Angela Shepard x f!reader
Content/tags: wlw, fluff, questionable friendships, jealousy, angst
A/n: if you seen me post this earlier..no you didn’t!! I’ve never posted a wlw fic, but this has ZERO influence on how I view wlw relationships in reality. Ofc it would be me to write my first fic like this based on a problematic fem. Great going Alyssa. I’m not going to discuss things like my sexuality online, but Angela is bad asl and I need dat cookie!! Is it also telling that this is the longest fic I’ve written in a minute?? Perhaps.
Warnings: jealousy, Angela lwk being toxic, alcohol and cigarette use, mentions of breakups/rejection, reader is a little more concerned with social standards (brief), reader is similar to Angela to a degree
“And then he totally blew me off!” Angela scoffed, adjusting her bra in the mirror.
The pink satin sort of washed her out, that she knew. But the color was pretty, something you’d picked out. The beer that had been resting on the dresser that was almost empty was now discarded after a long swig.
“Can’t believe he’d do that to you, Ang.” The cigarette picked firmly between your fingers lit up orange when you took a drag. Despite your words, Angela couldn’t help but feel you were entirely disinterested with what she had to say.
“Am I boring you?” She turned, hands braced on the dresser’s surface behind her.
There was a brief pause before your head lifted from the magazine, feet kicked up and crossed at the ankle behind you. “No, but you won’t stop talking about him.”
The honesty was a bruise to her ego. “What do you mean?” She grabbed for the now-empty beer bottle, frustrated by its lack of contents.
“That you keep saying it’s you who’s unaffected, who ‘doesn’t care’, but he’s the only thing you can talk about.”
“He’s not the only thing I talk about!” She yelped, ears now flushed in embarrassment.
“It’s not that I mind, Angela.” Your brows furrowed, nails scratching nervously at your neck. “Just that you won’t admit it, ya’know?”
The hand not squeezing the life from the glass bottle promptly threw her long black hair over her shoulder before turning back around to face the mirror. He’s not all she talks about. Sure, she was upset about the rejection, not that she showed it. Angela never brought up Curtis to anybody but you, never mentioning his name or acknowledged his presence if others were around.
“I’m trying to tell you how he blew me off earlier.”
“Yeah, I know, you’ve been talking about how he ‘looked at you’ for almost 20 minutes now.” You offered the cigarette.
Taking the cigarette from you finally gave her something to occupy her hands with, and she glanced down at you where you lounged on her bed. “Well, damn. What’s the big deal with your love life?”
You only responded with one word and a satisfied smirk. “Riveting.”
“Eventful, I’m sure.” The slight twinge in her stomach was likely from the three beers she’s gulped down before you even landed on her bed. Nothing else.
“Sooo, you don’t care about Curtis, then?”
“Not at all,” the bra strap was faultily adjusted once more in the mirror, her eyes rolling practically to the back of her skull. Her tone was a little exaggerated, especially considering the way her heart beat a little faster just as his mention.
“So you won’t care if I ask him out, then?” The words were twisted and throned, like they were meant to draw a fuss, to get a reaction from her.
The glimmer in your eyes was enough for her to know that the sudden whip-around and scoff was just pleasing you. She crossed her arms just below her chest. “Do whatever you want.”
“I’m not getting that impression.”
“Mhm, I’m sure.” Your tongue clicked before flipping the magazine page and taking a drag from the smoke.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t say anything, Angela.”
“I think you’re bent all the wrong way about Curtis.” You admitted.
“I’m not.” Her tone was firmer, teeth gritting while trying to fix the other strap to mirror each other. Her lower, slender shoulders made it a little harder to adjust them for the length she needed.
Calmly, you stood and stepped over. It only took a silent moment for you to adjust the straps over her skin, knuckles brushing her shoulder blade in a way that should’ve done nothing akin to the way it had. Heat spread through her back, but with the pride she’d attained throughout life, her head remained held high, staring at you through the mirror’s reflection, searching.
“How’s that?” Your breath ghosted her ear, tone softer than before. It was still disinterested, though. And she didn’t like that, didn’t like people not fully involved in a conversation or situation. Typically, it only bothered her if it affected her, though.
Angela was flaming. You could see that across the parking lot.
You’d been talking to Ponyboy.
Not that you were super into him, and it’s not that he’s unattractive, quite the opposite, really. His hair was a dark brown, long enough that it curled around his ears and nape of his neck now. His eyes were a beautiful deeper brown, with a few small scars etched on his tan face.
He was a sight, Angela had made that known to everyone around. She’d combed his hair back once, eyes catching on his top lip in a way that made even you blush. He went so red you thought he was gonna pop, from his collar all the way to his ears.
You hadn’t touched him, simply joining him on the hood of someone else’s car and sharing a pack of cigarettes. He really was just your friend, swinging after your friend’s guy(?) wasn’t your thing.
Weirdly enough, he’d always liked you better.
Not romantically, that you were sure, just that you were less…excessive compared to Angela. He wasn’t pushy or weird or dumb in that way most guys make themselves unbearable.
You’d been waiting for Angela for almost half an hour before she showed up at the Ribbon, revving the engine of her brother’s car to catch your attention.
“Uh-oh, she don’t sound too pleased.” he did sound partially worried, eyes carefully scanning the vehicle.
You stumped the cigarette out beneath your sneaker, a small grin pulling on your lips. “Yeah, when is she?”
“I’ll need it for talking to you, Curtis.”
The walk over towards the car had been full of tension, your shoulders tight while making eye contact with Angela through the windshield.
The door pulled open, and all the heat between her eyes had practically bursted out in a spur, engulfing your body.
“So you are messing with Curtis?”
“No.” You didn’t elaborate.
For as much as you loved Angela, you knew her more. The Shepard family isn’t known for their calming demeanor. She might have been the worst, lashing out when under the influence worse than anyone you knew.
And based solely on the smell of her hair and skin, she’d had more than beer. Gin was typically her choice, not something one would expect of her. So, you didn’t give her more than she asked of you, answering her calmly.
“Then why were you all buddied-up just a second ago?” Her nimble fingers tightened on the gearshift, knuckles whitening.
“We weren’t. I was waiting for you.”
The smoke curling and fogging the windshield made her glance over to you, eyes dropping to the cigarette held between your lips. Her hooded eyes lingered longer there, her own lips parting for a second before her demeanor shifted back to the colder facade from just a moment ago.
“You say it like we were mashing faces.”
“And what? You really think I’d do that to you, Ang?” You offered the cigarette, which she hesitantly took.
Her fingers finched back when they met yours before leaning in again. The drag she took was slow, eyes distant like she was hardly thinking straight. Gin had that effect on her.
But her eyes were different, more somber. Angela’s long lashes were a thin barrier, a protection to the emotion her eyes would have portrayed. “No—well, I mean, I dunno. No?”
“‘Don’t sound too sure.” When her hand didn’t reach back over to offer the cigarette, you took the hint and decided not to push.
But she broke the damn herself.
“I just—I dunno anything anymore, it feels like.” She leaned over on the hand currently propped up on the window sill, throat muscles bobbing.
No words fell from your mouth. Your tongue prodded the top row of your teeth, thinking of what to say to her. Angela Shepard, crying in front of others.
She’d cried in front of you before, usually after a fight when Tim was on her ass. She hadn’t cried much over Bryon in front of you, though. Only once that you could remember; when she spotted him at the Ribbon for the first time after splitting.
She hadn’t wanted you to touch her then, instead passing around a bottle of whiskey she’d stolen from Curly after one of his weekend excursions. The two of you parked in some stall with no intention of moving like the rest of the cars had, and you just listened.
Sat there and let her bawl, mascara running down her face and blood dripping down her lip from biting it so hard. After a few minutes of listening to her quiet sobbing, you tucked a stray lock of her hair aside, and she fell onto your shoulder, out cold.
Now, though, she seemed like something else entirely was pestering her. Angela didn’t cry over things that never were, hardly saw the sense in it. Curtis wasn’t the reason, and Bryon was nowhere in sight.
“Angela.” You broke the silence with a crack. A hand reached over and tossed the cigarette outta the window, making her cough weakly.
“I just—man, I don’t..” her head shook, dark hair draping over her cheekbones.
“What, man?” She strangled out, fingers wiping a bit of the mascara that had been running down her face.
“What is the matter with you.” A hand reached out, tilting her chin to face you clearer.
She stared at you for a long pause, the heat in the car becoming borderline unbearable. Her eyes danced over your features, tracing them in a softer gaze.
“Just shut up for a second, there’s something I need to do.” She didn’t wait but a second longer to lean over, lips catching your bottom lip.
A small gasp left you, and instinctively, you tried to pull away. The only other girl you’d kissed was your mom or your other girl friends on the cheek. She had anticipated it clearly, given she reached out and grappled onto your neck, fingers sternly holding you in place.
“Angela,” you mumbled, suddenly pleased with all of the surrounding busy people, all occupied with their own hobbies. Typically including smoking pot, drinking, and picking up chicks around here.
Her teeth tugged at your lip, tongue lapping at the side of your mouth. It had been far from the first time someone had kissed you or tried to stick their tongue down your throat. But it felt different, strangely attentive and desperate, yet the minute you started to push back, mold your mouth to gaps of hers, she pulled back.
The two of you had traded lipsticks, and by the look of the rearview, some of her dripping eyeliner had rubbed off on your cheek.
It took a whole minute for the two of you to recuperate. In that time, neither of you let go of the other; her hand still cupping your neck while yours braced her hip, thumb circling her jean’s front.
When you slid a bit, the moment broke. Her hand fell from you, and yours her. The two of you fell against the car seats, letting out a synchronized sigh. “Fuck,” she groaned, fisting her hair with a shaky hand.
“Yeah,” you agreed. Was this awkward? It feels like it should be. “The hell was that?”
“I didn’t like you talking to him.”
“So you kiss me?” You didn’t bother to wipe the gloss she’d left behind, tongue instead darting out. Like it was trying to memorize the taste, make sure this was real.
Your brows furrowed, head falling against the window after a displeased grunt. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t like you talking to any guys!” She angrily admitted, temper quickly arising back to its usual short fuse. “I don’t like when they have your attention or when you talk about them to me!”
“You do it all the time, Angel.” You argued tiredly.
“It’s different when I do it. I don’t mean it.”
There was nothing to say towards that statement itself, just a small scoff. “So then what are we doing?”
For once, Angela Shepard was speechless. She was looking at you like you’d betrayed her, eyes glimmering in the unfair way they always did. “What do you want to do?”
“I dunno, Ang. You were the one who kissed me, remember?”
“I don’t want you to talk to other guys. Or girls.” On the last part, she hesitated. Like the words were something foreign on her lips.
“You gonna stop fooling around?”
That struck her. Of course it had. Angela had gotten used to having and discarding men, but not you. You’d been her friend for a while now, not one of the ‘childhood best friends’ kinda thing, just that you’d started hanging out and hadn’t stopped. “Well, do you want me to?”
“If I’m going to.” You hummed. Everything was so transactional to her, trying to get the best out of every ‘deal’. “Ain’t you worried what people’ll say?”
The only part that seemed to disturb her was the last, where her brows furrowed and she leaned forward. “Who gives a damn? ‘Thought people were all peace and love now.”
“Are you? Has Angela Shepard had a change of heart?” A part of you was teasing, hand grazing over where hers had been before. Nothing could mimic her touch, though.
“Okay,” you shrugged. “the people can’t I say I didn’t try.”
“If anyone has the balls to say anything about you, I’ll handle it.”
“Wow, is this why you and Bryon didn’t get along? Too protective.”
Divider by @enchanthings-a
