#we have 4 gorgeous plants downstairs too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lollypopsx · 3 years

Note

an angst in which harry has been working wayyy too much and its stressing him out so he accidentally shouts at the kid(s) and feels really awful about it later?

Drabble Request

Drabble Masterlist

——————

Harry sighed heavily as he wandered through the front door, he had been working non stop to get the album finished, to meet deadlines and to finish everything ready in time.

The clattering of keys and notebooks against the kitchen side was drowned out by two of his three children playing together in the living room.

“Daddy!” Felicity, the eldest, squeals, running up to him with her arms up.

“Hello my little lovies” He smiles, picking her up tiredly. Felicity was 6, and a carbon copy of you, her hair braided into a long plait to match her sister, Eveigh. Eveigh was 4 and much more like Harry.

He leans down to press a kiss onto Eveigh’s head. “Where’s Mumma?” He frowns softly. “Giving Jamie a bath” Felicity wraps her arms around Harry’s neck as he groans gently, his back and neck aching from being hunched in the studio all day, every day.

“You two play nicely alright?” He pats their heads as they rush off playing. “And don’t spill anything please” He reminds them, slipping off his shoes and wandering upstairs to the bathroom.

“Is that better now? All nice and clean huh? Mumma’s gorgeous boy!” You grin, wrapping your youngest in a warm towel. Jamie was 6 weeks old, with your bright eyes and Harry’s dark hair.

The leaning figure against the door made you jump slightly. “H! You’re home! God you scared me” You chuckle softly. “Hey look who it is, it’s your Daddy” You grin, standing up with your youngest on your chest.

“How was work?” You lean up, pecking his lips sweetly as his arm snakes around your waist. “Well...we wrote the final drafts out today, my brain is fried...it’s taken so long to do it” He sighs heavily.

“Baby, why don’t you go have a little nap” You frown. Writing an album to please millions, as well as having three children under the age of 7 in your house was tough. Jamie wasn’t sleeping much throughout the night, which meant some nights he would wake his sisters, and then no one was getting any sleep at all.

“You’ve been at home with our three babies all day, you need a nap more than me” He chuckles, brushing your cheek gently, his thumb running over the dark circles under your eyes.

“I wish” You sigh and chuckle. “Why don’t you take Jamie and sit with the girls and watch a film, they’ve been running riot all ay so they could probably use a bit of quiet time. I’ll start dinner” You whisper against his hand.

“Are you sure?” He frowns softly, his fingers massaging the back of you neck slowly.

“I’m sure” You smile as the three of you head downstairs.

“Right girls, can you pick a film and sit down nicely with Daddy please?” You say as you head into the kitchen.

“No, Mummy we play zoo’s!” Eveigh huffs, stamping her foot and pouting.

“No darling, you’ve been playing Zoo’s all day. Need some quiet time now please” You sigh.

Eveigh keeps her feet firmly planted to the floor, turning her back from you. “No!”

“Eveigh. Now please. I don’t want to have to ask you again” You cross your arms. She was adamant on staying where she was. You roll your eyes and pick her up, feeling her hand hit against your chest. “Eveigh!” You raise your voice and grab her hand. “We do not hit in this house.” Your brows raise, giving her the stern-mum look.

Harry frowns. “Eveigh, that wasn’t nice was it. Say sorry...” Her head hung low as you placed her beside Harry. “Sorry Mummy” She mutters quietly, slumping her head forward.

Eveigh’s tantrums were the worst, she was three and still dealing with the fact she wasn’t the baby anymore, Felicity had been through this change before, so she always knew she wasn’t the youngest.

Felicity was laying on one side of Harry, Eveigh on the other and baby Jamie laying quietly, half asleep, on his Dad’s chest. But Eveigh wasn’t happy about that.

“Daddy, I want to lay there!” She whines sadly.

“Sorry petal, Jamie is here. You can lay this side” He says calmly, draping his arm around Eveigh. She stares sadly at Harry, nudging at Jamie, not enough to harm him, but enough to cause him to whinge. “Eveigh Anne! What have we just told you about hitting and pushing! Especially your brother” Harry raises his voice in frustration.

“Eveigh, come and sit with Mummy in the kitchen for a minute please” You sigh, hearing the commotion brewing in the front room. “Me and Daddy are very tired, I’m not having you being a pain” You sigh, getting her a stool to stand beside you and help you make dinner, safely.

Dinner was almost ready, you had moved Harry’s pile of notebooks onto the table and forgot to move them back to the side earlier.

“Flick, come and set the table please sweetie!” You call, she nods and wanders into the dining room to do her job. Harry placed Jamie in his moses basket beside the table and came in to help.

“Daddy I make juice please?” Eveigh asks quietly, watching her older sister carefully pour herself some juice.

“You can have some juice lovie, but let Daddy do it for you ok? You’ll spill it” He pats her head.

“No Daddy, I do it now!” She whines.

“Eveigh please. I’ll do it in a minute” He says calmly, yet a hit of stern-ness.

She ignores his statement, snatching the jug of juice from Felicity and pulling it off of her.

“Ow!” Felicity whinges loudly, snatching it forcefully back from Eveigh. The girls shrieked loudly as the lid toppled off and the jug fell to the table, soaking the notebooks you had put there earlier on, and both of the,.

Both yours and Harry’s heads snapped up. This was the final straw for today, the icing on top of the cake.

“Girls!” You groan, rushing over with a tea towel. Harry was furious.

“You two! Get upstairs right now!” His voice booms in the dining room. It wasn’t often that Harry raised his voice, so when he did, the girls knew they were in big trouble. “I’m tired of your behaviour!”

He shouts as they scurry quickly upstairs. You sigh and pick up the drenched papers. “Shit...”Harry mutters.

“Fuck...Haz I’m sorry...I shouldn’t of moved them.” You frown, attempting to save anything you could. “This has taken us so long...now they’re all ruined”

“We can dry them out...Maybe they’ll still be legible...” You whisper hopefully, rubbing your hand softly down Harry’s back. “Baby, I’m so sorry” You frown, resting your chin on Harry’s shoulder as he slumps into the chair.

“Have they been like that all day?” Harry mutters softly.

“The girls? Try all week...”You sigh.

“What? Why didn’t you say...” Harry frowns, his eyes catching yours.

You shrug silently. “They’re both going through a lot of changes...they’re getting used to a new baby around, we’re both juggling a lot H...we’re all adjusting into new routines”

“Fuck...you’re right. Was I too hard on them? Shit, I shouldn’t have yelled” He groans, rubbing his cheek with his hand.

“No, you should have. They’ve been acting up a lot this week and they still need to understand” You whisper.

“I’ll go and talk to them” He mutters, pushing himself up and wandering up the stairs. Eveigh was sat facing the corner of her bedroom, her head slumped and her little shoulders moving up and down. The guilt pooling in his stomach was beginning to burn.

“Dove...” Harry whispers softly, kneeling behind her as she turned her shoulders further into the corner. “Can Daddy talk t’you? Please” He whispers as she turns around slowly, her little cheeks red and tear stained. He picked her up quietly and headed into Felicity’s bedroom. Flick was curled into her pillows with her head buried.

“Petal...” He whispers, walking in with Eveigh on his hip and sitting down on Felicity’s bed. She sniffles sadly and pokes her head up tiredly.

“Listen...I’m sorry that I shouted loud okay? But you have to understand that pushing, poking and snatching in this house isn’t okay, to each other or to anyone else.” He says softly, looking between them both and stroking both their heads sweetly.

“And I know I overreacted, Daddy has been working lots and is very tired...and now Daddy’s song books are ruined. They were important” He sighs softly. “And I know things are changing a lot in this house...” He whispers softly, their small bodies cuddling into his sides.

“D’you forgive me?” He mumbles, pulling both girls closer into his lap. Eveigh was fiddling with his rings on one hand and Felicity was playing with the hair on the back of his head.

“We’re sorry Daddy” Felicity muttered softly, burying her head into his neck quietly, Eveigh hiccupped and nodded. “Sorry Daddy” She whispers.

“It’s okay...but no more pushing please. Shall we go and eat some dinner now?” He smiles softly, his stomach growling quietly. Both girls cling onto him tightly as he carries them both downstairs.

“No point crying over spilt juice hey” Harry whispers softly, with a tired smile.

——————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @beachwood-cafe - @damnasstyles - @awesomebooklover17 - @hazgoldenstyles - @evanjh - @harrysbracelet - @nerdypartytrashpsychic - @harryssweatcreaturee - @hibaiqbal12

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #dad!harry #dad!harry imagine #dad!harry blurb #dad!harry drabble #dad harry imagine #dad harry drabble #husband!harry #husband!harry imagine #hslot #husband harry imagine #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader

483 notes · View notes

firstfullmoon · 4 years

Note

Do you have favorite quotes related about the importance of small details?

“The precious intimacy of little things.”

— Daphné du Maurier, I Will Never Be Young Again

“On my windowsill when I got home, there was a tumbler with pink jelly in it, and embedded in the jelly, sliced strawberries and bananas… [my neighbour] cooks at odd hours. She must have made the strawberry jelly this morning. When I buy baklava, which is not often because I eat too many, I leave a few for her on her windowsill, with a headscarf over them so the wasps don’t come. For these little gifts we don’t thank each other with words. They are commas of care.”

— John Berger, From A to X: A Story in Letters

“I suppose I could spend time theorizing how it is that people are not bad to each other, but that’s really not the point. The point is that in almost every instance of our lives, our social lives, we are, if we pay attention, in the midst of an almost constant, if subtle, caretaking. Holding open doors. Offering elbows at crosswalks. Letting someone else go first. Helping with the heavy bags. Reaching what’s too high, or what’s been dropped. Pulling someone back to their feet. Stopping at the car wreck, at the struck dog. The alternating merge, also known as the zipper. This caretaking is our default mode and it’s always a lie that convinces us to act or believe otherwise. Always.”

“One of the woman was gently arranging an older woman’s collar beneath her sweater, freeing it from the cardigan’s neck, using both of her hands to jostle it free but also seeming to spend a little more time than necessary, creasing the fold of the collar, the other hand kind of resting on her shoulder, the two of them chatting the whole time, sitting there holding each other, nodding, my head twisting toward them like a sunflower as I finished the stairs and walked by, so in love was I with this common flourish of love, this everyday human light.”

“but her need to share the photo with me [...] smiling and looking at it, smiling and looking at me looking at it, me smiling and looking at her looking at it, which is simply called sharing what we love, what we find beautiful, which is an ethics.”

— Ross Gay, The Book of Delights

“He’s got a fever. He’s all alone. So I’m gonna buy him something to eat.” “The congee downstairs is quite good.” “He doesn’t want congee.” “What does he want?” “Can’t taste anything so he wants sesame syrup.” [...] “What are you cooking?” “I had a sudden craving for sesame syrup.”

“Why did you call me at the office today?” “I had nothing to do. I wanted to hear your voice.”

— In the Mood for Love, dir. Wong Kar-Wai

— Danusha Laméris, “Small Kindnesses”

“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”

— Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise

“I’ve never told you this,” she said. “But there’s something about taking the cart back instead of leaving it in the parking lot. I don’t know when this came to me; it was a few years ago. There’s a difference between leaving it where you empty it and taking it back to the front of the store. It’s significant.” “Because somebody has to take them in.” “Yes. And if you know that, and you do it for that one guy, you do something else. You join the world…You move out of your isolation and become universal.”

— Andre Dubus, “Out of the Snow”

“It’s true that, in Vietnamese, we rarely say I love you, and when we do, it is almost always in English. Care and love, for us, are pronounced clearest through service: plucking white hairs, pressing yourself on your son to absorb a plane’s turbulence and, therefore, his fear. Or now—as Lan called to me, “Little Dog, get over here and help me help your mother.” And we knelt on each side of you, rolling out the hardened cords in your upper arms, then down to your wrists, your fingers. For a moment almost too brief to matter, this made sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, made something like the word family.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel

— Ada Limón, from “The Great Blue Heron of Dunbar Road”

“I’m doing a balancing act with a stack of fresh fruit in my basket. I love you. I want us both to eat well.”

— Christopher Citro, from “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled WIth Shrieks”

“One of the primary ways we connect with each other is by eating together. Some of the connection happens simply by being in the same place at the same time and sharing the same food, but we also connect through specific actions, such as serving food to one another or making toasts: ‘May I offer you some potatoes?’ ‘Here’s to your health and happiness.’ Much of our fundamental well-being comes from the basic reassurance that there is a place for us at the table. We belong here. Here we are served and we serve others. Here we give and receive sustenance.”

— Edward Espe Brown, Tomato Blessings and Radish Teaching

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

“Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.”

“it is a serious thing

just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”

— Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays / from “Invitation”

— Wendy Cope, “The Orange”

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye, “Gate A4″

“Then there are the things, if you are particularly lucky, that this person has done for you while you’re away: how in the pantry, in the freezer, in the refrigerator will be all the food you like to eat, the scotch you like to drink. There will be the sweater you thought you lost the previous year at the theater, clean and folded and back on its shelf. There will be the shirt with its dangling buttons, but the buttons will be sewn back in place. There will be your mail stacked on one side of his desk; there will be a contract for an advertising campaign you’re going to do in Germany for an Austrian beer, with his notes in the margin to discuss with your lawyer. And there will be no mention of it, and you will know that it was done with genuine pleasure, and you will know that part of the reason—a small part, but a part—you love being in this apartment and in this relationship is because this other person is always making a home for you, and that when you tell him this, he won’t be offended but pleased, and you’ll be glad, because you meant it with gratitude.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

#this is a mim supremacy account #w #compilation #the precious intimacy of little things #john berger #hanya yanagihara #naomi shihab nye #wendy cope #mary oliver #ada limón #ocean vuong #danusha laméris #ross gay

1K notes · View notes

crystalstar8 · 4 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch. 5)

Chapter 5

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,942

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

“Come downstairs and meet our new friends!” said Hoseok.

Catalina’s eyes widened when she saw the person coming around the corner upstairs. He was bookmarking the book in his hands and closing it. As he walked down the stairs, Catalina took in his sharp, intelligent eyes, his full lips and otherwise soft features. His hair was styled delicately over his forehead, his shoulders were broad, his chest was big, even under his sweater and…

Catalina knew those thighs.

Jungkook choked beside Catalina and nudged her.

“Thighs,” he whispered. Catalina nodded.

“We saw you in the souvenir shop the other day,” said Catalina. “I’m sorry, uh, my name is Catalina.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Namjoon said with a smile, his dimples appearing. Catalina blushed. He was way too gorgeous. “Yeah, Hoseok and I stopped there on our way into town the other day. I think I remember seeing you two there.”

“Oh! You guys work at the souvenir store!” said Hoseok. “I knew you looked kinda familiar.”

“Yeah, we’re only there on the weekends,” said Jungkook. “We’re only gonna be working for the season.”

“It seems like an interesting job,” said Hoseok. “You’ll get to see all the tourists.”

“You guys are all students?” asked Namjoon. Catalina, Jungkook and Jimin all nodded. He asked them about their majors and what kinds of classes they were taking, which they happily answered until Catalina caught a glimpse of the time.

“Guys, it’s three am,” she said. “We should probably head home.”

“Oh jeez, we have that stupid French class at eight tomorrow,” said Jungkook.

“We won’t keep you then,” said Taehyung. “Classes are important.”

Taehyung walked them all out, through the front door this time, and the three friends began making their way back to the car.

“Well, that was interesting,” said Catalina. “We didn’t die, so that was cool.”

“I thought they were all pretty cool!” said Jungkook. “I mean, still a bit weird, but cool.”

“Taehyungie wants me to teach him how to play video games,” said Jimin.

“He wants you to teach him?” Jungkook asked with a laugh. Jimin smacked his arm.

“We’ll be learning together,” said Jimin.

“That’s so cute,” said Catalina. “You already have a nickname for him. Anyway, I have a question: why the hell were they all so attractive?”

“I was thinking the same thing!” said Jimin. “It didn’t make any sense! Like, normal people don’t look like that. They were way too beautiful.”

“We’re normal people though,” said Jungkook. Catalina and Jimin looked at him in confusion. “I mean, we’re hot too. Sometimes people are just hot.”

“We’re like, normal people hot though,” said Jimin. “Those guys were like…gods or something.”

“Yeah, way too pretty. Perfect skin, perfect hair, all charming,” said Catalina.

“Red eyes,” Jimin mumbled.

“Okay fine, they were unusually pretty,” said Jungkook. “I’m just glad we got some awesome footage today. I can’t wait to dump this.”

“Okay, well don’t do it tonight, because we do have class tomorrow morning,” said Catalina.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Catalina was running again. Always running. Her feet were bare and her lungs burned. The concrete beneath her feet gave way to metal grating. Her footsteps clanged and echoed here as she made her way through the tunnels. She glanced behind her. It was dark, but she could see a set of red eyes approaching her, almost glowing. These eyes weren’t the ones she was used to. These were mean. These eyes looked at her like she was prey. The man who the eyes belonged to walked, as if it didn’t take much effort to chase after her. He had a sickening smile on his face.

Catalina needed to get out of these tunnels. If she could get back to her friends, they’d protect her.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” the man said, his voice mirthful. “Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little kitty?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember what he looked like, but I remember what he said,” Catalina said to Jungkook as they made their way to the library. “He said, ‘Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little kitty?’ Just like in your story.”

“That’s creepy,” said Jungkook. “He had red eyes though? Was he one of those guys from the house?”

“No, definitely not,” said Catalina. “I remember thinking about them, and you and Jimin, and thinking that I needed to reach you guys because you’d keep me safe. This is the first time I could remember so much.”

“I wonder what these dreams mean,” Jungkook said as he opened the library door for her.

“Thanks. Yeah, I have no idea,” said Catalina.

“Maybe they’re prophetic,” said Jungkook.

“God, I hope not,” Catalina said as they approached the table. Jin and Jimmy K were both sitting there, textbooks open.

“Well, well, well,” said Jin. “Look who decided to finally show up today.”

“You don’t have to greet us like that every time,” said Jungkook as Catalina laughed.

“How are you guys today?” asked Catalina.

“Now that you’re here? Fantastic,” said Jimmy K with a wink.

Catalina blushed and said, “Okay, that’s enough, captain.”

Catalina and Jungkook sat down as Jin began their tutoring session and Jimmy K studied silently beside them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, game night,” said Jimin. “Do either of you know what to expect tonight?”

“Nope! I’m just excited to sit around and eat,” said Catalina. “Take a right up ahead.”

“Where? There’s no driveway, oh wait,” Jungkook turned into a somewhat overgrown driveway, hidden by the woods. “Also, we have a premier to watch!”

“They’re gonna love it,” said Catalina. “Jimin, did you have fun yesterday?”

“I did! Hoseok is a really good dancer,” he said. It’s been a week since they broke into the house and met Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon. Yesterday, Catalina and Jimin had invited Hoseok to a freestyle session in the campus studio. He was happy to join them and show off his moves. They all ended up teaching each other different styles, but it was mostly Catalina and Jimin asking Hoseok to teach them the pop and lock style he was so good at.

Jungkook’s car pushed through the heavily overgrown driveway until they reached cobblestone, which led right up to the mansion. Catalina closed her phone map and said, “Well, it’s good to know there’s an easier way up here.”

“Yeah, I thought we’d have to keep hiking up those rocks every time,” said Jungkook as he put the car into park. The three friends piled out of the car, arms full of snacks, wearing their comfiest pajamas. The porch lights of the mansion were on, illuminating Taehyung as he opened the front door.

“Welcome!” he shouted. “Did you find it okay?”

“Yeah, Hoseok texted us a route,” said Catalina.

“You guys and your fancy telephones,” said Taehyung. He let them in and they all took off their shoes. “So, we were thinking some board games tonight. Or card games. Or a game Hoseok described to us called Pictionary. Or we can just chat. Or-“

“Tae, that all sounds great,” said Catalina.

“Right, sorry,” he chuckled. “Here, follow me.”

They followed Taehyung through a few halls before entering a cozy lounge. Big plush couches lined three walls, a flat screen tv was mounted against one wall and a low coffee table sat in the center of the room. Hoseok and Namjoon stood up from the couch as they entered. The smile fell from Taehyung’s face.

“Where’s Yoongi?” he asked.

“He said he wasn’t in the mood for game night,” said Namjoon.

“Who’s Yoongi?” asked Jimin.

“He’s our other roommate,” said Namjoon. “He’s been tired these days.”

“He promised!” Taehyung pouted. “He told me he’d come to game night.”

“Let’s go find him then,” said Hoseok.

“I’ll go with you!” said Catalina. “I really want to see the house.”

“Me too!” said Jimin.

“Me three,” said Jungkook.

“Okay, Tae tae, Namjoon, you two stay here and set up a game. I’ll give these three a tour,” said Hoseok. They dumped the snacks onto the coffee table and followed Hoseok out of the room.

He led them through the massive house, through rooms so grand, Catalina wondered how big this house actually was.

“This is the library,” said Hoseok. The room they were in was enormous. The ceiling was cavernous and domed and the bookshelves towered high.

“This is an impressive collection,” said Catalina.

“I know, these guys do love their books,” said Hoseok. “They’ve been collecting for years I guess.”

“I’m sure,” said Catalina.

Hoseok then led them through several hallways then showed off his bedroom. His room was so unlike the rest of the house, it felt like stepping into another world. Everything was bright and colorful, there were brand posters all over the walls and an impressive shoe collection beside the closet, which was open and showing off an array of colorful clothes. Hoseok then took them on a walk through the conservatory. There wasn’t much growing right now. It was mostly cracked marble and empty pots.

“Maybe we can fill this room with plants next summer,” said Hoseok.

“I garden with my mom every year,” said Jimin. “I’d love to help.”

“That would be very nice,” said Hoseok. “This house deserves to be put back together again. It’s just so pretty.”

He then led them back through the house. As they walked the halls, chatting about their classes and classmates, Catalina could hear the faint sound of a pipe organ.

“Ah, he must be in the auditorium,” said Hoseok. Catalina’s eyes widened.

“The auditorium?” asked Jimin. “You guys have an auditorium in here?”

“With a pipe organ?” asked Catalina. Hoseok chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“I know, right?” he said. “These guys are so dramatic. I guess they’re used to a certain lifestyle and they’re all rich for some reason…I mean, back in collage, I was happy when I could afford a cup of ramen in my one room dorm.”

They followed the sound of the pipe organ until they came to the auditorium. The three friends gasped as they entered. The auditorium wasn’t huge, but it was incredibly elaborate. When Catalina was about twelve, her mother had taken her to a show at the Detroit Masonic Temple. This auditorium reminded her of the Masonic Temple auditorium, all carved wood and velvet seats. Up on the stage was a huge, ornate organ. The pipes lined the walls near the ceiling, emitting long, haunting notes. A man sat at the organ, hunched over the keys.

“Yoonie-boonie honey-baby!” Hoseok shouted in his loudest, cutsey-est voice. The man at the organ stopped playing. Hoseok skipped down the aisle and hopped up onto the stage. “We have visitors, come meet them!”

The man turned around slowly to look at them. He was just as beautiful as the other residents of the house. His eyes were dark red, just like the others, catlike and tired. His round face was pale, his lips in a slight pout.

“I thought we weren’t having humans at the house,” Yoongi said. Hoseok laughed loudly, slapping his knee.

“We’re all human here, so I’m not sure what that means!” said Hoseok. Catalina and Jungkook laughed along with him as Jimin just looked at them with wide eyes. Yoongi seemed like an interesting character. “Come to game night with us. I miss my honey-boy Yoonie bear.”

Yoongi stood up and looked down at Catalina, Jungkook and Jimin from the stage.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Will there be food at game night?”

“I brought salt and vinegar chips,” said Jimin.

“I brought chocolate,” said Catalina. Yoongi pointed at her.

“A woman after my own heart,” said Yoongi. “I’ll come.”

14 notes · View notes

prolestariwrites · 4 years

Photo

The Wish [4]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Lady, Eva, Sparda, OC Rating: General Tags: Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Typical demon hunting violence

Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth?

Now posted: Chapter 4, in which Dante puts on his detective hat to get to the bottom of what happened in Red Grave City and Fortuna.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter 4: Puzzle Pieces

To say he’s surprised when he wakes up in the morning is an understatement. Who has a dream in a dream and wakes up still in the dream? Dante frowns as he opens his eyes to find himself in the same bed, same room, pressed against Lir. She is still sleeping, laying on her stomach and holding her pillow, her bare body warm and perfect against his chest.

He props himself up a bit on an elbow to think for a minute. She seems lovely and, if the night before is any indication, hot as hell. Of all the girls Dante had ever been with, he doesn’t ever remember it being sweet and sexy and passionate all at the same time. The women he met were either sweet but boring, or hot and crazy. Having a girlfriend or whatever was not high on the list of priorities.

The sheet has pulled a bit, revealing her back and a bit of her backside. Dante moves almost instinctually, and when he presses closely against her, he wonders if he’ll remember all this when he wakes up.

Unless this isn’t a dream? Lir shifts and rolls a bit, leaning against him with a sigh. Wait, what if it’s not?

Dante runs through possibilities in his head. Once more he reviews the last things he remembers: namely, fighting with Nero in the warehouse. There was a demon they had to find, but then what? His brows draw together as he chastises himself. Think, stupid. He remembers Nero yelling, and the swarm, and then he’s heading upstairs. In a hallway?

Shaking his head, Dante decides to leave that for now. Truth is, it didn’t matter what happened to him. What matters is figuring out what is happening now, and how to make it stop so he can get back to his life.

Lir shifts beside him and the last thought has him feeling confused. Does he… want this to end? Isn’t this what he’s always wanted?

I can grant you a fortune that has nothing to do with money.

Like a key in a lock, suddenly it all clicks. There was that demon, he remembers now. Dante shifts to sit up a bit, rubbing his hand on his face. It was breeding and it tried to bribe him… His eyes go wide as bits come back, like puzzle pieces that are too bent to fit perfectly. It offered him money and he told it that he didn’t want to be a devil hunter. Could that thing have done this?

An uncomfortable burn fills his throat as Dante swallows thickly. That demon created this, brought his entire family back, but how? His eyes dart around the room, his body and mind suddenly alert, as if the answer will jump out and bite him. The more he experiences and the more vivid things get, the clearer it becomes that this isn’t some dream he’s having. Maybe this is some kind of illusion, and he’s laying at the bottom of the warehouse with his brains getting munched on by demons, blissfully unaware anything’s wrong. Maybe he’s in someone else’s body, living their life, sleeping with their wife? But they all call him Dante, and that was for sure his own parents and brother at dinner. Can’t be time travel, since none of this happened, and it’s the same date that it would have been back in his own timeline.

Maybe he died? This could be heaven. Dante snorts and lays back on the pillows. Didn’t know devils could go to heaven.

“Everything okay?” Lir’s voice is sleepy as she rolls towards him, and he puts his arm around her when her head rests on his chest.

“Yeah,” Dante sighs. “Just wondering if this is heaven.”

She chuckles and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I know I’m good but I’m not that good.” She climbs over him again, and Dante’s chest gets tight when his eyes drag down. Now that the sun is up and the room is bright he can see just how gorgeous she is. His hands go to her hips and he wonders if they’re gonna have a round two, but she places a kiss on the corner of his mouth before moving away. “So nice to sleep in for once,” she sighs, heading into the bathroom.

“Yeah,” he says after her, but then remembers he sleeps in every day.

After throwing on some sweatpants and a t-shirt Dante heads downstairs to find breakfast. He wonders if this Dante cooks up eggs and pancakes in the morning, since his Dante usually has some leftover pizza crust and two glasses of whiskey. He decides to compromise and puts a bagel in the toaster, and by the time it pops Lir has joined him in the kitchen to brew coffee and sit down with an orange at the table.

It’s still confusing as hell what he’s doing here: he’s not dreaming, it’s not time travel, he’s not someone else, so maybe… this really is real? What if all that other stuff, with his parents dying and living on the streets, and the Temen-ni-gru and Mallet Island and the Order, what if that was the dream? But that doesn’t make sense either, and Dante rubs his face in frustration.

There are other things that don’t make sense too, like why Nero is the wrong age and why his wife was so surprised he owned a gun. Doesn’t she know he is a demon hunter? Does she even know he’s half-demon? Dante glances around as if someone might be watching. It’s time to test this place and see what happens, he decides. There must be a reason why he’s here. And if it’s some bad guy doing bad things, he’s going to get to the bottom of it.

Dante carries his food to join her and sits down a bit nervously. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

Lir eyes him curiously. “Yeah? Everything okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Is telling her this going to make the whatever-this-is implode? Only one way to find out. “This isn’t real, right? You know that?”

“Huh?”

Dante gestures around the kitchen. “All this. You a plant?”

“A what?”

“Are you a bug or something?”

“Dante…” Lir frowns. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He eyes her suspiciously, every sense on high alert, waiting for her to react. It’s possible she is a demon in this weird reality, and once revealed will attack. It occurs to him then that would mean he was balls deep in a demon twice last night, and decides to put that aside to throw up about later. “Do you remember the warehouse?”

“What warehouse?” she sighs.

“Okay, what about Nero? The guy with the white hair?”

Lir rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know who Nero is. What is your point?”

Dante presses his lips together. Maybe she’s not a demon? What if she’s something else? “Want to go to dinner again tonight?” he asks.

“We just went out last night,” she laughs.

“Yeah, so what? We can afford it.”

Lir shakes her head. “I really just want to hang out at home today. Why don’t we just order a pizza and watch a movie or something?”

Dante folds his arms. “Order a pizza?”

“Yeah?”

He narrows his eyes as she pops another slice of orange into her mouth. “Extra olives, right?”

She glances over at him with a strange expression as she swallows. “I thought you hated them?”

“Just testing.” She gives him a weary look and picks up her coffee as Dante studies her. Whoever she is, she’s a tough one to crack. “Say, Lir, do you remember how we met?”

“Of course I do,” she chuckles.

Dante lifts his eyebrows, feeling like a detective in a mystery novel. “Describe what happened.”

Lir gives a huff, clearly annoyed. “What is with you?”

“I want to see if you remember,” he replies.

“Of course I remember,” she protests.

“Then prove it.”

She sighs with a roll of her eyes. “Fine. I came into your shop looking for help. Do you remember?”

Huh, that’s an interesting bit of information. So she does know he is a demon hunter, but was surprised he uses weapons? Suspicious now, he taps his chin. “So you came into the shop, huh? And what was I doing?”

Lir shakes her head. “I don’t know. Fixing something probably.”

“Fixing something? Like what?”

She frowns for a moment before answering, “Wait, I think I actually remember. It was an Iron 883.” Dante’s eyes go wide as she smiles. “Yeah, I do remember because I remember wondering if you would fit on it.”

Lir laughs as he leans forward. “I was working on a bike?” he exclaims.

“Well yeah, what else would you be doing in the shop? Baking cookies?” She chuckles at her joke. “God damn, you annoyed me so much that day. I just needed a charge but you insisted on checking everything. I told you three times I knew which wire had to be replaced and just needed to get to the weekend to do it but you wanted to take the whole bike apart.” Lir smiles at him flirtatiously. “I think you were just trying to keep me there.”

Dante gapes at her. “I fix bikes? That’s the shop?”

She studies him for a moment and tilts her head. “Dante, you’ve been acting strangely the past two days. Did something happen? Are you feeling okay? You’re worrying me.”

He blinks in response, still processing. Family alive, money in the bank, hot wife, and now a dream job? This place really is too good to be true, but he just shakes his head. “Nah, I was just seeing if you remembered. Of course I’m good.”

Lir hesitates a moment before changing the subject, and Dante nods along, listening as she talks about getting the laundry started and even agreeing to mow the lawn. She pats his arm before disappearing upstairs, and Dante heads out back to find the mower, turning over everything again in his mind.

It starts right up and he walks in neat rows over the lawn—his lawn—their lawn—debating if he should do anything about this. So he's not a devil hunter… does that mean there are no demons? No wonder they were all so surprised to hear he had a gun. Dante is all at once very aware of missing Ebony and Ivory, and for a crazy moment wonders if he could look up old Nell and ask a favor. But what would he even need them for?

If he is dying, this is a pretty good way to go, right? It’s a lot better than getting snapped in half or set on fire or impaled or sent through a grinder. He presses his lips together as he remembers Vergil driving his father’s sword through him. Hell of a lot better.

Mowing is actually not too bad, and he enjoys the physical work to help him think. He had never pictured himself the kind of guy who likes a nice lawn, but he’s got to admit it’s damn satisfying to see it all done. As he stashes the mower away in the garage, he thinks he wouldn’t mind this life at all… but Dante decides in the end he’s not quite ready to just accept this new reality, at least not before finding out everything he can about where he is now.

Back inside, he heads up to the office and turns on the computer. Dante grabs a tablet of paper from the drawer and a pen. He writes Red Grave → Temen-ni-gru, then underneath, Fortuna → the Order. After a moment’s hesitation, he also writes Dumary Island, and below that, Mallet Island.

Dante opens a search engine and starts typing. Red Grave City is obviously much different, he could tell from the car ride yesterday, and Dante assumes it’s because it’s not teeming with demons. After all, if the Temen-ni-gru never erupted in town, then there’s no reason for them to be there. He scans the headlines of the local papers for good measure but it’s just as he suspected: no weird deaths, no missing people, just some news about the school board vote and…

He stops short and gapes at the screen. The mayor is on the front page, giving a press conference about some tax on cigarettes, and Dante almost pinches himself when he realizes it’s Morrison. “Well damn,” he snorts. Looks like everyone’s doing better in this crazy place.

Next he types Fortuna in the search bar, bracing himself for what he finds. But there’s nothing. No talk of destruction, no reconstruction efforts, no memorials for the dead. Dante does some searching for the Order, a bit surprised to find that they do exist, but not nearly as powerful as they were when he was in Fortuna. It seems that they are like any other religious group, and he taps his finger on the desk in thought as he reads a profile on the Order on a travel website.

So Red Grave City never got overrun by devils, and Fortuna never got destroyed by the Savior. His parents didn’t die, which means Vergil would not raise the tower of power. No tower, no falling into hell. No hell, no losing Yamato, no getting found by the Order, no Savior. It makes sense really, and he sighs, realizing for the first time just how many people had been affected by demons coming to their home and killing his mother. He knew it had changed everything for him and Vergil, of course, but now there’s countless other families out there who suffered because of Mundus. Well, there were, anyway.

Just one last question is bugging him, and he picks up the phone on the desk. Dante frowns as he dials a number he had memorized years ago, and the line crackles a bit before it connects.

On the fourth ring an elderly woman picks up the phone. “Hello?” she says, her voice kind but curious.

“Matier?” he says, his mouth going wide in a smile. “Is that really you?”

“Who is this?”

Clearing his throat, he says, “Uh, you probably don’t remember me. We met years and years ago. My name is Dante, and I’m a friend of Lucia’s.”

“Lucia who?”

Dante lets go a deep sigh. He should have figured this would happen. “Sorry, maybe I got the name wrong. I guess you don’t have a daughter?”

“You got the wrong number.”

“Wait, can I ask one more thing?” The line stays connected and he hurries on, “Do you know the name Argosax? Are you still guarding it?”

There is a long pause, and then Matier asks, “Who did you say you were again?”

“Dante. You might know my father, Sparda—”

The line goes dead, and Dante presses the button a few times. He tries to call back, but there is just a busy signal, so he hangs up with a sigh. Yet there is no Lucia, which means no Arius, so Dante figures he can safely assume that Argosax is still sealed—and that means Mundus is as well. The world really is different. Safe.

Lir appears at the door and calls his name. “Vergil’s on the phone. He wants to know if you still want the boys tomorrow. And will you help me with something? I can’t reach the top of the cabinet.”

Dante looks at his list, and crosses out the places he had written. “Yeah, here I come,” he answers with a smile to himself.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante sparda #dmc lucia #dmc oc #lir #fan fiction #myfic #the wish

17 notes · View notes

anogete · 4 years

Text

In Between

Hi, folks. I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes. Things have been... ::sigh:: You know, I don’t know what things have been. Not good, not bad. Just... things. I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now. So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up. Well, the engine did. I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake. So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved. The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership. They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point. I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother. She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round. She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones. The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer. She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch. She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay. No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.” Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars. When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin. Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand. I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor. Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first. At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress. Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February. It looks like the time has come. I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad. He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000. So, that’s happening next week. I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke. Ugh.

4) The days are running together. I’m working from home. I can’t complain, though. I’ve got it better than most. I’m alone all day. I have a library with a desk. I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen. I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses. I can pretty much make my own hours. The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office. Their timeline for “normal” is months. I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that. Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements. And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home. So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th. It’s not difficult for me. On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am. On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early. Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients. I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup. Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk. This is nothing new. I’ve been shopping that way for years. Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party. I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown. I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office. They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking. They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit. I walked over and escorted them to our office building. They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done. The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway. Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago. Rose passed away two weeks ago. The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing. He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war. He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests. He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120. Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year. He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well. Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him. You know, they’re shorties, too. Five foot, nothing. Just like my grandma. Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh? Yeah. After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw. But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately. So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September. (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.) I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it. But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims. The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet. And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave. I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves. At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe. But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them. Still there, but manageable. Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass. My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic.. He’s... not so good with emotional shit. And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me. But some days... Some days it just overflows. So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people. You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills. The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants. The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal. I’ll die on this hill. I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays. I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else. I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories. I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now. I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young. He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase. I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me. The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO. I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more. I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story. Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch. Parts of it hit me hard. I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period. But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me. Just like Jules. Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings. And I have no friends in this city to go back to. Just friends at work.

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months. I’m starting to miss it. I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself. Did I ever look like that? I must have since here is photographic evidence. I look like shit now. I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower. Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again. Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine. Huh.

13) I hope you all are well. If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding. My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words. I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me. I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come. I haven’t written since last summer. It’s been almost a year. I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass. It’s about death, I suppose. Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely. It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass. If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.”

#Anogete in real life #personal #coping with grief #Mental health where did you go #adulting #struggle bus

69 notes · View notes

jawusa · 4 years

Text

Goldie’s Adventures on the Moon - Day 4

Chapter 4: Pagoda in the Shadows (The Finale)

To my own surprise, I actually enjoyed the past three days on the moon! At first, I was soo looking forward to returning home again, I was complaining about every single thing there and didn't even let anyone cheer me up! Suddenly, it was completely the opposite on the last day? I felt something I never felt. I wasn't even homesick or missed any of my friends at school! I did wonder though how my friends back at school were doing... how my sister Candy was doing. She must have given birth to her baby already... whether it's a girl or a boy? Either way, she hadn't contacted us ever since we arrived here on the moon, but that's what Candy usually does anyway, so this didn't surprise me... not even a little bit! Anyway, yesterday, when I was hanging around in the zen garden, Rhett found an old map which was apparently buried in the frontyard of some old teahouse/or wherever he was spending his time in these days. It looked like a treasure map, but this can't... just... HOWW? It doesn't make any sense, does it make sense? No, it doesn't. Get it! But my father was so keen on that map, so I just had to go along with them! Either way... the map was not even complete! It had some directions... but there were in fragments and there was no info about the exact location. Let alone where to find the treasure at all...? But for some reason, Dad and Rhett were convinced they'd find it once we arrive there anyway!

The map was seemingly leading to nowhere! We left the little colony named Moonbase Apollo (which was the only colony anyway in that area?) I didn't look like there were others... the surrounding area was completely empty, looked sad and deserted... somewhat creepy, too! For a second or two, I thought I'd hear something, but no, there was this absolute silence! Sometimes, I even had the impression, I'd hear my breath... or my blood in the veins. I tried to keep myself calm and tried to pretend that it never happened, I just kept breathing and breathing and breathing... but it never seemed to end! The "treasure hunt" was getting creepy as well! I wondered what this "treasure" is... and where all of this led to? I really began to question everything... even questions like "Are we going to make it out... alive at all?" or "What if this map is just a trap? Who buried it there at all... how did Rhett find that in the first place?" Also, we shouldn't have gone without knowing much about the place! We should have asked the locals around town! Suddenly, we saw some creepy looking rocks and behind these rocks, there was a mysterious pagoda in a dome. The dome looked much like the other buildings downtown. But this one here was different! It was nestled in a tiny crater and it was at a quite high altitude (compared to the other places)... between the rocks, we could even spot the colony - Moonbase Apollo from the distance. This remote place was creepy indeed! I couldn't even tell whether this was a forgotten/abandoned house once... or whether some sinister organisation constructed this thing here on purpose... to spy the people around the colony, which might be a thing, since the area was covered with those large rocks!

Anyway... we entered the dome and were dazed by what we saw! There was such a dense garden and bamboo forest... with an old bridge and all... the pond surface was all filled with waterlilies everywhere! It didn't look well-tended at all! No, much the opposite! There were weeds everywhere! The water was full of algae; the air around there felt rather humid and wild! Whoever belonged this garden to, they either did a lousy job at gardening... or they deceased a long time ago and nobody even noticed! Well, I hoped it was the first theory, because I didn't want to believe in the other one. I was really NOT interesting in seeing any ghosts!

When we had a quick look around and there... there was this shrine thingy again! I and Rhett tossed a coin once and it brought us both luck! So, Dad wanted to toss a coin as well. I wanted to warn him though, because... that shrine looked way different than the ones I and Rhett had used. Something about the shrine was odd, it didn't look cute or promising at all... this one here looked rather creepy! But Dad had the strong impression, he'd find the treasure in there... so, he tossed a coin!

I remember this eerie red-ish smoke which was emitted right away when he tossed the coin into this devilish shrine. All of sudden, he got a whole swarm of...

Moon-bees? (or how should we cal them?) chasing him! As if this wasn't enough, I heard eerie sounds from above! There... I knew it! THIS PLACE WAS HAUNTED! THERE'S A GHOST UPSTAIRS!!!! Rhett tried to calm me down and he'd say things like "Yeah, you've watched way too many of those stupid soap operas on TV..." and all... which, ehh? I didn't anyway? And they're everything but stupid! HIS... whatever he's watching on TV shows are stupid! Sheesh!

Poor Dad, though! I really felt sorry for him and was also scared of what's coming next! I remember seeing this one Horror movie where the Goths would go on vacation and then be trapped by aliens in this creepy tomb! I just KNEW the same would happen to us, too! Since... you know, we ARE on the moon and there were many, MANY aliens wandering around here! I didn't want to follow Rhett, I really didn't! But I couldn't have let him go on his own, too! He insisted on going upstairs to see what's going on... and I just couldn't leave him behind, could I? Either way... I had goosebumps all over my body! This clearly wasn't it!

"Hey, check this out! You can see all the gorgeous ladies from here above!" "Rhett!! Stop being a jerk, this is serious! I'm scared and look what you're doing!" "I think, you're exaggerating Goldie..." "DIDN'T YOU SEE THOSE MOON-BEES ARISING OUT OF NOWHERE??!!" "There were so many plants down there, I bet Dad just upset the bees, that's all! There's no supernatural things going on here.. this's just a place where you can stalk... ahem, just look at other sims... who are uhmm.. good looking!" "Whatever... but I could have sworn, I've heard noises from above!" "Why don't you then go explore yourself? I just don't want to be involved with this thing... count me out, really!"

Rhett was being sooo annoying again, but I noticed some hidden stairs behind the benches while arguing with him... so I went there to have a closer look! I felt... the presence! I thought there was a ghost there on the top! I could feel my heart pounding like CRAZY!! I've never been this scared in my whole life! I was like "WHYY is this place considered as a treasure then? If it just brings misfortune and all...?" Well, the garden was kinda beautiful, so that's the treasure? Naah, that'd be stupid! The garden only looks good NOW because it grew throughout all these years! I bet it was pretty boring when that stupid treasure was buried somewhere over here! Though, when I finally dared to go upstairs, I saw this old man hanging around here? He wasn't an alien... so, he didn't look as if he were from here... or was he? Anyway, I should have been scared, but I was not! Not even a little bit! Or was he also a victim of some alien traps? Just like us? OMG! What if he's gone through the same as we did? Wait, no, this can't be the case! Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to find the map? If he was here before... so, he must be someone who already knew how to get to this place... without the aid of a secret map! Or was the map which Rhett's found his map? Anyway, I tried to greet him, just in the way how Q's taught me! This old man indeed looked like someone who could help us!

"Good evening, sir! I'm.." "Hmmmm..." "I'm..." "Hmmm..." "Goldie Hart... I and my family were here on..." "Hmmm..." "Vacation and we'd like to ask you for help? If you could help us, please?" "Hmmm...." Well, he was being very weird FOR SURE!!! I felt ridiculously uncomfortable standing next to him! He wouldn't even answer any of my questions... or whatever! He didn't even notice I was there? Maybe that's why! I thought, maybe the smell of good tea would literally wake him up?

"Maybe, I misjudged you! I first thought you have traveled far but not seem to be knowing!" "What are you talking about, sir? I just asked you for help and you didn't reply!" "Hmm..." "Oh, NOOO!! Please, do not start with that again! Just, drink your tea, sir!" Thankfully, I didn't have to stay alone with him all the time! Dad and Rhett got aware of the smell and came to join us!

"So, she's her daughter?" "Yeah, Goldie's my daughter! I also have another daughter named Candy, but she couldn't travel along with us." "I know." "Uhmm, OK, so... why do you ask me then when you actually know my daughters?" "I just do." That conversation and was MORE THAN CREEPY! I don't think I've ever seen such an awkward looking sim who also behaves soo awkward? So, yeah... apparently, he lives there in that creepy pagoda in the shadows! But still, that day was SOO weird! I was tired because of the long walk; I was upset because nobody took me seriously; I was bored because I couldn't use the internet at all; I was hungry because this old man didn't even offer food to us? We were his "guests" and he NOTICED that we had a long journey behind us and that we might possibly be hungry? But he didn't even offer us anything at all... he only offered us to sit downstairs to talk a bit more in his patio... I guess we were all just being polite to him. Lol! But that day really wasn't being it!

For some reason, he'd always stare at me and sit next to me when we'd be chatting... one more reason why I found him weird? It wasn't even enough to say "he was weird" because he was literally beyond that! We kept on talking on his patio for such a long time, our stomachs growled and he'd still not be offering or let us just go? OMG, and when the sun was setting and he was right by my side...! ... OK, OK, we got it! I won't be writing a diary entry full of complaints! At some point, he suddenly stood up and said: "You seem to possess the charm and panache necessary to bear The Legend!" "Uhmm, OK? I'm sorry to sound rude, but you won't give us any food? Because we're leaving!" "You'll be awared with the biggest treasure in your life!" So, we thought, he'd finish telling this stupid legend and then, he'd serve us some food! So, we could get away from here and especially from HIM! We had to listen to him... unfortunately!

"... and that was The Legend! The treasure is yours now! Keep it well and farewell!" *vanishes in air "Hey, you can't treat us like that! Come back here you fool! You can't leave us behind like this? We listened to your stupid story and you wouldn't even do us a favour in return?!" Dad was really upset... so was I and Rhett. But we decided to just leave that place, we stole grabbed enough fruits from his garden and just went back to the suite! It was already very late in the night... almost early thing in the morning when we arrived there! We'd have to leave soon anyway, so we just packed out stuff! While this wasn't the greatest day in Moonbase Apollo, I've learned a lot from my journey during these days and overall, I still think that this vacation was a great success! The shuttle's just arrived and it was time to say goodbye to Moonbase Apollo! I'll miss this superb place! But thankfully, I got the phone numbers of both; Qiu and Hua, so, I can still keep in touch with them back in Widespot! I'm really excited to show them my hometown one day, too! I'm sure they'd love it, wouldn't they?

The End.

15 notes · View notes

voxvulgi · 4 years

Note

multiples of 6 - for whoever you think has the best answer including youuuu (you can skip those you don't like xD)

// alright so *cracks knuckles* *puts on accountant hat* *takes out calculator* in 100, the largest multiple of 6 is 96, which has 16 6′s in it. i have 18 muses, but 4 of them are exclusive, so i can stick to the 14 non-exclusive muses and have 2 questions to spare, which i can answer myself

Keep reading

6: do you keep plants?

“I do. I live alone, so the flat feels dead sometimes. Plants help me feel like I don’t live alone. I do like isolation, but that’s only to a certain extent. Plants are living beings you have to take care of, and they’re a sight for sore eyes, too. I especially like them in the kitchen. When I wake up to make breakfast, the sun is at an angle that pours gold into my kitchen window, and the specific shade of green of their leaves is absolutely gorgeous. I also have a group of small pots to plant thyme and rosemary and such. I could just buy them fresh, but picking your spices yourself every now and again just...engulfs the senses.”

12: what's your favorite planet?

“When Malik asked me this question and I told him Uranus, he laughed at me for ten minutes straight. At first, he laughed for a few seconds because he thought I was making a joke, but when I told him I was serious, he laughed for the rest of the ten. I really wish scientists just let Uranus be called Ouranos. Did they really not consider that sometime in the future, a girl would tell someone that her favourte planet was your-anus and get laughed at? Rude. But anyway, Uranus is my favourite planet...literally just because it’s pretty. Blue is my favourite colour. Also, it’s the only planet that spins on its side, which was what made me decide that it was more worthy of being my favourite planet than Neptune. Neptune just goes with the flow. Lame, right? Uranus is not like other planets. It’s different. It stays home and eats chicken nuggets instead of going to parties. Also, it was the only planet named after a Greek god instead of a Roman one, and when I found that out, I was like finally, and I just made it my favourite planet.”

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

“I live with my cousins, alright? They own a pub. So, basically, we live upstairs, and the pub is downstairs and open until late. My cousins don’t have a problem with this because they set their won work hours and wake and sleep as they please and all, but I have to attend work with the local herbalist sometimes because she trains me. So, one night, the pub was open well after the usual closing time because some man was getting married in a few days and wanted to celebrate with his friends. I’m not the kind of person to tell people how to live their lives and how late to go to bed, but I was irritated and went downstairs to ask my cousin when this would be over. You know, just so I could get a good idea of when I’ll finally be able to sleep. When I got there, the man to be married was flirting with the barmaid. I would have ignored it, but she looked terribly uncomfortable. I told him off first, and it didn’t work-- obviously. So I went back to my room and gathered some leftover poison ivy powder. I went back downstairs, flirted with him, and unbuckled his belt in front of all his friends. They ooh’ed and ahh’ed because they’re idiots, then I tugged on the back of his waistband and left him with poison ivy all over his arse. I waited until his face twisted and he started drunkenly panicking, then I left. That man didn’t know I’m related to the owners since my cousins are white and all, so there was no harm done to the pub’s reputation, but my cousins and the pub workers -- even the barmaid -- now keep asking me not to hide poison ivy in their pants whenever I look even mildly disapproving.”

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

“I’d trust Alan with every one of my secrets. Except if I do something that isn’t actually worrying but I think might worry him anyway. Because he’s a worrier. That’s not technically a secret.”

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

“Look, I think everyone has been truly scared. There’s always a moment in their life that really scares them, and just because it isn’t as scared as they can psychologically be doesn’t mean it wasn’t true scared. So yes, I have been truly scared. The most scared I’ve ever been was, obviously enough, when I got the phone call from my mother about Joseph.”

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

“Branches. They’re upbeat but at the same time make me feel calm and relaxed, which is thankfully my mood in general.”

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

“My favourite coffee shop is a block down from my work. I rarely take work there, usually just buy a coffee and leave or stay for a while and lounge. It’s my favourite because they make the coffee taste how it smells. If coffee doesn’t taste the way it smells, you might as well be drinking mud water. They practically have walls instead of windows, and there’s this terrace on the second floor. It gives you a good view of the street. Looks best in the morning because there’s a park just a street away and people everywhere. The coffee shop itself -- the interior, I mean -- is just clean and tidy. Their seats are comfortable but don’t look like something a wannabe hippie would own. They like their plants in moderation. Their tables are glass, not metal or wood. They don’t have puns or cheesy quotes anywhere. I like that.”

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

“My biggest fear was that a dragon would kidnap my mom and hide her in a tower. I thought and still think that my mom is so pretty! So I figured that if a dragon was going to kidnap someone, it would be my mom. I don’t have that fear now, but I’m...well, I’m really afraid of Jace dying.”

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

“Jenny and Dean last father’s day. Their dad’s already been dead for about a year at that point, but...hell, it’s their dad. I probably looked really sad, too, and he wasn’t even my biological dad.”

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

“I do like poetry. Not big on the older stuff, mostly because of the language barrier. The modern stuff is easier to understand. I actually prefer confessional poetry because it’s like looking into the dark corners of someone’s mind, and not in this romanticised way. Not for me, at least. This certain kind makes me feel seen because when someone shares their experiences from behind their own eyes, in their own shoes, they experience emotions and thoughts that are so raw and human that I feel less alone reading them. I haven’t read that much, to be honest, so I don’t have favourites. I’ve only read the more popular ones that have been coming out in the past decade, so I think picking a favourite is unfair because my pool is so small.”

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

“I don’t know. I’ve never worn a flower crown, but I suppose that if I were given one, I’d like for it to have a good amount of leaves along with the flowers. Green is my favourite colour. The flowers can be anything, but I think open ones look better. Maybe daisies-- they sound perfect. Yellows and pinks and reds would be welcome, too, as long as there’s a good amount of white daisies.”

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

“I would not say I forget easily, but I note everything down, just in case. Some things are too important to get wrong, while others just cause avoidable inconvenience. It helps me organise my time and prioritise, too, so I just opt for making notes.”

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

“Fanclub! They’re very cute. I only saw them in that movie called Despicable Me. Most of the time, Ivan and I aren’t allowed to use the TV, but it was on one of the days we were allowed, so we watched it. I liked it a lot. The minions are so full of energy and happy and stuff.”

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

“Ooooh, yes!! I’m gonna get a bunch of tattoos! They won’t be anything fancy, though. Just some stars and smiley faces here and there. They’ll all be in colour. Nothing black or white. There’s probably gonna be some small dinosaurs. And music notes. Oh, and rocket ships! I’ll just get a tattoo every time I think of something. They’ll be small. Like, and inch or something, so there’s plenty of room!”

90: talk about one of your favorite cities.

“Paris is my favourite city. The thing about it is...it loves you. That’s how I can describe it. It’s a very old city, okay? A lot of shit went down in it. There were wars and revolutions and all that. I admit that I don’t know much about the historical details because I sucked ass in history class, but I just feel like Paris was founded on fighting, and people fight for their rights and the things they love. So...I think that every building in Paris was made with love and built with a purpose. I don’t like New York because I feel like it just wants to eat you. Paris loves you. I’m very appreciative of that, and I’m appreciative of the buildings most of all. Especially the old ones are gorgeous. I try to incorporate as much of Paris into my architecture models as I could.”

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

“Not really quickly. If I just got on my computer and it tells me it needs to update, I wait until I’m done with my task before I update it. Otherwise, it’ll keep bothering me about it, so I just like to get it over with. Similar thing with my phone. I postpone the update until bedtime then let it update while I sleep. No need to let it disturb the flow of my day, you know? But I’m still gonna do it. I’m not a big procrastinator.”

2 notes · View notes

fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years

Text

Wonderwall Epilogue

Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

“And after all, you’re my wonderwall.” - Oasis

New York- 1 year (and some months) Later

(Flashback) “I don’t want to wait,” he says, smiling widely as he looks down at me in his arms. He’s slouched against the headboard and the sheets are pulled over my naked breasts as Keanu traces absent circles into my arms while I do the same on his chest. Unless we’re apart for filming, this a nightly occurrence, lying like this or in a similar position until we fall asleep, our limbs intertwined. I haven’t officially moved in with him, or to L.A for that matter, but it’s become second nature to be here, to be where he is.

“Are you sure?” I ask quietly, lifting myself a little so our eyes can meet, “You don’t feel rushed or anything? It hasn’t even been a year yet.”

Keanu nods, determination in his eyes, “It don’t.” Shifting a little, he reaches into the drawer into his nightstand, pulling out a little rusted-red box with a gold pattern at the edges, offering it to me, “I got this a couple months after we started dating. I picked up when I did that press thing in Paris.” His smile is wide and his eyes are searching mine for an answer. My mouth hangs open in surprise and I can’t find the words. Ever since we’ve gotten together, or maybe even before, I’ve known that he was the one, but now that it’s actually happening, I’m speechless. My fingers are shaking so much that I can’t even open the box. “Y/n,” Keanu begins, helping me open the box, only to reveal a smaller ring box, “Will you marry me?”

Smiling like a love struck fool, I nod eagerly, flinging my body to his chest, pressing my lips to his, “I’d love to marry you,” I mumble between kisses, “I love you Keanu.”

“I love you Y/n,” he replies quietly.

Now.... The sun is setting and the air has cooled, though the party shows no signs of dying down any time soon. I’m sitting at our table, adorned with candles and fresh flowers, a flute of champagne in my hand as I look on at the scene with a smile. “Hi,” a pair of strong hands start rubbing my shoulders, barely grazing the off the shoulder sleeves of my dress.

“Hey,” I giggle, turning my head as he bends down to press a kiss to my lips. Keanu’s face is flushed and his grin bright, “Where have you been?”

“Your cousins love to dance,” he breaths as explanation, plopping in to the chair next to me. Even with most of the day over, he looks like a dream in his tux. His bow tie is undone and the top two buttons of his white shirt are open.

“I think they love you more,” I laugh, finishing of the rest of my champagne. “Though maybe not as much as I love you,” leaning forward, I press another kiss to his lips, keeping my eyes closed as I hold my forehead against his.

Keanu hums as he laces his fingers with mine, “Care to take a walk with me, Mrs. Reeves?”

It’s only been a few hours, but already, I love being called that. I’m Mrs. Keanu Reeves. “I’d love to,” I giggle as he pulls me up. With our hands still linked, we walk towards the near by lake, not stopping until we’re at the middle of the bridge, away from the crowd.

Y/n stands gripping the railing and I’m behind her, my hands planted at her hips, the silk of her gorgeous wedding dress smooth beneath my fingers. She was definitely a vison in white, the perfect picture of a bohemian princess with a flowing dress that easily blows in the direction of the wind and a glittering tiara holding her veil in place as she walked down the aisle this morning, to meet me under the flower adorned arch, our closet friends and family watching.

In the end, we had opted for a small ceremony held just past noon, when warm spring rays bounced around after filtering through the trees at the edge of the forest that sits just beyond the lake. The small crowd sat in white patio chairs, on either side of a pathway marked off by pink rose petals. A violins had played soft music while we read the vows that we wrote ourselves. It was everything Y/n and I had hoped it would be; simple, elegant and intimate.

“I can’t believe it’s already over,” Y/n muses, leading her back against my chest, her fingers dancing along the wooden guard rail.

“I know,” my arms wrap around her, encouraging her to try to snuggle closer, “I can’t believe that you’re actually my wife,” I chuckle quietly.

Y/n giggles, humming, “And you’re my husband. Took us long enough,” she chortles.

“You mean it took you long enough,” I correct and she swats at my arm, “Okay fine, maybe we both played our parts.” She spent a long time chasing after a something that was long gone and I spent an even longer time hiding how I felt because of fear.

“Well,” Y/n begins, turning in the circle of my arms, looping hers around my neck, “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re here, in love, married and everything is just the way it should be,” Y/n’s nails graze my scalp as her finger tangle in my hair, urging me towards her.

“I love you, so, so much Mrs. Reeves,” our noses brush each other in an Eskimo kiss that brings visible warmth to both our cheeks.

“And I adore, and love you with everything that I am Mr. Reeves,” she returns giddily. Out lips tangle in a lingering kiss, only one of many that we’ll share in our lifetime as a married couple. I taste the sweetness of champagne and wedding cake on her tongue and my bottom lip drags between her teeth.

When we break, Y/n’s face sobers and I slid my palms up her shoulders as I ask, “What?”

“That night, when I asked you to meet me downstairs, I didn’t even know what I wanted to say to you. And things were going so great with you and Samantha. I knew that marrying Jacob would have been a mistake, and even if you had told me you didn’t feel the same, I don’t think I would have gone through it,” Y/n sighs quietly, shaking her head, “God, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this now, but I do know that I’m glad things went the way they did,” Y/n smiles softly, “And that I am sorry that it took me so long

My mind flashes back to that night, it was over a year ago and since then so much has changed but it feels like just last night, we were at a resort in desolate, snowy Colorado and she’s standing in front of me, begging me to forgive a mistake that she had spent so long making. I was no different , playing the part of a coward who was just a few hours away from losing the person who meant the most to me.....

(Flashback) “I think I’ve made a mistake,” Y/n’s words are breathless and thick with emotion. The yellow tinted lighting coming from the old-fashioned lamps lining the walls is dim, but I can still see the moisture in her eyes, threatening to break through.

“What do you mean?” I ask worriedly, stepping closer to Y/n, ready to gather her in my arms, “Did he hurt you again? Cause if he did-”

“No,” she sakes her head, smiling sadly through the tears, “It’s on me this time.” Licking her lips, Y/n swallows tightly, “Ke,” she begins, “I think- no, I know, that I’m in love with you. I have been for a while now and I know things are complicated and you probably don’t feel-” In an instant, I’m cutting her off, smashing my lips to hers, my arms going around her waist. With in a minute, Y/n’s arms loop around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair.

We’ve kissed before, almost a year ago, on New Years, but this, this is levels beyond drunken, hungry kisses. This is everything that she wants to admit to me and everything that I’ve been feeling for her over the past three years, all poured into one kiss. It’s a declaration that starting now, everything has changed for the better, that no matter how complicated things are, how many people are involved, we matter most to each other. I love Y/n, and she loves me.

When we pull away for air, she’s still in my arms, “I do feel the same, I’ve loved you for so long Y/n.”

“Then why didn’t you ever say something?” She asks, her fingers brushing my cheeks, they’re cold but nothing has ever felt this right.

“I was scared, I didn’t think you’d feel the same but I love do you Y/n, and I don’t think I’d be capable of anything less.”

Her eyes are wide, and my thumb slips across her cheek as I marvel at her in this moment, “Oh Ke,” she sighs, “We’ve really fucked up haven’t we?”

I laugh quietly, pulling her body flush against my chest, “We have, but we’re going to fix it.”

“I’m sorry too,” I hug Y/n close and she presses her head against the center of my chest, “For hiding the way I felt from you, for so long,” I kiss the top of her head and she hums in contentment.

“We could have saved ourselves, and each other a lot of time if we had just grown a pair and came clean.”

“Yeah,” I huff a quiet laugh, “But like you said, all of that doesn’t matter anymore. We still got here after all, and I couldn’t have imagined this being any better.” We stand on the bridge for a while, looking on at the serene lake, the reception still thriving. Soon, the sun is beginning to set and, reluctantly I say, “Come on, we should get back, everyone is going to think we ditched our own wedding reception.”

Y/n groans in protest, “Let them, I want to keep you all to myself,” she giggles warily.

“You can, in Rome,” during our honeymoon. As we walk back, our arms are linked and she rests her head on my bicep, “And I’ll have you, all to myself.”

I can’t see it, but I hear her wide, gleeful smile as she concludes, “I can’t wait.”

Neither can I y/n, for our romantic getaway and forever with the woman I love.

THE END!

Tagging: @avxgers @doodooloo700 @sgt-morgan @shanjedi @a-really-bi-girl @coolbreezeinkeanureeves @baphometwolf666 @everything-is-awesomesauce @tuliptx @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

#Keanu Reeves #Keanu Reeves x reader #Keanu Reeves x you #Keanu Reeves fanfic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick #john wick fanfic #Keanu reeves fanfiction #wonderwall #wonderwall epilouge #keanu #reeves #x reader #the end

47 notes · View notes

mypassionfortrash · 5 years

Text

Do More of What Scares You: Parts 3 & 4 of 11

Roger is determined to help you overcome your anxiety in any way he can. Although he means well, all he seems to do is make everything worse. Can you make it work?

In these chapters, your anxiety gets the better of you when you and Roger sleep together for the first time, and when he goes off to America on tour for two months. Sensing your worry, he makes you an offer you’re not sure you can accept.

◾️ Read parts 1 and 2 here! ◾️

Pairing: Roger x f!reader Warnings: Smut (18+), angst, lots of talk about anxiety. These parts are very smutty! Notes: I’m rewriting my old series’ from ‘BoRhapRogerina’ ahead of finishing them for NaNoWriMo this year. Feedback is always appreciated!

[3/11]

Roger sat in silence beside you, waiting out the rest of the journey home. The date had gone so well until you got behind the wheel.

He liked to talk.

And you needed to concentrate.

You didn’t want either of you ending the evening in a ditch, so you told him to quieten down. Nicely, of course.

He looked like a kicked puppy, shooting you a pained glance that tugged at your heartstrings and made you second guess yourself.

But, your mouth dried up. If you attempted to choke out an apology, those words might stick in your throat.

Roger wouldn’t hear it if you tried; to him, you could do no wrong.

You knew that.

Nearing town, the streetlights lit you up like an angel beside him.

You were so consumed by overthinking the situation, that you hadn’t realised that Roger had been making doe eyes at you the rest of the way home.

How were you to know? Yours were on the road as you hunched over the steering wheel. Ready to react to anything that came between you and your flat.

Turning on to your street, you found it still bustling. Half drunk neighbours and their kids sat on the low walls outside their homes, cracking open stout bottles of beer.

“Nearly there,” you sighed, the relief evident in your tone. Your hand rested on the gearshift, working the car down to a halt outside your place. There was a quiet between you and Roger.

The pair of you stared straight ahead. Neither could bear to break the awkward silence. Saying the wrong thing was a clear possibility here.

“Well,” you began, wringing your hands together in your lap, “goodnight.”

Half way out the driver’s seat, you felt Roger pull at the back of your dress.

“Wait, please.”

Glaring at him, you sat back down.

He wasn’t looking at you. Anything but you. His shoulders rose and fell steadily. His lips parted and then caught between his teeth.

“Roger? Is this about-”

Roger shook his head, smiling. “No. No it’s not.”

You reached out and took his hand. It was cold and damp.

“I had such an amazing day with you,” he sighed. “I like you…I really like you.”

You huffed in relief. “Thank goodness for that.”

Looking like a drowned rat beside him - makeup smeared and your hair falling into your eyes - he chuckled at the sight. He reached out to tuck it behind your ears. “Sorry if that scared you. I have a habit of being a bit too dramatic. And I don’t tend to go in for…” Roger tilted his head from side to side, searching for the rest of his sentence. “You know,” he leaned in close to you, whispering, “feelings.”

The last part of that announcement was wasted on you. Roger seemed to think he had done a bang up job of covering up his softer side as he laughed to himself. But his face fell just as quick realising you were gazing at a point beyond his shoulder.

The fancy car and its owner had attracted the attention of your neighbours, James and Maureen. Together with their neighbours from downstairs. They craned their necks, trying to get a good look at who you were with.

“What’s the matter?” Roger asked, looking hurt. “If that’s too soon, I’m really-”

“It’s… it’s fine. My neighbours are feeling nosy tonight,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “They keep looking in.” Your cheeks burned, feeling so stupid for letting that get to you. You were certain Roger had to put up with far more. But this was your thing. Your one good thing.

“Oh,” Roger mouthed, leaning into you. “Maybe we should give them something to talk about?”

You looked left and right, then focused on Roger. “Like what?” Butterflies surged inside you, cottoning on.

He moved so close to you that you could feel his breath hot against your neck, lips to your ear. “I don’t think I want tonight to end.” He moved back, pressing his nose to yours. “Do you?”

That thing you did whenever your nerves reared their ugly heads happened. A half laugh, half sigh. All with a coy smile. And a fleeting kiss. You looked up at your flat window. “Do you want to go…” you trailed off, kissing him again, deeper this time. “Inside?”

“Are you ok with that?” Roger asked, pulling away from you. He placed his hand on your waist. His eyes full of concern.

You thanked your lucky stars for the darkness around you both. You had no idea how you looked, deliberating, but you could feel the heat rushing to your face. You were certain you looked ridiculous.

In the back of your mind you knew what it meant. What he’d be expecting. It wasn’t exactly a huge jump away from him seeing you naked earlier. But to have him in your space, all around you, that was the difference.

You snapped back to reality. Nodding. Going along with it.

You and Roger raced past your neighbours, nodding and giving them a curt, “hi.” Then up the stairs, stumbling arm in arm.

Bursting through the door and into your living room, you turned around and looked at the outline of Roger. He had his back to the door, waiting for you to switch on the light. But you enjoyed it like this. Still and dark. So quiet you could hear Roger’s awkward breaths against the backdrop of the dull rushing in your ears. Your chest heaved as you thumbed at the fabric of your dress.

“Do you want a drink?” you blurted.

Roger jolted back to life. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. That would be lovely. Thanks,” he rambled, running his hand over the wall behind him. He found the switch. Light. At last.

Through in the kitchen, you searched your cupboards for all the booze you had. White wine? No, too girly. Vodka? Come on, have some class. Whisky? What are you a fifty year old man or something? You took everything out, examining each bottle one by one. And then two glasses.

“Vodka.”

Roger stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded. His eyes were half shut.

“Hm?”

“I’ll take a vodka.”

“Oh right. Ok, I’ve got you,” you babbled. “Mixers?”

Roger shrugged, entering the room. He picked up the bottle, reading the label, glasses perched at the end of his nose. “Christ, you don’t mess about. This is the strong stuff.”

“So do you need a mixer?” you asked. “Anything you like?”

“What do you usually drink it with?”

“Well,” you began, contorting your face to match your admission. “When I really need to get hammered… I’ll knock back a couple of shots.”

“I knew you were my kind of girl,” he said. He took control of the situation, opening the bottle and pouring you a measure each. He raised his glass to his lips and paused, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have to be drunk to… you know?”

The vodka brushed against your lips and retreated back into the glass. “Oh, no. No I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lies, of course.

“Because I don’t think there’s enough in there for me and you,” Roger smirked, pointing at the bottle.

Your bottom lip quivered. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Roger’s glass met yours, clinking. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Cheers.”

Setting down your glasses on the counter, you and Roger groaned as the vodka burned your insides. “Think that’ll take the edge off?” he asked, biting his lip.

You leaned on the counter, puffing out your cheeks. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Lies again.

Roger mirrored you, looking at you from beneath his eyelashes. His gaze wasn’t reserved for your face. That, you could handle. Instead, it trailed from your eyes to your lips. Down to your neck. Lower and lower still as his teeth sank into his bottom lip yet again.

You edged closer to him.

His voice was lower than usual. “Can I kiss you? Properly, I mean?”

“You don’t have to ask,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. Your insecurity threatened to take another bite from you. But the vodka, what little of it you had, fended it off for now. Your fingers clung to the back of Roger’s shirt as the gap between you grew smaller by the second.

He made such quick work of pulling you in by your hips, your bodies pressed against each other’s. Then, he stopped, a whisker away from your mouth. Keeping you waiting one more moment than you could stand. It was torture, fighting off the urge to close the gap. You could feel his breath catch on your lips.

Finally, it happened.

A reserved sigh accompanied Roger’s tongue tracing across your lower lip. You could taste the vodka on him as he doubled his efforts. He was fervent enough that you were already pinned against the kitchen counter. His hands weaved through your hair, tugging at the roots, keeping you right where he needed you to be.

You were so overcome. Unable to move in a tug of war between apprehension and unbridled lust, your fingers were still kneading away at Roger’s crisp, white shirt.

He strayed to your jaw, lavishing it with hungry, open mouthed kisses.

You cracked when he nipped at your neck, meeting the sensation with a muffled mewl. He set about doing it again, purely for that same reaction.

“You sound so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, inching your dress up with his free hand and returning his lips to yours.

His fingers on your thighs made you tense.

Not this.

Not again.

You let go of his shirt as your body turned cold. You couldn’t hear his satisfied groans, as he continued to devour you, over the rushing in your ears. “Roger?”

That went unnoticed. He was far too distracted.

With all the strength you could muster, you planted your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Gasping, your lungs worked overtime to calm you down. “I’m sorry,” you choked.

“Did I hurt you?” Roger fretted. “I know I can be a bit-”

You hushed him with your fingers, searching for a road out of the room. “No, no.”

Roger noticed, moving out of your way. “Take as long as you need.” His hand brushed against your shoulder. “I’ll be here when you get back, ok?”

You raced to the bathroom and locked yourself inside. The tiled floor was like ice underneath you, but why did it feel like you were the one cracking?

Back to the door, you pressed your hands over your eyes, rubbing at them. Wiping away tears that were yet to fall. You tried so hard to be cool and calm. You wanted him. But your brain always did this.

You couldn’t help but wonder how Roger would feel about this. You, cutting short a lovely evening to go and suffocate yourself on your bathroom floor. This might be the final straw for him.

You could only hope he wouldn’t be around to see you like this. After all, you still harboured so much pride. That was rich, coming from someone who was prone to feeling like they were going to be swallowed whole when faced with the most average human activity.

He was still there. Shuffling through the hallway.

He knocked on the door, the vibrations causing you to shake. “Are you alright in there?”

“Just about.”

You weren't.

“I’ve made you a cup of tea.”

“Ok.”

“I’ll leave it here beside the door, ok, darling? Take your time.”

As Roger placed the tea on the floor outside the bathroom, you cracked open the door, looking up at him. “I should be out in a minute. Just need to find my feet,” you said with an embarrassed smile.

Roger sat down in the hallway, handing you the cup of tea. “Do you need a hand?”

The first sip didn’t go down well. It felt like there was a fist around your throat, stopping anything from getting through. “No. My legs sometimes tingle when I get like this,” you spluttered. “I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Roger’s expression flipped. “My dear, you’re going to need to stop apologising when you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ll only make yourself feel more guilty.” He was adamant about that.

You shook your head. “But I did. We were having a great time and I-” you trailed off, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I fucked up.”

“But you can’t help it.”

“Even still.”

“You can’t help it.”

You nodded, half agreeing. You couldn’t.

“What was it that brought it on?” Roger asked.

“Nothing that you did, honestly.” The defensiveness cut through your tone. There was no disguising it.

“Be honest.”

You shrugged like it was nothing. “I have a hard time letting people into my personal space like that. I have to know I can trust them. Sometimes it takes forever. Sometimes, it happens right away.”

“Ok,” Roger said.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I needed more vodka.” You attempted a smile through all the humiliation.

Roger reached out and took your hand. “Christ, you’re cold. Doesn’t help being sprawled on that bloody floor.”

———————————————————————————

A pale gold lit up your humble abode through the curtains. Small snores came from underneath you, your pillow rising and falling in waves. Both of you were still clothed and the duvet lay discarded on the floor. Your face nestled into Roger’s chest, and his arm curled around your shoulders. He was warm and soft for someone so lithe. You didn’t want to move.

Towards the end of the night, you and Roger must have found your way to bed. You couldn’t remember how it happened. All you could recall was the conversation from the bathroom floor. How he talked you down and distracted you. How he listened and understood what you needed. How he comforted you.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking up at him. He seemed peaceful, still fast asleep.

Then the fear set in. What if he saw you like this, half asleep first thing in the morning? Unwashed. No makeup. Morning breath.

You rolled out of bed, careful not to make a sound. That one notorious floorboard gave you away. You gasped when you heard Roger stir.

“Where you going?” he asked, throwing his arm over his tired, delicate eyes.

“I-I’m just going to clean myself up,” you stumbled.

“Don’t be too long. I was enjoying that.”

In the bathroom, you leaned against the counter top, looking at yourself in the mirror. Dark circles. A pimple on your chin. A couple of stray hairs on your top lip. You fixated on the imperfections you saw. Why the hell would Roger enjoy you?

“COME BAAAAACK!” Roger whined.

“Give me a minute!”

Teeth brushed, dirty clothes off and a once over with a washcloth. That was all it took before you were back in your room, clad in your bathrobe. You thought nothing of it until Roger sat up, raising his eyebrows.

“What?” you asked, tying it around your waist.

Roger shook his head, grinning. “Nothing.”

Throwing yourself on to the bed beside Roger, you fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. You felt more bold than you were last night. “It’s something.” You undid all the buttons, while you waited for Roger’s response.

Roger’s breath hitched in his throat as you straddled his waist, giving his collarbones delicate kisses. “Are you wearing anything underneath that?” He asked.

You sat upright, caressing the strip of skin between his jeans and his navel. “Do you want to find out?”

Roger’s hands came to rest on your thighs on either side of him. All he could do was look up and nod, renouncing all control of the situation.

You smirked, taking one end of the silk tie in your hand, and giving it a gentle tug. Enjoying Roger’s more malleable side, you decided to draw the act out. You bit your lip, cocking your head to the side. “Are you sure?”

“Please.” Roger’s fingers fidgeted on your thighs. “Let me see you.”

There was still that tense nervousness pulling away at your insides. But you would have been lying if you said that presenting yourself to him like this wasn't exhilarating. Wiggling your hips from side to side on top of him, you tried to gauge his reaction. “Like what you see?” you asked, the fabric slipping off your frame.

Roger laughed, grabbing your hips as he rolled on top of you, pinning you down. “I think I’m going to keep you, yes.” He gave you a quick, ardent kiss, before picking up where you both had left off last night. “I think you must be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, allowing his hands and mouth to roam. He paused, blinking up at you. "Do you trust me?"

Remembering your conversation from last night, a chill rushed through you. You didn't have to think about it. The fact that he had even considered asking you that question was good enough for you. "Yes. I do."

"Thank you." Resuming his work, Roger's hands had taken to your thighs while his lips imparted wet, hungry kisses on your breasts. His tongue danced over your nipple. He groaned as it hardened in his mouth, giving it a pinch with his teeth.

Arching your back into him, you eased yourself into what was happening. Heat grew between your legs as Roger gave you a drowsy look.

He turned his efforts lower.

You became more responsive as he spread your legs, dragging his fingers along the back of your thighs.

You couldn’t help whining as your impatience grew.

The feverish kisses on your stomach gave way to absurd, chaste little smacks along the inside of your thigh. Even the feeling of his breath on your skin had you rolling your hips with need. Whimpering into the pillow, you grasped at his hair.

He lazily played with you. Feathering his fingers up and down your slick slit, he marvelled at your arousal. “You’re so wet for me, darling,” he purred.

All you could muster was a desperate hum before he let loose on you.

Roger savoured each stroke, parting your folds with the flat of his tongue. It wasn’t his fingers pressing into your thighs, or the way he closed his eyes, or the sounds escaping him that gave his enjoyment away. It was the way he moved into you, fraught with hunger and the desire to please you. His tongue was forceful, lapping away at your lips, pulling them into his mouth.

And you? All you wanted was more.

Even if you tried to roll your hips to reach your goal, he would only push back even more. You squirmed and writhed, aching.

Finally, his tongue brushed over your clit. It was fleeting but enough to elicit something more verbal from you. A pathetic, loud and needy moan, coupled with a sharp tug at Roger’s hair had him grinning. He looked up, “oh, you like that?”

You bit your lip, looking down at him. Pleading with your eyes for him to do it again. Keep doing it. Never stop doing it.

Roger replaced his mouth with his hands, fingers lingering at your entrance. “Tell me how much you liked it,” he ordered, slipping two fingers inside you. He curled them in on themselves repeatedly, touching just the right spot to make your hips buck against him, gasping desperately. “Tell me,” he goaded.

You screwed your eyes shut in frustration, struggling to verbalise how much you needed his mouth on you again. Managing to squeak out a feeble, “please,” you could hear Roger laugh as he continued to tease.

“You sound so pretty when you beg.” Another quick dart of his tongue over your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“Roger,” you called, fists balling up in the sheets, “please, I need to come.”

Roger swiped his tongue around, but not on, your clit, his fingers still working away inside you. The sound was obscene. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He held nothing back. He focused all his attention directly on your most sensitive spot. The contact was absolutely electric, making your legs tremble and every muscle inside you pull taut as he moved his tongue and his fingers in sync. Chipping away at the last small semblance of control you had. He was relentless.

He never let up as your fingernails clawed at his scalp. Or as the most unholy sounds escaped your lips. Certainly not when your cunt began to throb and quiver around his tiring fingers. Not until that knot in your stomach snapped free, leaving you breathless and your skin glistening.

It took forever for you to become coherent and lucid again, but when you did, Roger was still between your legs, laying affectionate kisses on to your stomach. You covered your face with your hands to process everything that had just happened, trying to clench your thighs together.

Sensing the change in you, Roger moved up the bed. As he loomed over you, you could feel his cock press against your stomach through his jeans. His breathing was slow and heavy, your scent so clear on his skin. “Are you ok?” He asked, kissing your nose and both your hands.

Dragging your hands down your face, he came into view. You nodded and with a hoarse voice, you reassured him. “Yeah, I just need a minute.”

“Ok,” Roger whispered, starting to move to your side.

“No, don’t,” you said, tugging at the edges of his shirt.

Roger stayed put, stroking your hair as it splayed across the pillow around you, looking down and admiring you in all your flushed and tired glory.

“This is a very attractive angle,” you murmured, a smirk on your lips.

“Do you even have a bad side?” Roger asked, squinting down at you.

With care, you ran your thumb along Roger’s jaw. “Lots of them.”

He kissed your nose before burying his face in the crook of your neck. More kisses. Slow and passionate. Ratcheting up the mood again.

“Who knew you’d get so riled up with all this sentiment?” you giggled.

“Over you, you mean?” he grinned, leaning down to kiss you. His hips rolled against yours as your kiss deepened, limbs intertwining pulling you both together. His movements became more purposeful. The feeling of his cock, still in his jeans, rubbing against your spent and sensitive cunt only made you eager for another round, mewling into Roger’s mouth.

He broke away, planting his hands on either side of you. “Do you want to…you know?”

You smiled sweetly, urging him to go ahead.

He needed no other encouragement, leaning back to undo his jeans and free his cock. Veined, hard and glistening pink at the head, he stroked his length. The gap between you closed again as he brushed the tip of his cock between your folds, coating it. Head back, mouth open, he groaned contentedly as he filled you for the first time.

The fire inside you grew wildly out of control as you pushed back into him. Every single move of his was tentative. He was holding so much back.

“Fuck me like you mean it," you joked, slapping his arm.

Roger dramatically draped himself over you, grinding into you. He kept his gaze trained on you. His pace quickened, unable to maintain his restraint. The soft sound of flesh on flesh grew louder. “You’re so fucking tight,” he hissed into the pillow.

You dug your fingernails into his back and wrapped your legs high around his body, forcing him deeper. Whimpering, you tried to reach his lips to stifle it.

“Moan for me, come on. I want to hear you darling,” he grunted, doubling his efforts. “Don’t go shy on me now.”

You grasped a handful of his hair, pulling him in for a feverish, breathless kiss.

You could feel him becoming tense. His breath hitching. His hips jerking.

“You gonna come, my love?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grunted, burying his face into the pillow again, his movements growing erratic. With one last growl into your neck, his cock throbbed, pumping strand after strand of cum into you until there was nothing left to do but collapse onto you.

You held him, bodies glued together in sheer bliss until your breathing stilled. It felt like forever before Roger rolled off you and on to his back.

He looked over at you from the other side of the bed. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, still wearing that dreamy look of his.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you grinned.

Roger turned his attention to the ceiling. Eyes scrunched. Cheeks puffed out. A coy smile on his lips. Then he gave a big sigh. “I think you were made for me.”

[4/11]

All those nerves at the beginning melted away as your trust in Roger grew. Every time you and him got together, he would pull you out of your shell even more; everyone noticed that change in you.

Until he was due to leave for another tour.

It worried you for weeks. In secret, of course. He couldn’t find out about the dread that gripped you when you were left alone with your thoughts. When he was gone.

How long you had with him? Where this was going? Who was going to take your place when he inevitably got bored of you?

It was a wet Wednesday morning and you hadn’t done a stitch. Your blinds were closed and your laundry overflowed from the basket. You wasted precious moments bathing. Only because it was necessary. And putting the kettle on. Again, necessary.

You had taken the day off work to spend as much time as you could with him before he left. Doing nothing but cocoon yourselves in blankets and work your way through endless pots of tea. You couldn't allow this to bug you any longer.

Unfurling Roger’s arm from around your shoulders, you turned around to face him. Fingers grasping at the edges of the blanket around you. “When do you come home again?”

Roger drained the last of his cup of tea and sighed. “Two months.”

You huffed, looking towards the window. “I’m going to miss you.”

Roger stroked your hair; little comfort in the face of the first real test in your relationship. “I’ll speak to you every day. I promise."

———————————————————————

True to his word, despite the time difference, he did. He snuck away from his bandmates, paying through the nose on long distance calls in the early hours of the morning, leaning against the side of a different phone booth every night, half asleep.

Three weeks in, Roger was somewhere in Santa Ana, passing through at a truck stop. His bandmates were within earshot as he slunk towards the row of grubby phones. He glanced at his watch, making sure his timing wasn’t completely unreasonable and began slotting his money in. His fingers jabbed away at the buttons. He had memorised your number by now.

It was three in the morning back home. The trill of your phone roused you in seconds flat. You had moved your phone beside your bed for easy access. Goodness knows what hour Roger would call at on any given day. You had to be prepared. Flinging yourself over the edge of the bed to pick up the receiver, you croaked. “Roger?”

“Hello my darling. What time is it over there?”

You chuckled, lying back down. “Witching hour.”

Roger laughed, leaning his head against the wall in front of him. “It’s always witching hour with you.”

“How was your gig? You had one today, didn’t you?”

“No. We’re heading to LA now. How’s work?”

One of the consequences of speaking every day was that you were quick to run out of things to talk about. All he did was play shows, or scrabble. Or drink. You didn't want to think about anything other than that, though sometimes your imagination ran wild.

And you whittled down the days at a poky little office. It paid peanuts. Sometimes you would go out with friends, but those were good days. Those were rare. “It’s work, really. Isn’t it?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Roger pinched the bridge of his nose, determined not to allow the hurt to scratch the surface. “And how are you feeling?” His voice was small, now. He wasn’t his usual cheerful self.

A great roar of cheering and giggling erupted wherever Roger was. It caught your attention, tying knots in your stomach. “I’m good. Are you and the guys doing anything nice?”

“Oh, you know,” he began, laughing, “the guys have brought some girls to the bus. But I'm just going to go to-”

Your skin became cold at that sentence. “Girls?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.”

“I miss you.”

“Do you?”

“I’ll be thinking of you,” he said quietly.

Your brain couldn’t stop it. “When you fuck them, you mean?”

Roger was taken aback. “You don’t have anything to worry about, I promise. They’re not for me. But you are.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I… I lo…I miss you. So much.”

His words weren’t much consolation. “I’ll speak to you soon, Roger.”

You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Brian and Freddie loitered a few feet away from Roger, discussing their plans for the night. They paid him no attention as he made his phone call.

Until he punched at the wall in front of him. Tears began to crawl from his eyes. This wasn't like him at all.

Sure, tantrums were a daily occurrence with Roger, but very seldom did he cry in anyone’s company. He was much too proud for that. Right now though, he was on his own planet.

He stood there for what felt like forever, hands furiously drying his eyes, head bowed. His shoulders rose and fell as he tried to calm himself down.

Brian and Freddie were mesmerised. They glanced at him and then each other, shrugging their shoulders. “What do you think’s the matter with him?” Freddie whispered in Brian’s ear, covering his hand with his mouth. Being quiet wasn’t his forte.

“Probably another one of his hissy fits.”

The movement of Roger’s shoulders seemed to speed up.

“Do you think we should talk to him?” Brian asked, giving Freddie a worried look, hoping that it wouldn’t have to be him.

“Oh alright, I’ll bloody do it!” Freddie announced, graciously accepting the invitation no one had asked for.

Without warning, Roger turned around. His cheeks and eyes were red and puffy. “It’s not another one of my bloody tantrums!”

“Alright. Don’t be so dramatic, Rog,” Brian said, holding up his hands. “What happened?”

“I heard he’s got himself a new plaything,” Freddie jibed.

In that moment, Roger saw red, closing the gap between himself and his best friend. He puffed out his chest, getting in Freddie's face. “What was that?”

“Oh here we go,” Brian muttered folding his arms.

Freddie stood as tall as he could. His tone was fair and commanding, offering Roger little room to escalate the situation. “Do you think we don’t notice you sneaking off at all hours? Hogging every phone you see? When you're all bleary eyed and quiet? Have you met someone?”

Roger opened his mouth to speak. But he knew the game was up. Freddie had his number.

Deacy decided to make an appearance at exactly the right moment, staggering out of the bus, grinning. “Who’s Roger meeting?”

Roger rolled his eyes and threw his arms at his sides. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve well and truly fucked up now.”

Before his friends could answer, he darted towards the bus, like a stroppy teenager, running away from all his problems. He paid no attention to the group of scantily clad girls congregated in the lounge area. Instead, he climbed into his coffin sized bunk and slipped on his headphones. He didn’t want to be disturbed. He wanted to be alone.

Outside, Brian, Deacy and Freddie were still trying to process what happened, shrugging and exchanging confused looks.

At ten o’clock the following morning, your phone rang again. A rude awakening on your day off. You lay awake the entire night, torturing yourself, wondering what Roger was up to.

You picked it up, expecting it to be your manager, calling you in to work.

But, no. It was Roger.

“What time is it over there?”

“It’s two in the morning,” he sighed. “I don’t know why I’m calling you.”

“Guilt? Did you think of me?” The hurt cut through your tone; it was so obvious that Roger couldn’t miss it.

He widened his eyes at your response, seeming to forget your exchange only hours prior. “Sorry?”

“With your groupies? Did you think of me?”

Roger paused for a moment. He took a deep breath, trying to muster the least defensive response he could. “I was awake all night actually. Worrying myself sick about you while the rest of them took care of the girls.”

“You've got a show tomorrow. Today, actually. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“And you expect me to believe that?” You asked, turning on to your back and staring at the ceiling.

It wasn’t even the fact that you were convinced Roger had been with other women since he embarked on the tour that bothered you. It was the fact that your brain seemed to be clobbering you over the head with that thought all the time. It convinced you that you weren’t good enough. And you couldn’t string together the words to express that. Not without Roger becoming even more insufferable, for the vicious cycle to start all over again.

His voice cracked through the rushing in your ears. “Are you still there, my love?”

“I’m still here.”

“What are you doing for the rest of the week?” he asked.

Now he wanted to make small talk? Really? “Working. Same as every other day.”

“Are you off work today?”

What was with all the questions? “Yeah,” you huffed, “I was hoping I could sleep all my cares away and fester in my bed. I feel like shit.”

“If that's what you need, I won’t keep you. Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any more holidays to take off work?”

You recoiled from the receiver, narrowing your eyes. “I have a few. Why?”

The old Roger, the Roger you were enjoying getting to know was back. “Because I think I might sleep better if you were lying in a confined space on top of me.”

“That sounds terrible for me. My worst nightmare, actually.”

“What? A confined space or getting on a plane to see me? Have you ever been on a plane?” He asked, his words gathering pace. “Do you even have a passport?”

“Roger-”

“I mean, it would be great. If it makes you uncomfortable then you don’t have to do it.”

A familiar tightness bore down on your chest. The more he spoke, the heavier it grew. You needed out of this conversation fast. “Can I think on it?”

“Of course. Let me know tomorrow.”

And just like that, the weight was lifted. “Ok.”

“Darling?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m with you, and only you,” he said, exaggerating those words. “But I need you to trust me.”

“I’m trying my best. It’s going to take time.”

“Are we ok?”

“I hope so. Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t. Not until you get here. As I recall, you seem to get a kick out of me being stupid,” he joked. You could picture that smile of his as he spoke. “Enjoy your day off.”

The worries you had about him subsided for the time being. You sighed with a contented smile. “Have an amazing show. Only five more weeks until you're home.”

Roger laughed. “I love you.”

Those words were like a bucket of cold water being dumped all over you. The hairs on your arms stood on end and a shiver ran down your spine. Disbelief seeped into your core again. “Thank you.”

Roger's laughter grew as he hung up. That was everything he loved about you, summed up, right there.

You had a big decision to make.

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen

81 notes · View notes

dramaticskeleton · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4: Weekend

Fancy:

In my 25 years, I’ve had one boyfriend, who turned out to be a grade A psychopath. I’ve had countless one-night stands since him. Some guys I’ve seen twice, or even three times. If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be with the same person for five months, I’d say they were crazy. I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I didn’t want that. I didn’t need that.

Yet here is Freddy, who has become my exclusive partner. How the hell does something like this happen? Maybe it was because he made me breakfast that first morning. Or because he called me asking for a second night. And then a third. And a sixth. There was something about him that made me want more. Some impulse had told me to ask him to stay with me and I felt elated when he had actually come. Somewhere along the lines, our little fling had become something different and I’m not entirely sure it’s a bad thing.

I look at him now, sipping his tea, the steam rising up into his face. His hair falls into his eyes and I resist the urge to reach across the table and brush it out of the way. I have to resist doing a lot of things to him when we’re in public. I want to touch him all over. But it’s not just sexual. I want to kiss his cute upturned nose, hold his hand, and listen to him speak. God, if he could just talk to me for hours at a time, I’d be happy.

“Can I ask you something serious?” I ask, suddenly shy. He turns his vivid blue eyes to me, sparkling with amusement.

“Are you capable of being serious?”

I kick him under the table. “Shut up.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you like this?” I wave to the air between us. “What we’ve got going on?”

“Yeah, I think it’s good.”

“Do you want to take it further?”

Freddy bites his bottom lip before saying, “How do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve met my sisters. You’ve met my cousin. We’ve only seen each other for the last five months. I’m assuming.” I give him a look as if to confirm. He nods his head. “Is it safe for me to call you my boyfriend now?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

“Well, I can’t very well call you my one-night stand forever, can I?”

He looks so uncomfortable that I’m afraid I’ve ruined things by asking. Maybe it would have been better to leave things as they were, without putting a label on them. I twirl the mug in my hands, waiting for him to respond.

“The last time I was that serious with a girl, it didn’t end well.”

“What happened?”

Freddy shrugs. “We were engaged.”

I gape at him. Of all things he could have said, that is the last thing I expected. “How is that not ending well? Isn’t that the goal?”

He gives me a withering look. “Well, we obviously didn’t get married, did we?”

“Sorry. Why not?”

“After I gave her the ring, she wouldn’t stop talking about our life together, and getting a house, and children.”

“As one does when they’re about to get married.”

The corner of Freddy’s lip twitches into a sad smile. “I realized I wasn’t ready for it. Not really. I thought I was, but I couldn’t stop thinking about…” he pauses, chewing on the inside of his mouth. He hesitates to continue. I reach for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I just wasn’t ready to settle down yet. So I left her.”

“As simple as that?”

“Last time I talked to her was the night before I left. As far as I know, she’s still in France, so I can’t go back there. “

“Wait, did you tell her you were leaving?”

Freddy smirks. “No.”

“And you haven’t talked to her since?”

“Nope.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re literally the worst kind of person.”

He watches me with a calculating gaze. “You still wanna call me your boyfriend?”

I think about it for a minute. Obviously he’s got commitment issues and there is a good chance he’ll do the same to me. And given my growing feelings for him, I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. But at the same time, I think even a few more months with him would be better than ending things now. Call me masochistic.

“It’s kind of hot,” I say finally. “A young, tortured, angsty soul. It’s the new thing.”

Freddy makes a face. “I’m 27.”

“A baby. I’ll call you my boyfriend as long as you promise not to ask me to marry you and I won’t talk about a future with you beyond nightclubs and dinner. Maybe breakfast. That seems to be the problem. Easy fix.”

He laughs, and the deep sound sends a shiver throughout my body. It sounds heavenly. “Okay,” he says, “I can agree to that.”

“However, I do have one question about our immediate future that I must know the answer to.”

“Does it involve you being pregnant?”

My eyes widen. “Absolutely not!”

“Then shoot.” He gives me an indulgent grin.

“Will you go to Christmas dinner with me?”

Freddy freezes as he lifts his cup to his lips again. He sets the mug down again slowly, watching me carefully. His mouth curls into a half smile. “That’s basically a proposal.”

I blush. “I mean, that was never in our bargain.”

“Fair.”

“But really, will you?”

“Why do you want to go? I thought you hated your parents.”

I fiddle with my fingers, running them along the rim of the mug, playing with the spoon, looking anywhere but at him. Why did I want to go? My parents had kicked me out of their home seven years ago when I had made the ultimate decision to pursue my own path, not theirs. I had always resented them for it. They were my parents; they were supposed to support me and help me, the same as they did my sisters. But I think of Mercy and Grace, who had been there for me even after I spent years raging at them when we were younger. They were always helping clean me up after I started going to clubs and fucking around. If they can bear to forgive me my mistakes, maybe I could do the same.

I look at Freddy, who’s still staring at me. I lick my lips, thinking of my words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about what you said in October. How I’ve got to forgive Mam and Da before I can go back to them. And I think it’s time I did. It’s just bad if I keep resenting her if she wants to put things to right. She’s trying to make an effort and I need to do the same. And I… I want to see my parents.” I blink back the tears that start to well up.

Freddy nods once. “Of course I’ll go with you.”

I give him a watery smile. “You’ll have to dress up in something better than jeans and a white tee.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “Do I have to wear a tie?” he asks with a smile.

I pretend to think about it. “I think you can leave it off.”

~~~~~

When we get home, I run up to my room to change. I had convinced Freddy to go to La Dame Rouge tonight and I needed to look good. Even if I wasn’t trying to score a date for the night, it would still be fun to dress up. We hadn’t been to a club in weeks. Another testament to how much our relationship had changed.

I clean my face and apply new makeup, giving my eyes a dark and sultry look. I choose a violently red lipstick to go with it. The combination is delectable, if I do say so myself. I move to my closet, picking a short black dress with long sleeves and my thigh high boots. I grin at my reflection. I would have the boys dropping at my feet, and I’d have the pleasure of turning them down. Call me a tease.

I make my way downstairs, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen. I find Freddy and Oliver standing unusually close together.

“Don’t,” Oliver is saying. I clear my throat and he looks at me over his shoulder. “Hi, Cici.”

Freddy looks around him and gives me a small smile. “You look gorgeous,” he says with a wink. I blush with delight.

Oliver snorts as he moves back to the table. “You look like a stripper.”

I take the seat across from him. He looks up from his phone, raising a brow. “I’m wearing far too much clothing for that,” I tell him. He makes a noise and rolls his eyes.

“Where are you two off to tonight?”

I turn around to look at Freddy. “I’m taking Freddy to La Dame Rouge.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

Freddy shoots a curious glance between the two of us. “What makes it so special?”

“It’s only the best club in Oxford!” I squeal. “It’s got the best music and the best drinks.”

“Not to mention,” Oliver adds, “The people. They either dress nice, or they dress like sluts. There’s no in between. It’s always interesting to see what people show up in.”

“Oh, that sounds… fun.”

I get up and sidle next to Freddy, planting a kiss on his cheek. “We’re going to have so much fun. Go on, get changed then.”

He smirks at me. “You’re dressed nice, so does that make me the slut in this relationship?”

I giggle and push him towards the stairs. Sitting back down, I find Oliver watching me closely.

“S,o it’s officially a relationship now?”

“Yeah, I asked him earlier, at the cafe.”

“Oh, you asked him?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Yes, is that a problem?”

“No, not at all,” Oliver shakes his head, frowning. “It’s nice to see you… settling. I was getting worried about you for a while there. I’m glad you found someone.”

I smile lightly. “Freddy’s a good guy. He makes me feel happy again. Truly happy.”

“Good.” I know he means it, even if he sounds lackluster about it. Oliver spent four years watching over me. I know the last two have been as hard on him as they have been on me and watching me spiral out of control and not being able to do anything about it must have killed him. I’m a bit ashamed, to be honest. But Oliver has been patient and understanding of it all, making sure I don’t fall too far. I probably wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him.

I give him a sly grin. “Now it’s your turn to find someone.”

“This house is crowded enough with three people.”

“One more person won’t add too much.”

“You’d be surprised what four adults in one house are capable of.”

“Come with us tonight. You haven’t been with anyone in months! Not since Meghan.”

Oliver gives me a look with thinly veiled annoyance. “Your concern about my sex life is appreciated but unnecessary, thanks.”

“Come on,” I whine. “Just come to have fun then. When was the last time you weren’t working?”

Oliver just shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of clients recently. “

I look at him, taking in all of his features. His hair looks like he’s run his fingers through them hundreds of times just in the last hour. I note the bags under his eyes, and his gaze is dull. “You’re working too much. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious, come relax a bit with us tonight. For like, two hours. You can afford that, can’t you?”

“Why are you being so persistent?”

“I want to hang out with my cousin. Is that such a bad thing? I feel like I haven’t actually seen you in a while. Not since Freddy arrived.” I stop, a sudden suspicion clouding my mind. “You don’t like him.”

Oliver blinks at me. “He’s fine.”

“You’ve been avoiding us.”

“I haven’t.”

“What’s wrong with him then?”

“Nothing, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

I’d be inclined to believe him if it weren’t for the shifty look he gives me. “What were you talking about before I came down? You told him not to do something.”

“I was just telling him not to hurt you, is all.”

I roll my eyes. “You are such a terrible liar.”

Oliver shrugs his shoulders, looking down at his hands. “He looks like someone I used to know.”

“What, like an old boyfriend or something?”

He rubs his face and leans back in his chair. “What? No!”

My eyes flare wide. “He was, wasn’t he? Oh my god, I’m sleeping with your old flame, this is so weird.”

He stiffens, his eyes shut.

“Oliver!” I hiss, kicking at him.

Oliver runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “God, you’re incorrigible. Not everything is a drama like that. He’s just someone I went to school with.”

“Did you have thoughts about him in school?”

He glares. “Stop it.”

I smile a bit. “Jokes aside, was he a good person back then?”

“Yeah, he was decent. You couldn’t have found a better person to be with.”

I give Oliver a grin. “Fine, so you’re not avoiding Freddy. You don’t hate him. You’ve got no excuse not to come to the club tonight.”

“God, are we back to this? Okay, look, I’ll meet you at the club, okay? I just have to finish one last thing and then I’ll go. I promise.” He holds up his pinky finger.

I smile widely, taking it in my own. “You can’t break this.”

“I know the rules.” He glares at me for a second before pulling his hand back. “How are your sisters?”

I lift my shoulder nonchalantly. “Fine. I think Mercy’s pregnant.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno, she looks fatter.”

Oliver spits his tea back into his mug, laughing. “What a horrible thing to say about your sister!”

“What? It’s a good thing! She’s fat because she’s pregnant. That’s good!”

“You can’t just call people fat, Cici!”

I pout, crossing my arms. “It’s not like I said it to her face.”

“Fucking good!”

A comfortable silence falls between us as Oliver finishes his tea. When he gets up to leave, he mumbles something about having to finish work and starts to walk out of the kitchen. As he reaches the stairs, I blurt out,

“Mam asked me to Christmas dinner.”

Oliver turns slowly and regards me with worry in his eyes. “Are you going?”

I nod. “I asked Freddy to come with me, because I don’t think I can do it alone, but I’m gonna go.”

Something like pain flashes across his face, so fast I wonder if I really saw it, before he says, “I’m glad.”

“What do I get them? I can’t show up empty handed.”

He shrugs and smiles at me before turning to leave. “Draw them something.”

I think of my drawing supplies, lying around to rot in my room. I haven’t touched them in nearly two years but maybe… maybe I could pick them up again. I could make a make a family portrait, something for both my parents and my sisters to enjoy. It will take me a while, since I’m so out of practice, but it’s a good time to start practicing. I’ll start tomorrow.

~~~~~

Freddy opted to match my black with black, wearing a tight fitted shirt and dark jeans. Maybe less dressed up than me, but I was okay with that. We have a quick smoke before going inside, the beat of the music loud enough to be felt as we lean against the walls of the building. I take in the site of Freddy standing in front of me, almost blending in with the shadows. He’s got his shoulders hunched against the cold as he puffs on the cigarette. His hair is brushed off to the side, making his face fully visible. He cuts a striking figure, dark and mysterious.

“You would make a good villain, I think,” I say to him. “You’ve got the right look.”

“I suppose that’s a compliment.”

“I’ve always liked the villain best.”

Freddy smirks and moves closer to me, pressing our bodies together. “The bad guy never gets the girl though.”

“Have you ever seen the women my age with novels? They, myself included, would give their right hand to be with the bad guy.”

“How about I give you my right hand instead?” He slips his hand down my back, landing on my ass and gives it a squeeze. I shriek in surprise, giving him a playful shove. His voice is sensual as he whispers in my ear, “I can do other things with it too.”

“Do you think of anything other than sex?”

He huffs a laugh and leans down. I can taste the nicotine on his breath as he kisses me. I let him into my mouth when he asks, running his tongue along my lips. It’s an effort not to melt as he explores me. I use the wall to support me. I start to grind against him, but he holds my hips in place. He starts to deepen the kiss, bringing his hands up to my face, but I pull away slightly. I’m panting a little bit as I say,

“Are you going to take me right on the street?”

“It’s called voyeurism,” he answers lazily, but he backs off. The smoke curls around his face as he takes a drag and exhales, and then he says, “I’ve been thinking about Oliver. What’s his story?”

I give him a look through half closed eyes. “Should I be jealous that you were thinking about my cousin while kissing me?” I laugh at his face. I continue, “You ought to know. Oliver said you guys were friends in school.”

Freddy’s face falls into a bemused expression. “Did he?”

“Oof, clearly not that good of friends. Don’t tell him you don’t remember him; he won’t take it kindly.”

He shakes head vigorously. “I don’t recall much past the last year, to be honest. So, tell me about this friend of mine.”

I laugh, resting my shoulder against the wall. “Well, he went to Goldsmiths’, obviously. Then he did a tour of Europe with a friend, but he ended up finishing it alone. He never said why, but I think it was a partner that left him.”

“That’s rough,” Freddy said, unusually soft.

“Yeah, he doesn’t talk about it much though, so I never got full details about what happened. And then his uncle on his dad’s side died a year later and left the house to him in his will.”

“Oh, is that where the gorgeous house comes from?”

“Yeah, it was lucky. I mean, not lucky that his uncle died, of course, but the house is a nice touch. He and I started talking again after I started living with my sister. I was looking for a new place to stay and he offered to let me live with him, so I took it up. I figured, a nice house, one of my favorite cousins, an artist like me. It was the perfect environment. And we’ve been here for four years now.” I smile at Freddy. “It’s been lovely. We had a rough patch about two years ago, but Oliver has always been there for me. He’s always cared about me.”

Freddy mumbles something under his breath that I don’t catch, but he’s got a smile on his face. “What’s he do?”

“He’s an interior designer. And I was talking to him earlier and he said he has a lot of clients right now, so he’s been busy. He hasn’t been avoiding you and he doesn’t hate you, in case you were worried.”

He shrugs. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, he thinks you’re great, and great for me, so you’ve got the Oliver seal of approval.”

“Wonderful, do I get a prize?”

I point to myself and waggle my eyebrows suggestively. Freddy laughs, dropping his cigarette butt and stamping it out with his foot. “Are you done?” he asks, pointing to the one in my hand. I let it fall to the ground too and slip my arm into his.

“Are you actually going to dance with me this time?”

“I don’t dance.”

“You did that first night,” I say, leaning into him. “And you were quite good too, as I recall.”

He shakes his head. “That was an exception. Besides, I like watching you seduce your way across the dance floor and then come back to me. Makes it look like I don’t even have to try hard to get you.”

I give him a light shove, but he pulls me back under his arm as we walk to the door. The man standing out front gives me a friendly nod.

“Hello Jordin,” I greet him.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, Fancy,” he says.

“I found a new form of entertainment,” I respond. He gives Freddy a quick once over and hums approvingly.

“And what a fine form that is. You two enjoy your night.” Jordin waves us in.

The music hits us as soon as we walk through the doors. It slams into our eardrums with a steady deep bass beat and the lights flash in time with it. I can see the dance floor is already crowded. I’m getting excited already. I look at Freddy.

“Are you sure you won’t dance with me?”

He gives me a little push in the direction of the crowd. “Go, I’ll get us some drinks.”

I run to the floor and mingle with the people moving to the music. I don’t know what it is about dancing, but it lets me forget my world for a minute. Someone puts their hands on my hips and I let them move me in time with them. I don’t think about work, or my parents, or Christmas. It’s just me, the music, and this one other person. I turn around, coming face to face with a pretty blond. She gives me a smile as the tune changes and suddenly we’re throwing our hands in the air, laughing as people bump into us.

“You’re really pretty!” she shouts at me over the noise. Her words slur a bit.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I reply.

“Do you wanna get a drink?”

I look over my shoulder, catching Freddy’s eye. I point to him. “I’ve got a date!”

The girl follows my finger and her eyes get wide. “Damn girl, that’s fair. I’d pick him, too.”

I move around people and on them. One guy tries to kiss me. Months ago, my first reaction would be to draw him off to the side with a flirtatious grin and convince him to take me home. But I ward him off with a finger and a shake of my head. After what feels like forever, I make my way off the floor, finding Freddy sitting in a lounge chaise by a window. He gives me an easy smile and holds out a glass to me. I take it from him and slide into his lap.

“Are you having fun, sitting in the corner alone?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve had at least four girls come up to me and try to get me to leave with them. It’s been entertaining. How are you doing?”

“My feet are killing me,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “I didn’t think my shoes through at all. But it’s been fun. I wish you would join me.”

I pout at Freddy, but he just shakes his head, smiling. I curl my feet up onto the chaise, taking a sip of my drink as I lean into his chest. It’s a rum and coke, my favorite. A little wave of pleasure spreads through me as Freddy runs his hand along my back. For a while, we’re content to just sit there, watching everyone else. I turn to ask him something and notice he’s playing with his necklace, a little coin with a symbol on it.

“What does it mean?” I ask, nodding to the chain. Freddy instantly stops fiddling with it and tucks it back under his shirt. He looks almost embarrassed.

“It’s just something stupid.”

I fish it out again, rolling the coin around my fingers. “I won’t laugh.”

He shifts uncomfortably under me. “It stands for love. A friend gave it to me years ago.”

I raise an eyebrow. “A friend, or a friend?”

“Someone very close to me.”

I drop the necklace. “Are you still close to them?” Freddy shakes his head silently. “Why do you wear it then?”

He shrugs weakly. “It’s sentimental. He meant a lot to me back then.”

I brush away the pang of jealousy that creeps into my heart as his words sink in. “He?”

Freddy blanches, looking like he wished he hadn’t said anything, but it’s out there now. I stare at him until he responds. He won’t look me in the eye.

“Yes, he,” Freddy finally says. “I used to have a boyfriend when I was in school. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, no, I’ve got nothing against it. It just surprised me. Was it a real relationship or just an experimental one?”

He looks a bit sad as he reminisces. “It was real. It was perfect. But then I made a mistake and I left him. I haven’t seen him since.”

I use a finger to turn his face towards me, staring into his eyes. His pupils are large, making his eyes look dark in the lighting of the club. I kiss him gently on the lips. “Everyone makes mistakes, Freddy.”

“Mine seem to be exceptionally stupid.”

I hesitate before asking, “Would you go back to him? If you saw him again, I mean?”

Freddy gives me a glance out of the corner of his eye and snorts. “That’s an unfair question for my girlfriend to be asking me.”

“I’m not trying to start anything. I’m just curious. If it was that perfect, would you go back?”

“It wouldn’t be the same. A lot has happened since then, a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

“I mean, if things could be the way they were before you left.” I pause, then say quietly, “If I could go back to my ex when we were sixteen, I would. Back when things were good between us and everything seemed like it would work out. When things were good, they were really good. I always wonder what would have happened if nothing had changed and we were still that happy couple. How different would my life be?”

He’s quiet for a moment as he chews on his lip. “That’s the problem with ‘What ifs’, isn’t it? You get lost in the wondering. I constantly think about it. What if I hadn’t left. What if I’d listened to him, trusted him? I’d give anything to go back to that day and change what I did. But it’s no use wishing for something that can’t happen.”

I nod, resting my head against his shoulder. “As horrible as things get, I try to think about where I am now, and how I wouldn’t be where I am if those things hadn’t happened. It used to be shitty and I hated it. But I’m starting to like where I’m at now.” My hand bunches his shirt. He covers it with his own, kissing the top of my head.

I’m blissfully aware of Freddy’s arm around my body when I notice Ollie pushing his way through the crowd. I lift my head and start to smile at him, but it dies on my lips as I note his panicked expression.

“Cici,” he says when he gets closer. “We need to leave.”

I lift my head slightly, frowning. “What do you mean? You just got here.”

“Trust me, we have to go. Come on.”

I snuggle back into Freddy’s arms. “You promised you’d come out with us. You can’t just come for a minute and then leave.”

Oliver reaches to grab my shoulder but before he can touch me, I hear it. My name.

“Oh, Fancy!”

#love #relationships #Somethings about to happen #campnano #nano2020

3 notes · View notes

trashcanreddiefan · 5 years

Text

The 3rd Annual Losers’ Club Christmakkah Celebration

Summary: The Losers gather for their third annual Christmakkah celebration, which doubles as Richie & Eddie’s wedding.

Word Count: 3600-ish. (This one got away from me.)

Warnings: Usual Trashmouth swearing.

Author’s Note: Post-Chapter 2. All of the Losers are alive in this fic, including Stan, because canon can suck it. 3rd in what will now be a (at least) 4-part series where the Losers take turns hosting Christmakkah. Part 1 here, part 2 here.

CROSS-POSTED AT AO3.

Richie watched as Eddie slept soundly next to him. How did I get so lucky, he thought.

Not only did he have a successful career he now enjoyed, an adorable niece and 2 nephews that he loved to spoil, and the best friends he could possibly ask for, but he was also about to say 'I do' to the man he had been in love with his entire life.

All of the Losers would be involved in his and Eddie's wedding in some capacity. Once Mike had found out that Richie and Eddie wanted to get married on Christmas Eve he had offered to host Christmakkah at his house so they could have a private ceremony on the beach behind his house and wouldn't have to worry about the added stress of hosting the Losers; Stan and Bill would be Richie & Eddie's witnesses/best men, respectively; Beverly would escort Richie down the aisle to Eddie and had personally designed their suits; and Ben would officiate.

Mike had also planned a joint bachelor party for them, the seven original Losers all going out to a local nightclub earlier that evening.

He must've tipped off the DJ when he had gone to get the first round of drinks, because shortly after Mike came back she said, "I hear we have a bachelor party in the house tonight, where are our two lucky gentlemen that are getting hitched?"

Richie's eyes widened as Bill, Mike, Bev, Ben, and even Stan -- the traitor -- all hooted and pointed over to him and Eddie.

"Well now, look at this gorgeous couple," the DJ said. "Congratulations and best wishes!" She winked. "Enjoy your night, boys."

Richie drank just enough to get a good buzz going but not so much that he'd pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow, which is why he was still awake at 3 AM while the love of his life softly snored beside him.

His thoughts were interrupted when Eddie stirred. "Rich, I can feel you staring," he mumbled before blinking blearily up at Richie. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Just thinking," Richie replied.

"Is it about the wedding?" Eddie sat up, looking panicked. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

Richie quickly shook his head. "No, no, absolutely not. I've never been more sure about anything in my life than I am about marrying you. I just… It all feels like a dream, like I'm going to wake up from the Deadlights and the past 2 years won't have actually happened."

Eddie studied him for a moment before reaching for him. "Come 'mere." He pulled Richie into his arms and lay them both back down, tracing gentle patterns on Richie's bare back. "It's not a dream, you know," he whispered into Richie's ear before gently kissing his shoulder. "I'm real and I'm here and I love you more than life itself."

"Love you too, Eds," Richie murmured in reply. "Can't wait to marry you."

"Try to get some rest, ok?"

Richie nodded sleepily. Eddie was an expert at getting Richie to relax enough for his brain to shut off for a while. "Ok," he whispered before nodding off into dreamland.

____________________________________

Late the next morning Richie woke up to a fully-dressed Eddie pressing light kisses to his face. "Morning, soon-to-be husband," Eddie murmured against his lips.

"Mmm, yeah, husband. I like the sound of that," Richie replied, grabbing Eddie and rolling them over to kiss him more thoroughly.

Eddie squeaked as Richie kissed his way down his neck to his collarbone. "Come on, Rich, we don't have time."

"Wedding's not till 4, you sure we don't have time, Eds?" he mumbled, dipping his tongue into the sensitive area between Eddie's head and neck. He'd kill me if he had a visible hickey in our wedding photos, he thought, resisting the urge to suck a mark into Eddie's clavicle, although he couldn't deny that having photographic evidence of his physical claim on Eddie was a bit of a turn-on. He settled for planting soft kisses along Eddie's collarbone before gently grazing Eddie's pulse point with his teeth, one of his hands sliding underneath Eddie's shirt along his rock-hard abs.

Eddie bit back a moan. "It's already noon, we have to finish getting everything set up, and we'll both need time to shower and get ready, and -- Jesus Christ, that feels amazing. I'll -- I'll let you ravish me as soon as we're married, how about that? You can even drag me off to Mike's utility closet and have your wicked way with me if you want."

"Mmm, promise?" Richie rolled his hips into Eddie's.

"Yeah, baby, whatever-- Fuck, Richie." Eddie groaned. "Whatever you want, just wait until after we say 'I do'."

Richie gave Eddie one final kiss on the lips. "Okay."

He hopped out of bed and headed for the dresser, grabbing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He hid a grin as he heard Eddie mutter 'fucking tease'. "So what's on the agenda for this morning?"

Eddie huffed then sat up. "Ben and Bill are setting up the awning outside, Bev is steaming our suits, Patty and Audra are taking the kids to get Olivia's hair done, and I'm going to head with Mike and Stan to pick up dinner for tonight. Bev will bring your suit in here once it's ready -- I'll be getting dressed in Mike's room." He got up and straightened his shirt from where Richie had rucked it up.

"Oh come on, Eds," Richie said jokingly. "You don't really believe in all that 'bad luck to see the bride before the wedding' stuff, do you?"

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "No," he replied lowly, walking towards Richie, "but I already want to jump you and I know if I see you in your suit before the wedding I won't be able to help myself, and I would much rather be able to take my time peeling it off of you after you're my husband."

Richie shivered as Eddie backed him into the wall. "Christ, Eddie."

"Mmm hmm. I know, baby. Me too." He gave Richie a chaste kiss. "See you later, gorgeous," he said with a wink before walking out the door.

Richie got dressed at lightning speed and walked out into Mike's backyard and down the boardwalk to the beach, where Ben and Bill were putting the finishing touches on the awning.

"Hey, there's the other handsome groom," Bill said.

"Morning, guys," Richie replied. "Need any help?"

"Nah, we got it," Ben said. "You just focus on getting married later. Got your vows done?"

Richie and Eddie had talked it over, and since the only people at their wedding would be the Losers and their respective spouses, they had decided to write their own vows since they wouldn't have to censor themselves… much.

Richie smiled. "Yep."

"Gonna let anyone read them before the wedding?"

Richie shook his head. "Nope."

Bill grinned. "Am I going to have to make sure Eddie doesn't kill you before you two are even married?"

"We'll see," Richie replied with a wink. "Since you guys are done I'm gonna go see if Beverly needs any help."

As if summoned Beverly appeared behind him. "Wow, guys, that looks great." She turned to Richie. "Your suit is in your room whenever you're ready to get dressed."

Richie gave Beverly a hug. "Thanks, Bev."

"You busy?"

Richie shook his head. "No, looks like everything is taken care of here. Need me to do anything?"

Beverly smiled. "Yep, come with me."

She grabbed Richie's hand and dragged him to her and Ben's rental car.

"Where are we going?" Richie asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

Beverly squeezed his hand. "We're getting you ready to get married."

She brought Richie to a moderately upscale salon where the stylist tamed his wild curls into something that was manageable, but still very much Richie, then they swung by the florist to pick up the boutonnieres before heading back to Mike's.

Beverly ushered him towards the shower. "Now, go get ready and try not to get your hair wet. I'll see you downstairs."

Richie took a brief shower, managing to avoid ruining his hairstyle. He had gotten his shirt, pants, socks and shoes on and was attempting to tie his bowtie when there was a knock on the door.

"Rich? You decent?" came Stan's voice.

"Yeah, man, come on in!"

The door opened and Stan walked in, wearing a black suit similar to the one Richie was currently sporting. "As your best man, I feel it's my duty to see how you're doing," he said.

"Fine, fine," Richie replied. "Never better, to be honest."

"Here, let me help you. You've always been completely useless at tying a tie," Stan said fondly, giving Richie a warm smile.

Richie sat down on the bed. "Thanks, Stan."

Stan made quick work of Richie's bowtie, straightening it once he had it knotted and handing Richie his suit jacket.

Richie stood and slid his suit jacket on.

Stan pinned Richie's boutonniere to his lapel and quickly ran a lint roller over the suit jacket. "There, you're all set."

Richie walked over to the mirror and caught the first glimpse of himself in his suit. He froze as the realization struck him. "Holy fucking shit, man, I'm getting married," he said. "To Eddie."

"Aaaand there it is," Stan said, turning Richie back toward him and guiding him back to sit on the bed.

"What the fuck am I doing, Stan?" Richie asked, his voice starting to wobble. "Why would someone as perfect as Eddie want to be with a fuckup like me? I'm just some hack comedian who got lucky telling other people's jokes and Eddie's out there saving lives and shit. He's too good for me, I don't deserve him."

"Rich, buddy, look at me. It's okay, I promise." Stan gently placed his hands on Richie's shoulders. "Eddie loves you, and I know he wouldn't have asked you to marry him if he didn't. You're way more than just a hack comedian -- and I swear to God if you ever tell a soul I said this I'll deny it till I die -- but your original material is actually pretty damn funny."

Richie siffled. "Thanks, Stan."

Stan dug in his pocket. "Here, Bill gave me this to give to you."

He handed Richie a folded piece of paper. On the outside, written in Eddie's neat script, was Richie.

Richie unfolded the note and began to read.

I know what you're thinking, and stop that nonsense. I love you and can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you as my brilliant, funny, loving husband.

See you soon,

Eddie

Richie laughed tearfully. He folded the note back up and tucked it into his pocket before wiping his eyes.

Stan checked his phone. "It's time. You alright?"

Richie nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I'm ok."

"Ok then, let's go."

Beverly, who was escorting Richie down the aisle, was waiting for him by Mike's back door. "Richie, you look wonderful."

"Well of course, my suit was personally designed by the best," Richie replied with a wink.

"Good luck, Rich," Stan said, giving Richie one last hug before slipping outside to let Ben know that they were ready. "See you out there."

Beverly patted him on the arm. "I'm proud of you, Richie."

"Bev, I'm so fucking lucky," Richie replied.

Beverly smiled warmly. "So is Eddie, honey. You two are good for each other."

The music started up and she offered him her arm. "He's waiting for you. Ready to go get married?"

Richie nodded. "Abso-fuckin-loutely."

Beverly opened the door and led Richie down the stairs to the pier. Richie glanced up and locked eyes with Eddie, whose smile bloomed so brightly that it made Richie's heart flutter happily in his chest.

Any residual nerves he may have been feeling suddenly left him. That's my husband, he thought.

Beverly escorted him to the end of the aisle, where she gave Richie and Eddie each a kiss on the cheek. "Love you both," she said before taking her seat between Mike and Patty.

Richie turned to Eddie. "Hi," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you," Eddie whispered back, giving Richie's hand a brief squeeze.

Ben cleared his throat. "Dearly beloved Losers," he began, "we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Eddie and Richie, who have asked us to join them as they pledge their lives to one another.

"Eddie, Richie, before we begin let me just thank you both again for asking me to officiate. It's truly an honor and I love you both so much. I didn't meet you guys until we were 13, but I could immediately tell that there was something special between you two and I've loved to be able to watch your bond blossom and grow once we all reunited."

He looked down at the piece of paper he held. "Now, please face each other and join hands."

Richie took Eddie's hands in his own, rubbing his thumb over Eddie's ring finger as Ben began to read.

"These are the hands of your best friend, strong and full of love for you, that are holding yours as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever. These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, and will comfort you like no other. These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it, support and encouragement to pursue your dreams, and comfort in difficult times. And these are the hands that even years from now will still be reaching for yours, still giving you the same unspoken tenderness with just one touch."

He looked up. "May we have the rings, please?"

Audra, who was holding her and Bill's son Max, and Beverly, who was holding her and Ben's son, Burke, set their respective sons down and handed them each a ring box containing Eddie and Richie's rings, whispering, "Go see Uncle Richie!"/"Go give this to Uncle Eddie!"

Richie couldn't help but make an aww sound as his nephew toddled over to him. "Thanks, bud," he said, squatting down and giving Max a hug before sending him back to Audra.

"May you be reminded each day how precious a gift you have each been given as you exchange rings as a symbol of your love and devotion to each other," Ben continued. "Now, Eddie and Richie have decided to write their own vows -- God help us all." He paused as the Losers all burst into laughter. "Eddie, would you like to go first?"

Eddie took Richie's left hand in his. "Richie, ever since the day we met you have been the sun in my solar system, the brightest star in my sky, and the biggest pain in my ass."

Richie honestly wasn't sure if he was going to laugh, cry, or blurt out something inappropriate so he bit his lip in order to keep his mouth shut.

Eddie quirked a smile before continuing. "But honestly, there's no one else I'd rather go through life with than you. You are my life, my love, my forever." He slid Richie's wedding band onto his finger, squeezing his hand before letting go.

Ben wiped a tear from his eye. "That was beautiful, Eddie. Richie?"

Richie took a deep breath. "Eddie, my love," he began, "All I ever wanted when we were kids was to be able to spend my life with you, but growing up I never thought I would be able to have that happiness. God, what I wouldn't have given back then to have been brave enough to tell you just how much you meant to me and to be able to hold you and kiss you. Well here we are 30 years later, where I'm now able to do all that and more. Better late than never, right?" He winked at Eddie, who seemed to be fighting back tears even as he let out a chuckle.

"Every day I thank whatever higher power is in existence that I have you in my life. You are my best friend -- sorry Bill and Stan, the debate is finally settled -- my heart, my soul, and my partner in crime, in life, and in love. Words cannot even begin to express the love I feel for you, but I hope to be able to show it to you today and every single day for the rest of our lives." He slid Eddie's ring onto his ring finger, placing a soft kiss there as he did so.

Eddie was openly weeping. "You ass -- asshole, I -- I was expect -- expecting your vows to be fun-- funny," he hiccuped.

"Sorry to disappoint, babe," Richie said, wiping away Eddie's tears with his thumb.

Eddie shook his head. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too."

Ben discreetly blew his nose before continuing the ceremony. "Ok, well since there's no way anything could possibly top those vows, by the power vested in me I now pronounce you married. Fellow Losers, please join me in officially welcoming Misters Edward and Richard Kaspbrak-Tozier!"

Richie reached out and tilted Eddie's face up for their first kiss as husbands. He took Eddie's left hand in his and raised them above their heads, the setting sun glinting off of their matching rings. "We fucking did it!" he cheered as their friends surrounded them with love and congratulations.

Later, after Eddie had dragged Richie off to make good on his promise of a thorough ravishing, the Losers sat in Mike's living room, warm and sated from Christmakkah dinner and good wine.

They had completed their Christmakkah gift opening and Bill, Ben, and Stan had just returned from putting their respective kids to bed. Richie and Eddie sat together on Mike's floor, fingers intertwined and Richie absentmindedly rubbing his finger across Eddie's wedding ring.

Bill stood and held up his glass. "I'd like to make a toast to the newlyweds," he announced. "Richie, Eddie, may your marriage be blessed with many years of happiness, laughter, and love. Congratulations, guys. We love you."

"To Richie and Eddie!" everyone echoed before taking a sip.

Richie gave Eddie a kiss before standing. "Actually I'd like to say something as well." He turned to Eddie. "Eddie, my husband, love of my life, congratulations on being the one to make an honest man out of me. Since Ben, Stan, Bill and Mike are all tragically straight, I guess you'll have to do."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I knew you had written joke vows," he muttered fondly. "Jackass."

Richie chuckled. "No but seriously, thank you for loving me and bringing light to my life. I'm looking forward to spending a lifetime with you."

He turned to the rest of the Losers. "To you guys, thank you all for being a part of our special day. You all went above and beyond to make sure that everything went off without a hitch, and I know that Eddie agrees with me when I say that you are the best bunch of Losers we could ever ask for. Mike, thank you for being such a gracious host and for putting up with Eddie's bridezilla-y ass the entire week before the wedding."

"Hey!" Eddie protested. "You're the one who walked down the aisle, if anything you were the bride. I just wanted to make sure that we weren't forgetting any details."

"Whatever you say, oh husband of mine." Richie winked as Eddie got a sappy look on his face at the word 'husband'. Oh, I'm going to enjoy milking that for all its worth.

"Bill and Stan, thank you for being our witnesses. Really feeling the OG Losers love. Bev, thank you for designing my and Eddie's suits. Never thought my husband could look any more gorgeous than he does in his scrubs, but fuck, was I wrong. Ben, you were the best damn officiant we could've asked for. We love you, man. Patty, thanks again for taking wedding photos for us, we really appreciate it. Audra, same goes for the video. Now I have proof for when Eddie denies crying during my vows."

While he was talking, Eddie had gotten up and gathered gift bags, handing them out to each adult Loser in addition to handing an additional gift bag to Beverly, Audra, and Patty for the kids before returning to Richie's side and wrapping a hand around his waist. "Rich and I have a small gift for each of you as a token of our appreciation," he explained. "Hope you guys like them."

Richie and Eddie watched as each person pulled out their gift - a personalized wine glass and beer stein for the adults with the phrase, "Losers' Club est. 1989" and their names underneath and a personalized hooded towel for the kids with "Junior Loser" and their names monogrammed into the corner.

"Patty, Audra, even though you two married into the Losers' Club, you're still official Losers in our hearts," Richie said, placing a hand over his chest.

After everyone had finished their drinks they bade each other goodnight before beginning to disperse to their respective rooms, Richie and Eddie heading hand-in-hand to theirs.

After they had showered and brushed their teeth, Richie climbed into bed, hovering over Eddie. "Hello, husband," he purred.

"Mmm, hello yourself, husband," Eddie replied, pulling Richie in for a tender kiss. "God, we're really fucking married, aren't we?"

Richie hummed in the affirmative. "Till death do us part, baby. No takebacks."

Eddie was silent for a moment. "No takebacks, huh? That gives me an idea."

A few days after they arrived back in Los Angeles, Richie sent a photo of his and Eddie's ring fingers sporting matching tattoos with their wedding date. Decided to make the symbol of our love a little more permanent. ;)

#Richie x Eddie #Reddie #tcrf writes

8 notes · View notes

manawhaat · 5 years

Note

What's your best vacation memory? ❤️

Oof… there are a couple that stand out from my childhood but I have to go with the Vegas/Pioche trip I took with my dad and my middle sister in 2015.

This is FUCKING LONG so if you feel like reading about it for 6 hours then there’s more under the cut and I’ll throw in some photos at the bottom because this trip really did just make me so happy.

I had joined a photography scavenger hunt group and participated in a couple of rounds (and got some rad photos!) when they decided to hold a meet up. It was held in Vegas and they had classes and photo shoots and group trips out to different places in the surrounding area. I decided to go and booked a hotel room fro the last day of the meet up, but then my mom died. The meet up was about 2 months after that so when I was trying to figure out if I should still go, etc, my sister and my dad said they’d go with me.

On the way there we drove through the desert because we always do and my sister and I played the Alphabet game. It was the most intense game she or I have ever played. We were on x by the time we got into the middle of no man’s land and I managed to get it on a random XTRA semi truck that was parked in the middle of a salt flat. She got it as soon as we got back onto the main road on a car licence plate that was ‘xmasgft’. We went back and forth getting one only for the other to get the same letter seconds later. It was crazy. I was on Z when she was on Y and at one point she started saying ‘oh shit oh fuck oh shit’ and I started to panic thinking we were about to get into a car accident or something… when she stopped panicking I asked her what her problem was and apparently we’d passed a billboard for Zoomanity and she was panicking that I was gonna win. Her panicking distracted me and I didn’t get the Z. She ended up getting her Y and immediately after I found another Z on a sign that said ‘construction zone’ and it was the best ‘fuck you’ and the most victorious win of, like, anything that I’d experienced up until that point. It was fantastic!

When we got into town I never did make it to the meet ups lol. I saw one person I know from the group while walking out of the hotel, but that was about it. I didn’t really have it in me to branch out and go to the meet up functions by myself so I didn’t. Instead I hung out with my family. We went zip lining over Freemont street and walked around, we went to the Mob Museum (which was fascinating), we did the Mandalay Bay Aquarium, and went out to the Hoover Dam. I’d never been and it was really cool, it was a gorgeous day and it we took a bunch of cute pictures there.

We’d all made a pact that we were going to do the controlled free-fall that they offer at the Stratosphere but when we got up to the top and watched a few people do it we all collectively noped out lol. We ate at this restaurant near the Stratosphere called The Peppermill that is FUCKING FANTASTIC. The food was good but the ambiance. Holy shit. It was like Vegas in the early 80s threw up in there. It was so good. Just neon lights and mirrors and tacky carpet and too many potted plants. The waitress was your classic sassy waitress, which only added to the experience, and my sister ordered the ‘mammoth pancakes’. It came with two and the plate weighed like 4 pounds!

We did a few other things but I remember just being in a good mood the whole trip. I had gotten a throw pillow with Dean’s face on it before the trip and I took it with us so we could sleep in the car comfortably and I remember taking pictures with the Dean pillow like everywhere we went and it became a funny sort of adventure with him. I was also talking to a guy on my dating app that I was like, legit in love with. Everything about him felt so perfect and I remember telling my sister that if he magically transported to Vegas while we were still there that I’d 100% marry him.

This was also the first time being in Vegas since I’d turned 21 (that Vegas trip was a fucking nightmare!) and this really made up for it. I got drunk downstairs at the hotel and won like 80 bucks on a machine, which was the most I’d ever won at that point, so we had to stop and play that machine at every casino we saw it at. My sister and I had also been on a Ghost Adventures kick before that and there’s a very specific sound that one of their devices makes and the elevator at the hotels all made that sound, so we were constantly making it and giggling at it. All in all, it was just a lot of fun and a lot of like, solid bonding and enjoyment of the experiences we were having and who we were with.

Keep in mind, ^^^^THAT’S ALL STILL JUST VEGAS! ^^^

Since we’d been on the Ghost Adventures kick, we stayed in Vegas for a couple of days and then drove out into the desert toward Pioche, Nevada. The Ghost Adventures Crew had done a paranormal hunt there at the Overland Hotel that is notoriously haunted (rooms 10 and 14, specifically).

I remember the drive being a nice clear day and the type of desert started to shift a little from what we’re all used to so there was some cool scenery. Now, we were on this trip in like April so I packed for desert weather in April, but what they failed to mention to me was that Pioche was in the HIGH desert, which didn’t really mean anything to me until we made it around a ridge and saw fucking snow!

We pulled over and played in it a little bit and then finished the drive and, lo and behold, it got more snowy. So when we finally arrived in Pioche I had to walk my happy ass through snow in leggings and sandals and a tank top with only a light jacket. And the next day, I only had shorts or a different pair of equally as thin leggings! It was terrible, but in a funny way.

The town of Pioche is fucking TINY! The population is literally barely over 1,000 and even when we were there we couldn’t figure out how it even held that many people! So we checked into the hotel and managed to get room 10 (one of the most haunted ones) and walked around. It was an old mining town so we checked out the remains of the tram, we went down to the Boothill Cemetery that had wicked old graves that were like, really old western graves of people who’d died in like the early 1800′s in saloon shootouts.

We had food at the only diner in town and while we were walking up a truck drove by goin’ extra slow. The driver was a good ole country boy- he was super hot- and in the back of his truck bed were…. idk, 15 or so fucking BEAGLE PUPPIES! I fell in love, I legit chased his truck down the street lol. It was like, the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.

So we hung out in the tiny place and when night fell we went downstairs to the bar at the hotel and hung out. We talked to one of the hotel staff who actually appeared in the episode of Ghost Adventures and we talked about the guys on the show and she was just really down to earth and funny.

Then, I got shitfaced.

I remember sitting at the high table watching my dad play pool with some locals while my sister was talking to some guy who’d also been on the show (and was a regular at the bar). At that point, I was really drunk and really lovey, so I decided to drunk dial everyone I knew to tell them I love them. Only, I didn’t get reception in the hotel, so I walked my happy ass out into the freezing night, and kept walking almost two blocks down to a little bench outside of the run down fire station and sat outside for over an hour, in the snow, in leggings and sandals, calling everyone I knew to tell them how much I loved them.

My sister finally came looking for me and dragged me back to the hotel while I was still on the phone, and I was able to make one more call to a friend. Drunk!me thought it would be a GREAT idea to finally confess that I had a crush on him and wanted to make out, so I told him that, and when he asked ‘uh, what?’, my dumb ass said it again, clearer and louder so he wouldn’t miss it!

Before he could respond my sister figured out what I’d just said and snatched my phone away and hung up. We went back inside to get my dad and then we walked up the street to the other bar in town and while we were walking my dad started throwing snowballs at us, so I fuckin’ took off. In my entire life I’ve never run as fast as I did that night lol. I ran so fast that only stopped after my drunk brain could register the flash of neon I’d passed. So I turned around and was a few buildings away from the bar and when I looked for my sister and dad, they were still at the other end of the street a good 2 football fields away!

We went in and played shuffleboard and hung out. They paid the bartender not to give me anymore drinks and I then crawled on the bar and tried to convince him to give me more lol. I ended up going to the bathroom and the signs didn’t say ‘men’ and ‘women’, they said ‘John’ and ‘Mary’ and I freaked out because, Supernatural, duh!

When we left the bar later that night, with me even more drunk than before, my dad started throwing snowballs again and we ran down the street. There was a kind of boardwalk that we were running on and we didn’t realize it ended with a staircase so I jumped into the road and ran down the asphalt but my sister ended up, in a full sprint, leaping off the end of the boardwalk and crashing into me. She was so graceful and when she was in the air it was like she was in slow motion. So when she landed we were howling with laughter and then we rounded the building and there was a big ass dog right in our faces! I freaked out just because I was shocked but it ended up being friendly and sauntered off, but drunk me was already laughing at my sister’s majestic leap so I started laughing even harder that I’d gotten so scared.

I ended up peeing my pants and we went back into the hotel and I tripped going up the stairs, resulting in more laughter and more pants peeing. We finally got to the room and I changed and we went to sleep. The room (and hotel, itself) were pretty creepy, and because we knew it was haunted I was already on high alert. They went to sleep but when I tried to, and every time I closed my eyes, I could feel someone standing at the side of the bed staring at me. I kept smelling and feeling little gusts of wind in my face, as if someone was sitting by the bed staring me down and was smoking a cigarette/cigar and blowing the smoke in my face. It was incredibly unnerving because it didn’t stop not once all night, so I ended up staying up all night watching tv, hoping I didn’t see anything or feel anything else.

The next day when I showered I couldn’t shower fast enough because it felt like someone was watching me shower and we thanked the hotel staff and left. I slept on the drive home and at one point when I woke up my sister asked if I’d heard from my friend. I said no and was really confused and then she asked if I remembered calling anyone last night and then it all struck me and I was mortified the rest of the ride home. When I got home I decided to just be straight up so I texted him saying that I’d meant what I said and was open to either going that route, if he was also interested in me, or just staying friends. He ended up ignoring me for weeks and I had to talk to a mutual friend about it. Now it’s just water under the bridge, but a hilarious memory. I even wrote a fanfic about the whole trip to Pioche! (I think some of the details in the fic are wrong/exagerated, and I’m not totally clear on some of the details that I’ve recounted here as they differ from the details at the end of that fic, but it’s all as accurate as I can remember without asking my sister for more clarification.)

All in all every part of the trip was just FUN. We didn’t ever have a moment where things went wrong, we didn’t have bad experiences. We weren’t stressed. It was exactly what my soul needed after spending years watching my mom battle with cancer. It was a bonding retreat and everything about it just soothed me and filled me with so much joy and the memories I have of that trip will last a lifetime.

#ask game #do the thing win the points #thank you for this one and sorry it was so long!#mrswhozeewhatsis #mana answers

3 notes · View notes

roaminginspiration · 5 years

Text

The Empty Space Next to Me

Thank you for all your kind comments. Hope chapter 2 will live up to your expectations.

chap 1 (x) / chap 3 (x) / chap 4 (x) / chap 5 (x) / chap 6 (x) / chap 7 (x) / chap 8 (x) / chap 9 (x) / chap 10 (x)

____________________________________

Chapter 2

Lying on the grass still damp from the dew and staring back quizzically at the familiar pair of gorgeous emerald eyes above him, Steve finds himself at a loss for words or explanations.

A warm tongue appears out of nowhere and sluggishly runs across his face. He looks sideways at the dog leaning over the side of his face.

Her features relax and she smiles.

“Looks like you got your kiss after all,” she jokes then motions to the dog to move away. “Come on, Riley.”

He doesn’t know what to think right now but he can see Natasha genuinely doesn’t recognize him. Or is it really Natasha? His emotions might have made him jump the gun. But before he allows disappointment to take hold of him and brushes hope away, he needs to investigate and find out who that woman is.

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head vehemently and gets on his feet. “I thought —”

“No harm done,” she brushes it off with a wave of the hand. “Are you here to have a room?”

He pats his hands over the back of his arms and looks up at her with a slightly surprised expression. Then he remembers…the guesthouse.

“Yes,” he trails off. “I haven’t made any reservation, though.”

It makes her smile. “We don’t do this, here. It’s not like we need to, anyway. It’s pretty quiet around here, you’ll get to see.”

A bird endorses it by singing loudly across the quiet meadow.

“Follow me?” she asks.

For her? Anywhere across the entire universe. He opens the door of the car and reaches for his bag. They head towards the porch where the paint on the fence is crackled all over; the wooden floor moans loudly as he steps on it. There is a wicker bench with a small round side table next to it. A few plant pots are lying at the end of the fence and along the floor against it.

She opens the door in a creaking sound and he is not surprised when he catches sight of the paper pinned on it which reads a handyman is wanted.

The atmosphere is inside is slightly different: old but in a quaint and cozy way. She goes straight up the stairs, down a long hall.

“This is Mrs. Miller’s room,” she points casually a door as she walks past it. “Lovely lady, although a little too outspoken for my sanity. Don’t worry about making noise, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

She finally stops to the last door and opens it. A bright room with light blue wallpaper, a King Size bed with a predominant navy-blue handmade quilt lying across the end of it — “quite fitting”, he thinks ironically.

“Breakfast is at 8. Dinner is at 7,” she recites with natural easiness as he steps inside and looks around. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” she adds.

He spins his head around with a mildly disconcerted expression. Part of him is afraid of losing her again; the other half is anxious to keep her in his sight, always.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

He gazes her intently. The scene feels bittersweet.

“Steve,” he answers. Steve will be enough for now.

“I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us, Steve.”

“Thank you…,” he pauses.

Natasha smiles at him. “Katherine,” she says.

He nods to himself and watches her close the door of his room before disappearing.

He’s missing her again ten minutes later but represses the urge to go downstairs as he fears she will definitely label him a creep if he does.

He paces around the room instead of trying to make sense of the whole situation.

His patience comes to an end two hours later and he goes down to the living room. He finds an elderly woman sitting on the sofa in the patio, drinking herbal tea.

The woman, with elegant and soft features, witnesses of her beauty in her youth, and grey hair styled in a pixie haircut, takes her eyes off her book and probes him with a smile in the corner of her mouth.

“Hello, handsome,” she says assertively.

He pauses behind the armchair across from her.

“Pretty sure he has a name, Eliza,” her approaching voice echoes from another room. Natasha —Katherine— walks in, carrying a tray with a teapot. She pours him a cup as he sits down in the armchair.

The elderly woman shrugs nonchalantly. “I doubt it’ll be as spot-on.”

“My name is Steve,” he says quickly as Katherine pours more tea into the woman’s mug.

Eliza raises an eyebrow and shoots a winning look at her. “Didn’t I tell you so?”

He laughs nervously. Two pairs of eyes look in his direction.

The woman stretches her hand out to him.

“You’ll have to excuse me, we don’t get many people around here, and those who have preceded you weren’t such a riveting sight. My name’s Eliza Miller, as you might have guessed by now, I’m a blunt, grumpy retired woman, too old for societal manners imposed by our rigorous Republican government, itself born from the English Empire.”

Eliza eyes him intently. He blinks then reaches over to shake her hand.

Katherine rolls her eyes and quickly fills in the awkward silence. “She’s kidding.”

“I presume the tea is in sign of protest?” he comments with a smile.

“Well,” Eliza says as she holds her mug. “The English did leave some good things behind.”

She then turns to look up at Katherine still standing beside her. “I like him. Can we keep him?”

__________________________________

“You’ve lived here for long?” he asks Eliza over dinner.

The three of them are gathered around the large rectangle table. He is sitting across from Katherine, while Eliza is at the head next to them.

“I grew up here,” Eliza answers. “When I married Robert, I made him move here with me. He left the city for me, and I’m sure he was grateful to me for it although he was too stubborn to admit it.”

He and Katherine smile. “I’m not one of those delusional, blind to the truth, sentimental people, though. This poor house is slowly falling apart and there’s too much that needs to be done. I’m thankful to have Katherine to help.”

Katherine smiles sheepishly. “Anyone would like more pasta?” she asks.

“Katherine doesn’t like to be praised.”

“That’s because I would rather have a pay raise,” she teases.

“And I told you sweetie that I can only pay you with compliments. So please do accept them gracefully.”

Steve and Katherine chuckle.

“After the second Snap, I was all alone here, and Katherine’s arrival was like a blessing for the business. And in my life.”

He takes mental notes of this valuable piece of information. He wants to ask more but he somewhat feels Katherine is keeping an eye on him.

After dinner, he gets up and thanks the ladies for their company. While Katherine goes to tidy up the kitchen, he purloins her butter knife and hides it behind his back before rushing upstairs.

Back in his room, he uses his phone to scan the object for fingerprints and sends it to Friday. Now it is only a matter of hours before he gets the results. He sits on the edge of the bed and breathes out heavily.

He dreads the outcome of the situation.

He does not find sleep that night.

The next morning, he is down for breakfast slightly before 8. He sits at the kitchen and watches Katherine as she is turning off the coffee machine. She is wearing black jeans with a white top and an open checked shirt on top of it.

She flips around at the sound of the stool, grabs the jug of coffee, puts a mug in front of him before pouring the hot liquid in it.

“Good morning, Mr. Intense.” She says with a smile.

“Steve,” he answers.

Katherine props her shoulder on the counter and leans on her chin. He almost burns his tongue sipping the coffee.

“I know, but I like Mr. Intense better.” She eyes him intently. “So what did you come here for? I take it it’s not to discover the area.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Why not?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know…a hunch. Also your car and your shiny shoes. You don’t look like the type of person who’s come for a budget break.”

“I came here to find someone,” he says.

She looks intrigued and her eyes seem to light up. “Friend? Family?”

“Both. It’s complicated,” he pauses. “Perhaps you can help?”

Katherine smiles earnestly and stands back up straight. “I won’t be of much help. I’m not the best-suited person.”

“Because you’re new in the area?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” she laughs nervously. “It’s a long and weird story.”

“I’ve got time,” he says with an earnest gaze.

“I…,” she begins, scratching the inside of her lower arm. “I woke up in the middle of the woods without any memory. Since it was after the Second Snap, it was assumed that I was one of the dusted. A few bills were put around but nobody came forward. I needed a job and I was told about this place. And voilà.”

She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She is so anxious to avoid eye contact she doesn’t notice his eyes are gleaming.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs softly. “It mustn’t have been easy.”

He knows he has been right to believe it is her all along. His eyes can recognize her anywhere, even when hers don’t recognize him back.

“It happens. The sheriff said my relatives probably moved elsewhere during the five-year gap but I doubt it. I think I’ve always been alone.”

He furrows his brows.

“Why?”

She diligently wipes the sink with the sponge. “Because they would have come back for me right after the Second Snap. They would have tried everything in their power to find me.”

He wants to reach for her hand and hold it. He wants to pull her in and kiss her ardently for every second he has missed her. He wants her to feel loved and wanted.

“That’s why I was a Jane Doe,” she finishes, turning back to him with a perfectly crafted smile. “Except Jane was boring, so I went for Katherine instead. Katherine Doe.”

“How do you feel about not knowing who you were? You didn’t try to go and look for answers yourself?”

She turns her attention back on the pancake pan.

“I don’t consider myself unlucky. There are sadder stories — we are all dealing with it in our own ways. I like it here. Maybe I was not much of a traveler in my former life. Maybe I am just where I belong.”

She smiles and serves the hot pancakes with syrup and Eliza calls her name upstairs. He watches her leave the kitchen and hers her footsteps on the creaking staircase.

His phone beeps inside his pocket. He takes it out and freezes as he looks at the screen. His eyes fill up with tears and he buries his chin into his palm, as the dripping faucet fills in the silence in the kitchen.

FINGERPRINT SCAN: 100% MATCH

“It has been cleansed and made anew before departing,” Red Skulls said and he misunderstood the meaning of the words. Her soul has not departed to another dimension, it had already left Vormir when he got there.

Katherine uses the old red Chevy to go and run some errands. Riley barking outside a couple of hours later informs him that she has returned.

When she steps in with her grocery bag, she seems to shine brighter. He has no doubt that the woman standing here is his teammate, his loyal friend, and the girl he loves.

He clears his throat nervously. “Can we talk?”

She looks at him with a candid smile — he can see how Katherine’s smiles are different from Natasha. He can see how her eyes no longer carry the sorrow that haunted Nat’s. Her soul is lighter indeed. Relieved. Released from a heavy burden.

“Sure. Do you mind accompanying as I take Riley for a walk?”

He nods. They walk in silence for many minutes until they reach a large lake whose surface glitters under the sunlight. Finding the right words turn out to be more difficult than he thought, regardless of the two hours he had to get prepared.

She is patiently waiting, watching Riley run ahead then back with the same enthusiasm and energy.

“I said before that I came here to find someone,” he begins. “And I have found that person. It’s you.”

He pauses and turns to face her. She eyes him with a puzzled look.

“I know who you are. And I know how you got here.”

She probes him for a while and her eyes fill up with tears.

“Your name is Natasha Romanoff and you’re an Avenger,” he breathes out. “And you are my friend.”

Her red hair shines under the warm sunlight.

“Maybe there is confusion. I doubt I’m an Avenger.”

He looks at her with an unwavering expression. “You are. And you saved us all. We won because of you. You were never one of the dusted and I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. We were sure we had lost you forever.”

She puts her hand over her stomach. “Ok. That is a lot to take in.” She looks at her surroundings as if she’s feeling it fade away in front of her.

“Why did I wake up here, then?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

She insists to know how everything happened. Steve goes through the painful events of Vormir and her noble sacrifice. She listens with great attention and heightened emotions which, he notices, wane shortly after. It seems to him she is bottling up everything and storing it as far away from her as possible.

She says she wants to go back to the house. The whole walk back, she doesn’t a word and he watches her with muffled concern out of the corner of his eye. When they make it back inside, she rushes to her room upstairs and stays in there for hours.

When he goes to the dining room for dinner, the meal is ready but she is absent. Eliza says she went to bed early — she seems unaware of the whole situation.

After dinner, he walks past her room and stands there for a minute, hesitant to knock. He respects her decision and goes to his bed with a sullen heart.

The next morning, he finds her playing with Riley outside. She seems to be her lively and carefree self again. He comes out to speak to her.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m ok, I guess.”

He nods.

“The arrangements can be made in a matter of hours to go back to the compound.”

She stops playing with the dog. “I don’t want to go to the compound.”

“Of course, I understand. I can book you a hotel if you’re not comfortable to—”

“I don’t want to go back there,” she corrects in a decisive voice.

“But it’s your home. I think it will do you good to see everyone and Clint. It will help you remember.”

“Well that’s the ting,” she says. “I don’t think I’ll remember, and I’m saying this beyond the whole outer space Soul Stone magic involved. I don’t want to remember.”

He walks down the stairs of the porch. “What? Why?”

She sighs and looks at him. “Look at me. Look at my life. I am nothing like the super spy the world knows. I’m a completely different person. Romanoff…she scares me.”

“You’re a hero. You died to save half the Universe. We never would have won without you.”

“And I some googling and read the files. She has done terrible things,” she pauses, “I have done terrible things.”

“And you have done everything to make up for it,” he defends her. He has witnessed Natasha buy her redemption on too many occasions to let it be overlooked by anyone — even herself. “You worked hard to become a better person.”

“Exactly,” she retorts. “From what you’ve told me all I ever wanted was to wipe off the red on my ledger and I paid the price for it to happen. And now it seems the Universe has given me a second chance, a clean slate. So tell me, Rogers, why would I want to go back to battling my old demons? I paid my due and was offered a new start. This is why I woke up here —not in New York— so far away from the avenging world. I’m sure you can see it, too, how it cannot be a coincidence.”

It’s true — he’s been wondering the same thing since he got here.

“We don’t know how the Soul stone works,” he attempts with a noticeable lack of certainty.

“I deserve peace, now. Call it my retirement,” she finishes.

Honking echoes from the path and a tall, dark man with lean figure steps out of the car and beams at her.

“Kate,” the man calls her with a wave.

She heads off towards him.

“Natasha,” Steve whispers.

She shoots him a hard look. “It’s Katherine, now.”

She turns around with a flipped expression. She walks up to the man with a serene smile. As she comes up to him, he leans in and plants a kiss on her lips with she receives in a routine way.

Both depart, leaving Steve as his world shatters around him.

#romanogers #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Black Widow #Captain America #stevenat #capwidow #captasha #steve x natasha #writing #fanfic #inneedofinspiration #the empty space next to me

77 notes · View notes

myspaciousplace · 4 years

Text

Home

Hi there, my name is Nicki and I have the privilege of raising four beautiful children with my amazing husband, Asif. We are a family on a journey, in the process of getting from where we are to where we want to be. Our story is rich, filled with both high triumphs and deep dark pits. I have known that we will write about this adventure “someday,” when we have arrived at the place of our dreams, when we have achieved our goals, when we are finally “there.”

BUT, as time goes on, I am realizing that the powerful part of our story is the struggle, the loss, the hopelessness that we have experienced and still are trudging through at times. I once heard that when we tell our own story, no matter how raw or painful it may be, we then get to decide the ending, because we have taken ownership of it. Not telling our story makes us the victim of someone else’s narrative and keeps us stuck. With that in mind, I am choosing to write now, knowing that as a result, I will get to choose the ending. So here goes. . .

First, I want to welcome you into our beautiful home, which I am so grateful for. I really want you to feel like a guest in my home, so please imagine you’re here as I describe it:

My Dream Home

We live on 8 acres of land in a beautiful modern farmhouse with an open floor plan, 5 bedrooms, and 3 bathrooms. The sunlight streams in through our huge windows and we are far enough away from our neighbors that I don’t even have to close the curtains at night. My mostly white kitchen is spacious, with plenty of counter and cupboard space (gorgeous marble counters, to be specific), two ovens that I frequently bake in, and a large fridge filled with healthy food. Together as a family, we care for a flourishing garden, adorable miniature goats, chickens, barn cats and 4 dogs. I love every season in our home. The summers are spent mostly outdoors - in the pool swimming, on the deck grilling and eating, and in the backyard exploring. The fall is full of yard work and playing in leaf piles, followed with campfires in the evenings. The winter is cozy as we cuddle up in our living room by the fireplace and enjoy looking at the beautiful white world outside. And spring is spent planting our garden and cleaning up the yard in anticipation of the summer. We thoroughly enjoy taking care of our home and it is a bright, peaceful and joyful place.

What I just described here is very, very real in my mind. In my imagination, I experience every nook and cranny of this home: I feel the warm grass under my feet when I’m outside in the summer; I smell the baking of Christmas cookies in my convection oven in December; I hear the joyful sounds of my kids running around, playing freely; I taste the large meal I’ve prepared for our family and the extended family that has come for dinner; and I see the bright, open living space, filled with the furniture and colors that I love: a bit of mid-century modern, mixed with a dash of farmhouse style, sprinkled with turquoise, green and yellow accents. This is My Spacious Place. This is my home.

Where We Really Live

However, if I were to tell you about where I actually live right now, it is indeed quite far from this vision, this dream. . . no, this PROMISE of a home I just described.

Right now, our family of 6 with our 2 large, high-energy dogs, lives in a tiny, second-story, 1 bedroom apartment with no yard. And in fact, the 1 bedroom doesn’t even have a door on it. Nope, we’ve hung a curtain in the doorway of the room where our 4 children sleep every night. We have no real beds in this apartment, the kids roll out sleeping bag-type pads every night (except for the 2-year-old who is still in a crib) and Asif and I pull out part of our handy Ikea couch to transform it into a “bed.” This room is our “living room” by day and “bedroom” by night.

Our tiny kitchen has less than 3 feet of real counter space (about 1.5 feet on either side of the sink) that we supplement with more Ikea furniture: 2 mismatched wooden islands against the wall. We eat meals at our small, 15-year-old kitchen table (also from Ikea!) and share one bathroom and a shower. We don’t even have a bath tub for our young kids.

We have a room that used to be some sort of “porch” or maybe a 3-season room at the front of the apartment. It has no heat, but we need every bit of space we can get so we use an electric heater to heat this room in the winter and we endure the heat in the summer. We call it the playroom - it’s where the toys are and it’s also where I homeschool our 3 school-aged children. Thankfully, we have a large attic space where we can store stuff and I actually keep a majority of toys up there, rotating them occasionally to keep it interesting for everyone.

The kids clothes are kept in yet another piece of Ikea furniture, a cube-shaped bookshelf unit. Their clothes are in the boxes that fit into the cubes and that shelf is in the “living room.” Asif’s and my clothes are in a “closet,” that is actually just a section of the bathroom that we installed a couple of bars in for hanging clothes from.

Walking On Eggshells

Additionally, we live above 2 businesses - one is our own business, Asif’s photography studio, and the other is an architect’s office who has been there for over a decade. He had a very bad relationship with the previous apartment tenant who was a woman with her older daughter and several small “yippie” dogs. She was too loud for him. She, the single woman with a daughter who was in school 5 days a week, who was probably often working herself, was too loud.

And now we live here - we, who have 4 kids under the age of 10 who are pretty much home ALL day. We, who have a 2-year-old who jumps instead of walks to get around. We, a family who is naturally loud when we’re happy and mad, of which both emotions are expressed dozens of times daily between the 6 of us. We, who don’t have several yippie dogs but rather 2 big dogs who love to wrestle in the living room, right above the architect’s office and bark at passing dogs. And to someone working downstairs, apparently even a normal footstep quakes in such a way that whomever is listening can’t help but tense up and anything beyond that makes one think the ceiling is going to collapse.

This man has clients come to his place of business and here we are, where our every-day life is causing him to appear unprofessional. He has banged on the ceiling and yelled multiple times to get our attention, Asif and he have had several tense discussions, and ultimately we know that we need to do whatever it takes to keep everyone quiet. But that’s not easy. So we block off half of our already small apartment every weekday during the architect’s work hours to keep anyone from even walking over the main part of his office. It’s helped keep the peace so far, but we are certainly “walking on eggshells” every. single. weekday.

What a contrast from the dream home I described at first. Quite the opposite pictures. But do you know what’s crazy?? In the midst of this one-bedroom apartment living situation, I actually find the same peace, joy and brightness that I envision in the promised home that is to come. And believe it or not, I have come to see this as my spacious place.

And what exactly that means, is another post.

IMAGE CREDITS:

Philipp Reiner - Unsplash

Josh Hemsley - Unsplash

Kaleb Tapp - Unsplash

Kaluci - Unsplash

Rex Pickar - Unsplash

Kristina Flour - Unsplash

#hope #longingforhome #stillbelieving #spaciousplaces #dreamhome #smallbeginnings #struggle #dontgiveup #onmywayhome #believe

1 note · View note