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just-jordie-things · 3 years

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A Lover And A Fighter - Richie Tozier

word count: 3122 warnings: swearing, sight sexual harassment summary: Richie promised (y/n) that he wouldn’t get into fights anymore, but sometimes he just can’t help himself. Especially when it comes to protecting her.

___

It was an understatement to say that Richie was protective of you. The boy was downright insane about it. Everyone in Derry knew not to fuck with (y/n), not unless they wanted Richie Tozier tracking them down and beating them half to death.

You’d given him a talk numerous times. But not once did they work, it always went in one ear and out the other..

He’d beaten up three ex boyfriends, a couple guys that looked at you the wrong way, and Greta Keene. He was proud of that amount.

But he’d promised that he would try his best not to act out on your behalf anymore. And you made him pinky promise. That’s a big deal. And he didn’t want to break your trust or your promise.

However… once he walked past Henry Bowers and his dumbass friends, and heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t stop himself from getting involved.

“What was that?” He spoke before he could think things through.

The boys turned to him, each bearing a scowl that wasn’t out of character.

“I said, (y/n’s) not fucking worth it,” Henry practically growled out. “Now why don’t you fuck off, Tozier?”

“Your damn fucking right it’s not worth it,” Richie spat back, turning away, doing the right thing. “I’d break your goddamn nose” He muttered under his breath.

“It’s not worth it to try and get in her pants,” Henry called out before Richie could walk far enough away.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Cause she’s such a slut anyways, it’s not a real victory to fuck-”

Richie had never whipped around so fast. And with the punch he delivered went all common sense, and all the promises and reassurances he’d given you to prove he was going to ‘mature’ as you’d begged him to do. ___

“Hey, Richie,” You held your phone between your ear and shoulder as you painted your toes. “This is like, my fifth message… so… call me back, I guess. Okay, bye”

You sighed as you set the phone back on it’s holster. Richie wasn’t the type of guy to stand you up, especially on taco tuesday. And even if something came up, he always always, called. But now he couldn’t even bother to return one of your calls, leaving you to assume that he was upset with you for some reason, and therefore ignoring you.

You weren’t sure what you did, and at this point, you also weren’t sure that he was going to tell you either.

When Richie didn’t want to talk to someone, he was the damn best at avoiding them.

But he’d never given you the cold shoulder. And there was a time that you’d thought he never would. Richie was your best friend, you trusted and confided in him more than anyone else, even the other Losers. And in the last seven years of being his best friend, he’d never treated you this way. In fact, he always treated you amazingly, like a princess, it was very surprising actually, the way he cared about you.

It was that care that always led him to picking fights where he shouldn’t be, though. It started with your ex boyfriend. He broke up with you once a ‘better, prettier’ girl showed interest (his words), and the next thing you knew, Richie was throwing him against the lockers.

When your next boyfriend straight up cheated on you, Richie took care of him too.

He broke the third one’s nose.

And then there was the Greta Keene incident… Beverly may have let it slip that Greta had been writing nasty rumors about you in the girls bathrooms. And Richie declared that he didn’t have a problem beating up a girl if it was justified (and if that girl had man arms). That was when you drew the line, and made Richie swear to try and control his anger. And he pinkie promised to work on it, and that he wouldn’t get into any more fights over you.

You weren’t sure why he got so enraged over these things. It was just drama, and you found it pointless that he tried to bring you justice, since he was so reckless about it.

It was getting late, and you knew that Richie wasn’t going to return your calls. So you finished painting your toenails blue, and decided to spend the night in your room, reading, alone.

Even though you should have been eating a bunch of tacos and gossiping with Richie.

Just as you got situated in bed, and had turned off the overhead light in exchange for the soft glow of your lamp on the bedside table, there was a knock on the window.

When you glanced over, you could tell it was Richie by his silhouette, and you frowned slightly.

Nonetheless, you got up and unlocked the window, before sliding it open.

“Where the hell have you been?” You asked.

He could tell that you couldn’t see his face very well.

“Busy, you gonna let me in?” He grinned.

“Richie, it’s-” You glanced over your shoulder to the alarm clock on your table, before glaring back at him. “-midnight. Are you kidding me? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“What? (y/n/n), no-”

“Then how come you were dodging all my calls? And you’re seven hours late?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest..

Richie crawled in through the window, even though you hadn’t invited him in yet. But he figured it was only a matter of time before you cave anyways.

Your distressed face disappeared as you caught sight of him now that he was in the light. His left eye was bruising, and so was his right cheekbone. Along with a split lip and a bloody nose, it was clear what had happened.

“Oh, Richie…” You mumbled, hand reaching up to cover your mouth as your eyes widened at the sight of him. “Tell me you didn’t-”

“Look it’s not what you think-” Richie tried to protest.

“Don’t give me that shit”

He knew he fucked up, because you weren’t yelling. Your voice was soft, and low. You were heartbroken.

He stared down at the ground, too anxious to look at you anymore. Not when you looked so disappointed in him.

“You promised- you-you pinky promised me-”

“I know-! I know and I’m sorry, really, I’m really fucking sorry” He told you, desperately hoping that you’d forgive him.

You shook your head at him, and gestured for him to sit before you left the room. Richie was the most frustratingly complicated person that you knew, and it drove you insane. Why he couldn’t just walk away and not beat the shit out of people… you weren’t sure. But it really hurt you that he didn’t even seem to try, and he broke his promise.

Richie was sitting on the side of your bed when you came back into the room. He chuckled as he eyed the first aid kit in your hands, the same one that you’ve used the last four or five times you dealt with the aftermath of his episodes of rages.

“You don’t have t-”

“Yes I do” You cut him off and unpacked what you’d need.

You were upset, you were fuming, actually. It angered you that Richie broke his promise, not even a month after making it. That promise was important to you, because he was important to you. And now here he was, waiting to be fixed up by you once again after he so stupidly, so recklessly got himself beaten to a pulp.

But no matter how angry you were, you remained silent. Dabbing at the excess blood under his nose, which at least wasn’t bleeding anymore. And when you were finished with his cheek, you moved on to rubbing cream over the bruise on his cheek. Richie’s eyes fell shut as he sighed in relief at the feeling of the cool lotion, and your gentle fingers.

He knew your silence wasn’t a good thing. In fact, it was the worst thing. It meant he messed up beyond redemption. And he’d never fucked up that bad before. Sure, he’d pissed you off and frustrated you on the daily, but that was just the hallmark of his friendship, and it was never anything serious. Just when he dragged you out in the middle of the night for slushies, or got you in trouble in class because he was running his mouth. He’d never made you this genuinely upset before.

“(y/n)-”

“Save it” You muttered before he could even start with the apologies.

That was another hallmark of his friendship. You knew what came next. The apologies, the excuses, the begging for your forgiveness, followed by a playful ‘you know you love me, you need me’ and puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Except tonight, you might just be able to.

He took you by surprise when he didn’t protest, and snapped his mouth shut. Your eyes met his for a moment, before you started applying a smaller amount of lotion on the bruise surrounding his eye. It was going to look a lot worse in the morning, but this would help with the pain now.

You hated that your heart ached for him right now. You hated that you wanted to cry and hold him and make him feel better. Because you were so fucking mad-

“I don’t understand,” The words suddenly spilled out of your mouth, as if your mind just couldn’t take them swimming around in your head anymore. “I just- I- I don’t fucking get it”

He nodded, ducking his head down, only for you to lift it back up by his chin and continue with the lotion.

“I care about you, dumbass, and all I asked, which I thought was simple, all I asked was for you to stop with the fighting-”

“I know” He mumbled back.

You stared at him skeptically, wondering if he really did know, or if he’d show up again in a few weeks with the same battered face and guilty look in his eyes. Richie didn’t look back at you. He couldn’t.

“Who?” You asked, trying to soften your voice so he wouldn’t whither away from you like he was doing right now.

“You’re not gonna like it” Richie answered, fingers pinching at your bedsheets in an attempt to distract himself. From the pain that burned across his whole face, or from the intensity in your eyes, he wasn’t sure, but he needed the distraction.

He hadn’t had a smoke in months, but it sounded pretty damn good right now.

“Well, newsflash, I don’t like any of this,” You told him. “But I think I deserve to at least know what happened”

Of course you do, Richie hung his head in his hands. You deserve so, so much better.

You watched as he rubbed his palms over his eyes, and it took everything in your power not to take his hands and hold them in yours, to tell him it was okay and you forgave him.

“Bowers”

He muttered the single word without even looking at you. But he didn’t have to look at you to know exactly what you looked like in that moment. You probably had a dropped jaw and furrowed brows. Disappointment, disgust, anger, all displayed in one heartbreaking look.

“Richie…” You murmured without meaning to. “Why? Why would you-”

“I had to, okay?” He shot up suddenly. “I know that you hate it, and as soon as I swung I- I knew I fucked up, but I had to”

You wanted to argue it, argue that there’s always another option, that he can always walk away. But you bit your tongue. Something about the way he spoke told you that there was more to this than his stupidity.

“I’m sorry, (y/n/n), I am. But I… I don’t regret it”

Your heart sunk all the way down to your stomach. Richie had such a toll on your emotions and he didn’t even know it.

“Tell me what happened” You said quietly, and shifted closer to him.

You wanted him to know he had your undivided attention, and that he should have the chance to at least explain what happened. You pulled your leg up to rest on the mattress, and turned your body to face him.

Richie looked at you before looking back down at his hand, which was now fisted in your blankets.

“Richie,” You hummed, brows furrowing as you saw how reluctant he was to opening up. “Tell me” The words were so soft, it was almost inaudible.

You wondered what Henry could have done that Richie didn’t want to tell you about. He must have really outdone himself.

“He was just talking shit-”

“Richie,” You cut off his bullshit before he could even start. “Come on, the truth”

“It’s not-”

“I deserve to know, Tozier! Whatever it is, I don’t care, okay? Just tell me-”

“He said you weren’t worth sleeping with!”

Just like that, you’d gotten him to snap.

And you shut up instantly, shocked by the outburst. His words processed slowly in your head.

“He said it wasn’t worth trying because you’re- because you’re a slut, and it wasn’t fucking true!” Richie continued to yell. Not at you, he just couldn’t contain his own anger anymore.

And you thought you were pissed.

“Motherfucker had your name in his nasty fucking mouth and he was telling his buddies fucking lies and I couldn’t- fuck I couldn’t walk away. I should’ve fucking killed him”

You were staring at him, speechless. You should’ve known it was about you, Richie was always so fiercely protective of you. And Henry’s wouldn’t be the first nose that he’d broken protecting you. But this wasn’t like before. He’d beaten on your ex boyfriends after they broke your heart. Henry hadn’t said or done anything to you, he was just doing what boys do. (Make shit up because they think it makes them impressive when really they’re even shittier than they look)

“I didn’t mean to break your promise,” Richie huffed. His face was slightly flushed after his mini tantrum. His hands grabbed both of yours, holding them close to him. “I’m so sorry I put you through this again”

You were still silent, but he knew this wasn’t a bad silence. You were still processing, still trying to figure out how to forgive him while making sure this was the last time he crawls through your window looking like this.

“I hope you know that it came from a place of- of caring about you,” He added. “Caring about you too much, I guess” He mumbled as an afterthought.

Your stupid lovesick heart skipped a beat at the sweet words. Richie wasn’t one for words, at all, but he somehow managed to say the most loving things without even realizing it.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again, that much is clear. And if Bowers says one more goddamn thing about your ass I’ll fucking string him up- I will- but I can promise I’ll try, okay? I will, I’ll really try”

He squeezed your hands a little bit, hoping you believed him, hoping you trusted him.

Your eyes flickered between his for a moment, and you could see in them that he was being sincere, and that he was broken up over hurting you.

“You…” He started to speak, but trailed off unsurely. “You deserve better” He finished.

His eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, before he turned away.

You shake your head, before you let go of one of his hands, and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning him to look back at you.

“(y/n/n)-”

You cut him off when you leaned in and gently kissed him, trying to be mindful of his split lip.

Richie’s eyes remained focused on your closed ones, too stunned to close them, or really kiss her back.

He wanted to kick himself when you pulled away. He managed to miss his fucking chance because he was too slow to do anything about it.

Your eyes fluttered open in such a beautiful way Richie swore you were holding his heart in your perfect little hands.

His brows were furrowed like you’d confused him, and you absolutely had. He hadn’t expected you to kiss him.

“Why’d you do that?” He asked breathlessly, and your cheeks burned pink.

Your shoulders raised a bit in a shrug, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

“I just… wanted to” You whispered.

A smile twitched on the corner of Richie’s lips before his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled you in again, so he could kiss you right this time.

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than he’d imagined they’d be. And he’d imagined countless times what they’d feel like. Daydreaming in class, before he fell asleep, and being right by your side for the last seven years.

Kissing you was bliss.

He did it again, taking your face in both of his hands and pulling you impossibly closer. He could feel your lips smiling against his own, and once again, his heart was beating out of his chest trying to get to yours.

“I’m in love with you, (y/n/n)” He murmured when you parted, and you laughed softly.

“That makes sense,” You replied, reaching a hand up to play with the curls on the back of his neck. “And… I love you too”

Richie gave you a sunshine smile, which you couldn’t help but return.

“I’m still upset, by the way,” You told him, still playing with the curls. “But only cause I’m tired of seeing you covered in bruises, okay?”

He nodded, and you leaned your cheek further against the palm of his hand.

“I promise to try” He said, and then raised his pinky.

You looked from his hand and then back to him, a slight glare in your eyes.

“Come on, just do it,” He urged, you rolled your eyes, but he was persistent. “Just link fuckin’ pinkies with me”

With a giggle you hooked your pinky with his, and held it for a moment.

“You want to go get tacos now?” He asked, and you grinned, nodding your head.

“You read my mind” You answered, and followed him back out the window.

It dawned on you that Richie was both your lover and your fighter. And he held those titles proudly.

As he took your hand and walked alongside you down the street, he decided there were no other title he’d want to be labeled, besides yours. ___

taglist: @thegr8kush

xoxo ~ jordie

#it #it chapter one #it chapter two #it fanfiction #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader #bill hader #bill hader x reader

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ravennm84 · 3 years

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Doctor’s Note

We all know how Lila fakes having different diseases and medical problems, but what would happen if she actually got sick and her mother went to the school to drop off a doctor’s note and pick up Lila’s assignments? Want the answer? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

Greta Rossi could admit that she was a bit of a workaholic. Being the secretary to the assistant ambassador of Italy, in a city that was constantly under attack by a magical terrorist, was not the easiest job in the world either. It took a lot of early mornings, late nights, and even some weekends to make sure everything was prepared for her boss. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t drop everything for her one and only daughter when she needed her.

Right now, for example, Lila was trapped in bed with a nasty case of strep throat. The poor girl had a fever, white pustules at the back of her throat, and could hardly stop coughing. It was only due to some very strong medicine that she was able to stop coughing long enough to pass out from exhaustion.

She had contacted her work to let them know she would be taking the week off, and the ambassador had been very understanding. Stressing that he knew how dedicated she was to her work and that it was good for her to take time off for her family. It was only after Lila was sound asleep that she made the phone call to her school, she wanted to make sure they knew why Lila was staying home and that she would be in later that afternoon to pick up her daughter’s assignments for the next week.

The principal, M. Damocles was his name, seemed very happy to have spoken to her and said that he would have her assignments waiting when she came to pick them up. Also, if she could bring the doctors’ notes with her, that would be very much appreciated.

Checking again that Lila was sound asleep, she left a note on her daughter’s bedside table that she was running some errands, would be home soon, and to text her if she needed anything.

Arriving at the school, she was surprised to see everything running so smoothly and that the reconstruction after the two month akuma attack had been gone so well. She was impressed that she couldn’t even tell the difference between the old and new parts of the building. But then, she wasn’t overly skilled with architecture or building construction, so that wasn’t a surprise to her.

A few knocks on the door and she entered M. Damocles office. She had only met the man a couple times, but he had seemed like a decent person. It was a shame that he had been akumatized for so long and she was curious about what had happened to cause him to be akumatized, but she wasn’t sure if it was proper to ask him.

“Mme. Rossi, good to see you. I understand that Lila has fallen ill?” He asked, spinning around to grab a blue folder behind his desk.

“Yes, the poor dear has strep throat and has been coughing nonstop for days.” Greta told him as she pulled the doctor’s note from her purse. “Here’s the note you requested, do you have her homework packet?”

Damocles looked over the note for a moment before nodding and looking at her expectantly. “Thank you, do you have her other doctor’s notes?”

Greta tilted her head in confusion. “Does she need more than one? It’s just strep throat, she should be back to school after next week.”

“No madam, this is all I need for her current leave from school. I was referring to the doctor’s notes for her tinnitus, arthritis, sprained wrist, and her lying disease. That last one especially, and any information you can give me on accommodating that one so we do not have a repeat of the incident last month.”

Nothing in the world could have kept her jaw from dropping. What he had just told her? “M. Damocles, everything you just said is completely false. Lila has no such ailments, and I don’t think there is such a thing as a lying disease, unless you are referring to pathological lying.”

The man blinked back at her a few times before raising one hand to rub his brow. “Oh my, Mme. Rossi, I believe you and I must have a long discussion about the things your daughter has been saying and doing since she started school here.”

Her legs were stiff as she lowered herself into a chair, a sick feeling growing in her stomach as M. Damocles pulled a different folder out from his desk.

~oOo~

Over two hours later, many truths had finally come out.

1) The school had never closed for months due to akumas.

2) When M. Damocles had been akumatized, it had been at night and did no damage to the school.

3) Greta was not the ambassador, but a secretary.

4) Lila did not suffer from any diseases.

5) They had been in Paris since Lila had started school, no globetrotting whatsoever.

6) She and her husband were not estranged, he had simply wanted to stay at his dream job in Venice and she would never force him to leave it for her temporary assignment here in Paris.

7) Lila’s grandmother was alive and had never owned or given Lila a foxtail necklace.

8) The phone number on file was Lila’s number, not Greta’s. And the email was supposed to be ‘.gov’ not ‘.com’.

Damocles had also called one of Lila’s classmates to his office, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When the principal told Greta about the incident from the previous month, she was shocked. Then Marinette told them her side of the story; all the lies, the threats, and finally setting the poor girl up to be expelled. Greta had never been so angry with her daughter in her life. Sure, she had been a good little story teller and actress when she was little, but she never would have thought she could be so cruel.

By the end of her explanation, Marinette was practically in tears.

When she mentioned that Adrien Agreste also knew of Lila’s lies, he was called to the office as well. He was a little more reluctant to talk about what Lila had been saying, but Greta insisted that she wanted to know what her daughter had been doing since coming to school, so he told her. If she hadn’t been disgusted before, she definitely was now. Getting Adrien’s father’s employees in trouble, lying about being friends with Ladybug all while telling Greta that she was a useless hero, sexually harassing Adrien while the boy didn’t even realize that was what she was doing to him. She had become a Gabriel model without her permission, which meant that Lila had likely forged her signatures on the contracts, so she would need to contact M. Agreste to get that sorted out. One of the things that surprised her was hearing that Lila had been akumatized, not once or twice, but three times!

Not long after that, M. Damocles dismissed the children so he and Greta could finish speaking. He told her that, due to falsifying contact records and two months of truancy, Lila was likely to be expelled. Greta accepted this, knowing that she would have done the same thing in that man’s position. In fact, she already had a plan forming on how to thoroughly punish her deceitful daughter. And since Lila had basically been quarantined for the next week and a half, she knew exactly what to do.

First, she began the paperwork to have Lila pulled out of Francois Dupont, effective immediately and asked to go speak to Lila’s classmates. After hearing what her daughter had put Marinette through, she wanted to make sure everyone knew the truth. Damocles allowed this, first pulling Mme. Bustier from the class to alert her as to what was happening. The woman was appalled to hear what had happened but insisted that she had been in contact with her for months via email, to which Greta informed her that it was not her email, but one that Lila had likely set up to keep the school from contacting her. This shocked the teacher to the point where she heavily leaned against the wall and M. Damocles had to support her to keep from collapsing.

When Greta was finally permitted to address the class and debunk the lies that her daughter had been spewing, there had been a lot of shock and questions to follow. But when a girl named Alya began furiously typing on her phone to blow up at Lila, Greta stopped her.

“I’m going to ask that none of you contact Lila from now on.” Alya and the other students looked at her in surprise, but she continued before anyone could interrupt. “I have already begun putting her punishment into motion and know for a fact that it will not be something she will forget anytime soon. So I ask that you do not call, text, or email her. If she attempts to contact you, tell her that you are busy and can’t talk. If she attempts to invite you over or make plans for the future, tell her that you are unavailable or that you already have plans. If she makes any threats or rude remarks to anyone, please forward those messages to me, I will leave my number for you to do so. Do this so that I may move forward with her punishment without her suspecting that I have discovered the truth.”

Having finally had the wool lifted from their eyes, the students realized just how much attention Lila seemed to demand on a daily basis. So, by acting like they were too busy for her or not in the mood to talk, that will drive her crazy and be a nice bit of revenge for lying to them. The class agreed.

After that, Greta headed home to find that Lila was still asleep but beginning to wake up, if the coughing was any indicator. While still having the chance, she called up her husband back in Venice.

“Pronto.”

“Mio amor, how are you? How are things at the school?”

“Ah, mia bella, the school is wonderful, though I must admit, my urge to see you and Lila grows by the minute. When will you come to visit me?”

“Very soon, actually. I’m afraid that you and I need to have a talk about our daughter.” About thirty minutes and a lot of cursing later, Ciro Rossi was now completely up to date on the actions of their daughter.

“I wish to say that I cannot believe Lila would do such things, but I can’t help remembering that boy, Roberto, from two years ago.”

Yes, Greta remembered him well. He had been a very popular boy at Lila’s school; handsome, rich, from a very well connected family, and from what she understood, completely dedicated to his boyfriend. She hadn’t paid him much attention until Lila came home crying that Roberto had attempted to sexually assault her. Greta and Ciro had refused to let such a thing go unchecked and went to the police to report him. During the weeks to follow, Roberto was put through hell; bullied at school, he was beaten up a few times, his boyfriend broke up with him, and his name slandered all over Venice. They had believed what happened to the boy to be justified… until proof was provided that he was nowhere near Lila when she claimed to have been assaulted.

She suddenly recanted her story, saying that she must have been mistaken and someone that looked like Roberto assaulted her, but the damage had already been done. The boy and his family moved somewhere far away, and Greta and Ciro were forced to pay restitution to Roberto for ruining his name and reputation. Through her tears, Lila convinced them that it had been an honest mistake and that she hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. It wasn’t long after that, Greta received an offer to be the secretary for the assistant ambassador in Paris. Lila had begged her mother to go with her, claiming that her classmates were now bullying her for what happened to Roberto. Wanting to protect their daughter, they agreed.

Looking back on it now, and noticing the similarities between Roberto and Adrien, both Greta and Ciro were disappointed in themselves for not seeing the truth. Which likely was that Lila had tried to get close to Roberto for his money and connections, and when he turned her down, she lied about the assault to ruin his life, much like she had done to Marinette. And when it came out that she had lied about Roberto, her classmates had turned on her. So when she got the chance to start somewhere new, with people who didn’t know about her lies, she took it. Not caring if she harmed anyone at her new school while repeating old habits. But they were not about to let Lila do the same thing to Adrien or Marinette. Once Greta told her husband her plan, he was all for it and began preparing things on his end. By the time Lila was done being sick, her entire life would have turned upside down.

~oOo~

It took a lot more effort than Greta had expected to hide her intentions for the nine days it took for Lila to get over her case of strep throat, but she had been making good use of that time.

She had contacted Gabriel Agreste’s secretary and asked about any contracts that may have been signed. When she told her she hadn’t signed any contract and that her daughter would no longer be modelling, the woman had no choice but to accept this and inform M. Agreste of this development. The woman also informed Greta that such a breach of contract would result in Lila being blacklisted from the fashion industry. She agreed and promised that she would inform her daughter of this once she was better.

Greta then looked into Lila’s savings and trust fund, of which she had control of since Lila was still a minor. She drained the accounts to pay restitutions to Marinette for bullying and slander, Adrien for sexual harassment; and then sent the rest of it to Roberto, along with a message that she was now completely aware of the type of person her daughter was and would be adequately punished very soon.

And to keep too much suspicion off of her, Greta began mentioning to Lila how her father desperately wanted to see her after she got better, so after the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, they would be going to Venice to see him. Now that she was watching, Greta saw the twinge of uncertainty at the mention of Venice, but quickly covered it with false excitement for going back to visit her father.

As the day grew closer that they would be heading to Italy, Greta also noticed Lila glaring at her phone with utter malice. She might not have known what was going on if Lila’s classmate, Alya, wasn’t keeping her up-to-date on what Lila was telling them. Her daughter was attempting to tell the class that she was going to be going on a trip with a famous singer after she was better, but her classmates were doing as Greta asked and treating the lies as if they meant nothing. When she accused Marinette of calling her a liar while she was sick and couldn’t defend herself, the class stopped responding.

One message that was forwarded to Greta nearly had her abandoning her plan and confronting her daughter at that moment. It was a message that Lila had sent to Marinette, who had shared it with Alya, who then forwarded it to Greta. It read:

You fugly, no talent bitch! You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Those stupid sheep were eating up every single one of my lies before I got sick, and now they won’t even talk to me! Just you wait. When I get back to school, I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself. Maybe I’ll convince someone that you tried to kill me and they’ll kill you for me. Either way, you’re dead. And even if you show someone these messages, no one will believe you over me.

Greta forwarded the message to Ciro as well. He called her right away to discuss other accommodations that they would be making for Lila in the coming days. There was something seriously wrong with their daughter, and they refused to turn a blind eye to what was happening.

When the day finally came that Lila was better and they were heading to Venice, Greta instructed Lila not to pack her more expensive clothes as she would not want to lose them if their baggage got lost. What her daughter didn’t know was that Greta was planning on selling all of her designer clothes, jewelry, her electronics, and everything else to continue paying restitutions to Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto. And it wasn’t like she would need them soon, anyway.

The plane ride was a bit nerve racking for Greta, as she worried about giving something away and Lila figuring out her plan; but if she did, it didn’t show. When they landed at Venice Marco Polo Airport, she had to resist her sigh of relief. The plan was almost ready to be put in action.

When she saw Ciro waiting for them in his dress whites, her heart sped a bit more. The man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever met, and was the love of her life. Being away from him for so long was difficult, but what else could they do? Her husband was a Capitano di Vascello of the Italian Navy and had worked very hard to get where he was. Although he was semi-retired now and no longer served on a ship, he had followed his dream and became the Vice Principal for the premier naval academy in Venice, Francesco Morosini Naval Military School.

He had gone to the school when he was younger and always claimed that it was the best experience he could have ever wished for. That being in that school saved his life. So when he continued into the navy to serve his country, he made it his goal to one day become the Principal of the school that saved him, so that he could do the same for other students. And now, they would be doing the same for Lila.

Greta and Ciro had thought of admitting Lila to Francesco Morosini when she came of age, but quickly realized that she was not the Navy type and did not want to force her into it. That choice was no longer Lila’s and she would be staying at the military school where it was Ciro’s job, not only as a father, but as an administrator of the school, to keep a close eye on any problem children.

Ciro embraced Greta and then Lila before taking their bags and walking them to his car. Lila was talking at length to her father about all her friends at school, all the happenings in Paris, and even mentioned her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste.

“You would like him, Papa. He’s a model, a gentleman, and his father is the designer, Gabriel Agreste. And he treats me like a princess!” Lila gushed as she showed her father a picture of Lila kissing the blonde boy’s cheek. Greta had seen that picture and had even asked Adrien about it while they had spoken in M. Damocles office. Lila had apparently kissed him without permission when she took that picture, and then sent it to every girl in Adrien’s contact list to make it seem like they were dating.

Ciro played along, asking questions about her classes, Adrien, the akuma situation that he had heard about over the news, and other things to keep Lila from growing suspicious. Sure enough, she prattled on through the entire car and ferry ride to Venice. Only seeming to look around questioning when they arrived at the Naval school, rather than their apartment.

“What are we doing here?” She asked, looking at her father in confusion.

The two parents dropped the act and glared at their daughter in disappointment and anger. “I’m surprised at you, young lady,” Greta started. “Did you really think you could keep lying to us? We. Know. Everything.”

They watched as her olive skin quickly paled. “What do you mean? I didn’t lie, I sw-”

“We know the school never closed,” Ciro interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument or interruption. “We know about you lying to your classmates and teachers about having disabilities and diseases. We know about you changing our contact information on your school records. We know about you bullying and sexually harassing your classmates. We know about the threats you’ve made to that one girl. We know that you’ve been akumatized multiple times. We know the truth about what you really did to Roberto two years ago! WE KNOW EVERYTHING!”

With every word he said, Lila seemed to inch away from her irate parents and shrink into herself. At the same time, they saw the rage and contemplation in her eyes. She was angry at being caught and was already trying to think of a way out of trouble. Not that they would give her a chance to even try.

“But I didn’t li-”

“Lie number one, Ladybug is a useless superhero that let your school get damaged and spent months trying to deakumatize your principal, which is why you were out of school for two months.” Greta interrupted that time, pinning her daughter with a glare that she usually reserved for idiot interns who screwed up important paperwork at the embassy. “I personally spoke to your principal and looked into Ladybug. The school never closed. Ladybug and Chat Noir have always defeated the akumas and restored the damage thanks to their abilities. And you told the school that you and I were off globetrotting to places like Achu.”

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. She was just beginning to stammer out an excuse when her father spoke over her.

“Lie number two, a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been bullying you because she is jealous of your relationship with your boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. We have seen the texts that you have sent that girl, the most recent saying,” Ciro pulled out his phone to read off of the text “‘...I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself…’ Does that sound familiar to you?”

“I also personally spoke to Adrien after I spoke to Marinette, and found out that not only are you not his girlfriend, but you have been sexually harassing him! You even showed us proof in that picture you took where you kissed him!”

“But that’s not sexual harassment!” Lila shot back at them as her panic grew.

“Any unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature constitutes sexual harassment. Your mother and I memorized that when you accused Roberto of assault, which is another thing you lied about! And let me guess, you wanted to use that boy’s popularity and family connections for a leg-up, but he turned down your advances since he was gay. You didn’t take that rejection well, so you told us he assaulted you. Is that what happened?”

“How did you-” Lila interrupted herself that time by slapping her hand over her mouth, quickly realizing that she had confirmed what her father had just said.

“Well, congratulations young lady. You have earned a complete overhaul on your life.”

“What do you mean?” Lila didn’t want to know, but it seemed like she had no choice but to ask.

“Your modelling contract with Gabriel is done,” Greta told her, noticing her wince since they weren’t supposed to know about that either. “I spoke with his assistant and discovered that you forged my signatures on the contracts to let you model. They were kind enough not to pursue legal action against you, but they have asked that I inform you that you have been blacklisted from the fashion industry, so that career option is completely closed off to you.”

“Your mother educated your friends at school with the truth. They know about all your lies and have kept us apprised of what you have been saying, the rumors you have been attempting to spread about going on a trip with a random music star, and were kind enough to forward that threatening message you sent to that girl, Marinette. They are no longer interested in being your ‘sheep’.”

“Not that you will be returning to that school,” Greta continued. “Your truancy has made that impossible, even if we did want you to stay there to face the consequences of your actions. Which includes paying restitution to the people you’ve hurt.”

“Paying!” Ciro and Greta watched as Lila’s right eye began to twitch as she snapped at them.

“Yes, paying. I’ve already emptied out your savings and trust fund to pay back Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto for what you’ve done to them-”

“You can’t do that! That’s my money!” She screamed, stomping her foot at her mother like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

“Money that you earned illegally modelling after forging my signature. And you are a minor, I am well within my rights to take that money to pay for the damages you have incurred. I will also be selling your laptop, tablet, mobile phone, as well as the clothes and jewelry you left in Paris. Seeing as you won’t be needing them anymore.”

As she said this, Lila clutched her phone and hugged it against her chest. “How am I supposed to talk to anyone without my phone?”

“Pen and paper, and if you need to speak with your mother, there’s my office phone or the payphone in the barracks, where you will be staying.”

The girl’s eyes grew impossibly wide as she looked at her parents in a panic. They couldn’t mean…

Ciro smiled the smile that he used to greet the families whose children were in need of discipline. “Welcome to Francesco Morosini Naval Military School, where we strive to give children an education that will help them for their future and the world that waits for them.”

~oOo~

There had been a lot of begging, crying, and screaming after that as Lila did everything she could to try and change her parents’ minds. This was a total nightmare for her. Forced to wear a uniform she hated. Surrounded by students, teachers, and her father; all of whom knew that she was a liar. No one gave her the type of attention she craved, but everyone was giving her the overly watchful attention she despised. She couldn’t even enjoy becoming an akuma anymore, as she was far out of Hawkmoth’s reach.

Greta and Ciro had gone out to dinner afterwards in an attempt to de-stress, only to get a call an hour later that Lila had tried to steal a boat and run away from the school. She was put on a 24/7 watch after that, now required to wear a tracking monitor wherever she went and was on bathroom and floor cleaning duty for the foreseeable future.

When Greta returned to Paris, she went about doing exactly as she promised. She sold Lila’s electronics, clothes, and jewelry; only keeping a pair of plastic stud earrings that her grandmother had given her. She met with M. Damocles again to let him know that everything had been taken care of. She contacted the Dupain-Cheng family to let them know that Lila wouldn’t be bothering their daughter again. That was probably the most pleasant thing she did, as they were a lovely family and sent her off with a box of assorted scones, so yummy! When she had them send a box of goodies to her husband in Venice, he called her a few days later and begged her to send more whenever she could.

Lila absolutely hated seeing her father enjoy pastries from the bakery of her rival’s family. That, along with being forced to talk to a psychiatrist three times a week to make her admit that she was a liar and to figure out why she feels the need to lie. All while wearing a horrible uniform and actually having to clean. She was in her own personal hell. How she wished that she had never gotten sick.

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @ladylupuscrow @maskedpainter @miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @naruwitch @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @pandora-fucking-box @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

#lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila lies #lila karma #lila bashing #mlbjustice #miraculous ladybug #lila's parents #parenting done right

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halfblood-princes-crown · 2 years

Note

Chapter 33: The Prince's Tale

Lily told Severus

"-- to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

Isn’t that evidence that Severus used the word mudblood on others?

I come in peace🖖🏼 am not a marauders Stan. I promise

First of all, the emoji made me laugh waaayy too hard💀 I didn’t even know that existed😭

To answer your question:

Him calling muggleborns Mudbloods is not canon. How come nobody ever accuses him of prejudice, in real time or in retrospect, except Lily, who only finds his prejudice problematic when it’s directed at her, and who in fact, bothers to make excuses for him for years and is surprised that he sees something in Avery and Mulciber?

People say that “Snape didn't care about calling others Mudblood”.

Well then, neither did Lily…

They were best friends for 7 years. If he was so anti-muggle-born like everyone claims, why would she (a Muggle-born) stay friends with someone like that until year 5?

Lily contradicts herself. When Snape calls her a Mudblood in SWM ‘She blinks' - she is shocked when Snape said it, whatever she expected from him it was not that. We don’t see in this memory how well they know each other (we figure out later but still), but her surprise shows that it’s something that hasn’t happened before.

The betrayal causes enough of a change in her attitude that she calls him by the name the bullies use and makes her own sexually humiliating and classist observation.

She then says: [“You call everyone of my birth Mudblood, why should I be any different?”]

Then why be so shocked, Lily, if your friend calls everyone Mudblood?

If he really was throwing Mudblood around, why didn’t she end the friendship sooner? She doesn’t strike me as the type that would let him get away with using that word once, let alone for five years.

So either:

A) He didn't say it at all, and her besties fed her lies or rumors.

B) He did say it all the time, just like she claims, and… she's a bloody hypocrite and isn't as righteous as everyone thinks. She didn't care that he said it until it was made personal and was directed at her. Then she decided that Snape was in the wrong and she should cut ties.

C) Lily’s friends manipulated her as she was upset. We all know Lily’s friends didn’t like Snape, (“None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you.”) They could see this as the perfect opportunity to dig the knife and twist it. When Snape went to apologise some hours later (it was dark), it might have been after her friends got to tell her some things that weren’t quite true. “Yeah, he is ALWAYS calling ______ Mudblood, says it all the time.” And also, Lily was proved twice to be easily manipulated (the werewolf incident and James “ChAnGiNg” even though he was still hexing Severus), so it wouldn’t be shocking.

And also, even if he DID…he changed. One quote, “Do not use that word”—the reprimand he gave to the portrait when he called Hermione a Mudblood.

And now Snape stood again in the headmaster's study as Phineas Nigellus came hurrying into his portrait.

"Headmaster! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The Mudblood- "

"Do not use that word!"

If he did use Mudblood, then this^ is more character development than all of the other Slytherins Marauder stans like combined. Cause last time I checked, Draco used Mudblood daily and he’s still a fan favorite…and Regulus Black was also blood prejudice…and apparently marauder stans like Evan Rosier, Mulciber, Bellatrix, BCJ, AND Tom Riddle…

Rowling tends to SHOW and tell things that are canon. Lily SAYING it doesn’t mean anything because we don’t SEE it. Nobody but her in canon accuses him of being prejudice, nobody in canon accuses him of believing in DE ideals, but PLENTY of evidence points AGAINST these things.

This is why I don’t really argue about the Mudblood thing, because even if he did, he changed. The whole fandom loves a “changed” character unless it’s Snape.

Another thing is, Snape is a half-blood…whether marauder stans want to admit it or not, he by definition IS a Mudblood himself…

Oh and btw, you asked your question very nicely so it wouldn’t matter if you were a Marauder stan! Kindness is valued

#severus snape #pro severus snape #snape defense

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sanguineterrain · 3 years

Text

Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner.

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.”

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.”

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.”

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly.

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.”

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter.

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even.

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter.

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment.

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours.

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.”

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look.

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you.

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.”

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you.

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?”

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.”

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you.

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table.

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?”

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons.

“Yeah. We always do.”

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore.

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.”

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table.

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone.

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week.

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home.

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you.

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye.

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening.

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

#bucky barnes x reader #1940s bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #kas9kwc #repost for those of you who asked <3

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

LO$ER=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Life is just a path and you walk it. Until Jeon Jungkook. He made you run, sprinting through winding side roads and alleys, fighting, bleeding, losing. Your paths split, but life is made of orbits. Now that they have overlapped once more, his hand is fiercely holding yours and he won't let go again. Nothing matters if he's with you. Thus, you run once more, laughing like you've gone mad.

continuation of 0X1=?, m | jjk – click here to read

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of sexual assault (not heavily described, however, please note reader is the victim of said assault); actually predominantly fluff; mentions of previous angst; mentions of physical fighting; smut (fem reader, fingering, cowgirl, scratching / marking, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - tattooed, previously rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader (mostly reader's POV, a tiny bit of JK's POV), ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK’s best friend and crossover with 'bao, t/m | myg' au

yes, I waited until the TXT's 'LO$ER=LO♡ER' was released to write this XD there's a ton of TXT references as well, enjoy!

now playing – LO$ER=LO♡ER by txt

"Jeon Jungkook! Yah! Jeon Jungkook! Come out of that whore's home!"

You were about to remove the groceries from your front seat, but then you stopped at the shouting, peering up at the second story of the apartment complex to see… ah, yes, a young woman yelling at your front doorstep. One look at the imported, Western, black car with heavily tinted windows and you were well aware that the woman in a matching designer two-piece – a ruffled pink suit jacket and flared skirt – complete with immaculately pulled back hair in a half-ponytail must be...

She turned around, fuming, pretty features twisted in rage, and screamed in frustration.

You quickly jerked your head back out of her line of sight and clicked your tongue.

Your boyfriend's ex-fiancé had some lungs on her.

You waited until she finished shrieking like a banshee and peered out to see her spin on her heel and return to pounding on your apartment door with her small, manicured fists. You spotted her beige, black cap-toed slender heels.

Chanel.

Huh.

You stayed in your car.

Reached over to your bag and pulled out the single ice cream you bought to share with Jungkook but, at this rate, you would have to buy another. You pulled off the cap and folded it in half, curving it like a spoon, and began to eat the mango sorbet. Hm, well, it was better this way. Jungkook would probably prefer chocolate or straight up diabetes over mango sorbet.

He would eat pretty much anything though.

You scooped up some of the frigid, melting sweet into your mouth and watched his ex-fiancé shout at no one.

True, you could go up there and throw her down the stairs. But there was something hilarious about this, her beating and howling at your apartment door, completely ignoring the fact that no one was answering it and that she was very clearly causing a public disturbance, all because of her own personal problem.

You glanced up to watch her slide down the door, openly crying now. You pressed the button of your car window to roll it down a crack to listen to her sobbing above you.

"–can't believe you would do this to me... you know I need this marriage... my family's company depends on it..."

You slowed, licking off your makeshift spoon.

"I'll be left with nothing... nothing unless I get married..."

Crocodile tears or not, the woes of the rich did not earn much sympathy with you.

You rolled your window back up, leaving your car on idle for the air conditioning.

It was a mix of previously being constantly berated by Jungkook's wealthy parents that now exiled him over a fucking eyebrow piercing and being a member of the working, lower middle class. For some reason, that latter fact was also offensive to Jungkook’s parents. Everyone was accepting until money got involved. You hummed, eating another scoop. You didn’t like it, but you understood that his parents wouldn’t believe that you have no interest in their money. What you didn't understand was why his ex-fiancé was so hellbent on yelling at your door. From what you could tell, she wasn't ugly. Couldn't she find someone else?

You scraped the last of your small ice cream out and ate it up.

You checked your phone.

Jungkook wouldn't be out of work for at least another three hours. You had found him a job at the local bao shop through your own job as an accountant. You assisted the family in sorting the finances for their small business and personal tax forms. The owner had back surgery and so the daughter had been working there by herself with one other employee that delivered the orders. They wanted to hire another to help with cooking and cleaning, perhaps even open up the front counter again to accept pick-up orders instead of only delivery. However, it was hard to find someone trustworthy and reliable. The best way was through word of mouth.

They won't mind my tattoos?

Whenever I drop by, the delivery guy is wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and has a resting bitch face. You'll be fine. Also, I think the daughter and him are dating.

Jungkook had blinked at you.

You know. In case they disappear for ten minutes, unexplained.

You loved Jungkook's laugh.

He didn't complain or whine for some other job. He only asked when he started and how to get there. You bought him a secondhand bicycle and he was off to work, five to six days a week. Sometimes you would drop him off with your car if was too rainy. Occasionally, when he had to stay late for a large order, the delivery guy would drive Jungkook and his bike back home.

That's how it was here, in the world of everyone else, minus the rich.

The fuck is all this?

Manager gave me a bunch of leftovers. She said I'm a fast learner. Did you know Taehyung stops by there? He's never said shit! He said it was his little secret, that ass–

You smiled as you remembered Jungkook's animated face and annoyance at his best friend for not sharing what he thought was crucial information. Jungkook would speak excitedly, hauling a bag of buns and spilling them over your clean kitchen counter, scrambling to catch them as he explained the different ones to you and how they were made, telling you all the things he was learning and funny stories about customers.

You almost forgot this Jungkook.

It was strange, feeling something after such a long time of feeling nothing, strange to find your time occupied once again by him, when at many times you vowed not to get involved with Jungkook anymore, only for him to show up and make you throw your promises to yourself to the wind, recklessly chasing the anger, wondering, hating, loathing how much you still loved him after he left, recalling him standing there, stone silent as his parents' verbal lashes ripped you to shreds.

You turned the car off, pulling the keys out and pocketing them, not wanting to the drain the battery.

Maybe.

Maybe you were stupid for loving him so much.

Maybe you were as pathetic as the woman up there in some ways.

Then again.

Maybe that was just how everyone lived.

You heard a soft tap by your car window.

You jerked your head to see Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, peering at you through the glass, clutching his bike. You could see half of his head, short black hair and large, curious brown eyes, nose pressed up to the bottom of your car window. He was wearing his work clothes, light wash jeans and an aqua blue t-shirt, lightly dusted in flour. He pointed up and you noticed his ex-fiancé had switched back to yelling at the door, no longer facing the street.

You shooed him back and opened the car door, eyes wide.

"Why are you home?" you whispered, crouching down to speak to him.

He grabbed your hand, gasping as he gripped it. You shivered at the coldness of his fingers, but there was a warmth in between your and his frozen palms, melting each other.

"Oh, shit, your hand is so cold!"

"So is yours!"

"I was biking! My hands get cold from the wind. What's your excuse?"

You held up the empty mango sorbet container in your other hand, shifting your eyes guiltily.

"And you didn't share?!" Jungkook hissed, his windswept hair giving him a fierce appearance, dismay clear in his glistening dark brown orbs despite trying to sound angry.

You spied his other hand on his bike. There was a large, wrapped bandage on his left forearm. You ticked your chin towards it, furrowing your brows. "What happened?"

"Ack, I burned myself and manager-nim told me to go home early. I told her I could still work, but there were only a few hours left and it seemed like she wanted to be alone with Yoongi-hyung..."

You raised your eyebrows.

"What are they gonna do, bonk in the kitchen?"

"You wouldn't want to bonk me in the kitchen?"

You grinned at him and Jungkook grinned back, eyebrow piercing flashing in the sun.

"JEON JUNGKOOK!"

"Oh shit–"

You scrambled out of your car, locking it, slamming the door as the young woman wailed his name and pointed at you and him, furiously wiping her tears.

"You bitch! How dare you take him from me! He was mine! I had him wrapped around my finger!" She hiked up her skirt and swiftly power-walked to the stairs, looking back to yell more at you as Jungkook placed his bicycle down. "He would do anything for me!"

You raised your eyebrows, again.

Jungkook yanked on your t-shirt sleeve, ushering you to get on the bike with him.

"Doesn't seem like it!" you called back casually, chucking your trash at her, causing the empty ice cream container to smack her in the shoulder and roll across the sidewalk.

"You–"

You cackled and got on the bike, hooking your arms around Jungkook's shoulders and adjusting your feet as she stomped up to you two, conventionally attractive features contorted in rage.

"He was my dog!"

Your eye twitched.

"You were gonna marry a freak who was into bestiality? No wonder you left," you remarked, patting him on the chest as Jungkook burst out laughing, loud and rich, shaking his head.

"You can't do this to me, Jungkook! You can't leave me with that other guy!"

You felt it.

Pause.

You felt Jungkook stiffen under your hands and you turned yourself, hearing the helpless plea in her voice now, throwing herself to the ground, designer knees in common dirt, anguish on her face, tears streaming down her made-up cheeks, sniffling hard, and, with your breath lodged in your throat, you realized she was restraining her pained sobs, so trained in maintaining appearances that it seemed like she couldn’t even cry properly in front of others.

"You can't... you know how they are... I can't marry him, you saw what kind of man he is... that's the whole reason I tried to find another husband..."

There was no more anger in her voice, only fear and dread, and you didn't understand, and yet you could for some reason, for some reason you could see it as if it was tangible, the realness in her enigmatic words. Jungkook's hands tightened on the handlebars of the bicycle, his knuckles turning white, tense shoulders under your arms, and for a second, a moment, an instant...

You thought he might go back.

"You should run."

The crying woman on the ground lifted her head, hiccupping, cheeks blotchy pink, still somehow beautiful.

"W-What?"

Jungkook turned his head and looked down at her. "You should run away, like I did. Find someone who actually loves you. Getting married to me will only make both of us miserable, even if it saves you from that other guy."

She looked from you to him, and you recognized that look in her eyes, jealousy and envy, but not directed at you. It was directed at the warmth between the coldness of his hands and yours, directed at the orbits of his and yours finally overlapping, meeting in the vastness of space once more, his zero and your zero becoming one, not you, but his ability to throw everything away, his wealth, his comfort, the world he knew, all for a feeling she had yet to feel.

"What... what if I can't?" she asked weakly. "What if I can't find what you have?"

Jungkook lifted his foot off the asphalt and placed it on the pedal. He raised his head, and you found his eyes on yours for a brief moment before casting them back down to his ex-fiancé.

"Then keep running. It's better than being married to him, right?"

He began to turn the handles, about to pedal away.

She screamed after him, words choked with agony.

"Love won't solve our problems, Jungkook!"

You held on tight, chest to his back, fingers clutching in Jungkook's shirt, nose in his hair, his warmth under your cold hands.

"It won't!" he yelled over his shoulder, gaining speed with a grin. "But it sure as hell makes the problems worth shouldering!"

“Hey! Get back here!”

You snickered and chucked the plastic bag into the basket connected to the bicycle, jumping on quickly, pedaling away as Jungkook ran after you at top speed, breathless and laughing, his black hair flying back, aqua shirt molding to his muscular chest, long legs sprinting after you and the bike, your grinning face looking back periodically to catch his smile, going not too fast, but still fast enough so he couldn’t quite catch up. Golden hour brought out the tan on his skin and his high cheekbones, both of you tearing out of the gas station at high speed, drawing stares and shaking heads, but neither of you noticed or cared, his booming voice calling your name and you sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“Watch out!”

You jerked aside and sped past a group of five young men with skateboards, two with shorter black hair, one with long black hair and white highlights, one with ash gray hair, and one platinum blond, all very tall, but you didn’t have time to stop and stare at the impressive height of them, turning into a side alley towards to the creek nearby, avoiding pedestrians, Jungkook following close behind until you got to your destination, grabbing the plastic bag in the basket and throwing the bike down, cackling as Jungkook snatched you from the air, his heart racing against your back as you kicked the air, him still somehow effortlessly carrying you despite sprinting so hard, panting into your hair.

“Get off!”

But instead of letting you go, Jungkook held on tighter, fierce kisses into your neck, wiping his sweat all over you and making you cringe amidst your laughter. It was already late, the sun dipping into the horizon, slowly taking its warmth with it. Water trickled meekly down the creek, barely coating the rock bottom due to the hot summer.

“Stop, stop, the ice cream is melting,” you finally gasped out, shoving Jungkook aside, wiping your neck with the back of your hand, pretending to be disgusted, but Jungkook just grinned and seized your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“Ack, I love you too, fuck, get off–”

You two sat on the swings of the empty playground, watching the sun disappear, eating ice cream with the lids of the containers. As predicted, Jungkook got the chocolate that seemed to have everything in it but the kitchen sink. You, on the other hand, got red bean this time.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

He looked up from his ice cream, shoving a large lidful into his mouth.

It was strange how beautiful he looked, even with his black hair sticking up every which way, his cheeks filled with the frozen sweet, the faint rays of sunlight catching the silver of his jewelry – eyebrow piercing, earrings, silver chain around his neck with the compass star pendant – all paired with his oversized aqua blue t-shirt and baggy jeans, still with bits of flour on his thighs from work.

“What did that man do to her?”

A darkness clouded his features even though he tried to hide it from you with a neutral expression.

“Ah… He just… Just wasn’t really the kind of guy who thought of women as people,” Jungkook finally got out, looking away from you. “You know, the kind of guy you really hate.”

“That’s you,” you joked.

“I know I can’t do anything,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your quip and you suddenly regretted it, seeing the way he lowered his hands, exhaling slowly. “I am not responsible for anyone else’s behavior but my own.”

Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

She'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel.

Enjoy your piranha.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looked up at your sudden declaration.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, coughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry for saying the things I said about her.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Just because she was in a shit situation doesn’t excuse her for being a shit person.” He shoved the lid into the empty ice cream container and rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his hair back with a sigh. “Just like how it doesn’t excuse me from being a shit person for what I did to you.”

His eyes shifted away.

“You don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do,” he muttered, cutting you off. “I’m a fucking loser.”

The streetlights began to turn on, but no one was in a place like this, two adults in a place for kids, stuck wondering what adulthood was supposed to feel like because it still felt like an endless cycle of forever learning and forever running, wandering to find out what the finish line meant.

“I wasted time you can’t get back and I will spend the rest of my life chasing the time I wasted.”

Jungkook sucked in a shuddering breath, hand falling from his hair, rueful smile on his face.

“I can only hope you can put up with me for so long.”

You blinked slowly.

He turned his head, brown eyes finding yours, those irises catching the streetlights like how his jewelry had caught the sun, proving that Jeon Jungkook was, indeed, already adorned with nature’s very own jewelry.

You scooped out the last of your red bean ice cream and ate it, looking away from him.

“Sounds like forever,” you remarked, feeling the chilled sweet cool your heated cheeks, swallowing slowly, savoring the way the cold warmed you in its own way.

“Hm?”

“Sounds like I’m stuck with you forever then,” you said, turning back to him with a smirk. “Kinda sucks.”

He smirked back, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah. Major suck. Speaking of my dick–”

“Oh, shut up.”

But you said it with a smile and he knew you didn’t mean it.

“Why the fuck do you have that?”

“It’s from work. Gimmie your arm.”

“Why?”

You extended your arm, frowning, stopping under the streetlight, one hand on the bike as Jungkook held the black permanent marker with his right hand. He used two fingers to uncap it and tucked the lid neatly into his palm, spinning the marker with the adjacent two fingers to readjust it so that he could write on your arm.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo with me?”

“Of what?”

You looked down to him scribbling on your skin, his own black tattoos standing out, covering his entire right arm and up to his shoulder. You wondered if he would end up tattooing his back and maybe his other arm – but, then again, he kind of needed money to have pay for such large pieces.

“Couples tattoo.”

You looked down when he drew back, grinning, reading the word upside down.

LO♡ER

You raised an eyebrow.

“You want to get ‘lover’ tattooed?” you asked, skeptical, turning your arm this way and that, unsure if you liked the placement on your forearm, near your wrist. “You don’t have any space on your right arm anyway.”

“That’s why I would get it on my left.”

And he curved his wrist to write on the bandage on his left forearm, messily writing on top of it.

LO$ER

Now you raised both eyebrows.

“You want to get… ‘loser’ tattooed onto your body?” you snorted disbelievingly.

Jungkook grinned, recapping the black marker with one hand, tapping the dollar sign on the bandage with the marker lid. “Doesn’t it describe me? ‘Cause I had money, and now I don’t.” He pointed to the heart on your skin. “You love me. I love you. A lover with a dollar sign is a loser, right?”

Laughter and skateboards sped past, five blurs of black along the street, spinning around the parked cars, people yelling after them to stop being so reckless, but you were too busy staring at Jungkook to notice the ruckus, too busy staring at that smile and those brown orbs lit up by streetlights.

“Are you stupid?”

Jungkook’s grin widened, mole underneath clearly visible. “Yeah, kind of. Stupidly in love with you.”

You both instantly pretended to gag, trying to mask your smiles, you shoving him and him shoving back, playful and laughing like mad, falling into him, dropping the bike with a loud clang, swept up in his arms and his kiss, your hands hooking behind his neck, love you, love you, love you, not sure about this whole tattoo idea, but, hell, maybe, just maybe if he annoyed you enough about it.

Shit, the groceries...

Are they still good?

The green onions look kind of wilted, but so do you and you're still good... I think.

Shut up.

You didn't need him, but being without him was like being frozen in time.

Not that you had any big dreams or aspirations anyone could be envious about. It always been like that, casually cruising through life, existing for the sake of existing, no real reason needed. It just was, and there was no reason to stop, so you kept going. The path was there, so you kept walking.

But, then.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook made you run.

It's not washing off.

Tragic.

Easy for you to say, you wrote yours on your bandage, 'loser'.

So terrible that you have 'lover' written in you by your lover - hey, pfft, stop! Put the showerhead down!

It was truly by chance to meet him, a moment of terror and then he was there, yelling, get off her, don't fucking touch her, and you didn't understand, didn't understand why some random guy would suddenly intervene between an interaction of two strangers, how could he sense your discomfort and fear, and now he was throwing fists, brawling with not one but three guys, friends of the one who slipped his phone and his hands under your skirt, the stranger smashing the phone with venomous rage, fighting in a dress shirt, slacks, leather loafers, and expensive-looking rings, giving you a chance to escape.

A winner at life.

Not like you, you who let something happen because you froze up in that second, disbelieving that such a thing could happen to you, a nobody, a loser.

He kicked one of them in the knee, growling, a howl followed by the sharp crack during the fight.

You could turn and escape.

Or?

You heard sirens.

You grabbed your protector's flying fist and clenched into it tightly, panicking.

Run!

This was before the tattoos.

This was before the pain.

This was before the piercing.

Jeon Jungkook had whipped his head around at the foreign touch, in this mess because he had witnessed something disgusting and because he simply wanted to fight, just wanted to beat someone up, wanted to cause real pain to someone because he couldn't control his own life, wanted to fight something.

Needed to fight.

A hand around his hand.

Run!

Never once had Jungkook thought about escape.

Not until he saw that face, fear and panic and rage and determination, stunningly beautiful, hand around his hand, not letting go, pulling, sirens screaming in the distance, his legs already moving, following, running, running, running, into the sea of the unknown.

Sinking into it.

Lungs screaming, clumsily flying through alleys, on wings of adrenaline, running after the girl in the white hoodie and red plaid skirt holding his hand, falling, falling, falling, skidding across the concrete, her arms around his, her head buried into his chest, his hands around her head to protect it, hitting a dumpster with a pained wheeze.

The sirens sped past.

He was holding her and she was holding him.

It was chance.

Just chance.

His hands were scraped up, bleeding from the trip and tumble, her white hoodie dirtied and ripped from the fall, scrapes on her legs and knees.

I'm sorry...

It was ridiculous chance.

Just ridiculous.

You clung to this stranger and laughed, laughed like a maniac, laughed like you had gone mad, crying into his dirty navy dress shirt, thank you, thank you, thank you, not knowing you were holding the one who would make you run, not knowing who or how affluent he was, now knowing of how it felt to hold his hand and kiss his lips and hear his laugh, not knowing how you would introduce him to a friend who was a tattoo artist and start his interest in them, not knowing you would sit by him for long hours and watch the art grow on his skin...

Holding him, crying, thank you, thank you, thank you for saving me, leaning against a dumpster as the stranger hugged you tightly, I got you, it's okay, don't cry, don't cry, don’t cry please, rubbing your back.

Not knowing.

Not knowing he would make you zero, not knowing you would be standing there, time and time again, verbally beaten by his own parents as he looked away, unable to fight.

And you would escape.

You would run.

He would come back.

An endless cycle until you broke it.

Then he started the endless cycle again, broken as it was, his whispers to your cheeks, I love you, cheeks that were dried of tears because you were cried out and left with a mechanical heart, I love you, heart to heartless because of wasted time, I love you, time wasted but you still loved him, no matter what you did.

Did that make you pathetic?

Did that make you stupid?

Did that make you the loser?

I love you.

Why did it matter?

Even winners die.

I love you too, Jungkook.

"Get your hands off my tits."

"Why?"

You glared at him. Jungkook grinned and spun you around, hair still a little damp, kisses on your face that made you cringe as your naked bodies tumbled on the bed, him doing it on purpose, your grumble against his kisses, should have known, his smirk against your scowl, thought you knew me well by now, capturing his lips to shut him up, sinking into his arms and the ocean that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you want to run through the maze of life instead of aimlessly walk down the path.

His hands on your face, staring into your eyes.

You looked back, into those eyes that once had everything, but you.

And yet, he chose to lose it all and have nothing, but you.

It didn't really make sense, being in love.

You searched for regret, but there was none to be found.

"Am I forever your waste of time?" Jungkook whispered, breath drifting over your lips.

You smirked.

"Always was and always will be."

I know you said I was a waste of time. But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.

"Let me at least..."

"Ah, f-fuck, Jungkook!"

Your hands faltered a little, rolling the condom down while biting your lip, gasping as his two fingers plunged into you, him moaning at the wetness, thrusting slowly and deeply.

"What, you think I can't feel good with only your dick?"

"No," Jungkook snickered, pulling his slick fingers out of your pussy and bringing them to his face, cocking an eyebrow. "Just want a taste."

You rolled your eyes as he shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking them off, eyelids fluttering.

"You're so annoying."

He grinned around his fingers, slowly pulling them out and tracing his wet lips.

You narrowed your eyes.

You don't have to take me back. I understand now, you know... I get it. Everyone... everyone will tell you you're crazy and to not to take me back.

I'm not taking you anywhere.

I... I wouldn't blame you. I promise.

Jungkook, please, shut the fuck up.

Your hands on his chest, smacking your hips down, his head thrown back on the pillows, breathless moan at your tightness, matching his sound with your own, stretching yourself out and feeling him swell even more at the pulse of your walls wrapped around him, rolling your hips into his, wet, intense smacks, his right hand flying up and wrapping around your left wrist, watching you through his lashes with effort, losing himself in your pace, no need to ask because you could see it in his face, his open mouth and glazed over eyes, fingers slipping down, curling your nails into his skin.

“P… Please…”

Raking your nails down his chest, his back arching and eyes closing, groaning in pleasure and pain, fucking him into your mattress so hard that the bedframe squealed, setting your jaw and closing your eyes too, savoring his fullness and thickness, sinking into the ocean of pleasure that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you feel like no one else, the one who could make and unmake your mechanical heart, funny how that worked, your nails in his skin creating crescents of lust, your eyes snapping open as you felt his chest rise, his back arching, his hands flat on the bed and thrusting his hips up into you, one eye partly open, black hair pushed back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips.

That dark brown orb partly obscured by his lashes, but revealing all to you.

You ticked your chin at him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes fully opening, pupils dilated, hazed over with lust and stubborn love.

“Nothing is more important to me than loving you,” he panted before sinking his teeth into his lower lip, mole underneath flashing, smacking his hips up into yours hard and fast, and it took no time at all, staring at his face and the way the moonlight cradled his strong jaw and toned muscle, catching the low light and bringing out the fervor in his gaze, filling you just right, pleasure blossoming from your core and yet concentrated tightly at the same time, moan of his name falling from your lips, spilling out from your lips and in between your legs, covering him with the sweet scent and harsh squeezes of orgasm, even wetter now, his eyes rolling back, cock twitching, satisfied hiss of your name spilling out with spurts of cum filling the condom, his length shivering inside you, your thighs closing in and holding him in the air so you could feel it all.

His pleasure and him.

I won’t make it to heaven. I don’t belong there.

It’s not like I belong there either, Jungkook.

Are you sure? Only an angel would take me back.

I didn’t take you back. Only your body walked away. Your heart never left me, did it?

“You sure you don’t want to get a couples tattoo with me?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how your dumb ass wants to get ‘loser’ tattooed and how you think that’s romantic.”

He pressed his right forearm against your left and grinned, watching you suck in a breath as he pushed into you again, other condom already in the trash, new one on, your right leg against his chest, sandwiched between your bodies.

“But yeah, if you want, I’ll get a ‘lover’ tattoo.”

He paused, blinking rapidly. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why not?”

“You never wanted a tattoo before.”

Now you raised both eyebrows. “Did you ever ask me before?”

Jungkook looked down at you, hair a mess, smile blossoming on his face, somewhere between giddiness and mania, diving down and showering you with kisses, you smacking his arms and telling him, you’re bending me in half, the fuck are you doing, and he laughed, lifting both your legs now, I’ll show you bent in half, placing them between his arms, leaning down, sinking in as deep as possible, your moan and his moan mixing together.

You’re still here.

Of course, I am, this is my fucking apartment. Ugh, your black eye looks even uglier than before.

You don’t… you don’t want me to leave?

Did I say that? Uh… why are you crying?

F… Forget I said a-anything…

Hey, stop. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Jungkook, please…

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck…!”

Your hands in his hair, teasing grin on your face, and he was looking down at you, I love your smug smile, fuck, your fingers combing through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face, letting him see your smug smile without any obstructions, you always fuck me so well, Jungkook, the smile breaking out over his handsome features, breathing erratic and labored, hard and rough and deep, you rising your hips to meet him for every loud smack, exhales and moans blending together, tight, wet, full, your grip on his hair tightening, closer, closer, racing to the edge of the cliff and the edge of the world, Jungkook in your hands, taking him with you, or was he the one who was leading you?

“Jungkook…”

Breathless as if you were running, winded from the pleasure, tightening around him, his head lowering, your name washing over your cheeks in a hot gasp, putting more weight on you, nearly folded in half but it felt better this way, gratifying in how hard he could fuck you in this position, staring into those dark brown orbs, his body on yours, knowing he was yours, always was, always will be, and you were his, always was, always will be.

Head pressing into the pillows, moaning his name again, loud and unashamed, the overwhelming feeling taking over, muscles tense and nerves on fire, pouring it all into the pleasure, pulsing around his jerking length, his moan of your name on your skin, shooting shivering strings of cum into the condom, massaged and milked by the strength of your orgasm, locking him in your embrace and his arms closing in, lips on lips, a fierce kiss dominated by shuddering aftershocks, trembling in each other’s hold and taking the other’s breath away, blazing hot all over even though this frozen world cared about no one.

The kiss lasted a long, long time.

It fell apart slowly, leaving you both lightheaded from the intensity.

“You’re a waste of time, Jungkook,” you whispered, heated. “But you’re my time.”

The side of his lips quirked upward, sweaty, panting, chuckling.

“That’s all I ever wanted to be.”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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infernalrevenge · 3 years

Note

HCs abt an S/O of Lady D's who's struggling to get her daughters' approval? It's rarely addressed in fanfics, but y'all.. becoming a stepparent is a hard and frustrating journey, especially when mama and kids have such tight bonds. Makes small wins feel so rewarding, tho! What are your thoughts on that? How would D react, how would she help? (or make it harder, in true possessive Mother Hen™ fashion..) Which flybaby would warm up to S/O first? How would S/O try to win each of them over, etc..?

Oooh this is a really cool thought! Not that I have a lot of experience with stepparents but yeah, changes and adjustments in family dynamics like that can't be easy. I think I'm gonna have some fun with this.

When the Dimitrescu sisters found out you were the human dating their mother, at first they were mostly indifferent. Not like it's their business as to who Alcina gets it on with anyway (and they could also be thinking you would quickly turn to lunch if you fuck up badly enough, in which case they would gladly join her in the feast.)

They might quip with you sometimes, but for the most part, you're left alone.

But when they realized you were here to stay and might become a parental figure in their life... oh boy.

You're telling them they have to answer to you now? A mere mortal? On what grounds? Just because you have sex with their mom? They think the fuck not.

Hell, they're individually old enough to be your parent, so truly... what the fuck?

(Part of that fear of you joining the family may come from thinking that Alcina now has someone else to preoccupy herself with, so there's less time for them. Perhaps even less love for them. They can't have that. That can't happen.)

As for your partner's reaction? She's kind of torn. On one hand, she understands how her daughters feel about having a new family member suddenly join the dynamic -- someone they barely know relative to each other. You could have been around for a few years, but they've been all together for more than half a century, and they're doing just fine.

On the other, she wants to see you all getting along. She loves you and wants you to be a part of her life, and of course she also loves her daughters with all her heart.

She's not really sure what to do, so she kind of... ends up not doing anything.

But she is curious as to what you'll do about the situation though, since the sisters would hardly make it a secret that your presence is an annoyance at best, completely unwanted and unwelcome at worst.

Bela, surprisingly, might be the hardest to win over. You would think that, as the eldest, she should be the one to lead by example and be the mature one. Plus, she's always looking for her mother's approval, so approving of you may get her on her good side (and yours.)

But she's very opposed to change, especially one that affects her life this much when it's not her choice.

She lets Cassandra and Daniela get away with pulling harmless pranks on you to get under your skin, or make Alcina mad at you. She pretends to not have a direct hand in them and would passive-aggressively remark on whatever they did.

Oh, your clothes were misplaced and looking for new ones made you late to a date with the Lady? "None of them were very nice anyway. This is doing you a favor."

You found dog poop under your bed and now you reek? "I don't smell that much of a difference."

Getting doused in sticky honey and molasses somehow? "At least Mother has a reason to think you're sweet now."

They would never do anything to hurt you, not unless they want to incur their mother's wrath or sadness, just... little things (hopefully enough to get you to leave.)

But luckily, if you're a patient and persistent person, they (ever so) slowly warm up to you in different ways.

The most important thing to remember is that they're different people despite having a lot of things in common, so your manner of approaching them will have to vary for each sister.

Daniela might be the easiest to win over, such a sociable little fly. She might try to be standoffish at first, but if you bring up a book series that she enjoys reading as a topic for conversation, she can and will keep you there for hours talking about the characters, dissecting certain themes, and explaining her theories of the inner machinations of the plot.

If you actually start reading it upon her recommendation, she becomes ecstatic. Finally, someone other than her sisters she can explain these theories to! And someone who can actually relate and add on to them!

Eventually, she'll come to realize that having you around won't mean the end of their family. It just means they're getting more out of it -- a new member to love, and one who loves them.

Cassandra might be a little territorial about her current interests, so you'll have to take on a different approach.

Maybe try introducing her to something that peripherally matches what she likes now. She seems to really like hunting and torture to take her aggression out on, so uh... maybe try martial arts?

It would be more fun if it was something the both of you were new at, so you could bond over attempting to do things together. Nothing says "I want to get to know my stepdaughter better" like letting her throw you to the mat and laugh in excitement when she gets the technique right.

She is still very stubborn though, so she may take a while to fully convince. Even when it seems like you're on her good side, there's a tiny bit of denial. But she'll come around, no matter how reluctant.

Finally, as for Bela, she just needs to see that, though most of her family now genuinely likes you, that it doesn't have to change a thing about how they feel about her either. They're not going to abandon her or anything that drastic just because someone new has entered their lives.

Seeing her sisters approve of you can be jarring, no matter how long or gradual the process may have been. Like, weren't they switching out your shampoos and putting snakes in your closet last year? Why is everyone buddy buddy now? (Why are they leaving her behind?)

She'll start to act bitter toward everyone, feeling like she's been betrayed and shut herself away. She doesn't even want to see her own mother anymore.

But eventually, you have to talk to Alcina to do something too -- she could see you were making an effort, but she's not making it clear to her daughters what exactly was happening. She should be the first to approach Bela regarding the subject, along with her sisters.

You may need some time alone with her as well to drive the point home too. Having more people in the family doesn't mean less love, but in fact it means more, because now you're there to care for her too.

And she has to admit that seeing her mother care for you, having her sisters like you, it didn't really feel like they were any different towards her. They were more insistent in getting her to spend time with you, sure, but other than that... things were mostly the same.

The acceptance may be begrudging at first, but when she actually gets used to this new norm, she'll come around.

If you want to bond with her, you can teach her something. She likes learning new things, and she'll start to warm up to you more if she has reason to keep going to you to get this new information.

It can be anything -- music, arts, sports, cooking, you name it. Even introducing her to new technology will help get on her good side. You'd be surprised at how quickly she gets into it that you start to wonder why it was so hard to get her to like you in the first place.

Also, just talk to her. As a person, as your new daughter, whatever. Just acknowledge her and be honest. She appreciates the little things.

All in all, it's going to be tough. The journey will have its ups and downs, and not everything is going to be smooth sailing. Communication is key, though, as with any sort of relationship. Let the girls know you care for them just as much as you love and care for their mother. In a way, that's all they really want.

But they're not calling you "mom/dad/parental unit". First name basis with a stepparent (affectionate) all the way.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Canary, Part 1

It was a good day. Why did stuff always have to go wrong on ‘good days’, Marinette thought bitterly as she rushed through the city, the rough edges of her phone digging into her palm. The message she’d been sent was burned into her eyelids.

She pushed the spiraling thoughts from her mind as she stared at the street sign nearest her. Only a minute and she’d be there and her fears would be either confirmed or denied.

She leaned against the wall to gather her thoughts. If she had messed up it had to have been today because, otherwise, he would have done something earlier. Did she mess up? She allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she thought back.

She’d woken up on an uncomfortable mattress on the floor and rolled off of it, the sheets sticking to her sweaty skin. It had been a particularly hot day for Gotham and she had been too concentrated on typing up a report for work to turn up the AC before her impromptu nap (translation: she’d passed out).

She rubbed her eyes until she managed to get her brown contacts out and set them in the weird not-quite-water that she had never bothered to learn the name for so her eyes could rest while she took a quick shower and changed.

Then, she’d waited. She sat in the window, eyes barely poking over the sill as she watched the building across the street. She didn’t feel like moving for a long while but, alas, the meeting was supposed to be that day and she was running out of time for that thing with Calendar Man and… yeah. Unfortunately, Marinette had to be productive that day unless she wanted more enemies.

She saw movement and her face lit up. She might get everything done soon, at least, and then she could pass out for a hundred years like she oh-so-desperately wanted to.

She checked that her gloves were firmly in place, pulled on the plague doctor (gas) mask that had accidentally become her trademark, and toed on her boots.

Then, she made her way up to the alleyway next to the building she had been watching. She’d been lucky enough to have a job right next to one of her safe houses and she kinda wished that it would happen again. It was nice to not have to travel a half-hour or more just to listen in on one boring conversation.

She pulled out her knives and, after testing to make sure they were still strong enough to hold her weight, began picking her way up to the roof.

She set everything up for the thing with Calendar Man. It took approximately five seconds. Yay her.

Alright, next thing: listening in on a boring conversation that, if she was lucky, would end in someone getting shot so it wouldn’t last too long. It was going to be even hotter inside the vent and she did not want to end up cooked. That would be embarrassing.

She crawled into the vents and dutifully wrote down everything they said on a notepad. They were negotiating a drug deal and her client wanted to intercept it to try and get both the money and the (… Big D? What the fuck is Big D?) drugs. From the sounds of it, it wasn’t possible but, hey, her job wasn’t anything more than gathering intel. If her clients wanted to die stupidly that was on them.

… maybe she’d kill her client herself, she thought angrily as she readjusted in the vent in hopes of not getting stuck to the metal. It was easy money but wow was it awful.

Or, at least, it was awful until a hand grabbed her by the hood of her leather jacket and started dragging her out. She tipped her head back, grin on her face in seconds.

“Signal. Hi.”

He sighed and pulled her the rest of the way out. She let herself hang from his grip like a reprimanded cat.

“So, what’s up?” She asked brightly, as if hadn’t just caught her listening in on a private conversation.

“Great, thanks for asking,” he said. “Even better now that I’m taking the famed Canary to Arkham.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen.”

He leveled her with a cold look for a few more seconds before splitting into a grin. “Yeah. Probably not. Got a backup plan?”

“Of course.”

“Is it even worth trying?”

“Probably not. But who knows? You could get lucky.”

She waited for a minute as he mulled over the idea in his head before he sighed. “I gotta ask: what’s with the egg?”

She swatted at his hand until he let her down and then led him over to her science experiment. “Know how there’s that expression that says ‘it’s so hot out you could make eggs on the sidewalk’ or something?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, the pavement physically can’t get hot enough to do that and also we’re up north so: aluminum foil to try and get the process to work a little better.”

He stared at her for a while before snickering. “Need a magnifying glass? We can ‘kid with an anthill’ this.”

“Sure.”

He reached into his tool belt and started looking for his spare. Unfortunately for him, it seemed to be gone.

She could feel his sharp gaze turn on her even if she couldn’t see his eyes behind his helmet. He wasn’t stupid and magnifying glasses don’t usually just disappear into thin air unless they’re Plastic Man in disguise. She held up her hands for a quick search but, when he couldn’t find it on her, he just sighed and looked down at the science experiment. It didn’t seem to be going well. The egg was still distinctly not cooked.

Eventually, he groaned and sat down. The light around him flickered and started to move at his will. Marinette watched intently.

Ten minutes later, they had a cooked egg. They high-fived, delighted. They weren’t going to taste it, obviously, it had been out for a while without supervision and who knows what could have happened to it… but it was an egg! Yay them!

“My old science teacher would be so proud of me,” Marinette joked.

“My current science teacher would be proud of me.”

“Oooooh, going back to school?”

He smiled. “Yep! Robin is finally in college and Red Hood convinced me to go with him. You should, too, it’s actually not that bad.”

“Please. If I was going to do that I’d go back to my home country. American school is expensive and not all of us are sponsored by billionaires.”

“... aren’t you a millionaire?”

She grinned. “Of course. But why would I want to spend that much of my own money?”

He hummed his understanding. Then, she pushed herself up with a groan. “Right, we both have jobs. See you later.”

He hesitated and then held a hand out for her notepad. “Is it bad?”

She held it out of reach with ease. “Nah, just drugs. Unless someone got shot while I was gone but I doubt it. They’d been almost as bored as me last I heard.”

“If it’s nothing then let me see.”

“Ugh, do you really want to fight? It’s too hot for that,” Marinette complained. He started to square up and she, after a second’s thought, added a little something to convince him: “Also, there’s going to be a breakout today so you should really save your energy.”

“... really think I’m going to fall for that?”

There was an explosion in the distance.

“Yeah. I’d hurry. I’m pretty sure it’s Joker’s turn to get out.”

She waved him off with a smile… only for her smile to drop when she remembered her other job. She groaned again and stretched out while she still could.

Tikki floated over the side of the building, a magnifying glass as big as her head in her tiny paws.

Marinette rubbed the kwami’s head. “You’re the best.”

Her kwami sighed. “That I am,” she said.

Marinette grinned and sent the film of Signal using his powers to her computer so she could give it to Calendar Man when it was due.

People were always so predictable in Gotham.

She supposed she really had been tempting fate when she’d thought that. Still, that didn’t mean she liked it that Fate had called her bluff.

But, actually, it seemed that Fate was the one that was bluffing. That had been her entire day. She had finished up her work and then went to one of her more stocked safehouses for a nap. She’d woken up to the buzzing of her phone when she’d gotten the message. She didn’t think she had messed up anywhere…

Her shoulders relaxed. She was probably fine. Which meant it was just Oswald Cobblepot being annoying. As usual.

Marinette flung the doors to the Iceberg Lounge open. Every eye in the room fell on her, but she only cared about the eyes of one person.

She stalked through the lounge, pulling one of her twin karambits from its sheath and pointing the curved blade towards him.

“What the fuck do you want? You really think that, after almost seven whole years of rejecting your wrinkly ass, I’m suddenly going to say ‘oh, yeah, I guess I’ll work for him now’? Leave me alone!”

Cobblepot wasn’t concerned even as her knife came to rest under his chin.

“Canary,” he greeted, regarding her cooly through his monocle.

Guards surrounded them. Marinette somehow managed to look unimpressed without anyone being able to see her face.

Everyone present held their breath… except for the two with weapons pointed at themselves. They knew that they would never follow through with it, especially not in a place as public as this. It was little more than a warning, a reminder, that either of them could kill each other at any given moment and chose not to.

For now, at least.

Cobblepot dismissed the guards with a wave of a gloved hand and she, after a few seconds, lowered her knife.

“What do you want?”

“Currently? For you to get off my table,” said Cobblepot.

She snorted but hopped down with ease. “I meant: why did you call me here?”

“... we should go somewhere else to discuss this. I assume you don’t do all of your business meetings in public?”

“Only if I know ahead of time that I’m going to say no,” she said.

He motioned for her to walk with him to a private room and, reluctantly, she followed. He had to think he had something on her, otherwise he wouldn’t have tried calling her there. She was curious.

They came to a room with a metal door and she cringed a little. Fun.

She dropped eight knives down into a tray and Cobblepot put down a gun, a knife, and his umbrella. She let a female goon pat her down and then checked Cobblepot over herself. Nothing she could find, but she was sure he had found some way to hide one somewhere.

They stepped inside as a pair and each took a seat on opposing ends of the wooden table stationed awkwardly in the middle of the room. She leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up.

“So, what’s the job?”

“I’m surprised you’re even going to hear it.”

She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

He nodded slowly before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

“Power poses don’t actually work, you know, that’s just lies so companies don’t actually have to deal with all the discrimination.”

“Is that true?” He asked.

She shrugged again. “Probably. I’ve never worked for anyone, so…”

He chuckled. She didn’t like that.

But he didn’t say anything on that subject. Instead, he just smiled a smile that looked weird on his face and gave her her mission briefing: “I want you to figure out the bats’ identities for me.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute before breaking out into laughter. She couldn’t seem to stop. She stood up to leave, still giggling. Really? Did he really think that would work? People had asked many times, of course, and the bats’ identities weren’t common knowledge so she had to have said no. Why would she suddenly do it for him? She didn’t even like him.

She rested her hand on the knob but held off on leaving for just a second. She flashed a grin at Cobblepot. “Interesting offer. Bold. But no. Couldn’t pay me enough to do that.”

“Good thing I have no intentions of paying you, Marinette.”

~~~

And behold a new section I call ‘Marinette is a menace to society why would anyone let her on twitter’

(… the name may need a little work)

OliverQueenOfficial: Why does that one Gotham villain go by Canary? Black Canary already exists.

TheBetterCanary: if youre gonna vague tweet maybe dont put my name in it

TheBetterCanary: but anyways someone else named me that and it stuck before i could think of something to change it to

ScareCrane:… @/RiddleMeThis she’s dissing you

RiddleMeThis: LISTEN UP. IT WAS THEMATIC. DON’T ANY OF YOU KNOW ANYTHING OF DRAMA? EVER HEAR ABOUT CANARIES IN COAL MINES? FUCK ALL OF YOU AND YOUR UNCULTURED, UNEDUCATED ASSES. NOT TO MENTION IT WAS MAKING FUN OF THE BIRD THEME ALL THE VIGILANTES HER AGE SEEM TO HAVE. (1/14)

TheBetterCanary: @/ScareCrane why would you do that you knew he was going to do this

ScareCrane: Joker just broke out so Arkham is boring… needed to entertain myself somehow

TheBetterCanary: fuck you im not visiting this weekend

OliverQueenOfficial: Wow do I regret asking. I didn’t need all this family drama in my comments.

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

#alright strap in babes it's another longfic #no one is surprised #why do i change my format with every fic?#no clue #im dumb #anyways ive finally started writing this #canary #maribat #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #i like timinette best as a ship name #idk why

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

After that Jake-Mac-Rosa fic, you dropped this queen: 👑 Next time, a Jake-Mac-Holt piece?

Oh dang, THAT's where I left it. Thank you for that. 🤪

Grandpa Holt is always a pleasure to write, but let's try for some Dad Holt too...

"Is everything alright, Peralta?"

Jake has been sitting off to the side of the group for a while now, so Holt finds it necessary to inquire. He's not used to the eager detective being so closed off and quiet unless something is wrong, and nothing he can think of right now strikes him as 'wrong': they have been celebrating the end of a rather arduous case for Diaz and Boyle, and Peralta had been as helpful as he could be as a tertiary, which was not his preferred position at all. The first round at Shaw's had been paid by himself as Captain, obviously, and the next by Diaz, so Boyle has promised to shoulder the third, were it to happen. Ergo Peralta could not be thinking about his usual money problems, which have lessened anyway ever since Santiago took over his budgeting.

That means something else entirely must be 'wrong' in order for Jake to keep out of the conversation, only reply when he is mentioned by name, and drift off to a corner of the bar while the other congregate around the various game options of the room.

"I'm good, Captain, thanks." Jake answers with a smile and an obvious lie, so Holt doesn't even bother replying, just raises one of his eyebrows a quarter of an inch, which he knows usually gets him results with Peralta. The ensuing sigh shows that it is still working.

"It's just..." Jake shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, another tell of his discomfort. "This is my first night out alone since the baby."

"Indeed." Holt replies. "I remember your phone call to Amy to inform her you would be back late today."

"Yeah." His hand is still on his neck, the other one clutched around his half empty beer bottle. "She told me to have fun. But..uh... I still kinda feel like I shouldn't be here."

"Do you think having a child robs you of autonomity? I know I am not speaking from experience, here, but it does seem to me like you are allowed to enjoy time away from your family, especially if your spouse insists you do."

"Getting drunk at a bar while my kid might be crying at home doesn't feel like the responsible thing to do, is all."

"Ah, I see." Holt nods, and he does see - he actually sees a lot more than what Jake might be trying to imply in his statement. He remembers how he used to self-medicate with alcohol in the past, after ending his relationship with that defense attorney, or even before, while feeling heartbroken over Santiago. He also remembers anecdotes about his father's drinking, not from Peralta himself, obviously, but from the rest of the squad, whenever Jake would cancel on a promised night out after Roger Peralta's visits. As much as Holt hates idioms, one of his most despised is probably 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree', and Jake seems to fear it as well.

"Here is my solution, then, if you are willing to listen." Jake looks up at Holt as he's standing in front of him, and his hand drops from his neck. "You make the beer you are currently drinking your last for the night, and spend some quality time with your colleagues instead, enjoying a few parlour games, and then you head home at an agreeable time and still see your child before he falls asleep."

Jake grins and takes a sip of his beer.

"Sounds like a plan, Cap." He nods, and Holt doesn't ignore the fact that Jake has been using this shortened nickname for him a lot lately, and how eerily similar it sounds to 'Dad' in his voice.

(An hour later, he receives a picture on his cellphone from Peralta: The man himself, asleep on his couch, with his infant son equally asleep on his chest. Santiago must have commandeered his phone, and Holt is glad for it.)

-*-

"Grampa!"

The sound of that little voice echoes through the hallway as loudly as the ensuing footsteps, and Holt feels something warm and solid wrap around his legs.

"Hello, McClane." He smiles down at the little boy currently clutching his knees, and he smiles back before raising his arms in an obvious demand to be lifted up. Holt obeys it immediately.

He notices Mac looks surprisingly tired for an otherwise very energetic two year old, and Amy, who's now following him to Holt's side, looks equally exhausted.

"Good afternoon, Captain. I'm so sorry, I should've messaged you that I have to bring Mac in for an hour, the babysitter cancelled and the day care couldn't keep him longer than-"

"It is quite alright, Santiago. McClane knows how to behave himself at the precinct, right?" He gives the little boy in his arms a look, and receives a strong and eager nod in reply, the curls on his head bouncing back and forth. If anyone were ever to question Peralta's parentage, that alone would classify them as an imbecile. "I can watch him for the time being, if you have paperwork you need to get in order before leaving for the day."

"God, Captain Holt, would you- that would be so- I was going to ask Rosa, because I know she's at her desk-"

Amy seems far more frazzled than usual, and Holt realises that her regular schedule must be in quite a disarray, considering she has been a single parent for about a week now. Mac must not have been making it easy for her, either, nor must the baby currently growing in her stomach, which has started to show about a month ago, at which point they finally informed the squad about it (when everyone had already figured it out just like last time).

"RoRo!" Mac yells, happily, almost leaning out of Holt's arms, but he quickly hugs him tighter.

"Your aunt Rosa is working, McClane, and we should not interrupt her. We can spend the time in my office, and you can draw if you would like."

"Roro working." He echoes like a little parrot. "Like Daddy."

"That's right." Holt has learned from the parenting homepages he's visited that you are to encourage a child trying to talk and string together a coherent topic, no matter how long it might take.

"Daddy's working away." Mac continues, and out of the corner of his eye Holt sees Amy's forehead wrinkle in worry.

"Yes, your father is in New Jersey for the week to work on a special case." It's not a dangerous case at all, rather a boring standard task that happened to involve some out-of-state suspects, but Jake had still been trying to hand off that trip to anyone who might be willing to help him out. Seeing his son with bags under his eyes and his wife with stresslines around her mouth and her hand on her belly, Holt understands why.

"He comes back." Mac says next, and it is a statement, but the look in his eyes makes it a question, and Holt is quick to answer. He's glad that he has a definite answer to that, instead of the empty promises and assurances he sometimes has to make as the head of a police department.

"Yes, your father will be back soon. In two days, in fact."

Mac holds up two grubby little fingers, and Holt nods with so much fervor it surprises himself.

"Very good, that is two. Only two days and two nights until your father is back home." The worry in Mac's eyes seems to dimish a little at that as he stares at his own fingers. "If we go to my office, we can check on the calendar exactly how long that is." He barely waits for another nod before taking the diaper bag out of Santiago's hands, who whispers a quiet, but relieved "Thank you" to him. He understands again that it means far more than to thank him for taking care of the child for an hour so.

(If he uses that hour to assure Mac several times that no matter what, his father will always find a way back to him with far more emotion in his voice than he'd usually use, well, no one needs to know. Peralta certainly seems happy about the picture he sends him of Mac with his captain's hat behind his desk.)

-*-

"Congratulations." Holt's hand on his shoulder is heavy, but not uncomfortably so, and it gives a quick squeeze before dropping.

They've done the whole customary introduction to the newborn baby, the apparently necessary picture round, and now Kevin is having an amicable chat with Amy in her hospital bed. They've waited two days for their official visit, to give the new parents a chance to get at least a few of their bearings. (Holt was there merely an hour after the birth, of course, with the rest of the squad, but that was a moment of joyful chaos and many voices.) Now the room is filled with an almost serene quiet, Amy's and Kevin's voices low and comfortable in the background as Holt watches the man he truly considers a son hold up his new granddaughter.

"Do you want to hold her again? I know you already did for the photos but-"

Holt only nods and takes the infant out of his hands with perfect ease. He's more used to a wriggling toddler now, but he still clearly remembers the days when Mac was equally quiet and frail in his arms. The little one in them now is asleep amidst all that is happening, her tiny mouth open just a fraction, and he feels her arm bump against his chest while she seems to be having a dream.

"She is as perfect as her older brother, Jake."

"Yeah." Jake smiles, and there's nothing of that boisterous, loud, cocky detective grin left in it that he used to know. It is soft and kind and full of love, and it might be one of Holt's favourite expressions. "Amy did a superb job again."

"As did you."

"I'm sure I don't gotta explain this to you, Cap, but I didn't really do much." Jake jokes, and Holt can tell he's trying to divert the attention to a simpler topic, but sometimes things must be said.

"You do a lot, Jacob." He continues, then. "Far more than a lot of fathers do. Far more than many would expect of you. And you do it all perfectly right, with heart and determination."

Jake nods, swallowing down a lump in his throat, it seems, and it might be a step too far for his already emotional state, but Holt feels like it needs to accompany his accolades.

"I am very proud of you, son."

Jake is very obviously fighting back tears as he replies.

"Thanks, dad."

The little girl in Holt's arms stirs right at this moment, and Jake seems to want to interject immediately in fear that she'll start crying, but she simply stares up at Holt with impossibly big, brown eyes for the first time. And he realises, just as he did two years ago when Mac's little hand tightened around his finger for the first time, that there is a child in this world that he would literally do anything for. There are four of them now, even if two of them have not fallen under the category of a child for several decades.

"Hello, Maya." He says to the little face that seems to be inspecting him. "I'm Captain Raymond Holt. Your grandfather."

He looks up at Kevin and Amy, who've stopped their conversation while Amy is lifting her phone in their direction, and then at Jake, who's looking at Maya as well with shining eyes. Then he looks back down at Maya, stretching her arms out of her swaddle as if she's reaching for him.

"You are a very lucky little girl."

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #mac peralta #maya peralta #raymond holt #captain dad #my writing #ficlet

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jadoue1999 · 3 years

Text

Peter Maximoff’s complicated relationship with Star Wars

Summary: Peter didn't like Star Wars. But not because they were bad movies, no. It's because they somehow were very similar to his own life, and they also showed him what might have been, had his twin lived long enough. This is the story of Peter Maximoff, told through the many similarities between the original trilogy and his own life.

*All Star Wars quotes are in italics*

Peter doesn’t like Star Wars

Don’t get him wrong, the movies are great. The first movie had come out when he was 22 years old, and he had found it amazing. He had never seen anything like it before and had sneaked into the movie theater to rewatch it with his twin several times.

‘I need your help, Luke.’

It was almost ironic how his life resembled some parts of the movie. Both he and Wendy had some characteristics of Luke and Leia. He was the goofball, the one who had been recruited to break someone out of an impenetrable prison. Hell, Charles could be Obi-Wan, the old wizard with strange mind control powers (though he didn’t have them at the time), Hank was Chewbacca, the fierce beast who was loyal to his family, and then the claw guy, Logan, was Han Solo. The dark-haired man with a don’t-mess-with-me attitude that would shoot you down without hesitation. That made him Luke, the farm boy that was raised isolated, unaware of the true danger. Only difference was that Erik wasn’t Leia, no he was Vader. Wendy was Leia, the fierce, loud mouthed, badass princess that didn’t let anyone boss her around.

They had loved the first movie, but then tragedy struck. His twin’s powers were always unpredictable, always on the verge of lashing out. He had tried to help as much as he could, but just a few months after their 23rd birthday, it was too much for Wendy to bear. She lost control and died, taking half a block with her. Peter did his best to carry on, but their lost connection was all he could feel. The aching emptiness that had always been occupied by his twin sister. It took awhile, but he did eventually go see the second Star Wars. It was... a bittersweet experience to say the least.

Seeing the big bad Vader being related to Luke really did a number on him. All he could think about was the fact that he too was related to a literal terrorist. Someone who had hurt hundred of people and would probably not hesitate to hurt him as well. And then it was revealed that Luke and Leia shared a connection, where they could hear each other and feel each other, and it just overwhelmed him. Minus the kissing (ew, that was gross, why did they even include that?!) Luke and Leia’s relationship reminded him of his and Wendy’s.

That’s why he wasn’t surprised when they were revealed to be twins in the next movie.

Actually, he had been surprised, but more about the fact that his grief took over for a moment. Seeing Leia try to reason with Luke, telling him that nothing good would come out of chasing Vader, their father... that was a conversation that had really happened after their mom told them who exactly was Magneto. Peter had decided to chase Erik down the moment he had resurfaced.

‘I won't fail - I'm not afraid.’

‘Oh, you will be. You will be.’

His mom had warned him about Magneto, how nothing good came out of chasing ghosts, but he had to try. A confrontation with the Dark Lord of the Sith.

Cloud city The mansion was full of people, and the place was exploding. He saved them all (minus one), of course, because that’s what he did. Why be a speedster if you can’t save people from catastrophe?

‘Luke, don't - it's a trap!’

Yeah, it had been a trap, alright. But unlike Luke, he hadn’t had Leia to warn him. So, the carbon freezing chamber knock out gun had worked. That’s how he ended up captured by the government and woke up in a weird green room. The others, he could understand why they were taken, they seemed to know the man holding them, but why him? Peter was of no interest to them. Unless they knew he was related to Magneto and planned to use him as a bargaining chip, but it seemed unlikely.

Then, they were freed and, on their way to confront En Sabah Nur, or as Hank had described him, the blue god. He had told Raven about his relationship with Erik, and she promised him that she would make sure she would tell him.

‘There is no escape. Don't make me destroy you.’

The cold, cold eyes of Magneto were staring at him with something that seemed almost like interest. “And you?”

‘I am your father.’

It was right there, a perfect opportunity served on a silver platter. An opportunity to make Erik realize he wasn’t alone, that he had more family. Perhaps he’d turn back to the light side if he knew. “I’m your-“

But it was Wendy who was the brave one, she was the chosen one. She never would have hesitated. And he wasn’t his sister. “I’m here for my family too.”

It was all sad and tragic because his life was just like that. He could feel Raven’s eyes on him, she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t told him, but she couldn’t know about Wendy. It was his own painful secret.

With how similar his life was to Luke’s he wasn’t sure why he was even surprised when he got his hand cut off leg broken. Then, there he was, trying to hold on to consciousness as shock settled into his body.

‘Hear me! Leia!’

Oh, how he wished Wendy were here. She would have destroyed them. Peter would have done anything for his twin to answer, like Leia did with Luke. But she was dead, there was no one to answer him. Just the cobwebs of their broken connection and the burning pain of his leg. He didn’t really care what happened next, he was all too focused on getting his message to his long-lost sister. He didn’t really believe in a higher power, of some all-powerful entity that somehow watched over everyone. He did, however, believe in Wendy, his strong, beautiful, powerful sister.

‘I would have preferred her too’

The blue God’s voice resonated in his head, catching him off guard. No one had ever reached in his mind like that, Wendy only could because of their connection.

‘If you will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will.’

Would his father have tried recruiting Wendy for his brotherhood? Yeah, definitely. She would have been the true last hope. A daughter to be proud about. One with abilities beyond anything anyone had ever seen. One that truly would have saved everyone, hell, she would have prevented the mansion from exploding and never would have been captured in the first place. The blue god looked at him with disdain in his eyes and Peter knew it didn’t mean anything good. He tried to crawl away, but in his current position, that did absolutely nothing.

‘It is pointless to resist, my son.’

En Sabah Nur grabbed him by the hair and tugged, holding him painfully upright and vulnerable. He’d always hated staying still, he was always too full of energy, always eager to chase after the next distraction.

Peter looked up at his father, trying to see if he would do anything, but he saw nothing but indifference. Magneto didn’t care about him. He was an insignificant mutant, a face amongst a thousand others. Soon to be counted amongst the hundred of corpses that Erik had seen in his life.

‘Now, young Skywalker...you will die.’

The god pulled his head back sharply, exposing his throat. “End him.”

One of his horsemen was approaching him with a sharp sword. Peter was slightly thankful that it wasn’t his dad that was chosen to be his executioner. His powers had kicked in, trying to give him an opportunity to escape. But it only made his imminent doom even worse.

Then, he didn’t die, and the hope of seeing his twin again was brushed aside for another near-death situation. As it turned out, Raven was a great person when the son of her friend was in danger.

En Sabah Nur let him go too quickly to focus on the blue mutant. He gasped and writhed as he fell to the ground as electricity pain coursed through his body. The blue god didn’t care about him, he continued calling for Charles, calling for his true target.

‘Father! Help me!’

He should cry out like Luke did, there was no way Magneto would act if he didn’t. Then again, he didn’t have a clue who he was. It was doubtful he remembered him from the Pentagon, it had been nearly 10 years and Erik had had a whole other family since. He was just the nameless idiot that got a big head and tried to take on a god and got defeated like a loser.

In the end, they were all fine, just a little shaken. Erik gave him a weird look, either he pitied him, or he was wondering what he had wanted to tell him. But Peter was on the verge of passing out, there was no way he could hold a conversation at the moment. They came back to the mansion and Peter decided to stay, maybe getting out of his isolation wouldn’t be so bad.

So, even if his life was similar to Star Wars, in its turns and tragedy, it wasn’t even close to how the trilogy ended. The scruffy Han never came back, Obi-wan wasn’t next to a redeemed Anakin (he just left all together) and Leia wasn’t at his side anymore. A happy ending wasn’t something that happened in real life. Everything he wanted resolved wasn’t wrapped neatly into a bow. He still had his loads of daddy issues caused by a father who didn’t know was a father and Wendy, his amazing long gone twin still wasn’t at his side. Peter figured that some good would eventually come to him, it couldn’t be all bad, right?

‘This is our most desperate hour.’

He had faith in that, so, when he was woken up by a burning sensation in his chest, he did his best to understand. The pain was so familiar, it was grief. But not his grief, no, this came from the connection he shared with his twin.

“Wanda?” he called out. Using her real name because she was calling to him. Because she needed him. Because she was somewhere all alone.

“I had a brother, his name was… Pietro.”

It was painful for her to talk about him, so he made sure to let her know through their bond that he was there for her, she just had to reach out. Wanda was confused to feel him, but her scarlet magic soon opened a portal. It might be a trap, there was no way to be certain, but Peter trusted his sister. He took and deep breath and ran into the portal without hesitation. She was alone and she was suffering, it was his job as her twin to help her.

‘Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.’

#peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #Erik Lehnsherr #star wars #marvel #x men #marvel fanfiction #x men fanfiction #quicksilver #wendy maximoff #wanda maximoff #x men apocalypse #Charles Xavier #Evan Peters #Michael Fassbender #dadneto #wandavision

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maddiwrites · 4 years

Text

Beauty is Pain

Pairing: Mostly Platonic!Pogues, mentions of JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and Kie try to wax your legs yourselves for the first time and accidentally get yourselves trapped in a sticky situation that gets you locked in your room with JJ and Pope while you listen to Sarah and John B fight outside your door. Routledge!Reader.

Note: I got this idea from a Friends episode. If you watched the show, you’ll know exactly which one I’m talking about. Mostly wrote this without the intention of doing a JJ x reader pairing but then I got an idea(: Hope y'all like it!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning: Language, maybe angst??

For her birthday, Kie was gifted a hard waxing kit. At first you thought it was odd, a Kook like her was better off going to a professional to get evenly waxed brows or a perfectly clear bikini line. But when she asked you to try it out with her, you were intrigued.

You invited her over to your messy home everyone calls the Chateau. Your brother had a date with his Kook girlfriend, Sarah Cameron, which meant you had the house all to yourself. Even though it was just Kie, your best friend of four years, you decided to clean up the place before she got there. Your house was littered in empty beer cans and ends of JJ’s rolled blunts. You noticed John B was drinking more, smoking JJ’s weed, and even sleeping in later than usual. He’s called out of work two times in the past two weeks, and if he does manage to a say hello to you, it’s a grumbled mumble of words you can barely understand. You chopped it up to him just being moody, but there was also a small part of you that wondered if something serious was going on you didn’t know about.

You tried questioning your friends about it. Kie said she had no clue but noticed his change of attitude too. Pope would get nervous when you brought up John B’s name and claimed he didn’t know what you were talking about. Before you could question him further, his dad whisked him away to clean up the store and run a couple of last minute groceries. JJ, your boyfriend, tried to tell you it was probably nothing, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with you when he talked. He busied himself with rolling another blunt or folding the tossed laundry on your bedroom floor. When you called him out on it, he got snippy and frustrated, which just led you to drop the topic because you didn’t feel like dealing with a second moody teenager.

Kie showed up right when she said she would with the boxed waxing kit in her hand. You raised one brow up at it as you tossed the filled trash bag out the door.

“This it?” You said.

“Yes. You haven’t shaved your legs in a while, right?”

“Yeah. It’s been two weeks like you said. JJ says my legs are looking hairier than his. He’ll barely even touch them. One time he called them monkey legs.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “Boys are such hypocrites. If they had to do half the stuff we did, they wouldn’t be complaining at all. They shouldn’t even get to complain about what women decide to do with their bodies.”

Kie continued ranting about how pain is beauty and men will never understand it unless they lived in a woman’s body for a whole month, including the week a woman’s period started, as she set up the kit.

You worked in your room because there was more space for both of you to try your best to be comfortable. Kie plugged in the warmer on your nightstand and mixed the pink wax pellets with a flat wooden stick until it turned to a warm goo.

“Okay,” Kie sat up against your bed’s headboard and patted her thigh to motion for you to give her your leg. “You’re up.”

“Why do I have to be first?” You asked.

You’ve never waxed your legs before. Only your brows and sometimes bikini line and even then, you usually just pluck and shave. Getting your hair professionally waxed was expensive and you tried to prioritize your purchases as much as possible to stabilize the life you and John B still had.

Kie sighed. “Fine, we’ll do it together. Let me just put the wax on you.”

You gave Kie your left leg and she slathered the warm wax up the left side of your shin. You watched as she did the same to her own leg and grimaced nervously when you felt the wax hardening against your skin.

“Ready?” She asked with a teasing smirk.

“On the count of three?”

Kie nodded. “One.”

“Two.” “Three.”

At exactly three, Kie pulled the long waxing strip from your leg and you did the same with hers. A searing hot pain ran up you leg as Kie ripped the wax off, making you bite down a scream.

“Fuck!” Kie screamed up into the ceiling. You looked down at both your legs. There was a thick line of red from where the wax was. “That shit hurts.”

“Let’s try it again,” You suggested. “Maybe we’ll get use to it if we keep doing it.”

Kie nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s try again.”

This time, Kie slid two long strips on both your left and right leg. The warm wax felt soothing. You almost wished you didn’t have to rip it off in the first place.

“On three?” You said.

Kie nodded.

On three, you each ripped one strip off your own legs. You cursed against gritted teeth from the pain. You were wrong about getting used to it. You didn’t think you would ever be able to tolerate this pain.

“What the hell? This has never hurt this bad.” Kie said.

“I think whoever gave this to you secretly hates you,” You said to her.

Kie sighed and looked down at the hardening wax still left on your legs. “Well, we have to finish. We’ll just rip them all off really fast.”

“Okay.”

You ripped three out of the four strips that were left at rocket speed, but they all hurt exactly the same. It felt like you were ripping more than just the hair off your leg. You wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down and saw half the layers of your skin ripped off.

You blinked back the tears at the exact same time Pope and JJ busted into your room looking around frantically. JJ was holding a baseball bat and Pope a pan you just washed and placed on the drying wrack an hour ago.

“What’s wrong?” Pope yelled.

“What the hell is going on?” JJ narrowed his eyes at you, surprised he wasn’t looking at you being attacked by an intruder or covered in cuts and bruises. When he first heard you screaming when he and Pope walked into your house, his heart raced a million beats per minutes. His mind wandered to all the different things that could have happened to you. He swore he was going to make you lock your door every day and night now.

But here you were, safe and sound and laying in bed with Kie. Although he could see your labored breathing and clouded eyes, he knew you weren’t in any imminent trouble. His eyes traced from your face down to your legs where a pink strip of wax was still waiting to be pulled off.

“We’re fine. We’re just waxing our legs.” Kie said.

“What are you doing here?” You asked your boyfriend.

“Pope said Kie was here so we came to hang with you,” JJ said absentmindedly. “I thought you were being murdered.”

“It sure felt like it,” You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered from JJ’s protective side.

JJ scoffed. “It can’t hurt that bad.”

Kie tutted her head forward. “Oh yeah? Come here.”

“What? No.”

Kie ignored him and grabbed his arm from across your body and slapped on another slab of wax. JJ hissed from the heat then visibly relaxed.

“Y/N, wanna do the honors?” Kie smirked at you.

You glared at her. “I’m not volunteering to hurt my boyfriend.”

Kie scoffed at you. “What did he call your legs again?”

You clenched your teeth together and nodded once. Kie made her point, and you remembered everything she said about how men will never understand the pain women go through to please not only themselves, but their lovers too.

“Oh, yeah,” You said within a split second and ripped the wax off JJ’s arms. He flinched away from you, rearing his arm back far away from your reach. His mouth was opened in an ‘O’ shape and his brows pinched together. “Monkey legs.” You smirked at him.

“Fuck,” JJ shook out his arm as if you physically lit it on fire.

“It can’t hurt that bad, right, JJ?” Kie mocked him.

Pope laughed at his blonde friend and shook his head. “Stupid.”

“Y/N, you have one left.”

“Shut up, I know,” You rolled your shoulders back like you were getting ready to run a marathon.

“Want me to do it for you?” You nodded. JJ came up next to you and offered his hand for you to squeeze. “Okay. On three. One, two -” Before Kie even said the word three, she ripped the wax off. You closed your eyes and squeezed JJ’s hand hard, until his knuckles rolled in your closed fingers.

“Shit, baby,” JJ crouched next to you awkwardly, trying to mend his fingers back together.

“Sorry,” You huffed. You weren’t that sorry. He called you monkey legs.

You heard the screen door open and close. Figuring it was just John B back from his date, you relaxed against your headboard again and made a promise to yourself to never wax your legs again. Beauty wasn’t worth this pain. You’d rather be monkey legs than go through that again.

Or just simply shave.

“ - And that’s supposed to make this all okay?” Your eyes opened when you heard, not JB, but Sarah Cameron screaming right outside your room. Pope quickly closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible and held up his finger to you and Kie to be quiet. “That’s your excuse?”

Your brows pinched together in confusion and you looked at your boyfriend for some kind of answer. This was the first time you ever heard Sarah raise her voice at your brother. As far as you knew, the couple never fought.

JJ was looking down at the ground and avoiding your stare. His hands were wracked through his blonde strands and resting on the top of his head. He and Pope didn’t look as surprised as you and Kie.

“What the hell is going on?” Kie asked in a hushed whisper.

“I - I was scared. I’ve never done this before -” John B stuttered.

“Here’s some advice. Rule number one. Don’t cheat!” Sarah yelled. You swore you could hear the pain behind her voice.

You gasped in surprise and snapped your head in JJ’s direction. He wouldn’t look at you, which mean he knew about this long before you did. You put the pieces together. No wonder John B has been acting miserable. Who knows how long he’s been holding onto this.

Well...apparently JJ and Pope know.

“What the hell...” Kie sits up straighter. “Is she serious?”

“Did you know?” You asked your boyfriend. This time he did look at you. And he looked guilty as hell.

Your eyes snapped back to the door when John B yelled back at her. “That’s gold coming from you. Did Topper use that same line when you got together with me?”

You physically cringed at the mention of Topper’s name. It may have been a low blow, but John B had a point.

“Shit,” Kie cursed and sped walked towards the door.

You followed in her footsteps and pressed your ear against the door. One thing was for sure, you couldn’t leave your room now. You couldn’t walk in on that. But at least you could be nosy and eavesdrop.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t love him. I loved you. I left Topper for you!”

“You cheated on him.”

“Because I loved you, John B! You cheated on me because you were scared because...why? Because I’m a Kook? I’ve always been a Kook and you’ve never had a problem with that! Not until now!”

You and Kie crouched on the floor so JJ and Pope could hover over you and listen. It sounded like John B cheated on Sarah a couple weeks ago with a Pogue from your school because he got scared of his feelings for Sarah. Rafe got in your brother’s head, telling him how he will never be enough to care for Sarah when she’s no longer reliant on her father’s money. He became insecure and looked to someone who wouldn’t ever think of him like that - someone who would understand him.

John B was in the wrong and your heart cracked for the couple you once swore was going to be the first to get married out of your group of friends. Although you and Sarah had a rocky start, she quickly became the sister you never had. You got along just as much as you and Kie did. Sometimes John B would find it annoying when Sarah would come over to hang out with you instead of him, but the other part of him loved that the two most important people in his life were as close as he was with JJ. You couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. Not even another Pogue.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Sarah asked. She sounded broken and her voice cracked with exhaustion. You wanted to walk out of the room and hug her tightly while yelling at John B for being an absolute idiot.

You heard John B sigh. “I was going to. I regretted it the second it was over and I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to leave me over some stupid mistake. JJ and Pope said -”

“JJ and Pope knew about this?”

You and Kie looked up at your boyfriends with the deadliest glare either of them have seen out of both you. JJ took a step back and held his hands up in surrender as if you were holding a loaded gun to his head.

“I can explain -” JJ said quickly as Pope’s mouth moved silently to come up with an excuse.

“I didn’t know what to do! They said telling you would only hurt you -” John B weakly tried to explain.

“Of course it would fucking hurt me! You’ve been lying to me for weeks. You had sex with another girl!”

You heard something shatter before a deafening silence. You waited for John B to say something, praying he was smart enough to say anything that could salvage what little of a relationship he had left.

You didn’t want to make this about you, but you wondered how many times JJ didn’t tell you something because it would hurt you. You wondered if he did anything just as detrimental to your relationship and didn’t tell you because he was afraid you would break up with him.

John B and Sarah continued to fight for another hour. You wondered if John B was worried about where you might be. If you go somewhere without telling John B, you usually text him later in the day to tell him where you are. It’s something both of you started doing ever since your father disappeared. So that if something were to happen, you would know where to look first.

You thought about jumping out your window, but your window frame was rusty. Even if you moved the window up a little bit, the wood would grind against each other, and your cover would be blown. You were getting hungry and JJ was getting antsy, probably afraid that John B would say something more to push him in the dog house. You’ve barely looked at him since John B threw him under the bus.

“Baby...” JJ said quietly to try to get your attention. “Come on, baby, let me explain.”

You glared at him and continued braiding Kie’s hair with your back to the door.

“We had good intentions,” Pope tried to save his own ass but Kie’s look mirrored yours. “We just didn’t want them to break up.”

“Shut up, Pope,” You said for Kie.

“We were wrong,” JJ said, making you advert your attention from Pope to your boyfriend. “I was wrong. It was my idea for John B not to tell Sarah. But the more time I spent with you, I knew I’d never be able to do that to you. It would eat at me inside, and that’s exactly what it was doing to JB. So yesterday I told him he had to tell her. Or else he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t.” Your eyes soften under his ocean blue ones and your hands fell from Kie’s hair. “I know I would.”

The corner of your lip twitched up into a lopsided grin, and just like that, you were entranced by the blonde Pogue all over again. JJ had his way with words. It’s gotten him both into certain situations and out of other bad ones. But you knew JJ like the back of your hand. You knew when he was lying. He wouldn’t look at you and if you questioned him on it he would get angry. Looking at JJ, you knew he was telling the truth.

“Yeah, what he said.” Pope said, pointing at your boyfriend.

You and Kie rolled your eyes playfully. Pope, on the other hand, wasn’t so great with his words. That’s why it took so long for him to score Kie as his girlfriend.

“Where are you going?” You heard John B yell. He sounded defeated.

“I can’t be here. I need...I need space.”

“Sarah...”

“Please. I just need time to think. Okay?”

Your front door slammed shut and you held your breath, waiting for John B to run after her or break more shit in your living room. But nothing like that ever came. Instead, you listened to John B cry to himself probably somewhere on the couch.

And just like that, you didn’t care about being caught. You didn’t care if he screamed in your face for eavesdropping or calling you nosy and inconsiderate. Your brother needed you, and in that moment, it didn’t matter to you that he was the one in the wrong. At the end of the day, he was your brother. Your blood. Your family. And you’re the one who will always be his rock.

Kie stood up with you and watched wearily as you showed yourself to your brother. John B looked up with wide eyes, surprised to see not only you but the rest of the Pogues hidden away in your room.

He wanted to be mad, but he didn’t have the energy to be. Instead, he cried harder because he hated that you of all people knew what he did and that he was now being weak by crying about it in your living room. He wanted to be the role model you could always look up to, especially now that your dad was gone. And he thought he failed at it.

John B was pleasantly surprised when he felt a pair of gentle arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him into a side hug as you sat on the couch next to him. Kie sat on the coffee table in front of you and rubbed John B’s knee comfortingly. Pope and JJ knew the girls were better equipped to handle John B’s emotions, so they busied themselves in the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers and pretzels and setting them down on the table next to Kie.

Even though John B cheated and created a big mess in not only his life, but the rest of yours too, you were family. You would never leave him on his darkest day and play the blame game. You’ll help him get control. You’ll help him fix it. You’ll help him live his life to the fullest. And that’s what John B loved about you. You never turned your back on him, even when he deserved it.

The five of you spent the rest of the night drinking beer, ordering pizza, and watching comedy movies to get him to forget. Later in the night, you and Kie left to comfort Sarah. You admitted that you two heard the whole thing and would support her with whatever she chose to do about her relationship. You and Kie slept over her house and discussed the pros and cons of her staying with John B. You ate popcorn and applied face masks while Keeping Up With The Kardashians played in the background.

“You know, Kie’s waxing kit is still at my house,” A mischievous smirk pulled at your lips. “We could cause a lot of damage while he sleeps.”

Kie encouraged the idea and Sarah laughed, feeling grateful that the two of you would even come to see her when you both had loyalties to John B. She really did love you guys and would be devastated if her relationship with John B drove you guys apart.

In the end, Sarah ended up taking John B back. It took a while for them to get their relationship back to the way it was, but they loved each other enough to salvage it. John B worked his ass off to prove how much he loved her and Sarah appreciated every second of it.

And as for you and JJ...well you made sure to give him one really good reason as to why he should never cheat on you (;

#jj maybank fic #jj fic #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #john b routledge #john b #kie carrera #pope heyward #pogues x reader #pogues #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot

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bluefirewrites · 3 years

Note

not sure if u are still taking this but, celebrity/fan au for JUKEE 🤭

Okay this one's a little involved but I got you!

Rated T for mentions of sex and maybe some language

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

******

Julie tugs against the rather short dress Flynn had squeezed her in, not caring for how much she looks like a glorified candy wrapper in the shimmering gold.

She feels like she's some Ferrer Roche, waiting to be devoured.

Which seems to be her intention for tonight because she's insane, and so is her bestie Flynn, because she's supposed to grab the attention of a certain someone in this club.

Her motives for tonight sound like they come straight out of a Wattpad story, but her boyfriend- or well maybe an ex boyfriend now'- forced her hand.

So a year ago, right around the time they started dating, they both disclosed their 'hall passes'. Just a list of celebrities they were both 'allowed' to cheat on their partners with. It was fun. Just to see who the other person would pick.

It was harmless because the whole point is that these people are so famous, so far out of reach, that the odds of hooking up with them would be essentially impossible.

Nick's was the lead singer of the world famous pop group Dirty Candi. And Julie remembers drunkenly applauding the choice ("She's pretty! Wowww you like them Bubblegum Pop girls?")

They had a laugh that night and Julie doesn't really consider that hall pass conversation all that much since then-

-Until fast forward to last week when Nick disclosed to her that he ran into Carrie Wilson at an event. And then promptly disclosed to her that he invoked his 'Hall Pass' rights.

His rights?! She had exploded at him, and he claims that its no big deal. That he thought she would understand that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a crazy set of circumstances, and that- 'Holy shit Jules, she was actually into me. Like what?'

Understandably, Julie stormed out and has been staying with Flynn for the time being. And it must have been the haze of crying and watching a lot of true crime series to cheer herself up that she and Flynn concocted this... plan.

One fueled by spite and pettiness.

Get back at Nick, make him jealous, make him feel how she did- by invoking her own 'Hall Pass' rights-

-which so happens to be Sunset Curve frontman, Luke Patterson...

"There he is" Flynn whispers from their corner of the club and Julie gulps.

"I don't think I can do this," Julie hisses at Flynn, when they spot him at the bar, nursing a drink with his bandmates like he usually would (they did their research).

See, Julie’s been a fan of Luke’s for a long time. Ever since she heard ‘Now or Never’ in freshman year of high school, she’s been hooked onto their music- especially Luke and his voice and playing.

She had their posters on her bedroom wall and had been that girl who would (when no one’s looking) press her fingers to her lips then press them against Luke’s image before going to bed.

It was that bad.

And Julie had probably fantasized on more than one occasion of meeting him and all the other scenarios you would picture in a typical Celeb x Reader scenario.

And she’d like to think she grew out of it, now she’s in her mid-twenties and just casually listens to Sunset Curve, following up on their careers every now and then.

But you can never really shake your first major celebrity crush. Hence he had been on her so called ‘Hall Pass’ list.

(”You into rockstars, Jules?” Nick had teased her that night.)

Seeing him there, in the same place as her, is so surreal, but Flynn’s continued pinches to her arm remind her just how real this is.

“This is ridiculous,” Julie crosses her arms, ready to bow out because what is she thinking? Why would Luke Patterson pick her up, of all people, at the bar? It’s like a supermodel runway in here, filled with girls more accomplished and famous. Her confidence is shaken a bit and she rethinks everything.

"Nick didn't seem to have a problem when he did it," Flynn points out, “And girl, you look great. He would be blind to not want you.”

The mention of Nick still boils her blood, which only reaffirms her plans for revenge. She’s still nervous but they both stand up from their booth and walk over to the bar.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,”

“No. You’re musician extraordinaire, Julie Molina! The world may not have heard about you, but they will one day. I bet that’s something you can talk to him about. Music? Lyrics?”

Julie could use her songwriting credentials to her advantage, “I mean I guess-”

“Quick, he’s getting up!”

“Flynn, wait I’m not-”

With a forceful push, Flynn sends Julie into the path of Luke Patterson, colliding into him and effectively spilling his drink all over her dress.

“Oh my god,” Luke gapes at her, “I am so sorry-”

Julie fans herself, shaking slightly from the fact she’s drenched and also that her freakin’ high school celebrity crush is looking at her, actually talking to her.

But she recovers quickly, and she speaks, “It’s fine. Really. I guess I’m just... clumsy.” She shoots a glare at Flynn, who merely winks and retreats to their booth.

Luke grimaces and takes her by the hand, leading her somewhere, napkins in his other hand, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up. Again, I’m sorry. Hate to ruin a pretty... dress.”

It’s the way he eyes her that catches Julie off guard. He’s... not talking about the dress, is he?

Julie reels it back in tries her hand at a joke, “I wouldn’t call this a dress. I feel like fancy leftovers in this thing.”

Luke stifles a laugh, “Okay, I mean I wasn’t gonna say anything but yeah. I guess it’s a bit tin foil-y.”

“Not your style?”

His gaze drifts over to her one last time, “Well, any way to take a meal back home is fine by me. I mean-” Luke scrunches his nose, wincing, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. Shit. That was too... much. Are we-” he laughs nervously, “Are we still... talking about food?”

“Unless you just called me a meal. Then no.”

The look in his eyes say that he’s absolutely mortified, “...yeah. I think I did. I was hoping that was a nightmare.”

“Nope, it definitely happened,”

“Feel free to slap me,”

Julie giggles, somewhat delirious because she hasn’t tried to flirt with him but here Luke is, flirting with her. Or trying. And failing. Like a far cry from the suave rockstar she had pictured him to be.

“No need. Just, can you-?” she points to the napkins he’s holding hostage.

“Oh yeah. Here,” They stop in front of the coat check, and he hands her the napkins so she could try herself off with the best she can.

Suddenly, a weight falls onto her shoulders, she looks up and sees Luke draping a jacket over her- his presumably.

“You looked cold,”

Julie wraps the jacket tight against her, relishing in the warmth, “Wow, thanks.”

Luke smiled and stepped back, “Just so you know, if I made you feel weird in any way, I’d like to throw out my third ‘sorry’ of the night. Nothing has to happen though. So, just say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Whew. Um, okay. Julie stands there, faced with this decision.

The compliments aside (she will revisit those later), Luke’s giving her an out. Any reservations she has about moving forward with this plan, this is her chance to leave.

She could just treasure these amazing few minutes for the rest of her life. This could be a story to tell friends at a dinner party, about the time a rockstar lent her his jacket. Would be up there with the time Jack Black passed her on the street and said “Nice hat!”.

But-

Maybe she wants to see where this goes.

“All this talk about food is making me hungry though...” she says and Luke lights up, “I could go for a bite to eat.”

Luke snaps his fingers, “I know just the place.”

*******

Half an hour later, Julie and Flynn are in a smelly alleyway with the guys from Sunset Curve, in line for a street dog cart just a couple blocks away.

“An Oldsmobile?” Julie gawked after hearing Luke and the guys describe the delicacy, “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I swear by it,” Luke insists, taking her hand and moving them up in the line. Flynn sees this and doesn’t comment, but Julie’s starting to get used to Luke doing that, “You have to try!”

Julie doesn't know when she got over her initial starstruck, but by now its so easy to treat Luke like a regular person.

Well, celebrities are all regular people in the end, but more so now that he and his friends, have their sleeves rolled up, smiles wide, ready to dig into what may be the most disgusting hot dog she has ever seen.

Julie takes a bite out of hers and her eyes widen. Wow. It's not terrible.

"Ayy! We got another one, boys" Reggie laughs, noting her reaction.

"Told ya" Luke needles her sides and she giggles, ticklish. Her knee jerk reaction is to playfully shove him, but in the process accidentally smeared some mustard onto his face.

Luke goes to lick it off with his tongue, making funny faces as he did which amused Julie even more.

"Here," she takes a napkin and wipes at his cheek, "Now we're even."

The whole group gets to talking over by the couches, while Flynn chats up the other boys, Julie and Luke are sequestered in their own corner, and yes, eventually the topic switches to music.

"Wait, so you know Rose and the Petal Pushers?" Luke chokes out, "Like everyone I talk to hasn't heard of them!"

"Yup. Have their record actually" Julie beams proudly, censoring out the part that its her mom's band and hence she has one of the few records ever released.

Luke is floored by that and continues to poke her brain for music and Julie finds that their spiels go on naturally, that she could probably talk with Luke for hours and hours.

Which ends up happening. Flynn had already made her escape, having texted her to come home safely, the boys had gone too, leaving them in the nearly empty lot.

When the food truck closes down for the night, they end up taking a stroll down the streets of L.A, talking and getting to know each other.

Julie learns so much about Luke, things she's never heard about from the press- like his songwriting practice, that he cries at Finding Nemo, and that he can do a cartwheel only when drunk.

And in return Julie shares with him her crazy college stories, how she misses her mom sometimes, and that she is encyclopedia of commercial jingles (a fact Luke exploits by rapidly quizzing her at random moments)

Somehow they end up near the beach, with Julie pointing out the different stars she could see, but finds that Luke isn't looking at the sky.

"Hey, Julie..." He gets her attention, "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too"

"So... would it be alright, if I kiss you?"

Julie's mouth parts, speechless. It happened. Holy shit it happened or... is happening. She has Luke exactly where she wants him.

She could only nod and Luke takes it as the sign to lean in, but just as his lips is about to brush against hers, she freaks-

"Wait" she steps back. Luke opens his mouth, "No. No more 'sorry's from you. This one's one me. I'm sorry but... this- this" She sighs, "I have to be honest with you."

Then she tells Luke everything- Nick, The Hall Pass, her plans for tonight- basically admitting to using him.

When she's done, she expects for Luke to get angry, to leave in a huff and never want to see her again.

That's not what happens.

"This Nick guy sounds like a piece of work" he says.

Julie nods slowly, "Yeah... I guess he was. So maybe that's why I did it. But I don't think I could have gone through with it. Like I don't think we're together, me and Nick but-"

"You wouldn't want to do what he did. Because you don't want to hurt people," Luke surmises, understanding, "And by doing that, that means you're a better person than he is."

"I guess"

"No Julie, you're a good person" Luke insists, "Man, I think that makes me like you even more."

Julie laughs, "God, if my high school self could see me now..."

"You were a big fan?"

"I'm not having this conversation right now with you,"

"Okay cuz now you got me curious-"

Julie swats his shoulder but it doesn't deter the guy from snickering.

On a more serious note though-

"I think..." Julie hums, "I think this means that I got some stuff to work through. Before I could start considering... this."

"I understand"

"But thank you... Luke. For tonight"

"It's been real, Julie,"Luke smiles and pulls her in for a half hug, "And you should keep the jacket. Looks better on you anyway."

****

Julie goes back to Flynn's that night and her bestie's still awake, wanting all the deets. But there's not much to tell. Nothing happened.

She shrugs off the jacket and resigns to the couch, not caring that her makeup is still on. She's about ready to pass out.

Her phone dings.

She pulls it out and sees two notifications.

luke_patterson is now following you

luke_patterson is requesting to message you.

Curious, she accepts the request.

'here if you want to talk, Tin Foil :P'

Julie rolls her eyes and collapses onto the couch, sleeping with a smile on her face.

She doesn't know it now, but the oncoming years would be filled with more messages back and forth, meetups with their friends for more shady street food, building a solid foundation of friendship and eventually, when Luke asks again if he could kiss her, Julie would eagerly prop herself on her toes to close the gap.

Yeah, Julie's high school self would definitely be screaming...

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #luke x julie #julie x luke #this one turned into an actual fic wtf #lol #i got carried away #long post #blue answers asks #celebrity/fan au

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aylinaliens · 2 years

Note

BESTIE same thoughts please I loved this show so much I’m telling u rn no one was more excited about this show and loved it as much as I did shsjs I was recommending it to everyone I know, was checking the tags on socmed every hours but now I feel … heartbroken in a way because EAW had so much potential! It had crazy potential!! And of course a few bad episodes will not take away my love for YW as a character but I’m just so disappointed. I wanted this show to be like hospital playlist (if you’ve watched it) which shows the realities of life while being simple and very wholesome there’s no over the top BS in that show I was hoping EAW was going in the same direction :( we know nothing about jun Ho, the mother plot like is so poorly done, don’t even get me started on MW And SY and MYS being terminally Ill like who even does all this in the last few episodes ? Why did this get the green light I just don’t understand:( why not focus on YW and her relationships and friendships? Why not show us more of jh and yw communicating? Why not show us more of YW with her dad? What about flashbacks of YW and SY in law school together?gggrrr I just feel so sad and robbed :(

!!! YESSSS!! everything you said is a hard agree like ??? the fact that it had that much potential only to randomly veer off course is frustrating. like you said: this might not take away or erase the love we have for YW or some of the other characters but it certainly leaves a heavy feeling in our heart. because we saw what this drama could do! we did! i stand by my statement that the first half was not perfect but it felt consistent. the halfway doesn’t which is the problem!! they set up youngwoo/junho’s conflict & insecurity but the way in which it was written felt weird. almost as if they forgot to include a few scenes or something. everything that’s happening with MYS is so melodrama slash makjang like. okay. he’s sick. terminally ill. should they not have set this up earlier or showed more signs of it being more than just exhaustion? they really are teasing the whole trope where a mentor to the main character dies or nearly dies. they literally exist to inspire or further the plot along which does NOT fit in with the theme of eaw. the funny thing is they handled health problems (ex. ep 1/2 with that older man who dies) only to suddenly be like. OOPS. hehe guess what :) MYS is on his deathbed. and even if he survives at the end there’s a chance he only has 5 years in total :)

W H A T?? get out of here with that ‘realism’ that is such a bull crap life lesson. the ‘mentor/beloved character is suddenly dying’ is such a wack drama trope it feels so emotionally manipulative. i only watched half of the first season of hospital playlist so thank you for reminding me to pick it back up bUT YES!! they could have shown these realistic struggles and plot lines in a more sedated manner. you can have realism and struggles and painful plot lines with it being super..idk. overdramatic? weird. yeah it’s just weird. all these plot lines weren’t handled as well as the first half which sucks.

bestie bestie besstttieeeeee. the fact that they have so many unresolved or glaring plot holes open is frustrating. i understand that this is from youngwoo’s POV so obviously it’s gonna focus on her but…clearly they are making SY/MW and MYS plot lines important in the last half. should we not at least follow through with the 3882838 plots that already exist?? what i wouldn’t give to give all those plot lines you mentioned explored. it doesn’t help either that they always cut away during an important conversation either. they rarely tell us what was said or happened unless it’s in a throwaway like. it reeks of lazy writing…not clever writing

the characters (not including minwoo go choke 🥰) are not the issues really it’s the bad and nonsensical writing. and it hurts because YOU LOVE THESE CHARACTERS but you also kind of hate the canon they come from jcjwjxjsjd bestie the way this drama had us all in a chokehold only to clown on us so bad in the last few episodes is truly the worst kind of pain

#extraordinary attorney woo #kdrama #my ask box is permanently open venting to all of you about this is the only thing getting me through #kay answers #kay watches eaw #spoilers #eaw spoilers

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governmentcoverups · 2 years

Text

Season 4 vol 2 spoilers kinda (random thoughts or things that happened idk read if your bored.)

So what duffers, you were just queerbaiting all along? The parallels, the byler evidence, all of it for nothing? Before volume 2 I had no doubt about byler and I 100% thought it was gonna be cannon but the love confession threw me off and I'm in tears rn, byler has been one of my #1 ships since last year. I can't imagine how other bylers feel who have been in the fandom since the beginning of the show. The 210+ page slides of byler? Mike pinning, the Mike voice, 'crazy together', Everything just for it to be nothing?

I don't understand, I had so much hope and I wasn't prepared for that scene. I went in there thinking Mike couldn't say it. What throws me off is how Mike says he loved el since they first met, but then Mike pushed el away because he thought she lied about finding will at the quarry. Also heros playing during that one song line when hugging his mom?

Obviously there's a theory about Mike only liking El when she looks like a boy but idk. Bylers, do not lose hope, maybe there's a ton of proof in season 4.

Atleast we got half host will in Hawkins. That to me makes me a bit happy. It disappointed me though, I feel like it was an average season, not really that dark to me like the duffers were saying. Also will didn't come out. We were left on the weirdest cliff hanger.

Did you see how the romantic pairings were at the end when el is picking up the dead flower? J0pp3r, byler and j4ncy, idk could be a coincidence because I don't really believe in those pairing things that much.

It's disappointing to me how I woke up early yesterday morning due to a family matter and couldn't go back to sleep and I'm still not the tiniest bit tired - I've been up for like 24 hours.

Poor Eddie, atleast he died a hero. I think max is gonna be okay because everyone else who was put into a coma was okay, like Henry and if I remember correctly El was put into one too.

Around 2:58-59am before stranger things me and my friend were up waiting for it over text and I said I was having hiccups because I was and she had them too and right at 3am they stopped, that was weird. tell me If you had them too so like we know the duffers sold their soul or sum - im jk but the hiccup thing is weird.

Also I was crying over the love confession when my cat started to meow and I was like whatt? Because I thought she needed food or something and no, there was a frog and it was wet and it basically came out of the middle of nowhere, I'm not joking.

The way Mike didn't notice will was basically sobbing when he gave the painting - why not comfort your friend or ask why he's crying, or did he understand? Jonathan definitely understood and why bring up the Lego thing to talk about it?

Also Jason is just deed now? He got ripped apart by the gate😗✌

I really want will to be a villain now, from how obvious his feelings are and how heartbroken he was in s3 and like tryna hide it or sum in s4(honestly I saw him being a shipper but I didn't think it was gonna be like that) he deserves his actual villain arc but I don't think we'll get it since nothing good ever happens for us. And plus the timing is probably gonna skip like a week or so because of the big gate around Hawkins unless nothing happens but vecnas gonna strike again.

Also am I the only person missing how El brought Max back to life? Also what's with her now? The new her is cool and stuff but kinda scares me cause idk what she's doing. Go girlboss😘

Thanks Noah for trolling, we were rooting for you anyways

I think im gonna take a shower from all the stuff on my long sleeves and I might wash clothes to wear my sweet silk pjs. Wish you bylers luck. Thanks for coming to my (i hope your enjoying your chicken) ted talk.

#stranger things 4 #byler #byler tumblr #brainrot #random thoughts #straight from the heart #will byers #will byers villain arc #host will byers #cause i said so #wish yall fellow bylers luck for season 5

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Donna x Elena ----From Winter to Spring

This is a commission written for the lovely @saltwatereulogies and I cannot thank you enough for all your support! I hope you enjoy the story :)

She doesn’t know how she escaped that nightmarish inferno. How she still draws breath. Why her body keeps running despite its condition and despite the fact that she has lost everything.

The village is gone. Everyone she knew is either dead or a monster. She watched her own father growl like a beast and cleave a woman in half, then soon after wail out her name and succumb to the flames swallowing up the building. There is nothing left. There is nothing left for her.

Why? Elena wonders. A trail of blood marks her path through the snow, towards the unknown. Why still fight?

It will be easier to surrender to the agonizing burns, to the open gashes and wood splinters stuck in her skin. It will be far, far simpler to stop pressuring her rattling lungs to provide oxygen and fall into the snow, instead. It looks… peaceful. Soft. Pure.

It will welcome her to a quiet death, she thinks, so she may join her friends and her father.

Her father. The man who had never reached his hand out to help her when she fell –either on the fields or when she tripped over hardships— yet had always been there in his own stubborn, strict way, telling her to pick herself up.

“I didn’t raise no quitter.”

Ah, is that why.

Perhaps part of her feels it owes it to him to try. She did miraculously survive the fiery wreckage she’d initially thought would be her grave. But… the odds just aren’t with her.

Elena is only human. She’s lost too much blood, been through too much punishment. Her vision is growing blurrier by the second, her legs more sluggish. When she steps on grass instead of snow, she believes her mind is now playing tricks on her, too.

Something smells sweet, like wildflowers.

That is the last thing Elena is aware of, before she drops to her knees and blacks out.

When she blinks her eyes open, she is… confused.

She never thought heaven nor hell would have a wooden ceiling. She wouldn’t have guessed pain follows one into the afterlife, either, yet there she is, prone and throbbing with every weak breath on a bed too comfortable to be her own.

Unless…

Unless she’s not dead. Unless, against all odds, she survived a second time only to suffer some more. Elena wants to cry. What cruel game is the universe playing with her? The luck she never had in life is suddenly gracing her in extreme bursts now that she doesn’twant it.

“She’s awakeeee!” an overly excited voice exclaims somewhere around the room. Elena is too dizzy to tell.

“Shh.” A second presence makes itself known, calming the first.

“Who…” Who are you, Elena tries to say, but the words never make it past her dry throat.

Heels tap against the floor, until a black-clad figure comes to peer down at her. Elena expected to see the face of her savior, yet all she sees is a ghost, its visage hidden behind a mourning veil. The image is jarring; it sends her heartbeat skyrocketing, which doesn’t help her condition.

Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord what… Elena wants to tell herself she’s dreaming. It isn’t real, none of this is real—

Until a doll jumps into the edge of her bed and says something she doesn’t hear over the sound of her hoarse scream.

The ghost flinches backwards as the world turns dark once more.

The second time she opens her eyes, hours or days later, the pain has subsided somewhat.

Elena can feel her body, at least. All the wounded parts are carefully wrapped in gauzes and all her burns are covered by a soothing salve. Her lungs no longer hiss when she inhales, so long as she does so slowly, evenly.

That, of course, is not so easy to do when she turns to her left and sees the ghost sitting there, an open book in her lap. The veil is still on, obscuring her features, but Elena takes note of her fingers as they cradle the spine of the tome, long and pale, manicured black.

Appearances aside, there is a certain calm about her that doesn’t feel threatening.

“I… I’m not hallucinating, am I?” she whispers, not trusting her voice to go any higher.

The mystery woman tenses as though her voice has startled her. “…No.” she eventually replies. Her voice is quiet, like the rest of her.

“Did… you save me…?” A single nod is all she gets in return. Her company doesn’t seem very comfortable speaking, but Elena has questions that she needs answered. “Where am I?”

“The Beneviento estate.”

Elena would gasp if she could. I made it that far? And this woman… is she really Donna Beneviento? Her father told her all she needed to know about the four Lords residing at the outskirts of the village. He had also told her to avoid them at all costs.

“Um. I’m Elena—” A cough cuts her off. The sudden motion causes every injury across her body to burn.

“…I know.”

She is too much pain, in that moment, to ask how Donna knows.

In the following days, Elena comes to accept a few things that would have normally made her question her sanity;

The doll is alive. Her name is Angie and she is Donna’s friend. Donna is the adopted daughter of Mother Miranda, who, upon the former’s request, has given her permission for Elena to remain in the mansion. When she asked what would have happened had she denied, the doll only sing-songed that she doesn’t really want to know.

It still plagues her mind, probably because she has far too much time to think and this is the only thing she can focus on, lest she starts crying over and over again.

When Donna comes to change her bandages, it is a relief.

The woman sits at the edge of her bed, at the absolute maximum distance. Elena slowly brings her body to a semi-reclining position to assist. Angie hops on the bed and pulls the covers to the side… and that is when they arrive to a standstill. Donna doesn’t move, Elena doesn’t know what to do.

“Um. May I?” the veiled woman motions with her –admittedly very elegant— hands. It’s… endearing, how she approaches the subject of touching her.

Elena nods and tries to be a good patient for her. Tries being the key word. When she’s not fighting for her life, she is not nearly as brave in the face of pain. Her teeth are gritted as Donna’s cool hands unwrap the gauzes at her right arm, her eyes closed, breath held.

“…Am I hurting you?” Donna asks, quiet as ever.

“No.” Elena forces herself to exhale. “No, you’re… very gentle.”

Donna nods and continues with the same measured movements. Elena doesn’t want to look at her wounds, afraid of what she’ll find there, so she turns to the veiled visage of her companion. She wishes she could see her face. Wonders what she may look like, what flaw she’s trying to hide.

Until a bandage catches on a particularly bad burn and Elena cries out.

Her whole body jumps—

Donna’s hands fly to her shoulders, keeping her steady with surprising strength, yet she steps away the very next second as though she’s been scorched.

Elena bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. There you go, making her uncomfortable…

Angie takes over for a while, also quite precise. Elena peeks down to realize she isn’t in as terrible a condition as she may have imagined. Scars will be left, no doubt, but she will probably heal well enough.

Then the last difficult spot comes up. She knows it when Angie warns: “You need to stay still here.”

“No, no wait!” Elena pleads. “I—I can’t.” I can’t, I can’t deal with this again, not again—

But Donna sits back next to her and her mere presence calms her down. “You are very strong, Elena. This is the last one.” she says.

“Hold me down.” Elena requests.

Donna doesn’t seem to like the idea. Still, she slowly brings her hand back over the uninjured part of Elena’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright.” she whispers.

“On three.” Angie says. “One… Two…”

She pulls the bandage on two and Elena would jump high enough to burst through the ceiling if it wasn’t for Donna. When the agony subsidies she realizes she’s sobbing helplessly, clutching at the dollmaker’s sleeves for dear life.

“Shh, I’m sorry, it’s over now. It’s over.” Donna’s slender fingers comb through her unruly hair.

The brunette closes her eyes and lets her head drop back down into her pillow, but she doesn’t let go of the dollmaker right away. She smells like the flowers outside her house,she thinks.

She feels like a safe space, steady, in a world that’s broken and tilted for Elena.

Gradually, Donna talks to her more. Gradually, Elena tests her body’s limits until she is strong enough to walk around the house on her own.

Angie is with her, most of the time, but she knows it’s less a security measure and more one for her safety. Her mental connection to Donna is something Elena cannot grasp nor understand, but she tries to.

The first time she manages to get to the living room, Elena stops and stares at the painting of Donna adorning the wall opposite her.

“…is that her?” she asks Angie.

“Of course!” the doll replies excitedly. “I am so proud of that one, the artist did a great job! Mistress Donna looks splendid, but it is me who steals the show!”

Elena can’t look away from the canvas. Why is she so familiar…? “Is that what she looks like?”

“Well, excluding a scar she wishes to hide. Kind of like my face. We match.” Angie answers, giving her version of a grin.

For the rest of the day, Elena sneaks glances at Donna, then the painting. It isn’t proper, she knows, but she’s curious. And… surely, no scar is enough to justify hiding that cute face from the world?

Weeks pass. Elena has healed well and she owes it all to Donna.

The two of them have grown closer in the time the former’s injuries have forced them together, close enough to have tea in the mornings and brief chats over common interests throughout the day.

When the weather grows a tad warmer, Elena asks the dollmaker to take a stroll with her outside. She sees the decorated graves, of course, but she knows better than to ask. She doesn’t want their time to be poisoned by grief. The scars of losing loved ones run deep, she knows this too well and they never really heal.

The two of them are basking in comfortable silence for a while, until a thought that feels impossible not to be voiced strikes Elena.

“Donna.” she speaks.

“Hm?”

“When I first woke up and I told you my name… you said ‘I know’.”

“…yes.”

“I’m sure we’ve never met before…?” Elena stops and turns to face her companion. Donna mirrors her.

“How certain are you?” she asks. Upon Elena’s obvious confusion, she elaborates; “As a child, I used to visit the village with my father. In one of those visits, some of the kids made fun of my scar. A boy, especially, was saying some very mean things.”

Elena starts to recall one such incident in the blurry images of her childhood.

“You stopped him.” Donna says. Pauses. “…with a punch to the face.”

Elena raises a hand to her mouth, but a quick laugh escapes her anyway. “I did?” A nod. “No way.”

“You did.”

“It couldn’t have been a strong one, though.” Elena giggles.

“I don’t know. Rumor has it he still hasn’t gotten up, to this day…” The little exhale of a chuckle that escapes Donna makes something in Elena bloom and flutter.

She wants nothing more in that moment than to lift the damned veil and see the face of the gentlest, kindest woman she’s ever met.

The winter eventually gives way to spring. The earth heals from the wounds of the cold like Elena has, under Donna’s care.

She no longer has doubts about what she feels, what she wants. It is only a matter of overcoming her fears and nervousness. Only a matter of finding the right timing and the appropriate setting.

Elena has rehearsed the words she needs to say many times in her dreams and thoughts, yet she finds herself tongue-tied and completely lost on what to do in reality. She has asked Donna to walk with her, taken her to where the waterfall calms into a river… and now struggles to summon her voice.

“What is it, Elena?” Donna, ever the sweetheart, asks. “You know you can tell me anything… right?”

“What if…” she hesitantly begins. “What if I can’t tell you? …can I show you, instead?”

“Of course.”

Elena takes a deep breath and chastises herself to woman up. One little step brings her into Donna’s personal space. Her hand raises to the edge of the veil, blue eyes searching for a sign she should stop. The dollmaker is tense, but she hasn’t made a move to back away, nor lower Elena’s hand.

She trusts her.

And that’s all Elena needs to finally, finally remove the barrier separating them for months. The cute girl she defended as a child is a beautiful woman now, looking back at her with gentle, dark eyes. The jagged scar running down the right side of her face does nothing to retract from that beauty.

“You don’t need that.” she breathes. “You never did.”

Donna glances to the side, a hint of color spreading over her pale cheeks. Elena chases her chin with her fingers, then slowly inches closer, making sure the dollmaker has ample time to decide if she wants this, too.

When their lips meet, color blooms behind her shut eyelids, within her chest. Donna’s mouth is as soft and sweet as her personality, Elena discovers. It is a short, chaste kiss but it is also a promise for many more to come.

It is the gratitude Elena will eternally hold for Donna, who found her at the ending of her life and nursed her back to this,

A new beginning.

#Donna x Elena #donna beneviento #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #creative writing #mother miranda #commission #because two cuties make a recipe for success #donna my beloved

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