes puts him at ease and, judging by the way his lips turn up a bit, it may have worked.

“Couldn’t sleep and we’ve got interviews all day so at this point I don’t have time to sleep hence the desperate need for caffeine.” He takes a cautious sip of the drink in his hand. She wasn’t kidding when she said that it would help. The caffeine hits his veins with the force of a speeding bullet train and Jimin already feels more alert just a few sips in.

Somehow, talking about his sleep troubles snowballs into a conversation about Disney movies and why Maleficent is the baddest bitch in the Disney realm when the blaring of his ringtone cuts her rant short. A heavy sigh escapes him at the interruption. He’d much rather listen to the adorable barista in front of him continue her impassioned argument, but duty calls.

“Guess that’s my cue. Thank you for the drink and the company.”

“No problem! If that shit starts fucking with your heart rate though you did not get it here. I refuse to be attacked by your twitter army for giving you heart palpitations. I ain’t built for that type of guerilla warfare.” Jimin full on belly laughs, nearly dropping the rest of his drink in the process. He couldn’t get rid of the goofy smile on his face even if he wanted to.

He grips the door handle in his hand but something is holding him back. Something feels unfinished and his feet refuse to move any further until that changes. Jimin turns around to see the source of his frozen feet standing behind the counter again, staring at his still form curiously. Before he can stop himself, Jimin crosses the short distance, snatching the pen stuck to the top of her apron to scribble his phone number on a nearby napkin. The gagging noises she makes when she realize what he’s just done make him feel justified in his rash decision. This time when he backs away, the smile on his face is one of mischief.

“Don’t let this be the last time I talk to you or I’ll never forgive you.” Jimin’s steps feel lighter as he treks back to the hotel to face the wrath of his manager. He hopes desperately that she texts him later. A frown replaces the grin behind his face mask at the prospect of his new crush not contacting him after tonight. His steps falter slightly as he processes the fact that he just met her not even a full hour ago and has already developed a full-fledged crush on her. Oh, Amira, so powerful and yet so unaware of it.

[Amira]: best friend

[Amira]: rise from the dead

[Amira]: I have a story to tell and before you even ask no it can’t wait until a decent hour

[Pomegranate]: if this doesn’t involve you meeting BTS or you hitting the lottery and paying off my crippling student loan debt I promise I don’t care

[Amira]: ….sometimes I swear you’re psychic

[Pomegranate]: BITCH DID YOU HIT THE LOTTO?????

[Pomegranate]: I BEEN YOUR BEST FRIEND FOR 13 YEARS DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME

[Amira]: shut up I didn’t hit the lottery but I did meet someone from BTS…

[Amira]: Jimin to be more specific

Incoming call from Pomegranate

“Well look what we have here. A traitor.” Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung’s dramatics but his best friend and bandmate is having none of it. “How dare you go traipsing off into the concrete jungle without me? We’re supposed to cause mayhem together and you left my ass in the middle of the night like I’m some side chick.”

“It’s really not this deep, Tae.”

“To you. Which is exactly why I snitched to Sejin.” Of course, Taehyung was the one to rat him out to their manager. He could be quite vengeful when he felt that he’d been wronged and obviously he took not being invited on his late night coffee hunt as a personal affront. The Capricorn energy coursing through his veins absolutely could not let that stand.

Jimin opens his mouth to respond when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He ignores it for the sake of pacifying Taehyung but when it vibrates twice more his curiosity gets the best of him.

[Unknown]: uhhhh hi?

[Unknown]: ew that was awkward as hell pls forgive me

[Unknown]: shit I didn’t even tell you who I am wow anyways this is the barista you tried to kill earlier also known as Amira

Jimin snorts at Amira’s messages which piques Taehyung’s interest in a major way. He can’t recall a time when his friend has ever looked so disgustingly happy over a text message from anybody. Just as he’s about to lean over to look at the screen, Jimin shoves the sleek iPhone right in his face. He’s babbling on and on about how funny and cute this Amira person is which only serves to further confuse Taehyung.

“I just want you to know that none of that made sense to me.”

Taehyung is almost sorry that he asked as Jimin launches into an impassioned retelling of the beautiful girl that made him a drink that is sure to keep him up until the end of time. A slow smile spreads across Taehyung’s face as he connects the dots. Jimin has a crush. A big one. He can’t wait to tell the other members that their precious Jiminie has finally found someone that meets his incredibly high standards. Out of all the idols back home, both male and female, that have practically thrown themselves at Jimin’s chelsea boots and it’s a random cafe employee that manages to make him totally enraptured.

“So let me get this straight,” Amira’s eyes follow her best friend Cameren as she paces back and forth across her living room. “It’s a regular degular night at work until some guy in a mask walks in and scares the shit outta you. Lo and behold that guy is fucking Park Jimin from BTS and you make him drink that god awful elixir of the damned you insist on serving to people and he actually liked it?”

“Not just that.” She fishes the napkin with Jimin’s number on it out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and carefully unfolds it so that Cameren can see the string of digits scratched into the napkin. The creative string of curses that fly out her mouth would make most people blush but after more than a decade of impassioned screaming, Amira doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes widen comically though when she notices Cameren reaching forward as if to snatch the napkin out of her hand. She thanks God for gifting her with reflexes quick enough to keep it out of Cameren’s reach.

“Bitch! Let me see it.”

“No! He gave me this because he obviously trusted me not to pass it around and I don’t plan to disappoint my future husband this early in the game.” She replies indignantly.

“Look at you. All delusional and shit but whatever I respect it.” Cameren declares as she props herself on the coffee table in front of her best friend. “So, did you text him?”

“Of course I did. Who do you think I am?” Cameren opens her mouth to respond with what is no doubt going to be some witty quip about exactly who she thinks Amira is, but she’s interrupted by the tell-tale ping of her phone receiving a text message. The shocked look on Cameren’s face is perfectly mirrored on Amira’s as she slowly picks her phone up from the couch cushion she’d sat it on.

[Kristoff Hater]: you’re too adorable to be awkward

Amira sits frozen in place as she reads and rereads his message. There’s no way he just said that. There is absolutely no way in hell that the Park Jimin himself just called her adorable. Have the heavens finally opened up? Did God decide that today is the day that she secures the biggest win of all? She’s in such a state of shock that Amira doesn’t even notice Cameren trying to get her attention until she starts physically shaking her shoulder. Amira’s voice box is still refusing to function so she simply hand over her phone to let Cameren see the message for herself. Her friend’s answering shriek perfectly voices Amira’s own feelings.

“He’s typing again!” Cameren thrusts the phone back into Amira’s hands just in time for another message to appear on the screen but she quickly close the conversation when Jimin starts typing once more. It takes longer than expected but the tell-tale ping from her phone makes Amira’s heart skip a beat at what he could possibly have said this time.

[Kristoff Hater]: speaking of you being adorable I need a contact picture so go ahead and hand one over and no one gets hurt

[Kristoff Hater]: or don’t because you’re an autonomous human being and that’s totally up to you but I would really appreciate a picture of your face because I think you’re you’re cute and wow I’m rambling over text which is super embarrassing so I’m going to stop typing now byeeeee

This time, Amira is the one screaming.

“It’s official. You scared her away.” Taehyung claps Jimin on the back from his spot behind him in the van. Jimin continues to stare dejectedly at the stagnant conversation with his mystery woman. It’s been hours since he’d went out on a limb and asked her for a picture with not even a hint of a response. He’d originally thought that he’d eventually get over it and go back to normal but now he’s not so sure.

“Leave him be, Tae.” Namjoon pipes up from Jimin’s left. “It’s important to fully feel and process your emotions no matter how depressing they are.”

“Oh, so now the wannabe philosopher is going to preach to me?”

“It was probably too good to be true any-she texted me back!”

[Coffee Almost Bae]: I’m so sorry 😭

[Coffee Almost Bae]: In the interest of total transparency I had a meltdown because you called me cute and I’ve spent the last fourteen hours trying to psych myself up to respond

Jimin nearly melts into puddle of feelings right where he sits. This girl is entirely too cute for her own good and she doesn’t even realize it. His fingers start flying in response, but his frantic typing is interrupted by another message.

[Coffee Almost Bae]: I believe you asked for this {image attached}

He’d thought that Amira was cute when he’d first met her at the coffee shop but seeing her in this picture is making his heart race. She’s clearly at dinner with friends judging from the crowded table full of food behind her. He’s incredibly appreciative of the way her jeans snugly hug the hourglass frame that her work uniform hides. His eyes are then drawn upwards to her face and he finds himself getting lost in the sheer brilliance of her smile. Eyes bright with a playful energy. Jimin is sure he’s never seen anyone more captivating.

“Yeah I’m definitely in love.” He proudly shows off Amira’s picture to the rest of the group, relishing in the comments about how pretty she are. Jimin chooses to ignore Yoongi’s comment about how he wasn’t sure that she actually existed until he saw the picture. His heart flutters in his chest as he stares fondly at the picture on his screen. He’s so caught up in her beauty that he forgets that you have to actually reply to the text messages in order to keep a conversation going. Until his phone vibrates in his hand.

[Coffee Almost Bae]: OH MY GOD YOU THINK I’M UGLY DON’T YOU I KNEW THIS WAS A MISTAKE I HATE IT HERE

Jimin’s eyes go wide as he realizes the unforeseen consequence that his awestruck staring has resulted in. The concerned questions from the other members roll off his back as he tries to fix the mess he made. The two extra concert tickets that he’d been holding for two of his friends suddenly come to mind. Frustrated with the way he keeps misspelling words in his haste, Jimin throws caution to the wind and hits the call button. He doesn’t know why he’s so desperate to fix this, especially since he just met this girl less than forty eight hours ago but he can’t deny the nerves coursing through him as he waits for Amira to answer the phone.

“Cameren, he thinks I’m ugly. I just know he does.” Amira whines and it’s nearly Cameren’s breaking point. She sighs frustratedly over the phone as she does her best not to yell at Amira for overthinking and sending herself into a panic.

“This man saw you in an unforgiving barista uniform, bare-faced, at three in the morning and still somehow thought you were cute.” Cameren can hear Amira inhale to interrupt her but she powers through, giving her no option but to listen. “If he saw you looking like that then there’s now way he thought the picture you sent him was ugly so stop overreacting. He’s a fucking international superstar someone probably stopped him for an autograph or something. Or maybe he thinks you’re insane for losing your shit because he took more than five minutes to respond.”

On a more rational level, Amira knows that Cameren is right, but it’s not every day that a girl actually gets to live out their fantasy like this. So naturally, she’s insecure and full of nervous energy that is near impossible to get rid of. What if his sleep deprivation made him delirious? What if fully awake Jimin thinks he made a mistake? Cameren is still ranting when Amira’s phone beeps with another phone call. She pull the device away from her ear to see who it is and nearly choke on her own spit.

“He’s calling me! I gotta go.” She ends the call with Cameren and answer Jimin’s before her overactive nerves can convince her not to. The second Amira accepts the call, all that can be heard is Jimin apologizing profusely. Somewhere in there he mentions something about concert tickets and soundcheck and her brain decides to finally kick in to get some clarification.

When he finally starts speaking slow enough for her to understand him, Amira is stunned even further into silence. Front row tickets to their next concert with a primo soundcheck position? Yeah, there’s no way she could pass that up, but there is one issue. Their next concert is in Toronto. As if he can sense what she’s thinking, Jimin immediately offers to fly Amira and whoever she wants to bring with her to Toronto. The sound of raucous laughter in the background drowns out his next sentence, so she can only assume the rest of the group is giving him shit for that.

“I can’t let you do that, Jimin.” Amira already knows that Cameren is going to kill her for this when she fills her in later, but she doesn’t want him to feel like she’s using him for free stuff. He tries his absolute best to change her mind but Amira doesn’t let up.

“At least promise me that last night won’t be the last time I see you.”

“I promise. Now go to sleep before I tell army you’re neglecting yourself because I can hear the exhaustion all in your voice.” Jimin laughs at her playful threat which makes her heart swell with pride at being the one to make him laugh like that. After being a fan for so long, Amira can perfectly picture the adorable way his eyes have probably scrunched closed as he laughs with his whole body. The reluctantly bid each other goodbye after Jimin makes her promise once more that they’ll meet again.

Months have passed since the day Jimin turned Amira’s life into a wattpad fanfiction and since then life has changed in numerous ways for both of them. Amira has gotten a new job. A new dog. A new house. Meanwhile, BTS has hopped from country to country playing to sold out stadiums. Broken fistfuls of records that established western acts admittedly balk at. And yet, despite all these changes, Jimin and Amira’s presence in each other’s lives has remained constant. Whether it be a funny meme he saw online, a FaceTime call at an indecent hour because time zones are weird, or even a postcard from whatever part of the globe BTS has ended up in. Despite their best efforts though, their late night conversation over coffee did not get the follow up that they’d promised to have.

Amira is on her way back to work after meeting up with Cameren for lunch when she gets a text from Jimin. It’s a picture of what looks like a schedule for the upcoming month and it looks pretty empty save for a flight to LA on the fifth. The image is accompanied with several eye emojis and Amira connects the dots immediately. The second she returns to the office, she submits a request for two weeks of leave time. After snapping a picture of her screen, her fingers fly across the screen with a quick message to Jimin.

Amira hasn’t seen Jimin in person since that night at the coffee shop and that thought keeps her up at night as the days fly by. No matter how much careful planning they put in to try and see each other something always seemed to come up and foil whatever plans the two of them had concocted, but this time feels different. Like everything might actually fall perfectly into place. That brings up the question about how Amira is going to handle being face to face with Jimin again. All of his flirting and little pet names have been hard to handle over text but to be in the same room with him and keep her cool is going to be a new kind of challenge. He’s been very direct about what his feelings are and though she feels the same, Amira has been hesitant to reciprocate his romantic sentiments in fear that what she feels is rooted in her love for BTS as a fan. Cameren has been Amira’s saving grace with her pep talks but nothing could ever truly prepare her for the force of nature that is Park Jimin spending two uninterrupted weeks in her house.

Jimin arrives in a whirlwind of designer luggage that he quickly tosses aside in favor of peppering kisses all over Amira’s face while she playfully attempts to fight him off. Her terrier Luna runs circles around the both of them in a frenzy at having a new friend to play with her. Amira’s heart is beating erratically in her chest as Jimin switches tactics, choosing to simply hold her close to him.

“Hello to you too, Ji-” His lips pressing against her own stops Amira’s sentence in its tracks.

She’s always admired how soft his lips looked but to find out just how soft they actually are sends a rush of endorphins coursing through her. All of the qualms she’d had about falling for him melt away like ice cream in the summer sun. Her insecurities suddenly seem so significant as his lips mold against her own like they were meant to be there. A deep groan rattles Jimin’s chest when she gets over her initial shock and reciprocates. He tastes of strawberries and the faintest hint of mint when he explores her mouth with his expert tongue. Amira decides then and there that she would gladly die of suffocation if it meant she could kiss Jimin till she croaked.

They could’ve remained locked together for an indefinite amount of time if not for Luna tugging on Jimin’s pant leg with her teeth, demanding her fair share of his attention. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop the energetic fur ball into his arms, scratching behind one of her ears as Luna practically vibrates in his arms.

“I think this is the part where I tell you I’m in love with you and want to be your boyfriend.” He lifts Luna next to his face and Amira knows she’s in trouble. “Don’t you want to wake up to us every morning? At least for the next two weeks?”

“Kiss me again and you’ve got a deal, boyfriend.”

#bts writers guild #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin fanfiction #jimin scenario #bts #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #jimin x oc #jimin x poc oc #writing fluff is hard as hell #had to stop myself from making somebody whip out a tiddy #if this is trash mickey did it

75 notes · View notes

little-wicked10 · 4 years

Text

Purely Precious (part 4)

Pairing: Negan x Unnamed OFC

Warning: Swearing, Angst, child birth (nothing too bad)

Summary: How could something so beautiful, so precious, have been created from a man who lusted for blood? How could fate be so cruel as to make her have his distinct dark hair and his dimples?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The night was warm with a cooling breeze when she woke with a start. She had no idea why she had woken up, but motherly instinct told her to check on her family. They weren’t that far because father and daughter were curled up next to her, Georgia on his chest and Negan’s arm stretched out for herself to lay on. A small smile spread across her lips at her sweet family. She gently stroked Georgia’s dark curls before looking down at her large belly. The doctor said it would be any day now, and each passing day ate away at her nerves. Throwing the covers off, she decided to get up but suddenly stopped. There was a dark spot on the sheets. She investigated and touched the sheets to find them wet. The sheets were soaked between her legs. Only her legs.

Her water had broken.

Her heart raced with nerves and excitement. It was about to happen. It wouldn’t be long until the contractions followed, so she decided to get up and start getting ready. “Negan,” she whispered. He snored but didn’t wake up making her roll her eyes, “Negan. Negan, my water just broke.” He snorted, “Not falling for that again.” She groaned, “Then Georgia must have pissed the bed because the sheets are pretty wet.” Negan opened his eyes as she got up and saw the wet spot on the bed and on her sleeping shirt. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he saw she was telling the truth, “Shit!”

“C’mon. I gotta start getting ready,” she informed him.

Negan set Georgia on the bed and jumped up, “A-are you ok? You in any pain? Shit, babe, do you need anything?”

“Calm down. I’m fine. The contractions haven’t started yet. We just need to get the doctor because they’ll be starting soon.”

Negan shook his head like a mad man and went into action. He threw his leather jacket on over his white T-shirt and pulled on some sweat pants over his boxers before leaving the room. Georgia suddenly sat up rubbing her eyes, looking around for her missing daddy. “Dada? Mama?” her little voice was groggy. The mother went to her sleepy baby and held her on her hip, “I’m sorry, Georgie. Dada will be back.” She attempted to flatten out the little girl’s wild hair as she hummed. Negan suddenly burst in like a bat out of hell with the doctor hot on his heels. Both looked panicked. “She doesn’t look like she’s in any pain,” the doctor observed quickly. “I’m not. The contractions haven’t started yet. My water broke is all,” she reassured and gave Negan a sideways glance knowing he over dramatized her state of distress.

The doctor gave orders to Negan to help them prepare the bed while he went to get the tools needed. She calmly watched with their daughter asleep in her arms and soon-to-arrive baby kicking around in her stomach. Negan had managed to calm down some, but the tension still remained in his muscles. She was surprised at herself at how calm she felt. Maybe mother nature’s way of reassuring her that everything would be fine. “Negan, you’re stressing me out. Please sit down,” she called to her husband. He jerked his head to her and quickly came to her side. He sat next to her on the couch and gnawed in his bottom lip. “What happened to my badass, don’t give a fuck, brain bashing, king of the saviors husband?” she teased. The air around him shifted as he genuinely laughed at her comment, “He’s having a baby any minute is what happened. You give me a guy that needs to be put in place I can handle that, but child birth? Honey, you got the wrong man. It’s such a foreign thing to me.”

She laughed at him and kissed his lips, “It’s going to be fine.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you?” he asked.

“Normally a husband would, but I feel fine. I mean I’m a little nervous for the pain, but other than that I’m ready,” she explained.

—•—

It didn’t take long after they set up for the contractions to start. Neither parent wanted Georgia to be scared of what was going on, so one of Negan’s ex-wives took Georgia to her room until news came of the birth.

He stayed by her side the entire time. He’d rub her back when she was hunched over the side of the bed breathing deeply trying to stand the pain of the oncoming contractions. Finally, the time came to start pushing. “Negan, your job is to make sure she keeps breathing. It is very important,” the doctor urged. She set herself up in the bed with the help of the doctor and Negan before mentally preparing herself for what was about to happen. Negan was by her side while the doctor readied himself at the foot of the bed.

“On the next contraction, start pushing until I say to stop, alright?” the doctor asked.

She nodded and took hold of Negan’s hand, and suddenly it hit and she pushed.

Negan felt her vice like grip on his hand but simply squeezed back as she pushed. “Baby, breathe. You gotta breathe,” Negan urged. She let out a breath before being told to stop. It went on like this for what felt like hours. The pain made it feel like time was standing still. “You’re doing amazing. You’re almost there. I can see the head,” the doctor encouraged.

“Cmon, baby. Gotta give it your all,” Negan encouraged as well.

“Negan, would you like to help deliver your baby?” the doctor asked.

The man was at a loss for words. Could he really do that? Was that allowed? He was the father, but still. She looked at him and nodded that it was ok. “Y-Yeah. Just don’t wanna fuck it up,” he said quietly before leaving her side to the foot of the bed. “This next push is it. I’ll tell you where to place your hands and help you along,” the doctor said. Suddenly she screamed, and everything happened at once. Negan could barely hear the doctor directing him because blood rushed in his ears as his baby came into this world in front of him. Before he knew it, Negan was pulling the little sucker out of his wife, and the room was filled with the cries of an infant. It wasn’t until Negan cut the cord did everything go back to normal. “It’s a boy,” the doctor told him. Negan could honestly careless in that moment because his child was in his arms. His second child. Never in a million years did he think the feeling of love and protectiveness that he felt for Georgia could be replicated until now. “He’s beautiful,” Negan said trying to avoid choking on his tears.

—•—

“Any name ideas?” she asked.

“You want me to name him?” Negan asked astonished.

“As long as it’s not Negan Jr.,” she gave him a look.

Negan chuckled, “Well there goes my first idea.”

He must have had some super sperm that infected his kids with his genetics because his daughter had his dimples and eyes and now this infant looked exactly like him. To the T: dark hair, dark skin tone, most likely some dimples hiding in those chubby cheeks. His eyes carefully studied his son latched onto his mother’s breast. “Jason. That’s a good strong name,” Negan suggested. “I love it,” she smiled. Suddenly the door opened to reveal the doctor and Georgia. She must have been woken up again because she was rubbing her eyes. “Hey angel!” Negan made his way to his daughter who slowly shuffled towards him. He picked her up and walked to the bed, “Wanna meet your new brother?” Georgia looked at him curiously before looking to her mama to see a baby in her arms. Her sleepy eyes got wide with curiosity. “Want to see,” the toddler tried to wriggle out of her father’s arms to get onto the bed. Negan sat down with her still in his arms and got closer so they both could look at Jason. She didn’t know what to make of the little pink thing.

Georgia just stared curiously before she put a chubby finger on his head and lightly stroked his few strands of hair. “Be gentle, angel,” Negan instructed.

“He’s small,” her little voice uttered.

Negan chuckled, “His name’s Jason.”

“Jason,” she repeated pulling her hand away and examining her finger, seeing if she got anything on her.

Negan smiled and kissed Georgia’s temple. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined a moment like this. His usual nature made him come off as an asshole....okay he was an asshole, but he never thought anyone would see past that. She did though, and he was grateful for every moment she wanted to be with him. Without her, he wouldn’t have these purely precious treasures before him. He was one lucky son of a bitch.

(Thank you guys so much for the love on this story! I love you guys so much!)

@lettherebepink @ravenwings73

#negan #twd negan #negan smut #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #JDM #jdm fanfiction #jdm smut #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #jeffrey dean morgan smut #Jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #twd #fanfiction #fanfic #Smut #angst #negan x ofc #negan x oc

72 notes · View notes

ecfandom · 4 years

Note

ok let's see: big city lawyer return to her small town at christmas time to stop some corporate closure and magically fall in love with some woman and her dog

Ah, I love it! This totally got away from me. I’ll do more tomorrow!

***

Okay so Clarke is the youngest partner at Azgeda & Weather, a NYC corporate law firm that handles all the big Fortune 500 companies along the eastern seaboard. Being the youngest partner at the firm means two things: Clarke takes no prisonrs, and the law firm is her life. We’re talking breakfast, lunch and dinner at her desk (a large desk in a large corner office on the top floor, there’s not a lot to complain about honestly), a second wardrobe in the sleek, modern armoir in her office, sheets and pillow tucked under the stylish but massively uncomfortable couch. She has a nice apartment that she’s spending a fortune but there’s no telling why seeing as how she’s never there.

She’s got a good routine. Up at 4:30 every morning, to the gym for a good “sweat out your rage at the world” session, steaming steaming shower so hot it almost hurts, she dawns her impeccable outfit including her signature pencil skirt which costs more than most people’s monthly rent, then it’s off for her morning juice cleanse and back to the office for her 8am briefing. It’s practiced, its perfected, it’s...necessary. If her day is not scheduled down to the minuted, if she’s not busy, thinking, always occupied...that’s disastrous. That means thinking about all the things she doesn’t want to think about...like how lonely she is, how much her heart still aches from the day her entire life crumbled into a million pieces...

So you can imagine how furious she is when her boss pulls her into his office and tells her to pack her bags, she’ll be spending her Christmas holiday overseeing the closing of the factory at the heart of a small town named, Arkadia...HER small town named Arkadia.

“This is a joke, right?” She asks, actually laughing in his face. But he doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink in fact, and her heart sinks. It’s not a joke and she’s expected at the airport at 7am the following morning.

Meanwhile, in that little town across the country, residents are in a full blown panic. The factory in town was just bought out by a big corporation and all operations are shutting down. Of course, this factory employs 95% of the town and these works will have no where to go, no job, and essentially no severance just weeks before Christmas.

The day her aging father comes home and tells his daughter with tears in his eyes that he’s out of the job is the day coffee shop owner, Lexa’s, famous smile falters. Her little shop lies in the heart of the town and sees just about every town member pass through at some point during the week. Lexa’s drinks are dreamy and her shop is warm and cozy. It’s a safe haven and though she’d never acknowledge it, if you asked any neighbor, they’d tell you that the magic has nothing to do with the shop, it’s all Lexa. She’s always got an ear to lend and the fluffy golden retriever that’s always by her side never fails to bring a smile to everyone’s faces. Except this week. This week, the whole town is grieving.

“I don’t understand how they think they can just come in here and unemploy an entire town of people and get away with it.” Anya, Lexa’s barista and long-time friend, looks scary, and puts on a good show of being tough, but she’s a big softy. But this week, Lexa genuine worries about the safety of her mugs as Anya roughly towels them dry, scowling at the black town car that pulls up outside, clearly from out of town. “How do they fucking sleep at night.”

“They don’t sleep,” Lexa says. “These are the kinds of people with no lives, no friends, and no conscious.”

Anya whistles quietly. “They may not have a conscious, but they certainly have something to look at.”

When Lexa looks up she’s definitely taken by surprise. The beautiful woman walking through the door is nothing like she expected. Strikingly blonde is the only thing that grabs her attention before the sweetness of her face. But that sweetness is impressively overshadowed by the coolness in the woman’s pale, blue eyes the second they connect with Lexa’s.

Before Lexa can even open her mouth to tell her they’re about to close, the woman is holding up her hand. “Please, before you tell me all the ways in which I am ruining your life and killing your beloved pet, I just need some fucking coffee,” she huffs, not bothering to look at Lexa as she digs through her purse.

“What a surprise, she’s a raging bitch,” Anya quips, tossing her towel on the counter and walking away when the woman looks up at her and glares. “Sorry, Lex. I’m not serving the wicked witch of the east.”

“Pretty sure it’s wicked witch of the west,” the woman snaps back.

“You’re from the east aren’t you? I rest my case,” Anya says, then looks at Lexa. “You can fire me if you want, but I won’t serve her kind. You’re on your own.”

“My kind?” The woman mouths, outraged.

Lexa’s shakes her head and grins at her friend’s antics. She’s no happier about these outsiders than the rest of the town, but a customer is a customer. “What can I get you?” She asks, barely taking notice when her trusty pup, Max, gets up from his bed and pads away from her.

Clarke is momentarily caught off guard by the gentle tone, expecting more of the nastiness she’d been encountering since she landed in the tiny, regional airport. No one recognizes her or if they do, they don’t care that she used to be one of them. Why should they? It’s been 20 years.

Even more startling than the gentle tone is the woman behind it. She’s tall and sturdy, just as handsome as she is pretty. The picture perfect red flannel she wears stretches perfectly along her broad shoulders and she is perhaps the most attractive woman Clarke has ever seen. Not what she was expecting from the tiny town she hoped to never see again.

She’s never one for a loss of words--she’s an attorney for christ’s sake--but this woman has Clarke tongue tied like never before. It takes three attempts for her to order her coffee, granted, the second time was interrupted by a cold wet nose pushing into her hand. Now, sitting at the table in the nearly empty cafe, Clarke can’t stop watching the woman behind the counter. She’s beautiful, in an androgynous sort of way. Sure, she had long, brown hair and pretty green eyes, but there’s was something masculine about her. Something rugged. Whatever it was, Clarke was mesmerized.

They part ways with little conversation. After all, Clarke is here to ruin all of their lives, and Lexa has to get home to her newly unemployed father who can’t pay for his medical bills without a job, so there’s that.

They don’t run in to each other again for a day or so, and Lexa can almost forget about her life derailing...until the day she’s in the local bar and she hears an argument break out. Getting up, she moves down the bar to get a better look. A lifetime ago, she was a Marine, and she can’t help but run toward trouble, as her father would always say.

She’s expecting the usual brawl over a drinking contest or a lost bet, but instead, she finds a few out of place suits almost completely surrounded by a ring of angry factory workers. “Call the police,” she tells Frank, the bartender, knowing what’s about to come. She’s concerned, but not too concerned. There’s still time to de-escelate things with some open conversation, so she moves carefully, cautiously, edging her way into the circle. That is until she sees the woman from from the other night, face scared like a dear in headlights but eyes glinting, ready for a fight.

Lexa’s unsure of whether she’s more scared for the woman or annoyed. Whoever she is, she’s not afraid to back down, that’s obvious, and that means trouble. And trouble for her, in this town, could very well end in blood. At the head of the confrontation is Sal, a fourth generation factory worker taking the closure the hardest. He’s been stirring up the town for weeks, just waiting for a battle. Lexa is angry like the rest of them but she’s sure as hell not going to let blood be spilled. She’s almost too slow. One moment, she’s telling Sal to back off, the next, a broken beer bottle is hurtling towards the men in suits. In seconds, the two groups converge on each other, and Lexa has just enough time to grab the woman’s arm and yank her out of the middle. Lexa practically picks her up and carries her out the front door just as the police are rushing in.

Clarke is struggling the entire way, cursing about god knows what under her breath.

“You’re welcome,” Lexa retorts, dropping the woman into a pile of fresh snow. “Next time I’ll try not to save your life.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I was fine.”

“You were seconds away from getting the business end of a broken beer bottle shoved into your face. But suit yourself.”

Lexa’s beginning to walk away when Clarke comes to her senses and goes after her, begrudgingly thanking her.

“I’m Lexa.”

“I’m Clarke.” There’s a handshake, and somehow it almost feels like a temporary truce. That and Lexa’s hand is warm and strong and firm.

For the next several days Lexa can’t shake the fact that she’s a traitor. She can’t get Clarke off her mind and while everyone else is cursing she and her colleague’s existence, Lexa is just hoping to run into her again. Just to get another look at those eyes. There’s something buried there, something Clarke has gotten really good at hiding, and Lexa wants in.

The next time she sees Clarke, the woman is rushing down the street, a small group of angry residents shouting at her. Lexa sees her coming from the shop window and steps out to pull Clarke inside, just as the group was beginning to converge on her. Clarke makes some quip, laughing it off, but she’s clearly shaken and Lexa has an inexplicable need to protect her.

She’s in the back making a special drink of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cherries to warm Clarke up, and when she comes back around to the tables, she smiles to see Clarke asleep in a booth, leaning against the wall, Max sitting protectively beside her.

“Good boy,” she murmurs, patting his head. Clarke rouses and Lexa slides into the opposite booth, watching with a little bit of pride and a lot of sexual attraction as Clarke moaned her delight and thanks at the delicious drink. Lexa tries her best not to blush at Clarke’s sounds of pleasure, but she’s really never been good at hiding her feelings.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Clarke asks.

“You’re just making a lot of noises.”

“Noises?”

“The...moans...and...you know what? Nevermind. Just drink your drink.”

Clarke smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she knows flirting with a local is the last thing she should be doing, but Lexa has saved her life now, and she’s handsome and kind and her dog is cute, and Clarke really can’t help it.

They do this again, the next day, just as the shop is closing. Clarke stays after the doors are locked and they talk for hours. Mostly Lexa talks, and Clarke skirts around her own life with half truths and questions about Lexa. They do it again and again, until it’s almost a routine.

“Why are you letting this happen?” Lexa finally asks her one day. “You’re not a bad person. You have to do know what this is doing to our town. You may not understand, being from a big city and all, but we’re family.”

Oh but Clarke does know. She knows because she grew up here. She knows this town better than Lexa does, but she’ll never tell. She can’t revisit those memories. She can’t think about the past. Not without losing the control she has spent her entire life building. She can’t let Lexa into that part of her life, but that doesn’t stop her from falling for the sweet drinks and the even sweeter drink maker. She gives the cowardly answer about her job, her duty, nothing she can do about it, and Lexa just nods because what else is there to say?

If Lexa is annoyed by her answer, she doesn’t show it. They continue to spend time together and the more they are seen with each other, the more the residents start to relax around Clarke. Some of them even like her, chatting her up when they see her in the cafe. Some of them look at her as if she belongs, as if she’s always belonged, as if they’ve known her from some other lifetime.

Things feel good. Suspiciously good but Clarke does her best to just let live. Lexa is walking her back to her car one night when they pass the ice skating rink in the town square.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says when Lexa turns to her with a glint in her eyes.

Lexa wins, and she’s holding Clarke’s hands, skating backwards to help keep Clarke upright. They can’t stop giggling and it feels like grade school when everything was okay and good and nothing hurt.

Clarke trips over her own feet and she tumbles into Lexa, laughing. Lexa is strong and sturdy and when Lexa catches her and pulls her close, Clarke is a goner. Looking up into those green eyes, it takes second for her to lean in, looking for a kiss. She’s not even thinking, she’s just wanting. Wanting Lexa. Wanting her close. Wanting to know if her lips are as soft as they look.

They are. God, they are and it’s perfect. Lexa’s perfect. They’re in the middle of the rink, forcing people to skate around them, but Clarke can’t stop kissing her, and Lexa has no interest in pulling away.

It’s feels natural, it’s feels right and wonderful and so so good when they go home together that night. It’s been so long since Clarke has opened her heart to anyone, and now that she’s opened it for Lexa, Lexa has it completely.

Lexa brings her coffee and a croissant in bed, crawling back under the covers to love up on Clarke again as soon as she’s done with her breakfast. It’s noon before they finally get out of the door. Clarke has a meeting and Lexa has to get to the shop. They’re walking together to Clarke’s car, and Lexa’s leaning in for a kiss when Clarke sees a man glaring at them from across the street.

It throws Clarke back into her past so quickly she jerks away from Lexa, dodging a kiss, and getting in her car and driving away without a word. The radio silence last days and Lexa is as pissed as she is heartbroken. They run into each other at a press conference the corporation who bought out the factory holds to inform the residents about the planned demolition.

Lexa can’t hold back her pain and anger. “I thought you were different from them, but you’re not, are you? You used me. You got me and the town to like you so that what? You’d be left alone long enough to help them destroy us? Is that it? Make me fall for you so I’d let my guard down? Let you get away with this? I feel bad for you, Clarke. I feel bad that you don’t know what it’s like to have a community like this. To have friends and family for neighbors. People you’ve grown up with and lived beside and I pity you.” She’s too angry to realize that she’s admitted to falling for Clarke and she doesn’t give Clarke the chance to say anything before she’s walking away.

Just days away from the demolition, they’re both miserable. They haven’t talked and when Clarke goes to try to see Lexa to tell her she’s going to make things right because she’s fallen for her to, she can’t be found. She thinks she’s being avoided until she overhears a patron talking about Lexa’s father being in the hospital. Clarke doesn’t think, she just goes. It’s not hard to find out that Lexa’s father got pretty sick and racked up some pretty hefty medical bills that Lexa’s now on the hook for thanks to her father’s unemployment making it impossible to pay for his shitty insurance’s deductible.

Clarke does the one thing she can think to do to help but she doesn’t dare go to Lexa. Now’s not the time and she knows she’s the last person Lexa wants to see.

Lexa, of course, is completely at a loss. Her father is still sick and needs to stay at the hospital, but the longer he stays, the bigger the bill gets. She’s distraught and out of options, so imagine her surprise the day she’s informed that her father’s deductible has been paid and his treatments not covered by insurance have been paid for. They can’t tell her who paid it for confidentiality reasons and Lexa doesn’t have time to think too much about it. She has to get her father taken care of and she has to get back to the shop.

Things are starting to feel okay again, except for the fact that she can’t stop thinking about Clarke. The only thing that makes it a little more bearable is the news that the demolition has been paused. Some kind of red tape fiasco. The town makes a collective sigh of relief as the corporate giant loostens it’s grip around their necks. Clarke is nowhere to be found, but Lexa wonders what this means for her. She’s too pissed by Clarke’s disappearance to find out.

Meanwhile, Clarke is back in NYC, sitting in her office while she is screamed at for pointing out the anti-trust issues with this corporation buying up the factory, creating a monopoly.

“If the DOJ blocks this acquisition because YOU brought this contract to them, this will be the end of our relationship with Dante Corp! Do you have any idea the money you have cost us?!”

But Clarke’s not listening. She didn’t care about her job. She didn’t care about the money. She cared for the people of the town. She cared for Lexa’s father. She cared for Lexa and she had to make things right.

A month passes and the entire town is elated when they learn that factory is no longer being bought and demolished and everyone has their jobs back. Someone is still paying off Lexa’s father’s medical bills, beating Lexa to it every time Lexa calls to make her own payment. Her father is back on his feet again and the everything is back to normal. Everything is good. Except it isn’t, because Lexa’s heart is broken and she can’t comprehend how someone as incredible as Clarke could be so selfish.

She’s tired and feeling particularly down the night she walks into the bar after work and sees that radiant blonde hair at the end of the bar. She doesn’t want to believe it, but when Clarke turns and their eyes meet, Lexa’s breath leaves her and she feels everything all at once. Sadness, elation, betrayal..love. Through it all, it’s still love.

“Hey,” she says softly, cautiously sitting down beside her. The bar is quiet tonight, but the other patrons are too absorbed in their own conversations to pay them any attention.

“Hi,” Clarke says, studying the beautiful face that hadn’t left her thoughts for one second since she’d left.

“I suppose you heard about the factory?”

Clarke nods, smiling slightly. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Guess you got unlucky.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, whoever made that contract fall through cost you this client, I imagine.”

When Clarke doesn’t say anything, Lexa frowns. “What am I missing?”

Clarke pulls out a trifold of paper and slides it over to Lexa. Lexa picks it up and squints at it. “What is this?”

“It’s anti-trust suit.”

“I...I don’t understand.”

“Magnus Unites, the company that bought Arkadia Beverage Company, which is the company that owns the factory, doesn’t exist and neither does Arkadia Beverage Company.”

Lexa shakes her head, trying to follow along, but not understanding. “That doesn’t make any sense. What does that mean?”

“It’s means that Magnus Unites and Arkadia Beverage Company are shell companies. They’re not real. Magnus Corp is actually just Dante Corp and Arkadia Beverage Company was bought out five years ago by Atlantic Foods.

“Dante Corp? As in the Dante Corp that owns practically every product you see in a grocery store?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Okay. So?”

“So, Dante Corp and Atlantic Foods are the two largest food and beverage packaging companies in the United States. Atlantic Foods is worth 83.7 million dollars. If Dante Corp had bought out Atlantic Foods through this shell company, they would own a complete monopoly on the food packaging industry. It’s illegal.”

“Holy shit,” Lexa breathes, looking back at the paper. “So someone found out and what? Told?”

Clarke chuckles. “Yeah. You could say that. This is an anti-trust suit submitted to the Department of Justice. An immediate injunction was ordered and the factory was returned to the previous owners of Arkadia Beverage.”

“Wow. That’s an incredible.”

Clarke watches her, so fond of the studious, careful way Lexa studied something important. When Lexa looks up, she’s almost startled by the emerald green she had missed you very much.

“Why do you have this?”

“You told me I didn’t know what it was like to know a community like this. To live side by side with friends and family.” Clarke pulls out an old, worn picture from her purse and slides it towards Lexa.

Lexa looks down at young Clarke, beaming between two people she could only assume were her parents. Behind them stood a building Lexa knew like the back of her hand.

“That’s my shop,” she murmurs, looking at Clarke confused.

“When I lived here, it was a pizza parlor,” Clarke murmurs.

Lexa nods. “The kitchen still smells like pepperoni.” Clarke laughs and nods, and Lexa nearly jumps up at the sight of tears in Clarke’s eyes. “Clarke?”

“Those are my parents,” Clarke says, looking down at the photo. “We had pizza night every Friday at that parlor. It was something we’d done for as long as I can remember.” Clarke uses her pointer finger to drag the photo closer to her. “They died,” she murmurs, her voice taught with restrained tears. “Drunk driver. The cameras caught him clearly...but the prosecuting attorney was paid off. He didn’t see a single day of jail time. I was twelve.”

“Clarke, god, I’m so sorry.”

Clarke looks up, blinking back tears. “This was my home. These people were my home. And having this community was the only thing that got me through. When I left, the only thing I could think about was going to law school and making sure what happened to me never happened to anyone else. Somewhere along the way I fell into corporate law, and I forgot why I was even doing this. Family and friends are everything.” She shrugs. “I had to make it right. For them.” Then, she looks up at Lexa, her eyes earnest and sorry. “For you.”

Lexa swallows back her own emotions. “Why did you leave back then?”

Clarke laughs bitterly. “After my parent’s died I lived with my neighbors for a while. They had a daughter my age and we were best friends. Eventually, we were more than friends. On my thirteenth birthday, we were at park watching a meteor shower. She told me she wanted to kiss me and I let her. I was over the moon. There had been so much pain since my parents dies, and here was this perfect, little moment, to distract me for a little while. The next thing I know, some man is running towards us, shouting at us, asking us how dare we do such things in public. It’s a small town. Word travels fast. When her parent’s found out, they kicked me out. And I never came back.”

Lexa wants nothing more than to pull her into her arms and hold her, never letting her go, but Clarke is already sliding off the bar stool and putting the paper and photo back into her purse.

“I’m sorry I ran on you, and I’m sorry I left without saying good bye. You didn’t deserve that. And I’m not here for forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that nothing between us was ever fake. I never had ulterior motives or...nefarious plans. I never planned for you. But there you were, and I couldn’t help it. It was just you. It was only every you.”

“Clarke, I--”

But the door to the bar swings open and a rowdy crowd tumbles in from the snow storm. Lexa looks up at the commotion, feels herself get jostled as people push towards the empty bar stools. When she looks around, Clarke is gone. She goes to find her and steps on a piece of paper on the floor.

She picks it up and unfolds it, confused at first at what she’s looking at. It’s a medical bill. With her father’s name on it. No, not a bill. A receipt. A receipt for a recent payment for the last installment of her father’s payment plan on his medical expenses. And under the payer’s information...is Clarke’s name.

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, her eyes brimming. She runs out of the bar, but Clarke is nowhere to be found.

***

Clarke is just settling onto her couch having dawned her paid, flannel pajamas and whipped up a big bowl of drown your sorrows flavored ice cream. The best part of losing her job is that she finally gets to enjoy her fancy apartment with the best view of the city she’s ever seen. She plans to wallow in her big fancy apartment and watch RomComs until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore because she’s sick of being alone with her thoughts.

She’s contemplating adding in a bath to this plan when there’s a knock at her door. She frowns, but is not entirely sure that she didn’t forget that she ordered delivery, so she goes to the door anyways. For all the fancy features of her apartment, there is no peep hole and she is too depressed bother for any self preservation. She opens the door, ready either to accept her forgotten order or yell at the solicitor knocking on her door at 9 o’clock at night.

But it’s not delivery and it’s not a solicitor. It’s Lexa. Lexa with those sweet eyes and gentle smile. Lexa with a piece of paper in one hand and roses in another.

“Oh god,” is all Clarke manages to get out before she’s crying.

She cries harder when she feels Lexa’s arms around her, holding her close. “I’m so sorry,” Clarke says, and neither of them are sure what she’s sorry for. Clarke is just so damn thankful to see her.

Lexa holds her and presses kisses to Clarke’s hair until she calms, then she pulls back and brushes away Clarke’s tears from her cheeks.

“How did you know where I live?” Clarke asks, sniffling and leaning into Lexa’s sure body.

Lexa holds up the medical bill receipt and Clarke colors, finally caught.

“You should have told me,” Lexa says gently, so incredibly in love with the teary-eyed woman in front of her. “This was too much, Clarke.”

Clarke shakes her head. “It was the least I could do.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

Clarke’s eyes brim again and she shrugs, shyly. “I don’t need any thanks, Lex. I did it because...I love you.”

Lexa grins and puts the receipt aside, taking Clarke’s face into her hands. “You have no idea how much I love you,” she says and captures Clarke’s lips. Lexa could kiss her forever, but Clarke can’t stop smiling and of course that makes Lexa laugh.

They pull away, but keep each other close. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to bring you flowers,” Clarke says, gesturing to the roses Lexa had put down on the table inside the door.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m the one who messed up.”

Lexa shakes her head. “I let you walk away from me three times. Do it once, shame on you. Do it twice, shame on me. Do it three times, and well, I think I went and lost my damn mind for a minute, but it’s back, and it can’t stop thinking about you.”

Clarke smiles and leans in, kissing her again. “How long do we have?”

Lexa pulls a slip of paper out of her back pocket and holds it up. “It’s a one way ticket, love. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

132 notes · View notes

melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Remember me chapter 4

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x OC

Notes: If I was giving names to these chapters this chapter would be called “Love at first snark”

Also the Starbucks scene was NOT inspired by the millions of times I was held up in line by that ONE person who takes their coffee way too seriously.

nope, not.

All words in bold are spoken in Japanese. Working with both languages is a bit tricky so I’m going to try to make this as smooth as possible. While I don't speak Japanese I love the idea of playing with words and idea of someone who can sort of speak a language and what that looks like

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

-0-0-0– Bakugou –0-0-0-

They had been in and out of the office for a few days now. After another wave of earthquakes, another group of heroes from Middle America had come to relieve the Japanese crew. So Bakugou and Kirishima were taking a few days off to rest and make their reports. There was also some press stuff as well but, like always, Kirishima was handling most of that.

He just got along better with people. Not that Bakugou really cared. He always believed his work spoke for him and didn’t need to stand around grinning like an idiot answering people’s questions about why he was so good. If they couldn’t see that they were fucking stupid.

So instead he had come back to the large glass building to file a few things and get some shit done before he went back to the hotel they were staying at.

But right now he was grabbing some coffee from the Starbucks in the lobby.

Or he would be if the fat bitch with nasty nails wouldn’t stop complaining about her drink. While his English was rusty he knew what that high pitched yappy voice meant in any language.

“Oh my god please, let’s hold up this line just a little longer you high maintenance bitch.”

Bakugou glanced in shock glancing at the girl next to him who was mumbling under her breath in Japanese. Dark brown hair pulled up in a high ponytail where her bright purple ombre was evident. She had literally just spoken the words in his brain as her eyes never left her phone.

“I’m sure she’s loving you leaning over the counter like that. How about you just grab an apron and make your fucking drink.” the girl continued her monologue in a language Bakugou realized she was using because she knew no one understood it.

Well no one but him.

Letting out a soft chuckled and the young woman jumped slightly glancing over at him as if just realizing he was standing next to her. That was when he realized who she was. The girl from the insurance meeting.

“Oh shit sorry!” she said in English and then switched quickly “I’m sorry, please forgive me.”

“She’s insufferable,” he responded shrugging letting her know that he wasn’t offended.

“ Welcome to America, we take our Starbucks more seriously than our human decency.” the girl said, rolling her eyes a small smile playing on her lips showing she was joking. Sort of.

Bakugou smirked, he had never met a woman like her before. Normally the girls he was around were sweet and polite. If they had been caught speaking like that they would have been falling over themselves to act like they were sweet innocent women. Yet this girl just owned her attitude speaking her mind without any hint of reservation. He wasn’t sure if it was an American or her thing. What had she said her name was?

“Grape?”

“That’s me! Oh, this looks amazing thank you so much!” the girl said very loudly while taking the drink, “You guys are the best here!” she added glancing at the woman as she punctuating her ‘best’. The woman didn’t respond, instead just taking her large whipped drink sipping it angrily. Winking at Bakugou the young woman waved goodbye. “Until we meet again Mr. Bakugou.” she added before disappearing down the hall toward the elevators. Bakugou watched her go.

She knew his name but he had a very strong feeling Grape was not hers.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Bakugou had showered, dressed, and been ready for 10 mins before Olive walked out in a cute blue dress, a denim jacket and the sneakers he had suggested. Bakugou instantly recognized the soft silver necklace she was wearing as one he had gotten her when she had first come to Japan as a welcome gift. The sight of it hanging from her neck laying just above the slightly deep V neck to the dress made his stomach drop as he stood talking a step toward her nodding.

“I cheated,” she blushed slightly shoving her hands into the pockets of the dress, “I looked at photos of outfits I had already worn.” Her playfulness reminded him so much of the old Olive that Bakugou had the urge to kiss her. The soft pink lipstick was so inviting. It took all his will power to pull away.

“Let’s go,” he said walking toward the door. At the sight of his owners dressed and walking toward the door, Dolemite let out a pitiful cry running toward them. “NO” Bakugo snapped at the fluffy cat pushing him away with his foot. “You are not coming.”

“Awww baby,” Olive cooed watching as Bakugou quickly pushed her out of the door while keeping the cat a bay. Once the door was closed she giggled looking up at her husband, “You’ve had some practice with that.”

“Yeah well, that shitty kitty never leaves your side.”

“I’m his Queen Bee.”

“Yeah basically.”

“Wait, you’ve have seen Dolemite? Oh god, did I show you that?” she asked her eyes getting side.

“Yes.” was his simple response.

“What else have I showed you?” she asked, glancing at him as they made their way out of the skyrise apartment complex.

“A lot. Not all good.”

This made Olive burst out laughing, “Did I make you watch Samurai Cop?”

“Yes”

“Miami connection?”

“Yes”

“Hard Ticket to Hawaii?”

“No.”

“Oh man I have failed as a wife,” she said, shaking her head sadly.

“You said I wouldn’t like it.” was his response glancing down at her as she looked around the city curiously.

“Past me was probably right. But it does have a snake in the toilet and belly button sex”

“I’ve heard.” she had told him all about the plot once over a bottle of wine during one of their early skype dates when she was still in the US. Acting out scenes, forgetting moments only to come back to them. He had just sat there no idea how to respond to this rendition but unable to really do anything about it except question his choice in women.

Olive giggled slightly and for a moment Bakugou saw it. Saw the old Olive. The one who would say something he only half understood only to have her laughing her head off. Or to see her dancing like a crazy person in the hallway to the music she could only hear in her headphones. She did silly things as if her life depended on seeing him smile. And that look she would get when he cracked a smile, it was one of his favorites.

“I’ve been to Japan before…” the words died before they even started as Olive realized what she was saying. Of course, she had been here before. She lived here.

“About two years before we met.” He said quickly knowing what she had wanted to say was a year before Eliott died but beating her to it. He was determined. Watching her laugh and joke again. He was going to get her back. He was going to become number one in her life again.

“Yes,”

“I should practice my Japanese” Olive shifted the conversation quickly.

“Yeah you should, I can’t always be around to help you with that.”

“ Hello, I’m Olive.”

“What food do you want?” he asked, trying to keep the questions simple unsure where her level was.

“Whatever you're having,” she said, looking up at him smiling. Faltering a bit but she quickly continued tiring a few other simple statements and questions him responding to them. When she didn’t know a word she would say it in English and he gave her the translation helping her use the right pronunciation.

“ Ramen !” she squealed as they walked into the place. “I’m in love with ramen!”

“I love ramen.” Bakugou corrected. You’re in love with me.

“I love ramen” she corrected herself. The owner waved at them telling them to go to their usual spot. As they sat down and the waiter came up excited to see her regulars and ask Olive about her latest book. Bakugou quickly told her that Olive wasn’t feeling good and didn’t want to talk tonight. The Waitress, while looking hurt, nodded taking his order before dashing off.

“What did you say to her?” Olive asked, leaning forward confused, “she looked upset.”

“She wanted to know about your latest book.”

“My what?”

“Your book.”

“I too would like to know what my latest book is about,” Olive said with her eyes wide, “Am I writing full time? I guess I’m not doing insurance anymore.”

“Yeah you quit when I proposed, you were making enough money off books anyway.” Bakugou shrugged, “I think you only did the insurance to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, I remember I was going to quit right before…” she paused biting her lip.

“You can say his name you know, '' Bakugou said, not making eye contact with her as he looked over a menu he knew by heart. “It’s not like I don’t know you were married before us.”

“It’s just awkward.”

“Get over it.”

Instead of getting offended, she chuckled at that nodding, “Ok fine I will, grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy, it’s just annoying that you are tiptoeing around me like I’m some fragile person.”

“True, you did blow up half a mall,” she remarked picking up her chopsticks rolling them in her fingers.

“That was the gunman, I saved a bunch of people. I’m a hero, remember.”

She nodded looking away for a moment taking in the restaurant, “We come here a lot don’t we.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, the food's ok but you are obsessed with the Gyozo and their soy sauce.”

“Well if you hate it so much we don’t have to come,” she said playfully. He rolled his eyes at her dramatics. She always did that when he made fun of her for making him do stuff.

“I don’t hate it, there are just better places.”

“So, I write…” she said changing the subject, “and you're the number one hero.”

“In the world.”

“Wait really?”

“What is that supposed to mean? Why do you look so shocked!?!”

“I’m not shocked you are number one,” Olive said flushing slightly, “I’m actually shocked… you married me.”

“I wasn’t number one when we met.”

“Oh you were number 0.” she nodded knowingly as if there was only number 1 or number 0.

“NO!” he said flushing slightly with annoyance. The journey to number one had been long and hard and Olive had been such a big part of it that he was annoyed she didn’t remember any of it. “There is no such thing as a 0”

That made her laugh, loud and hard, “I know that!” she said tears spilling from her eyes as she literally cried with laughter. Bakugou just watched her totally perplexed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to laugh like that. But after the few days they had, it felt like years. Although she was more laughing at him than with him and he wasn’t sure how to react.

“Well I don’t know how much you remember.” he shot back. Honestly, he had no idea why he had even said that. So caught up in their conversation he hadn’t been thinking. And now he just wanted to push the conversation away from poking fun at him.

“True true,” she said, wiping away a few tears. “Man so Clare wasn’t joking about you being Christian Slater.”

“I don’t know why she keeps calling me that,” Bakugou said as the food was delivered to them. Grabbing some hot sauce he quickly added more spice to his food. Olive slowly dipped her spoon into the bowl taking a sip

“You kind of look like him,” she remarked pulling her brows together in a frown, “in the eyes.” she sighed as the warm flavor hit her taste buds. Katsuki was wrong, this was the best food she had ever had. “But I meant more like celebrity status. Although number 1 is more like being married to Brad Pitt or something.”

“Whatever, don’t get all star-struck over it,” he said, taking a bite of his noodles.

“I’ll try number 1”

The conversation lulled as they ate. Besides the ramen Bakugou let Olive eat most of the Gyoza. In return, she told him how he was wrong for hating on the ramen since it was a gift from the gods above.

“I don’t hate it! I just said that it’s not as good as other places.”

After eating their full and then some they made their way back to their apartment. For a moment Bakugou forgot about what had happened as they walked in blissful content. A comfortable silence stretching across them. Glancing over at his wife he couldn't’ help but admire how beautiful she was. Her dark hair was half pulled up so that the rainbow colors were promptly shown. The multi colors falling over her shoulders of her jean jacket that was covered in band patches from concerts that she had gone too. A few they had even attended together.

Absentmindedly he brushed his fingers over the one of Baby Metal. Olive had begged him for a month to take her. It wasn’t until she threatened to go with Kirishima instead that he finally screamed that she was HIS girlfriend and that shitty hair could go screw himself.

Kirishima had still ended up coming like he did for most of their dates and Olive had even been his wingman hooking him up with some cute girl who had been visiting from China.

“Everyone is getting some tonight!” she had sang in the Uber ride home as she watched Kirishima walk down the street with his arm slung over the girl’s shoulder.

“Oh really?” Bakugou had said leaning forward, kissing her glad to finally have her alone and all to himself.

“Yes,” she had said trying to get closer but being stopped by her seatbelt.

“Well just wait until we get back,” he said his voice low as his fingers ghosted over her thigh. A rush of excitement running through him as he noticed the trail of goosebumps that followed his touch. He loved being able to do that to her body. Get those reactions out of her.

He did that, only him. Just him.

She was all his.

“We’re here,” her voice broke through his thoughts and he stood there looking at the door like it was some sort of death sentence. He wanted to go back to the street. Where they were getting along. Where she wasn’t crying over someone else.

Where she was his again.

Slowly he opened the door letting her in. Dolemite running toward them crying his annoyance at them for leaving him all alone. He could have died without them there. How could they?

“Tst” Bakugou sighed, rolling his eyes as Olive cooed, stroking the cat. Standing up she turned to him with a wide smile on her face. Her real smile, the beautiful one.

“ I had fun, ” she said slowly forming the words as she spoke, “ Thank you Katsuki. ”

“Say it again,” he said, taking a step closer. “Say my name again,”

“Katsuki?” Olive took a slight step back as he stood over her. His warmth sent filling her senses as he looked down at her. Her heart was racing, not from fear, but not really lust either. Something strange and in the middle. As if her body was at war with her mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the moment letting out a soft sigh. Then the spell was broken as he looked down at her. Her wide eyes looking up at him so unsure.

So foreign.

Kissing her forehead he pulled away, his body still only inches from hers “You’re welcome” he said his voice was so soft and warm it made her heart melt like hot lava flowing down her chest into her stomach. Olive was surprised at how she felt by a simple touch.

Her mind may have forgotten him but her body hadn’t.

-GET TAGGED!-

Master List

Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm

#bakugou katsuki x oc #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x oc #Bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki long fic #BNha fanfic #bnha x oc #bnha fluff #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugou katsuki angst #my writing #bnha long fic

8 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 5 years

Text

1 & 20 Years Paying the Bitch Back

Buckle up. It’s a long ride with a pleasant finish.

Some time back I was hired to a company by a CEO I had previously worked for someplace else. He was a good friend so when his newest company wasn’t achieving sales, he headhunted me to join the new one.

The company hadn’t made a sale in two years. Year one the software product was in beta so it wasn’t ready to be sold. Year two they realized using the tech staff to make high end sales to C-level executives was the shittiest sales model one could conceptualize. In general, and there are exceptions of course, these two personality styles don’t speak the same language. Tech people talk tech. Buyers talk benefits and how the potential product fills needs. I bridge the gap well by translating tech-speak into natural conversational language so buyers better understand how their needs will be filled.

The job was an hour and a half drive one-way from my home so the CEO said I could work from home as long as I kept the sales management tool current (it’s where you keep the notes of each prospect’s status), came to important meetings and made sure the executive team had daily sales reports.

The first month I made the daily 3 hour commute because I needed to have solid, constant interaction with all the departments to rapidly form my sales strategy and develop a two-way confidence level with the section heads.

Once I had a handle on things, I was ready to launch my sales plan. In the meantime, the CEO hired a VP of Sales (bitchboss) who started 4 days before I hit the ground running to get in front of buyers.

She was a VP coming from the banking industry and had a long career in sales and marketing in finance products. I hated her from the moment she arrived. She knew fuck all about tech and I spent huge time trying to orient her which wasn’t ideal because I needed to work on my sales strategy. They brought her onboard because she had strong experience gaining financial investors.

Nevertheless, I forged ahead. Traveled to a target state and spent 19 days criss crossing it. When I came back I had 17 contracts from buyers totaling about $2M in sales. My CEO was overjoyed.

Fast forward six months and now working from home, I’m rocking and rolling. Sales are strong. CEO is happy. Good things are happening.

Bitchboss has landed an investor willing to drop $6M into the company, and they are coming into town for a discovery meeting. She asks me to drive up because they specifically want to meet the salesperson. Seconds before walking in the door for the big meeting, bitchboss pulls me aside and says she needs me to back her up on lie she has told them. Basically she doubled my sales numbers. I told her there was no way I was going to do that. She says the CEO has okayed the lie.

We get to the part in the talk where the investor is looking over my inflated sales numbers on the prospectus, then directly asks me how many sales I’m making a month. Bitchboss is behind him waving her arms but I was having none of it and answered truthfully. He looks askance staring at the document which has the false number listed, while she’s giving me the stink eye behind him.

No one says a word. Dead silence.

I ask to see the document and fates have aligned allowing me to solve the dilemma. I explain the first two numbers were transposed (they correlated well to my real sales versus inflated sales if you flip-flopped the first two digits.) Potential investor is satisfied and we move on.

Switch gears. About a week later I was meeting with the CIO in his office and he referred to my “big tits.” I’m no shrinking violet but it stunned me because it was so unexpected.

That night I was chatting with my BFF who happens to be a lawyer and told him about it in casual conversation. He said I should tell the CEO so he can address it. Thinking along smart business practices, I decide to tell bitchboss to whom I directly report as proper protocol since we don’t have a HR dept yet. Side note-I also reported directly to CIO as a boss since my role was a muddy mix of sales and tech.

The next day CEO calls me and I take him through it telling him it’s no big deal but to make sure he talked to CIO so it didn’t happen again. He says he’ll do it right away.

Two days later I check in with him and CEO still hadn’t talked to CIO because the investors were in town. I gently push him to get it done and casually mention my best friend who happened to be a lawyer was the one who urged me tell him because “any good CEO would want to know about it.” I reiterate I’m not mad or upset.

The only word he heard was “lawyer.”

He went apeshit that I was bringing a lawyer into the mix. Now this guy was my good friend. We’d worked together at two companies for years. I calmed him down (or so I thought,) explaining that I only wanted him to talk to CIO. I also told him I HADN’T brought a lawyer into it, that I had been innocently chatting with BFF who just happens to be a criminal defense attorney. He seemed okay and we hung up.

The next day I’m working as usual and I get a call from an attorney who explains the company has hired her regarding my sexual harassment claim. I’m flummoxed and adamantly told her that was not the case, that I had no claim against the company. She said otherwise.

And that’s when everything changed. Dramatically.

CEO was furious with me for bringing this on when investors were looking at us. His reaction set the tone which filtered down. The company began to retaliate against me. Bitchboss now made it her mission to make my life hell: “forgetting” to tell me about important meetings I was supposed to attend, freezing me out when I was in the office, telling me I could no longer even speak to CIO (a problem since I’m selling a multi-million dollar tech product needing his input AND I directly reported to him as my other boss), denying me a long planned, approved vacation, basically anything she could devise to screw me over-she was gleefully working it.

Coinciding with this was a serious health problem I developed ultimately requiring surgery. My illness had no impact on my work as I was able to work from home which made things easier on me health wise. Bitchboss then decided that I need to come to the office every day despite a 3 hour round trip commute.

Now I know you’re thinking why didn’t I just leave, get another job somewhere else...

I needed the health insurance. There was no way to turn around another job fast enough and I had a complex surgery scheduled requiring 3 surgeons for my procedure.

My doctor gave me a note for them which released me from having to make the daily commute so I could continue to work at home. As long as my work didn’t suffer, they legally couldn’t force me to commute especially since working from home was a part of my employment contract from the outset.

The night before my surgery, bitchboss calls to tell me they’ve cancelled my health insurance. After hanging up with bitchboss I collapsed on the floor in a faint. I was so, so, so sick, and mentally exhausted from all the stress.

The next morning the CEO frantically calls asking to talk to me. My mom refuses to let him. I’m on official leave as of that morning and we’re heading to the hospital. CEO had told their lawyer about canceling my health insurance and she chewed him a new asshole telling him it was illegal. They immediately reinstated my insurance.

In the two weeks I was out, my mom had found a lawyer for me as it was clear shenanigans were going on. I still needed them as an employer because I was in no shape to rigorously job hunt while recovering.

Turns out all the bullshit they were doing to me is illegal. Companies aren’t allowed to retaliate against employees when they report nefarious acts against them.

I met with my new lawyer who said I had an excellent claim for retaliation and took me on. He said I had to continue working there while he did his thing to stay within protocol while he filed the EEOC claim.

Now it’s time for me to return to work. The company had relocated (planned) during my absence and bitchboss refused to tell me where so I couldn’t come back to work. Company lawyer told them they HAD to tell me so bitchboss gives me wrong directions making me late on day one.

I walk in the new office and it looks like any other place except for one thing. There is a wide open area directly in front of the CEO’s glass office with a single desk in the middle of it. Welcome to my new desk.

Also, I wasn’t allowed to do sales anymore. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to do anything, at all, period.

They had hired a bunch of new people to the company and they treated me like a pariah. Turns out bitchboss had gone to them telling a pack of lies and if they know what’s good for them they’ll stay away.

Since I had nothing to do but couldn’t just sit there looking like a dope, I worked on documenting everything being done to me per my lawyer’s advice. I was meticulous in my note taking.

Bitchboss began writing me up. Stupid stuff like not answering my phone on the first ring and for asking questions during company wide meetings, asking to see my personnel file which employees are legally entitled to do although not entitled to photocopy any of it.

Each time she wrote me up, I had to sign the write up. There was a space for me to reply to it so I consistently wrote, “I do not agree with this assessment.” It infuriated her so much, she wrote me up again for writing the statement that I didn’t agree with it.

There were several instances where she called me into her office and literally began screaming at me loudly and enthusiastically. I wouldn’t engage though; my standard answer to everything was OK which made her apoplectic. At one point, she’s inches from my face screaming, her face beet red and I just sat there with a dreamy expression whilst envisioning her blowing a vein in her head stroking out. I infuriated her with my equanimity.

Still and all, I was in it to win it at this point. It didn’t matter what new humiliation they dished out. I took it all with a bland face, then went to my desk and documented it in my notebook.

She loathed my notebook, sure that I was doing exactly what I was doing. Documenting. Because it was my personal property though, she couldn’t take it from me. I had to carry all my belongings with me everywhere (company wide meetings, the bathroom, lunch) because I caught her one time going through my desk drawer....in my fucking purse!!!!! (Although it gave me great joy to write a note reading “fuck you” which I left in my backpack and jerry rigging it so I could tell if she went into it...which she did.)

I withstood it all with a brave face only breaking down once I left for the day. My attorney took a lot of sobbing phone calls during this period.

Finally the day comes that my attorney has what he needs and I can resign, better still, he advises I don’t have to give a two week notice. I come back from lunch and type up my letter with one sentence, “I resign immediately.” I take it into the HR guy (who also took part in their evil machinations) and hand it to him. His mouth forms an O shape and he half stands up from his chair as he reads it. He looks up and I give him a smile and say bye bye just as sweet as pie, walked out the door and drove home feeling mighty fine.

One month later, my lawyer and I are at the EEOC office along with the CEO, bitchboss and their lawyer so the EEOC can review my claim.

In my state, you can’t just bring a lawsuit against a company for things like harassment and retaliation. Claims must first be evaluated by the EEOC, and then if they determine you have enough grounds to file a lawsuit, they issue a Right to Sue document.

My lawyer presented my case logically and forthright detailing all the evidence. It took him 40 minutes to go through it all. Then they presented their side with allegations of my poor employment along with their “evidence” which were all the copious write ups bitchboss had written. EEOC asks about the timeline of the write ups inquiring if they before or after my claim occurred. Bitchboss wearing a smug self-satisfied smile states they were all prior to my claim as noted by the dates on each document.

EEOC Lady looks at my lawyer. My lawyer looks at me. I look at bitchboss then serenely pull out MY photocopies of the documents. Whilst handing them to EEOC lady, bitchboss barks “she’s not supposed to have those, they’re company property.” I show EEOC lady that the dates have clearly been altered by Bitchboss. (She had made copies with the dates blanked out then backdated them.)

You see whenever she wrote me up, I had to take the document personally to the CEO to put in my personnel file. Along the way though, I stopped at the copier and took copies. She never knew I was doing this.

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

EEOC Lady reviews the copies then slowly sets them on the table. She didn’t say a thing for a long time, then she spoke. I can remember her words exactly to this day.

“I’ve seen a lot of ill treatment and illegal undertakings by both employees and employers, including forged or altered documents, but I have never see someone so incredibly stupid to present documents this easily disproved. Not only are employees entitled to receive and keep a copy of formal write ups but reading these ridiculous allegations, it’s obvious you are trying to manufacture your case.”

She went on to say I had a clear case for a lawsuit, and moreover I would win it. She recommended their side go in another room and determine a settlement amount to pay me immediately or risk the lawsuit.

They went to a nearby office and I could hear the lawyer dressing them down. Words I heard included “lied to me” “lied to EEOC” “presenting false documents” “broke so many laws” “figure out a number big enough to pay her so this doesn’t go to court because you will lose.”

They came back with a $50k offer which we accepted. My lawyer and I left then did a football touchdown dance in the parking lot. Looking up at the EEOC window, I could see bitchboss in the window looking miserable and crying.

She had just been fired.

That was my year 1 revenge.

I’m not a hateful person. I get mad and get over it. But... for bitchboss, I nurtured hatred and vowed to one day get revenge, so I kept tabs on her, and discovered she opened a finance marketing company after she was fired. Then I waited a year before exacting my petty delight.

For the past 18 years, I’ve executed a wonderful, soul-refreshing project. Each year I go to her website and write down all the work email addresses and phone numbers for the employees. Then I subscribe them all to “get more information” from places like online schools, online insurance companies-all those bullshit aggressive organizations that keep your contact information longer than a gypsy fucking curse while trying to sell you stuff.

The last few years, I’ve subscribed them to an email bomb service where the service takes the address and instantly subscribes it to 1000s of newsletters, request for more information feeds and other online buyers of email addresses for marketing services. I tested it with a burner email and it wreaks havoc on your inbox with thousands of emails received within seconds, and they never.... fucking... stop....

You literally have to close down the email because it can’t be salvaged. Each year when I go to collect the contact information, all the emails have been changed to new ones.

Last year my cousin took a job in the same building. I enlisted her help and she made it a point to befriend a receptionist working for bitchboss. After executing my yearly plan, my cousin went to lunch with her. The receptionist was in a foul mood and explained the entire organization was in disarray because IT had to redo all the emails again. “It keeps happening over and over and nobody can figure out why.”

She said the owner (bitchboss) has had to get her cell phone number replaced 3 times because of all the texts and phone calls she gets whenever it happens again. (sometimes bitchboss would have her phone number on the website which I duly subscribed to everything under the sun.)

The best part for me was hearing how she lost a mega client because they felt the company was in too much turmoil so often.

The thought of this keeps me warm and cozy at night, and I sleep so very, very well.

(source) story by (/u/digitalgirlie)

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

547 notes · View notes

newwayastrology · 5 years

Photo

AN ACTUAL CONSULTATION EXAMPLE I get requests sometimes for the cliet to tape the consultation. I usually tell them that there will be no need for a tape because they will remember the one or two main points shown in the horoscope. In this case, the client said that she was going to take my Course and that listening to her own consultation might be of benefit later on down the line. She taped it and then wrote it out for me to use for instruction. This is it below: The first thing I always do is look for a hemisphere emphasis. The hemisphere emphasis is like the introduction to a book. It gets you in the ballpark of what to expect. Everything in a chart is within the context of the hemisphere emphasis. Here, it is northern and that immediately introduces a parental concern. Seeing that there is a parental concern, you look for corroboration and that is easy to see with the 4th House activity and the close square between the Sun and Moon, which is always an indication of parents who were not on the same page during conception, around the time of birth, or just in general. All parental rulers are involved in tension so there’s little doubt here that there was a substantive parental concern to discuss in this consultation. Whenever there is a parental concern, there is a psychological pattern that follows in real life that brings in self-esteem concerns, a delay in finding out just who one is in life (causes a lot of mistakes to be made; this is seen when the ruler of the Ascendant is involved in tension or is retrograde)) and it all usually spills out in relationships with people, especially personal relationships. This is psychiatry, real life expectations. The 2nd House (self-esteem) has obvious tension shown between the rulers of the 2nd House and 5th House, as well as the rulers of those Houses. What does that tell us? First, an explanation. In a Natural horoscope (has Aries on the Ascendant, Taurus on the 2ndm Gemini on the 3rd, etc), the 2nd House is always square to the 5th House. The 5th House is one’s sexual identity. It’s where we look to see if there are any challenges giving love. So, when there are planets involved that tie these Houses together, we expect that there is something about the way this woman feels about herself that causes a challenge of some kind when it comes to giving love. Let’s break it down with significator dynamics. The Moon is square the Sun and Saturn. This incorporates the 1st, 2nd, and 7th Houses – delay in identity realization, self-esteem, and relationships. We start to get the beginnings of a theme. The Jupiter-Pluto conjunction in the 2nd squares Venus. It refers to overdoing things, relationally and sexually. When Venus and Pluto are in hard aspect, there is usually a relational perspective that causes problems for the person because it is out of line with what’s possible in that person’s reality. The sexual identity is the 5th House. What happens to that identity during sex with someone else is shown through the 8th House. The 8th is ruled by Uranus and Uranus trines Venus and has no tension. So, this leads us to believe that she is just fine when she is having sex with someone else. The issue here is what she brings to the table when it comes to giving love. Mars squares the Ascendant, exactly……anger taken in from the early home. Mercury-Neptune in 4 equates to idealism/confusion in the home. Now, I check to see if there is anything at the Sun/Moon midpoint. There is nothing contacting it but it is at the Aries Point, which means a projection of ego and relational things that is worn on the sleeve for all to see. I also see Venus=Ura/ASC=Mars/Ura=Sun/Node. It’s all relational/sexual stuff. The Sun-Moon-ASC blend of Scorpio-Leo-Cancer suggests a deeply privately, controlling emotional life energy that is expressed through a personality that needs recognition and it is all expressed through an emotional security-seeking image. You’d expect a person with a strong sense of purpose with fixed emotions that easily dramatize sexual or sensational matters. Expectations of fulfillment from others is strong, especially when it comes to ego security and love needs. Notice the red marks in the aspect grid. They are quintiles. When there are multiple quintiles, creativity needs to be important, if nothing more than in a serious hobby. Quite often, it is a part of or focus on creativity in the job or career. One midpoint picture, Sun=Mer/Ven, is another indication of creativity. The period on the end of the sentence is Neptune conjunct Mercury. This is a decided, emphasized creativity…a strong focus of imagination. It also refers to confusion at home. Plu=Ven/Sat really, really emphasizes the relational/sexual control factors shown in the chart. Then, on the other hand, there is Mars=Ven/Plu, a very sexual midpoint. And, Ven=URA/Mc=Mars/ASC. I have three concerns to address with her: parents, self-esteem, relationships/sex. THE CONSULTATION Me: Thanks for being exactly on time. Even though this is Skype, it is good to meet you. We are going to have a great discussion today. Her: I am excited. My goodness, what a sexy voice you have. I would be standing over your shoulder if we were married. (laughs). I know how these women are out here. (That statement from her immediately told me that her issues relationally are because she is controlling and she is controlling because she is insecure. She is insecure because the relationship model she got from home through her parents is dysfunctional). Me: Thank you. I have received voice compliments my entire life but you didn’t pay me to talk about my voice so let’s get to you. In a nutshell, the central energy of this horoscope is probing, passionate, deeply emotional and needs to have control by knowing everything. This basic energy is expressed through a personality that needs recognition and ego security. All of this is expressed to others who don’t know you very well through an emotional, nurturing image. In a nutshell, this horoscope suggests that you come from a parental situation that wasn’t necessarily fulfilling and functional. From this, you absorbed feelings that created self-esteem concerns that affect your life intensely when it comes to relationships and sex. As well, there is anger absorbed from the parental situation that probably caused you to make a lot of errors in life before you finally understood who you are. Let’s begin with you telling me about your parents. Her: They fought all the time and I mean physically. I have seen them hit each other a million times and they’ve been married 25 years! Me: What do you think you took from their relationship? Her: I’m a real bitch. I was married and divorced three times by the time I was 21 years old. I don’t take no shit. (Rulers of the 1st and 7th in conflict) Me: Your libido is strong or does it suffer from all this anger you’ve absorbed and make things difficult when it comes to being intimate? Her: My libido is overwhelming. I have been to Sexaholics Anonymous for it. There was a time when I couldn’t even wipe myself after a pee without masturbating. It’s nothing for me to come a dozen times a day masturbating. And, during sex, hell, a kiss on the neck makes me cum. I am very multi-orgasmic, even explosive. I squirt like a urination. Me: So, then, would you say that you are controlling, sexually speaking? (Saturn means being controlled or being controlling.) Her: Unfortunately, yes. There was one time when I had a real bad day at work. My boyfriend had a root canal that day. When I got home, he was just trying to deal with the beginnings of pain but I needed to get laid. I didn’t at all care about his feelings. I want what I want when I want it. I guess I am controlling, huh? I knew I was wrong. His jaw was swollen and everything but I needed to cum and that’s all I cared about. Me: It’s good that you understand that you were wrong in retrospect. The idea is to be thoughtful BEFORE an act, not afterwards. Tell me about the importance of creativity in your life. Please, at least say you have a creative hobby. And, oh yea, what did that guy do? Her: By the time I got done giving him head, he forgot about his pain and did me. When I came in from work the next day, he was gone and had taken all of his stuff. Creativity? I manage a clothing design company. I approve or reject all designs and I am responsible for the prudent use of an 8-figure budget. Even at home with sex, I am very creative. I like to play games. I like to find ways to bring a man almost to “that point” and then stop and go watch TV or something. Then, I’ll get him again and stop. I start this on Friday night and do it again on Sunday. By the time Sunday comes, he is about to lose his mind. Creativity underscores everything I do. You are good and your wife is lucky. All you’d have to do is talk to me and I would climax. Me: You are a mess. What a flirt but ya know, that is what you do to try and control the room. It rescues your fragile sense of self-esteem but no matter how many sexual conquests you have, you still aren’t comfortable looking in the mirror, right? Her: Like I said, you are good. Sex rescues me. I suck at relationships but I am a champion with sex. Me: Have you ever considered therapy to address these buried feelings of anger, the fractured self-esteem and the rest? Her: Really? Do you think it will help? Me: Absolutely. There are some things in the depth of you that you need to address and understand so that you can be more productive, relationally-speaking. Plus, the pain. You have a confident personality but we both know that you are as soft as water. All you did was teach yourself some behaviors that hide the pain. You don’t want anyone to know how very vulnerable you are to suggestions that offer emotional security. The perfect situation for you is having a great family that is very secure with a husband who treats you like a queen. Her: You are trying to make me cry, right? Me: No, you are trying to prevent yourself from showing real emotion. You’ll show sexual emotions because you control those scenarios but when sex is removed, you become an actress because your model for relationships is based on terminally feuding parents. You’ve got to be comfortable with who you are and understand that you were a victim in the traffic pattern of your parents. They didn’t fight because of you. They had issues before you were born. Did either of them have a great upbringing? Her: You are scary. No, neither one of my parents had both parents. You just went to my soul. I feel naked. Well, look…..is there anything major showing for the rest of this year? Me: Not at all. But don’t let that get in the way of therapy. Her: Okay. I am embarrassed about the flirting with you but really, your voice is heavenly. I know I am not the first woman to say it. It’s just the truth. You can’t possibly have any more to talk about with my chart. If you do, too bad. Nothing else is important. I’m going to seek out someone to talk to professionally. I don’t want to continue this way just being a nice piece of ass for men. I want something meaningful. I don’t want to have to offer sex just to snuggle with someone on Christmas Eve, you know? Me: Let me know how the therapy goes. We covered the main theme of your horoscope. If you were with another astrologer, you might get a lot of information that isn’t really helpful. I go straight for the jugular. Most people have one or two major issues that, if cleared up, work wonders for fulfillment in life. Get that therapy, okay? Her: I will. One last thing…..tonight, thinking about your voice is…. ME:…..JUST STOP. You are insane. See ya. Her: (laughing) Okay. Bye.

2 notes · View notes

eastendeagle-blog · 5 years

Text

MARCH

I knew I had to run at that point. I have been in a lot of thrilling situations in my life, but it was never like this. The adrenalin rushing through my body, the level of tensity so incredibly high. Covered in sweat, blood, and pure evil in my mind. It was like I ended up in the most exciting scene of a horror film. I ran far away from the fire in the woods, and as I ran, underneath the green of the northern lights sky, I realized: this is the night I’ve been dreaming of all my life. It was something, I knew, I will not regret. I knew that ever since I can remember. This plan, it all worked out in the end. I felt so much relief and satisfaction, even a little bit of peace.

I had my side buddy, Jussu, coming to pick me up in his blue Audi, his headlights were dimmed. It was parked aside of the many empty roads, as it is at 4 in the morning in Finland. I got in the car and Jussu went full crazy on the gas. He was talking to me but I couldn’t hear a word. I finally did what I wanted to do. I think I ended up in trance. I couldn’t be there in reality. I remember thinking, I didn’t want to wash his blood of off my hands. Oh, this moment is so sacred. His blood is sacred, and I looked at my hands, it’s his blood on my hands made from his blood. I wanted his blood on my hands, my face, for so many years. I dreamt about it when I was a kid. As Jussu was talking to me, or trying to talk to me on our way to his hidden shack in the woods 15 miles from Kuusamo, my thoughts were so damn loud that his voice sounded like life on the bottom of the sea. My thoughts were controling everything. I was just thinking, that I just ended a never-ending chapter, but the kind of one that fucking ended. So many dreams I’ve had all my fucking life about doing what I just did to him, how my dream became reality. Finally. How much fun I had while I was doing it, how much I enjoyed making him suffer. It was his deepest karma, and he knew this day was coming because he raised the ‘Devil’s son’, like he always called me. Fuck, I’m just as sick as him, I realized now. But at least I have manners, my mother taught me that. Or what’s left of it. But I destroyed the man who destroyed me, my life, my will to live; the reason why I hate myself and the reason why I do drugs – the reason why I’ve tried to kill myself for so many times, but couldn’t do it because it made me feel like “I” was the loser in the fucking game, I couldn’t kill myself because my desire to have the ultimate revenge on him stopped me from throwing myself off of a building. And the many rooftop parties I’ve had in New York City, standing on top of the city, how every single time I was there thinking I should throw myself off the edge. But, I never did, because it would make my father win the game. While in the car with Jussu, I was still going insane. It’s not like you do this to a person every day. But it felt so good. I really needed this and I can’t understand why I’ve never done this before! So pathetic. If I could I would do it all over again, just to relive the moment of seeing his scared dying eyes, the empty look in his face when life hits death and his body runs cold. This was the best day of my fucking life. How I wonder, would my mother be proud of me or would she hate me now? She hated that man. He’s the reason why she killed herself. Do we get to discuss this one day, mother?

But this is also a beginning of a whole new (paranoid) chapter. It’s the first thing the very next morning that Jussu was trying to make me clear. I realized my mind was still not fully ‘there’, far away from recovery, as I was sitting on the couch feeling empty but yet still being ‘there’ in the moment of last night’s activities. But Jussu is a rude son of a bitch and just like many people having patience dealing with my absent schizo mind most of the time, Jussu didn’t have time for that at all. He slapped me in the face a million times to wake me up, screaming at me. For once, I was treated like a normal human being, equally, not the kind of being to be concerned about all the time. However, it kind of helped me to wake up a little. Just the way my father rolled, as he had no time for my mental instability, even though my father struggled with schizophrenia himself. So… I hope I can keep this in control, feeling mentally instable like this, there’s a possibility I could think Jussu actually IS my father. But please, don’t get too lost in my mind, I thought to myself. And so did Jussu say, as he yelled at me, “you’re gonna do exactly what I’m telling you, and one thing specially; DO NOT GET LOST IN YOUR HEAD”. Jussu is not the kind of man to fuck with, he’s been in this business for 20 years, a dangerous man with blood on his hands. I have to accept the lines of my new boss. He’s 53 years old, smells awfully, drinks and smokes a lot, looks like Santa Claus. He’s the kind of man you have to get to know better until he becomes nice to you. Sounds like a 53 -years old me. This man, he’s gonna make sure nobody finds out as long as I bring these supplies safely to England. In return I get some stacks to flee. He makes sure I will get away with the situation to continue my life. I have to trust him on that.

It’s one week later now and we have left the country awhile ago. We’ve been traveling from the north of Finland all the way to the south of Germany now. I will not recall the exact locations because I’m dealing with crazy paranoia these days. About that; it reminds me of how ill I am, in my mind, that in times like these schizophrenia is really trying to kill me. I struggle a lot, but I try to drown the darkness in my mind by drinking vodka all day. But honestly, this is what I get in return, I was aware of that even before the action. I knew I would become very paranoid, I always do when I do ‘such things’. I had to flee from The Netherlands back in 2012, for the same reason but not as dramatic as this time. I still haven’t gone back to that country, and I still live with a second identity – I got rid off the paranoia for just a bit since that time, I mean life keeps you busy, but it’s always there, and now I’m fleeing again the paranoia and voices hit me like a backlash, like a powerful storm. These days I’m reminded of how sick I am, although I have my tricks to ignore whatever it is that I hear in my mind, but it’s really fucking bad. My life is now separated in two sides; fleeing and trying to continue with my life, making sure that everything ends up fine, literally fighting for my freedom and my peace- but I am also feeling extremely down, suicidal you could say, because well, they keep screaming at me devastating words, scaring me by making me feel so paranoid, and it really puts me in a terrible mood. Sometimes I feel like crying or whatever. It’s that bad, and I truly mean that because usually I’m very detached and disconnected from my emotional side. But I gotta man-up for now, get through this misery like I did the last time I caused this kind of mayhem. Jussu will keep me distracted until he drops me off at the harbor in France. But we’re not there yet, it’s still a few days to go.

I just hope everything goes well for the upcoming time. I wouldn’t easily hurt a random person this bad, but this was my sweet revenge, I had to do it for myself, to feel emotionally free again, and I like to call it an act of self defense for my emotional progress. It was always him who haunted my mind, knowing he was still there trying to destroy me from a far distance. This is not the solution to kill my past traumas which he caused me, but he did not have the right to continue to live a life where he’s put the sickest marks on people without remorse, without a single ‘sorry’, a sorry for what he did to me and my mother, ..just until he was about to take his last breath, his wickedness reduced a bit and I could hear him whispering an excuse. I suppose it was too late. I finally had the power over him, and it was the sweetest feeling I’ve ever felt. Oh… how I would love to relive that night over and over again. I have no regrets at all, and I couldn’t feel more satisfied.

If I have to explain you why I feel no remorse about what I did to my father, it’s because I don’t see him as my father in the first place. Second, I lack empathy and I don’t even come close to feeling remorse or sorry to most people. But about my father, it’s because he never behaved like a father to me. I didn’t really have a father. He was just there, all the time, day and night, giving me and my mother nightmares. He was a demon in our house, and has been telling me that there’s a demon inside of him since I was little. He was viciously violent, aggressive, threatening and a danger to his surroundings. He threw knifes around the house, he attacked me or my mother out of the sudden without any warning. Sometimes I think of it as a miracle that I survived my youth with him. I don’t know what made him do what he did to us, it’s his aggressive nature, which is something I deal with, too, but he couldn’t stop. There were not periods where he was even a little bit nice to me, or trying to behave like a father should. He was a Satanist, which shouldn’t be a bad thing at all, but he was just very dramatic about it. He saw himself as a “God”, and he taught me to do the same. He was addicted to alcohol, cocaine and heroin, never sober, and he forced me to take these kind of drugs when I was a child (except heroin, that happened in my teens). But he did taught me how to prepare and inject heroin in his veins when I was 6 years old, and when my mother would interfere in the situation, he would beat her up right in front of me until she lies unconsciously on the ground. My father was not really a big guy, he always reminded me of a skinny Peter Steele type of man, the long black hair, the metal -look, the angry look in his eyes. And even though he was not really physically big, he was very strong once his anger was triggered; probably caused by a combination of adrenaline and cocaine. Whatever my mother and I did in situations like that, which happened almost every day, we couldn’t fight him. We couldn’t stop him. My mother and I, we had no rights. We had to listen to my father, as we were his slaves. He raped us. He abused us. He stabbed me in the back when I was 17 years old when I was trying to escape from home during the night, as I was climbing out of my window, he stabbed me once in the back and I fell out of the window down on the ground – I’ve been in the hospital several times because of his acts. He always told me how he wanted to kill my mother, how he planned it all out, and after he killed her he would kill me. It was funny, because on the night I was with him a few weeks ago, to make him suffer, I looked around his house and saw papers full with a plan to kill me, papers and documents that went on for years. He never had the possibility to do so. But back in the old days, there was no chance for me and my mother, he tortured us for such a long time. I never wanted to take my friends to my home to hang out because I was ashamed of the whole situation, like my father saying crazy stuff, and the entire house covered with drug marks, sometimes blood on the walls because of all the abuse and what not. My father always said to me right before I left the house to go to school, that I should be home right after school to do heroin with him, and if I didn’t listen to him he would rape me. So, that’s how I got addicted to that stuff, but sometimes I couldn’t show up right after school, and I would receive the backlash during night. It was so fucking awful. It happened for years and years, over and over again. It made me sick. And I was dealing with crazy mental issues in my head, I went fully insane.

I’ve been dreaming about killing my father ever since I was a kid, because he was the demon in our house. I wrote songs about it, made paintings about it. All of my crazy fantasies lead to killing him. It started when he drowned my dog when I was a child, in the lake near our house in Finland. When I got home from school and I was looking for my dog everywhere around the house. Scooby, it was a miniature bull terrier, I got him for my birthday and it was the only thing that brought me happiness. Because my mother was always busy with my little brother Jesse, who was a baby back then, and I felt like she didn’t care about me anymore so Scooby became my best friend. And as I walked miles in the woods to find him, looked about 10 times in the shed, but only to find him lying dead in the lake, drowned, and my father was the one to blame for. He was standing right next on the land with that stupid smirk on his face that he always had whenever he did something evil. Something crazy. “That annoying bark is gone now, it’s gonna be you and me now”, I remember him saying. It was so fucking traumatic. It must have been one of my first childhood traumas. My father, he was a sadist, a sociopath, like a narcissist, a PSYCHOPATH, he liked to play with fire, with lives. He didn’t feel empathy, or emotion at all, just evilness and anger.

But just like my dog, he had been trying to drown me, too, while on a vacation to Finland when I was 15. He drugged me, I don’t know what he put in my drinks but it made me very dizzy. I don’t remember it clearly because I was out of this world, but I do remember him pushing my head under water in the lake, while he was screaming at me to die, he kept pushing me deeper and deeper under water, and eventually it was my uncle Anton who saved my life that time. He yelled at my father to quit that shit. And for some reason, my father doesn’t listen to anyone except for his own brothers. I don’t really remember what happened right after that. It’s not the first time he tried to kill me. During my teens, we lived in The Netherlands, where we had a dark basement where he did all his Satanic rituals, soul offering, prayers to the Devil, he dragged my mother and I into the whole Satanism thing. I consider myself a Satanist, but as a normal Satanist, I’m not an obsessed freak about it like my father was. While my mother was Jewish, it was especially her my father wanted to make her a Satanist and make her tell it to her family. The basement was very well isolated, you couldn’t hear a thing what was going downstairs in the basement when you were standing in the living room. My neighbors, they had no idea. They did know about my father, he was the notorious Satanist of the entire town, but they didn’t know what was really going on inside of the house. In that basement, he sexually abused me, at least once a week, as a punishment. I wasn’t a good person myself, and I refused to listen to him sometimes. He just wanted control over me and my mother with his stupid demands. I’m really trying to accept what happened, and for a greater part in my life I couldn’t talk about what happened in my past, but writing really helps. It’s just the sexual abuse part in my life that I still find very difficult to open up about. It pains me, still, even when I’m writing about it. And I still dream and see flashbacks about it very often that it completely paralyzes me to the bone. Whenever he dragged me down to the basement and started to rape me, to own me and control me, because that was his purpose, not because he was gay, it was so painful and as I was crying and screaming, he made it even worse. He yelled at me the kind of things, “I’m gonna rape ‘til death if you don’t shut your mouth”. He taped my mouth sometimes. It was very frightening because every time it happened I thought I was going to die, and sometimes, I just surrendered and let it happen, just wanting to die.

I’m in England now. I have arrived in Dover about 5 days ago. I still had the supplies with me, luckily, and everything went well. But what a terrible experience it was on the boat on my way to England. Fucking Hell. I went crazy. I was so scared the police were following me, and I constantly looked behind my back, I do so ever since I left Finland. I became so insanely paranoid to the point I became delusional when I literally saw a police man running up to me with a gun in his hand, screaming at me, I just fainted. It just went black for my eyes, I realized the voices stopped whispering, too. I woke up with a middle aged woman by my side, a British woman. She told me that I fainted and fell down on the ground, she was thinking I might be seasick so she offered me aspirin and I was all confused. I had no idea what I was saying but it was not properly English, or Finnish, I couldn’t get my speech in order. She found out that I was mentally confused and I had to spend the rest of my boat trip at the doctor where I refused to speak because I was dealing with illegality and crazy mental issues at the time. I didn’t want people around me at all.

I was happy to leave the boat where my friend Jaimy was there to pick me up. I know Jaimy from the same business but I met him in high school back in The Netherlands. We haven’t seen each other in years. We were in a fight because we both did something to a certain person, and I had to flee and so did he, and he refused to talk to me so I got pissed at him. I was not happy when he contacted me again after so many years, after everything that happened. But I had to go somewhere, and since he has a place in London now and takes part of the same business I ended up in now, he is the safest person to be with now. He picked me up at Dover harbor, as he was all excited to see me and acted all cool around me, I went really quiet. I wanted to talk but I still had to deal with the voices in my head that made my mind a chaos which causes me to speak pretty much disorganized and everything, it wouldn’t make any sense. I remember thinking, it’s better to keep my mouth shut. I heard 3 voices at the same time, 2 alien figures and Jaimy talking, in Dutch as well which made it even more confusing, so I just had to open the window and have some fresh air. I heard Jaimy saying, “dude, are you okay?” I saved all my energy to make my speech work as I turned to him and said, “no offense but can you shut your mouth for one second?” I really felt sick in my mind. He kept his mouth shut for the next hour until we arrived at his place. We went inside and he offered me some booze. Hell yeah, did I need that shit. Alcohol makes me function properly, and I’m glad Jaimy still remembered. After a few drinks I started to talk more, voices were still there but I could concentrate on my own words again. Jaimy noticed how I’ve went through stuff the past few weeks, it’s something you can easily notice - I lose weight, I have this scared, paranoid look in my eyes with a layer of bags underneath my eyes, I become twice as pale as usual. And especially my behavior tells everything. “I’m going to fix you, mate” he told me. He offered me some more booze. It was a good night.

The third day in London, I became very stressed and paranoid about everything again. I woke up during the night, suddenly, thinking

This shit doesn’t feel right. Why Jaimy of all the people? He must have something to do with this all. He has not spoken to me in years and out of nowhere he comes back in my life. Maybe he’s with the cops, maybe he’s my rivalry.

I tried to go back to sleep but these thoughts kept me wide awake. It became even worse.

What if he is trying to kill me? Maybe Jussu is my rivalry too, maybe every single person I spoke along the way is against me and trying to kill me. Fucking Hell, I need to get out of here before they have their revenge.

I got out of bed and was looking around the house for weapons that Jaimy might have hidden for me. I went to get a knife to defend myself, as I was walking to Jaimy sleeping in his bed. I woke him up and he jumped. “Calm down, man”, he said. I told him about the realization I just had. Thinking this is just an odd and suspicious situation. He tried to talk me out of it and I no longer had the knife in my hand. But in return, I wanted to look through his phone to see if he didn’t have any deals with people from the business about trying to kill me. He told me to just relax and go back to sleep. As I replied that maybe he should just listen to me now, in situations like these. That if he will not listen to what I demand, I’m going to be in the mood to kill him anyway. I need proof. So, I got his phone and went searching for an hour. All I found out was how many bitches Jaimy has and that he’s addicted to gambling games. A few texts with people from the business but he never mentioned my name. Sure, I apologized.

Situations like these happened for another few times but Jaimy fixed Xanax for me to help my anxiety go away, my paranoia for just a bit. I still hear voices but when I’m on Xanax they don’t really get to me. The fourth day in England I finished the deal, as I got stacks in return. It was a scary moment but yet very exciting, and I realized how much I missed the thrill of being in this business. At least I have some money with me now, but not enough to rent an apartment in New York City or Los Angeles- I suppose only for six months or so. But I need to continue to be part of this business for a while, to make some more stacks. I’m familiar with some of the people here. I know I can really get into this stuff again. In a way, I’m just like my father but with the unnecessary violence. I do like violence, but only to those who deserve it, who damage me and betray me. But now I have shaken him off my back, I feel like not only my life is going to change ; I feel myself slightly change. But I’m always changing, always going places. Eventually, I got rid off the biggest bug in my life, my father. That’s all that matters to me now.

0 notes

dracimalfoy1988292 · 3 years

Text

(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 40: ᴀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ)

Truthfully, Valentine should've told her parents of her and James' relationship long before she had actually done so. She knew they'd be supportive; at least her mum would be. She was just scared of how they'd react, especially her father. Even though him and Valentine's mum had begun dating a few years older than Valentine currently was, she knew Thomas certainly would not enjoy the idea of his 'babygirl' dating a boy.4

So, she was dreading receiving mail tomorrow. She loved reading letters from her parents, just not this one in particular. Valentine was only grateful her parents didn't know what a howler was, or she'd be in for a treat.

Macey, however, was excited. She and Thomas got along great; they were both stubborn, oddly protective, annoying if they needed to be, and they thought they were the funniest person on the planet. Whenever Macey visited over the holidays, she often spent more time with Valentine's father then with her.2

So, Macey was looking forward to seeing Thomas' response to finding out his only daughter was in a relationship. Not only a relationship, but a relationship where they're at a school that often has no supervision, therefore Valentine and James really had the freedom to do anything, if you catch her drift.

"Merlin, he'll put bars on my windows," Valentine stressed, dragging her palms down her cheeks dramatically. "He'll restrict me from leaving my room. You know what- he'll probably install a little window in my door, and when I'm hungry, he'll slide a plate through that! Or he'll make pancakes and slip them beneath the door.... probably pancakes, he isn't smart enough to install a window in my door."3

Macey sighed, having heard this all morning. "Valentine, if you don't shut up, I'm going to put bars over your mouth."

"This is a serious issue! James and I have been together for, like, two months! And I waited until last week to inform him I had a boyfriend!"

"Oh, bugger! Why don't you go complain about your boyfriend to your boyfriend? Besides, your father might not like the idea of his little girl doing sinful things in the boys dorm-,"

Macey paused when Valentine made a noise of retaliation, but continued.

"But he'll come around and be happy that you're happy. Then he'll most likely want to actually meet Potter, and if that doesn't scare James off, then you've got yourself a winner!" Macey over-enthusiastically clapped, and Valentine shot her a blank look in response.

"I already know I've got myself a winner," Valentine flippantly reminded her best friend. "But dad won't make it easy."2

Macey shrugged, but slammed into Valentine's back when the blonde had abruptly stopped waking.

"Do you hear that?" Valentine muttered, moving her hair for better access to her ear.

"What, the sound of my nose wailing in pain?" Macey hissed. "Because I certainly feel it!"

Macey cupped her nose, groaning as she had managed to ram it straight into the back of Valentine's head when she'd stopped moving.

Valentine shushed Macey and moved to the left side of the corridor, moving slowly. Macey rolled her eyes at her detective behavior, sauntering behind her.

Valentine shot a intrusive look at Macey as she approached a door, and when Macey got closer, she did happen to hear music. It was muggle music, she realized, having heard it before at Valentine's home.

"What is that?" Macey asked, and Valentine bit her lip.

"Music, obviously," Valentine sarcastically retorted. Macey have her a dubious expression.

"Well I know that, you smartass!" Macey scornfully depicted, and Valentine hushed her again. The blonde gently tried to open the door, only to find it locked.

"Alohomora," Valentine whispered, and the door unlocked with a 'click.' She, moving excruciatingly slow, pushed open the door, stopping at the sight inside.

Macey and Valentine stood side by side in the door frame, looking inside with wide eyes. Valentine only just realized it was the Room of Requirements. Celia laid on a long, velvet couch, her long hair framing her face as her hands held a thick, peeling book.

Celia did the first thing that came to mind; she completely hurtled the book towards the intruder.

Valentine screamed, ducking quickly, and the book soared over her hear. Celia only had just digested the fact it was her girlfriend and best friend, and she clamped a hand to her open mouth.1

"You!" Valentine pointed an accusing finger. "You nearly took my head off!"

"I thought you were Filch!" Celia defended, rising off the couch and removing her hand from her wand.

"Wha- do I look like Filch to you, Cecilia Tomsky?" Valentine scolded, crossing her arms.

"When you make that face you do," Celia bantered, but her calm demeanor switched when Macey knelt down to pick up the book she'd been reading.

"Wait- I need that back!" Celia argued, moving and trying to pry the object from Macey's fingers. Macey was intent on holding it, however, and she turned her back to Celia, rising the book over her head so the Slytherin couldn't reach it.

"Give it back, now!" Celia demanded, jumping pathetically in order to reach it.

"Why do you have a muggle book, Cel?" Macey asked aghast, shocked that the pure blood would ever have something such as this. She knew Celia was nothing like her parents, but she also knew she wanted nothing to do with the muggle world- or was that a facade?

The raven-haired girl suddenly looked embarrassed, holding her hands and looking down. This was new for the two Hufflepuffs, neither of them having ever seen Celia anything apart from mean, insulting, and mean. They loved it, but Valentine and Macey would also openly admit she was mean. But embarrassed and shy? That was new.

"It's not mine, I'm holding it for a friend," Celia lowly dismissed, not meeting their eyes.

"Celia, aren't we your only friends?" Macey snorted, and Celia glared at her. "I mean, other than those Slytherin lads you know, but I know for a fact they wouldn't carry a-,"

Macey stopped mid sentence to properly read the book cover.

"A Book of Fairy Tales?"

Celia sucked her teeth as Valentine and Macey stared at her. Macey passed the book to Valentine, and Celia sat down, hugging her legs and resting her chin on her knees. Valentine pondered back to the times Celia would make subtle references to muggle fairytales.

"If word gets out you tell anyone-,"

"Get over yourself, Celia. You know we wouldn't," Valentine cut her off, sitting on the other side of the couch, deflating into the cushions. "But why do you have it?"

Celia picked at the skin by her fingernails. "It's just a different world, you know? It's like... there's these girls and they find this person they love, and they're free. And their whole life revolves around their prince and they live happily ever after, and I just know that I won't have that. And don't bullshit me, Valentine, with your sappy shit, because we both know how my life story was prewritten by my parents, and theirs no evading that. So yes, okay? I read muggle fairy tales because sometimes I wish I wasn't born a witch. Sometimes I wish I could just escape and be normal. Be ordinary. Be a Muggle. And I wish I could grow up without the burden of war or prejudiced parents, and I could find my Princess and be free."

Valentine didn't know what to say, and Macey's face was unreadable, her eyes a storm of clashing saltwater and waves.

"You can do it, you know that? You can get out. You can come with me, or even Macey. Just like Sirius did-,"

"I'm not Sirius Black, Valentine!" Celia roared, stepping up. "They're my family! And I hate them, but they're all I have."

"And what about us?" Macey suddenly snapped. "You don't have us?"

"That's different-,"

"How? You know our doors are open. You know you could come home with us. You know there's a way to get out of that wretched family you're stuck in!" Macey reasoned, tears welling in her eyes.1

"No matter where I go, I'm always going to be a Tomsky! No book, dream world, or friend will ever change that. And if I run? Bad things will happen to me. To the people I care about. So yeah, I will stay and endure it, so no one else has to!" Celia outraged, chest heaving. Her voice was wobbling, but she maintained a strong face.

"That isn't fair," Valentine argued weakly.

"Life isn't fair, Valentine. It isn't all sugar cookies and sunlight! Not everyone is the perfect daughter, friend, and girlfriend. Some of us have to make mistakes. Some of us have to get our hands a little dirty!"16

Valentine finally got up, her face red. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute, her head screaming things so loud that her head was on fire.

"And what, Celia? You think I'm perfect because I'm nice? Because I'm there for people? Well, maybe if you actually tried, then you'd be able to be those things too! But instead you always have to be a bitch! Why? Because you're Slytherin? You're house doesn't determine your actions, so next time you blame me for your weaknesses, don't expect a comforting hug."5

Valentine begins to march out, but she stops at the door and turns, mustering a bitter laugh despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Does that sound like something a perfect friend would say?"

Celia opens her mouth and shuts it. Her hands at clenched at her sides, and her face contorted into several emotions.

But Valentine didn't stay to watch which one Celia would decide to act on; instead she left, the slamming of the door echoing down the hall until there was nothing at all.

_______________________

VALENTINE DIDN'T REALIZE SHE still held Celia's story book until she'd stomped back to the common room. From there, she'd thrown the book into the trunk at the end of her bed, having no intention of looking back to it. She felt slightly bad for having left Macey, but Valentine knew if she hadn't left she would've completely exploded.

There was a soft knock at the door before it flung open, and James bursted in, but as soon as he saw Valentine, the smile melted off his face.

"Hey, what happened? Are you okay?" He quickly asked, striding over to her. He placed a hand on either shoulder, and Valentine whipped her face.

"I'm fine," she whispered, but James looked unconvinced.

"Come on, what happened?"

Valentine pursed her lips and instead of speaking wrapped her arms around James' torso, burying her head into his shoulder. James didn't hesitate before hugging her back, running his hand through her hair comfortingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" James asked, and Valentine shook her hear against his shoulder.

"Okay, then do you want to go get dinner?"

This time she nodded, and James pulled away. He used the pad of his finger to swipe away a fresh tear from under her eye, and he kissed her forehead.

"Come on," he ushered, taking her hand and pulling her along. "Food will help. Hopefully. Where's Macey?"

"With Celia," Valentine sourly croaked, and James made an 'ah' sound, as if pin pointing the problem.

"So I'm guessing she said something that put you in... distress?"

"I'm not in distress."

"You look distressed."

"Shut up," Valentine cracked a smile.

"There she is," James grinned, and Valentine tried to wipe the smile off her face because she was supposed to be angry.6

"I have something planned for dinner, just so you know," James informed her.

"Sounds terrifying."

"Not as terrifying as comforting a crying girl," James remarked, and Valentine gasped, shoving him.1

"That comes in the job description of being a boyfriend," Valentine said through a laugh.

James shrugged. "I was hoping we could avoid that part, though. Like, how do you comfort girls?"

"You comfort Sirius all the time, you should be a pro at it."

"You came out for blood."2

Valentine opened her mouth to respond but she noticed that they'd passed the Great Hall completely.

"Valenteeny, Valenteeny," an annoying, high pitched voice squealed, and Valentine and James glanced down the hall to see Peeves.

"Hey Peeves!" James cheerily called, and the poltergeist stuck his tongue out before leaving.

"Uh- James, we passed the Great Hall," Valentine spoke up, jutting her thumb backwards, but James placed his hand on the small of her back, urging her forward.

"I know," he acknowledged, beginning to climb stairs. Valentine slowly ascended alongside him, though she was confused as to why they were going to the astronomy tower rather than the Great Hall.

It wasn't until he pushed open the door and the frigid air welcomed them that she saw what he had done. James stepped forward, looking a little nervous.

"I thought it would be nice to do something together without everyone else," he suggested, motioning to what he had set up.

Shielded from the snow, the small roof coming off the castle extended just far enough to leave the floor clear of snow, and in that spot was a makeshift pallet, which consisted of a mound of blankets, pillows, and food.

"I had the house elves prepare a basket and the boys and I snuck out to Honeydukes and got some cauldron cakes," James continued, plopping down on the pile of blankets.3

Valentine's heart stammered and she gave him a genuine smile, slipping off her shoes and lowering herself down besides him.

"You didn't have to do all this," she insisted, gesturing to, well, everything.

"I wanted to," he shrugged. "Can we please eat, now? I'm starved."

Valentine laughed but nodded.

And the rest of the night was spent eating sweet foods staring at the stars, and even though the temperature got increasingly colder, Valentine stayed warm the whole time.

0 notes