#i refuse to think hes a bad boy hes the biggest loser around | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thequietmanno1 · 4 months

Text

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 104, Replies Part 1

1) “Sp, where did we left? Ah, right, Koichi just flew into the stratosphere, then came back when he realized that calling for All Might would make me commit a homicide. Yeah, now we’re on a 1v1, My boy vs McBee. Time to see what shall unfold, on Chapter 104: The Bad one”- Koichi finally heeded his inner calling to heroism (that is, his own desire to not be on the sidelines this time), even if it means he’s breaking all the rules of common sense and self-preservation. Took him a while to get up to Izuku’s level, I can tell ya that much.

2) “Yes but consider this: I’m going to rip your spine and beat you to death with it if All Might shows up to solve this problem.

Not you Koichi, I’m talking to Furuhashi right now.”- Koichi meanwhile, will be busy trying to stop Nomura blowing his spine out through the back of his skull before any official help arrives, thanks to him finally stepping up to the plate on his ownsome….without a solid plan of how he’s gonna get over his handicap of actually hitting an opponent in a fight.

3) “oh so Soga is in danger and might not survive the night?”- Downside of Koichi finally standing up to face Nomura. We don’t get Soga pulling the Benny Hill chase routine with the Anon drones.

youtube

4)“Alright Phelps, time to fight to keep the timeline stable.

The two henchman there, they can meet the same fate as Soga, we haven’t seen them in the main story anyway.”-Huh, actually, would Midnight’s gas even affect the Anon drones? It’s been a while, but whilst I recall that Nomura was especially vulnerable to her, I’m not certain if the drones need to breathe quite the same as a human does. 5) “Behold, The Bad One

the most evil boy to ever exist, the biggest troublemaker to walk the earth

behold…and despair”-well, Koichi certainly made Nomura despair there for a moment. Had him dead to rights and everything. Shame he didn’t quite land the hit, but at the same time, the fact he could have is arguably more of a slap in the face to Nomura than anything else he’s done so far. 6) “Everybody like “Uhhhhh- should we go help the boss? He’s gonna get his ass kicked if we don’t”

A side effect of having to micromanage every single nomu in this army that AfO generously granted McBee for some fucking reason.”- In choosing to make himself a mirror of Koichi to try and take his place in the narrative as both Knuckles’ successor and “the hero”, Nomura also made himself vulnerable to mirroring his moments of denseness and making poor decisions, like turning back to fight a villain when you have no actual drive to fight the villain. Both these boys are devoting all their available brainpower to this fight, because there isn’t enough to spread around and multitask up there.

7) "|[The Good, the Bad, and the ugly theme playing in the background]”- It certainly is in Nomura’s head at least. Sadly, koichi isn’t quite the movie buff he is, and hasn’t quite caught up to the script everybody else is working from, so he thinks this can maybe still be resolved without violence….though at least he’s prepared for Nomura’s refusal this time.

8) “OH MY GOD KOICHI YOU ARE NOT EVEN SURE IF HE’S THE SAME GUY THAT CONFRONTED YOU AT THAT ROOFTOP

I SOMETIMES FEEL LIKE MY JOKES ABOUT HOW MUCH McBEE IS A LOSER ARE REDUNDANT, BECAUSE THE STORY IS MAKING SURE TO NAIL IN THAT MUCH.”- Can’t actually blame Koichi for this one. It’s like if Pennywise confronted one of the Loser’s Club in the guise of a fear one of the others hand, there’s no way to recognise him without the proper “mask” on first. Even his costume and everything looks a little generic if you critically analyse it, so there’s not really much about Nomura that truly stands out beyond his intense desire to be a stand-out individual….which only really reinforces the point.

9) “What you mean Koichi? That’s exactly how he always looked. Can’t you recognize his shiny, puppy-like eyes?”- I mean, technically, you’re correct, this is what he’s always actually looked like….but he never wanted us to see anything but the “mask” he crafted for whatever persona he was trying to turn himself into. 10) “Oh fuck you McBee, I thought the no face thing was supposed to be intentional, are you really implying you just forgot to apply your makeup? I hope you’re fucking with Koichi there”- Let’s be honest, the fact he puts his face back on just before fighting Koichi is Furuhashi’s way of letting us really savour his humiliation and frustration as he takes on his arch-foe and gets treated like a chump by him.

11) “Huh. Can’t say I see the similarities. I think you’re just projecting there McBee, you are lame enough to think you two are the same while Koichi is not even sure if you are the person who swore revenge on him a few weeks before.”- They do actually look kinda similar- similar facial structures, especially when seen side-by-side like this- but mainly because Koichi already has a mostly-generic looking face that doesn’t stand out much from the crowd. It also adds layers to his entrapment of Pop – he might have been resembling an idealised version of Koichi in terms of mannerisms and appearance, but at the end of the day it was still a copied product, and got rejected for the original despite his effort. Remember that he doesn’t move forward with his Bee Pop idea until Pop rejects him for Koichi, almost like he wanted to prove the fake could overcome the original in something as minor as winning a girl’s heart by being more attentitve to her needs, and switched tactics in frustration and perhaps slight depression after that failed to work/validate his existence. A sort of “If my best efforts can’t sway Pop from you, then you don’t deserve to have her either”.

(Vigilantes ch 49)

12) “Oh ho ho, they are getting closer, you can’t escape for much longer… Sure, they could already have found you if they had Ragdoll with them, but then we wouldn’t have the dramatic reveal that you’re Koichi’s brother and all that during the final battle.”- Well, more like he’s technically Koichi’s evil Twin- and a self-styled twin to boot, which is sorta a new one for the genre.

(Vigilantes ch 54)

13) “Let’s see what shall take place, on Chapter 54: Siblings-

Oh- Oh boy… Siblings? In a situation where we have both Koichi and McBee? Oh my, how… fun… (: “- I mean, evil twins are technically siblings, even if this falls more under the heading of ‘intentional clone’, given he’s done everything but physically possess Koichi to ‘take his place’ in the story.

(Vigilantes ch 55)

14) “I feel like I’m losing my mind, it was just a panel, but all the red flags started going off immediately on my mind, I don’t trust furuhashi to not be planning something, and the more I think about it, the more I see that there isn’t nothing in it that contradicts the original, in those aspects at least. There were a lot of holes with the Nomu stuff so far, but this idea doesn’t feel too off to not be a possibility”- Well, turns out the cloning part is more metaphorical than literal- I think- and in any respect No:6 has intentionally turned himself in a mis-mashed clone of Knuckle and Koichi together, in an effort to produce his own identity out of a blend of theirs. I guess the concept of cloning bodies to easily produce Nomu might be one way the VF would tie into AFO and Ujiko’s plans, but at this point their end goals- and even the true intent behind giving Nomura such freedom and resources- is still a mystery.

(Vigilantes ch 56) 15) “wait

wait- oh- If that thing there is what McBee really is, and what he said about wanting to actually be Knuckles can be taken at face value, then that means that he can actually shapeshIFT GODDAMMIT I FUCKING KNEW IT, I KNEW THAT TIME AT THE CRAB UPRISING WAS SOMETHING IMPORTANT HE DID CHANGE HIS FACE TO TRICK MONIKA

HOLY SHIT- DID FURUHASHI ACTUALLY FORESHADOWED SOMETHING FOR ONCE?! DEADASS?!”- Yep, though it turns out that even his idea of ‘becoming a younger knuckleduster’ is based off of recombining and utilising Koichi’s own character with Knuckle’s speed and techniques as O’clock, showing how he’s lacking in the creative spirit needed to really become his own person.

(Vigilantes ch 57)

16)“Oh boy here he goes again, just before he regrows his arm in the most dramatic way possible. I mean, he isn’t wrong, Knuckles is cool, but I doubt he ever paid attention to the goodest boy™ around, Koichi.”- Well, he sure as hell is now…

(Vigilantes ch 57)

17) “Sorry McBee, but just as you said, there can be only one, and there already is: Koichi, the chosen one, the true Highlander. Even if you kill Knuckles here it won’t matter, for the torch has already been passed and- oh wait, I think that knuckles really is dead right now.

…

Oh well, there’s that. You just find Koichi and tell him this dramatic speech instead.”-There, he said the speech. Happy now? (Vigilantes ch 82) 18) “Also, did you just got Koichi`s bad naming sense as well?”- Seeing as he’s basically tried to become a fusion of Koichi and O’Clock, it seems that proverbial merger came with some disadvantages to his capabilities, namely his naming sense.

19) “Uhhuuu~ scawy~

Can you go back to the no-eyes face? That one was way cooler and more intimidating.”- Cooler, yes, but honestly less expressive too – which is sorta natural, honestly. Nomura’s here first and foremost to voice his complaints against Koichi about how he’s “wasting” the role that Knuckles and Pop and everybody else have given him as the “hero” in their little tale, and the tirade loses something if he’s got no real face to let him know exactly how much Koichi gets under his skin….or, whatever his body tissue counts as now.

20) “Koichi is like “bro what I’ve done I don’t even know you””- Koichi basically lucked into getting an arch-nemesis when Izuku had to train his ass off to inherit OFA’s long-time one…and even then, his true nemesis is somebody else entirely. @thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #bnha vigilantes #vigilantes 104 #Youtube

1 note · View note

eeunoia · 3 years

Text

ENHYPEN Mini Series

E N H Y P E N as a Mafia Boss (teaser)

pairing: enhypen x reader

summary: seven mafia boss found their love interest that they will protect with their own lives. “i fear nothing but losing you.”

warning: contains violence, guns, murder, obsessive love, manipulation, illegal stuff & mafias.

a/n: I just want to remind everyone that will encounter this blog, that this is all fictional, none of this reflect to any of enhypen members. The way I write their personalities here is based on the concept of a bad boy and purely from my imaginations.

Yeah i am starting this series now! i cannot believe! please do interact with my blogs. it really means a lot to me whenever you let me know what you think about them. btw, i love you guys and thank you for supporting me up until now. have a nice day/night! 🌸

tag-list: @rubyanne @en-sun @studioreader @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @crjwon @love13tter @definitely-not-kyuzu @ririshi @minamoons @pshlvr @astxrism03 (tag-list open)

Yang Jungwon

— yang jungwon was the most powerful mafia boss in your town. people, gangs, police and even the government fears him. he was your boyfriend. it was cool and almost everyone in the town treats you like a queen.

— not until... “let’s break up! i cannot take this anymore.” you dramatically told him. jungwon rolled his eyes as he heard those familiar lines of you. it was almost the same scene you pull every time things doesn’t go on your way or he goes against you. since you are the biggest brat he met in his life, he knew very well you mean none of the things you said.

— “the boss said you should wait for him in your room, ma’am.” one of his body guards stopped you from entering the meeting hall. your brows furrowed as you glared at him but still, he refused to let you through.

— just then, you realized jungwon ain’t taking your words seriously anymore. so that night, you planned out a very brilliant plan to escape from the mansion, his mansion. it didn’t became easy but it was worth it, you felt like finally, you are deciding for yourself without him stopping you.

— you then started your pretty little adventure at the town. since they still thought you are yang jungwon’s girl, nobody dares to mess with you. it was a perfect opportunity for you to take your time to pull yourself together.

— on the other hand, jungwon loses his mind the moment he knew you ran away. the thought of you roaming around the town all by yourself made him crazy mad. “search the whole town for her...” he muttered seriously as he starred down over to your necklace that you left at your shared room. “now!” he clenched his jaw.

— your freedom didn’t last long as the news of your break up with the great mafia boss spread across the whole town and suddenly everyone you mistreated were coming right after you.

— you spit out blood after the person in front of you hit you hard at your face. you smirked, despite the cut at your lips you aren’t afraid of him at all. you know him, he’s one of those losers who’s scared of jungwon and now that they learned about the break up, they went to burst their anger at you.

— a gun was pointed straight at your forehead and you were still smirking, you never fear gun. being a mafia boss’ girlfriend made you lose your fear from it. even before you knew it, the guy pointing the gun at you was shot dead and the familiar men of yang jungwon invaded the whole places.

— “you’re seriously gonna be the death of me, y/n.” you heard him muttered angrily in front of you. with a seductive smirk, you faced him, “i would love to see it with my two eyes.” and you winked at him before rolling your eyes.

Lee Heeseung

— living a life where money is never an issue, people fear you, and you have power over other people seems ideal for other people. being the only girl mafia boss, lee heeseung, have ever loved was the title every girl would die for. lucky for you, you have the notorious mafia boss wrapped around your fingers.

— you thought you’re used to this kind of life but years later, some things changed and realizations dawned unto you.

— “what happened to you? are you okay?” you asked, as you approach him carefully with worry in your eyes. he came inside your shared bedroom, holding his black coat and his white polo stained with so much blood. it had made your heart fell out of fear.

— heeseung smirked as he walked towards your bathroom, you followed him and you saw him washing off the blood at his hands. you sighed and slowly walk closer and made him face you so you can help him unbutton his polo.

— “aren’t you tired of this kind of living?” you asked him so sudden. he was starring at you before you asked that question. admiring and telling himself silently inside his mind how lucky he is to come home to you every night like this.

— “what do you mean?” he asked and raised his hand to brush away some of your hair. you gulped and inhaled heavily before you lift your gaze up at his. “this... guns, killings.” you said. heeseung rolled his eyes and stepped away from you to face the sink once again.

— you clenched your fist and pursed your lips, “i can’t keep living like this, heeseung.” you tried arguing once again. he shut his eyes and sighed heavily to calm himself. “are you saying you’ll leave me? because you know what it’ll cost you, right?” his eyes were darkly starring at you.

— “i’m saying if you plan to be with me for a very long time, get married, have kids and build our own family, you have to stop this.” you said seriously. he clenched his jaw as he balled his fist that was resting at the sink, his eyes were looking at you through the mirror.

— “you know its impossible for me to get out now. once you’re in- that’s it. you won’t get out.” he mumbled, angry. “i want a normal life. where i don’t have to be accompanied by many men, where i won’t always worry at the corner of our room during nights whenever you ain’t home yet.” a tear left your eye as you look straight at him.

— “you have to choose between me or this type of living, heeseung.” you said and turned your back at him. you ignored his groaning tone as he called over to your name over and over.

Park Jay

— you grew up without even meeting both of your parents. it was said that they died because of a dreadful accident and so your uncle, the brother of your father, was left to take care of you.

— it was okay, despite the shortness of financial sometimes, you have nothing else you worry about. not until your uncle was chased by this group of men because of his debt. his own life was in line and so he had no other choice but to sell you as his payment.

— that’s how you end up in the mansion of the family of Nam. its horrible and inhumane, the things they do for a living, but its not like you can do anything about it. you are now one of Mr. Nam’s so called properties.

— he had many business partners, all of them mostly were leader of gangs and other mafia bosses like him. he often takes you at the meeting like a date. he was nice but a bit too old for your liking, you guess he’s more than ten years older than you. good looking, but way older.

— one time, he held a big meeting at his mansion, inviting every mafia family near the town that he knew. you are spending your time inside your room, alone. since its mostly men, Mr. Nam had told you to stay inside instead.

— “what are you doing here?” you asked, a bit surprised when someone entered your room. he’s wearing this black suit that made him look even hotter. his hair was pushed back showing off some of his forehead, he looked so good.

— he smirked, “oh sorry, i was actually looking for the bathroom.” he said obviously lying as one of his hands were inside his pocket, the other one was holding a wine glass. you sighed, trying to calm yourself.

— “you shouldn’t be here, Mr. Park.” you mumbled. you knew him. the oh so notorious Park Jay. a young mafia boss from a couple of towns away from yours. his name is pretty popular as he was a playboy. you’ve also met him a couple of times and he’s nothing but trouble.

— “yeah? and who would stop me?” he asked in a playful tone as he slowly settled the glass of wine at your side table. he walked closer to you in a slow pace, causing for you to be breathless.

— “he w-will kill you.” you said and was about to try and get away but it was too late. he got you locked by one of his arms as he pulled your body close to him, he smirked, eyes fixed at yours. “or it can be the other way around, baby.” he whispered in front of your lips before he leaned closer for a passionate kiss.

Jake Sim

— love is something you take seriously and when you fall in love with someone, you pour everything you have. you’ll do everything for that person and so your world fell apart when your boyfriend for three years betrayed you.

— “how can you do this to me, (name)? i helped you build your company! i gave everything to you!” your voice trembled in pain. you have no idea what you would do if you lose him and the business. but what he did was also unforgiving.

— “its not my fault, y/n.” he said smugly before shrugging off his shoulders. you had followed him to his business trip thinking you can surprise him for your anniversary only to find out he was cheating on you.

— “give me all my money back.” you demanded although you know its impossible because he made you sign papers that you willingly gave him that money. it was a stupid action, you know that now.

— “too late, y/n.” he mumbled with a smirk. a tear fell from your eyes as he stood up and put both of his hands inside his pocket. “don’t you get it? you are left with nothing without me.” he said. and the next thing you know, your bestfriend walked inside, a smirk was also plastered over her lips as she slowly cling her arms over your ex-boyfriend’s arms. “you ready to go, hon?” she seductively ask and you realized they had both betrayed you.

— on your flight on the way back home, you were very scared because this time, you had no one beside you. when the plane was about to take off, you felt your hands tremble in fear. “u-uhm, excuse me?” without hesitation, you had called the attention of the person seating next you. he looked at you with a blank expression.

— “d-do you mind if i hold unto your hand as we take off? its j-just i’m scared of planes and—” he quickly held to your hands silently. his hands were warm and very comforting making you feel like crying. that day was just too much for you.

— you thanked him after it and thought to yourself that it will be the last time you two will meet each other, not knowing that’s only the start of the new chapter of your life.

— “tell me what you want me to do to them, love. anything, just name it.” jake whispered as he stood behind you mightily, hands resting at both of your hips. he leaned down and dropped a warm kiss at your exposed shoulders. you pursed your lips, “i want them left with nothing but scraps.” you said as a tear left your eye.

— “as you wish.” and he dropped a swift kiss at your cheeks before you turn around to embrace him tightly. you used to be weak not until you had found him, jake sim, your new found love that you swear to fight for no matter what.

Park Sunghoon

— you are a normal girl living a normal life. beautiful, have a nice job, and a sweet loving boyfriend. it was almost like you can’t ask for anything else anymore. but one night, as you roam around the city alone, trying to get some fresh air, you didn’t know your life will change from that day on.

— “fucking let me go! don’t you know this is kidnapping?” you yelled at the people who suddenly just abducted you the road and took you at this expensive hotel. they were wearing black suits and don’t talk much, like as if they were waiting for someone to command them.

— you heard the door opened and it revealed some ethereal looking guy. his face was blank and it seems like he’s the one in-charge. you were taken aback for a bit because he was very good-looking. “did you hurt her?” he asked. “no, boss.” they answered.

— he nodded and slowly walked closer to you. if he’s good-looking from afar, he’s breath-taking up-close. he looked so handsome and intimidating. those moles all over his face sure add some charms in him. “i’ve been searching the whole world for you, love.” he softly mumbled before he raised his hand to caress your cheeks carefully like as if you’re something so fragile.

— “fifty men, one girl and yet she managed to escape?” he wasn’t shouting but yet its enough for the men around him to be scared. they knew sunghoon is someone who don’t get mad easily but if he get angry, you should run for your life.

— “search for her or else i’ll kill all of you.” he threatened and right away, they moved to go and look for you. he clenched his fist hardly as he calmed himself and to stop himself from killing his men for letting you escape.

— “let me go! i said let me go!” you shrieked as you try get away from his hold from you. sunghoon clenched his jaw and threw you over the bed. he was slowly loosing all his patience for you. “try to escape once again and i won’t hesitate to do something you won’t like.” he threatened you.

— despite the teared stained face, you still didn’t showed any fear. n “you are a sick asshole, do you know that! fucking let me—” you were startled as he held you by your jaw, brows furrowed hardly at you. “you are mine, y/n. you hear me? fucking mine, all mine.” he mumbled at you.

— “i am not yours. never was and never will be.” you bravely said. you saw how his face reflects anger, his eyes turning blank. “let’s see.” he said coldly before harshly letting go of your face and he stood up. “don’t let her out from this room unless she changes her mind.” he ordered.

— “you keep claiming that you’re doing all of these because you love me but this ain’t love!” you yelled at him that made him stop from his tracks. he slowly turned over you and with cold, blank eyes he says, “i’ll love you the way i want.” before he left the room and you crying in desperation for him to let you go.

Kim Sunoo

— your line of family was all assassins and so you grew up to become one as well. you worked hard and now you are one of the most high-paid assassins in your clan. you were hired to spy this one mafia clan. you had no worries since it was like your usual job. it was the family of Kim, their mafia boss, kim sunoo. it was said that he’s known for being ruthless, his soft features almost made you doubt it.

— you successfully entered their line of people. you thought everything’s going smoothly not until you slowly got close to the mafia boss himself. he was a nice person to the people under his power.

— “where are you heading, boss?” you asked him as he dress himself into this white suit. he looked at you through the mirror and smiled a little. “funeral. one of our men’s wife died and so i will go to offer my condolences.” he mumbled. it had you dumbfounded and made you realized how great of a person he truly is.

— the most unexpected happened and that’s for you to develop something deeper for the said mafia boss. it was wrong because he was nothing but your project, but love is not something you can control. if its bound to be felt, it will take over your heart.

— “we have a traitor, boss.” one of sunoo’s men came over to him to report that news. no emotion can be seen over his eyes as he eyed his men. “kill him with no mercy after you know who he works for.” he said.

— “she, boss. its y/n.” he said and you cannot describe the emotion that was plastered over kim sunoo’s face after he heard about it. his mind went blank and he felt his heart grew cold. of all people, why you?

— “shall i still execute the plan?” the men asked him. he knows he should say yes and give no mercy about it. you are y/n and you may mean the world to him but a traitor is a traitor but no, he tried to convince himself that he had spared you because he will need you to kill the person who sent you.

— “i know i’m in no position to ask you for your trust but—” you were interrupted when a gun was pointed straight at your head. sunoo was in front of you, holding the gun with his emotionless eyes. it pains you, how his used to be bright stares turned cold.

— “believe it or not, i love you.” you said ready to face your death. at least you had said what you truly feels for him. he scoffed, “its too late for that don’t you think? your love for me won’t save you.” he said while starring straight to your eyes.

—“yeah, but it’ll save yours.” and you saw something flickered through his eyes after hearing what you said.

Nishimura Riki

— being born in a family of mafia, things were a lot different for you. guns never feared you. it had became part of your daily life to see men die for your family and for your men to kill other people.

— even in the young age you are trained to learn how to fight and hold guns, your father had decided for it thinking you need it since you are next in line to inherit the family clan.

— “you will never win over me,” you smirked at the young ni-ki as he was still at the ground at one of your combat practices. you were ten that time. he’s ni-ki, son of your father’s best friend. you two basically grew up together and both the one next in line. “one day, i will grow strong and be the one to protect you, y/n.” he said as he slowly get up, dusting himself off. you chuckled, didn’t taking his words seriously, “well, a boy can dream.”

— you can say, you and ni-ki was best of friends. you even do that promises typical best friends do, that ‘nobody can ruin our friendship.’ it was back when you two were just children.

— but things started to get complicated when some of the important things in mafia rules was broken by your own father. trust were broken and loyalty became just a word, greed took over him.

— “you’re gonna kill everyone from their clan?” ni-ki asked his father when he heard that what he’s planning to do. “of course. i don’t need traitors like them, son.” his father said seriously. he clenched his jaw and was silent after that.

— “even y/n?” he asked him. “she didn’t know anything about what her father did, father.” ni-ki added. “maybe. but the blood of that person runs through her. we can’t let them live, right?” his father said.

— ni-ki’s eyes were blank as he starred down at your tied up state. you cannot believe he’s the same ni-ki that was together with you back when you were ten. he changed so much. his height, built and even his aura. he’s so much intimidating right now.

— he crouched down so you two will be in the same level, “i’m here to tell you that i will fight for you.” you scoffed at him even if you felt your stomach turns and heartbeats fasten because of what you just heard. “it will be a bloody fight, ni-ki.” you said.

— he sighed, “then bloody it shall be. if it means you’ll be safe and mine, i’m sure it will be worth it.” he was serious. you gulped, “you’re father will go against you.” you said. he starred straight at your eyes, “if pointing a gun at my father’s head is what it’ll cost. i will not hesitate.” he said as he leaned closer to you, “all for you, baby.”

main masterlist

1K notes · View notes

parksunghoonification · 3 years

Text

Top Ten reasons why I hate You

synopsis. tenacity and spite aren’t really a great combination and Jake Sim knows it well.

word count. around 1800

pairings. jake x afab!reader

genre. kind of enemies to lovers??

warnings. i cursed and i also got bitchy

authors notes. hi everyone! this is the first time I’m posting on this site, hope you’ll like it!! English is not my first language, so let me know kindly if there are some mistakes.

(also i do NOT hate Jake, I actually love him too much, this was just for fun!!!)

Hi, I guess?

Sorry Diary, I haven't done this since third grade, I lost all my magic.

if it was up to me you wouldn't exist, this is all Jungwon's idea.

He said and I quote: "Maybe writing about it will give you some sort of inner piece, or maybe it will help you cope or process. It will do more good than harm, just try it". But then I refused, he clapped back and things got desperate really quickly (he knows exactly what to say and how to act to make me give in). Plus, I'm taking psychology this semester, saying no wouldn't have given me any credibility whatsoever.

So here I am, writing in a hate journal about a stupid frat boy (derogatory) for the sake of my friends' mental health (and also because they all have frequent headaches, pretty sure we are the cause of it).

I would like to start off by saying I am not a “fiery beast escaped from the flaming chambers of Hell”, even if I quite like the epithet (it’s giving Dante’s Inferno). If Jake (the stupid frat boy) was writing these pages, he would have kept that supernatural narrative, going on about how monstrously evil I am. I have a message for that troglodyte: my diary, my money, my story, and I will tell it how I like it (the girlbossification of y/n, we love to see it).

Contrarily to what he thinks (and fuck what he thinks), many say I am a good person, a really good person even.

I always stall Mr Kim when that sleepyhead of Sunoo is late to class (after several years of observing and refining my theory, I finally came to the conclusion that the closer you live to the school, the later you'll arrive), I always patiently help that senior citizen of Heeseung with his electronics (even if I really want to hit him with the TV's remote, because really Heeseung it's not that hard, most buttons have the function written on them, you just have to press them), I always make sure that hot tempered mess of Riki doesn't get himself killed (task that costed me a black eye once), I always end up forgiving every one of my unhinged friends (I can't really stay mad at them for long anyway, how could I? At the end of the day, they're pretty cute).

Unfortunately, like every other human being (except for Taylor Swift, the queen herself) I have a few, totally forgettable, little flaws.

Jay often tells me I might have a teeny, tiny, almost invisible controlling problem (which is actually hot if you ask me), remark I really can't take seriously considering it comes from someone who can't stand being wrong. Heeseung has pointed out a few times that I may not be the most tolerable person when drunk, but I would like to point out to him that I, at least, am extremely predictable (unlike him) since I follow a precise scale of drunkenness that goes from silly dances to uncontrolled and unjustified giggles (I think I am adorable when drunk, Heeseung is a loser for not agreeing with me). Sunghoon never forgets to scold me for being "the biggest bitch ever" to his beloved, Sim Jake (I can't defend myself on this one, he is absolutely right but I will never say this to his face).

The thing is, my friend group still hasn't had the opportunity to grasp on the fact that I am extremely bad at letting grudges go, I hold on to them for as long as I can. I have to admit, it happened to me on several occasions to forget the reasons behind them, but what can I do? Give up? Suddenly change my behaviour? I don’t want people to think I am a crazy, moody bitch, I prefer they think of me as a bitch without any other attribute, I don't really need all that decoration.

I guess you can add to the mix the fact that I am also pretty stubborn. Tenacity and spite aren't really a great combination and Jake knows it well.

To be honest with you diary, I forgot why I hate him so much but he gives me at least one new reason every day to do so.

First of all, he skipped Lady Gaga on the radio. that alone I could have ignored, but after that heretic act he pronounced these precise words, and I quote, "who even enjoys this kind of music", with the most arrogant tone ever. For your information Jake, I do, you little piece of shit.

He also said that Yeonjun is "just okay", and that I was "blowing this out of proportion" by calling him "the most beautiful creature to ever walk on heart". Jealousy is quite a bitch, I guess.

Petty motives, aren't they? Yes, of course. In all sincerity, I just believe me and him are too different to coexist civilly in the same environment. He is always pushing the wrong buttons, the big red ones with "DO NOT TOUCH" written all over. He does this on purpose, I’m convinced. He must not like me too.

To further prove my points, I made a contained list for you, my dear Diary, where I picked the top ten things I hate about Jake Sim (so I can antagonize him and explain why I am right at the same time). I know, I know, just like the movie. I had to pick a number, okay? I could have written for infinity but neither of us have all that time.

Disclaimer: it gets ugly

1. He is legitimately the worst at pranks but he won't give you the same answer if you ask him. He goes either way too small (he once moved every piece of furniture in my apartment by half a centimetre. Spoiler: I didn't notice and he almost went insane) or way too big (he freed a racoon in said apartment that destroyed most of said pieces of furniture. Also, it had rabies).

2. He is the biggest nerd. He picked maths and physics in college and made that his entire personality. Now I might be a bitch, but I am not a monster. I am all for talking about one's passions, but there is a limit, it being my total lack of interest towards Einstein and his stupid clock tower (with all due respect Mr Einstein). I also have unprocessed trauma from high school (it's the teachers' fault if I can't look at numbers without crying). So, no Jake, I am not bad at those, I just happen to despise them as much as I despise you.

3. He tries so bad to understand literature and refuses to accept that he really doesn't. He is extremely factual and he said himself multiple times that he doesn't believe in anything that isn't supported by objective actualities. Stories aren't always rational because human behaviour isn't always rational. He is convinced he can understand literature by using the same approach he uses for Math!!! How unacceptable is that? And that is why you didn't enjoy Wuthering Heights Jake, you tasteless little bitch! (He insults that masterpiece one more time and he is done for).

4. He is a robber, a criminal, an offender. He always steals Riki from me. And do not get me started on Sunghoon! Every time I happen to be alone with them, he approaches with his callous, grabby hands and takes them elsewhere, leaving me all alone. They like me better anyways Jake, get over it!!!

5. He ruins all the pictures. I can't post a group photo because of him. He's always right in the middle (I can't even crop him out and he gets extremely sensitive when I photoshop a celebrity in his place) with his stupid, constipated face. What's with that expression? Who lied to him? I swear his bottom lip will fall out one day from all the biting (I like to think that the doctors will have to use the skin from his ball sack to reconstruct it so that no one will kiss him ever again).

6. He makes me homesick. Layla this and Layla that, he always makes me think about the dog I left at home on the other side of the globe, the family I left behind. I face my personal dilemmas more than I would like because of him and believe me, realizing daily what a shitty daughter and sibling you are isn't ideal. I can't even cheer myself up with Layla, for some reason he is gatekeeping her from me, I have never even seen a picture of her. Scared she will like pick me over you, Sim?

7. I hate when he calls me "baby", "princess", "sweetheart" and other stomach upsetting pet names, mainly because his flirting (at least that's what Sunoo says it is) is pitiful and it gives me a heart attack every two business days.

8. He never worries. "y/n it's just a little coffee", Jungwon never blinked that day, not even once. "Relax y/n, it's chocolate", Riki was high on sugar. "We're at a party, have fun for once baby" Heeseung ended up in a fountain a neighbourhood away from the feast and almost drowned (we had our own little Titanic that night). For the record, I do have a lot of fun Jake, stop calling me an "uptight little princess".

9. That fucker laughs at his own tiktoks, he watches his page for hours on ends and has the audacity of having the time of his life. I wonder how the fuck he still finds deez nuts jokes funny when he hasn't been twelve in a while. If you're thinking "well, that's tragic" and not "he is hopeless" it's because, Diary, you still don't know that he listens unironically to Drake in 2021. Now that is tragic. To all the girls and boys who simp for Jake I just want to say that no, you can't fix him.

10. He makes me feel sort of funny sometimes. I believe it's due to the stress he gives me while Sunoo, on the other hand, is convinced that my hate for him it's "just a cover" for my "romantic feelings" and "that's what's up with your accelerated heartbeat, dumbass".

Let's focus on our last point. First of all, cardiovascular diseases run in the family, the doctor once told me that I am subjected to episodes of heart insufficiency. So, there's that. Second of all, I will never fall for that cretin of Jake sim. What would I even fall for? His outrageous skinny jeans? His stupid hair? That dumb laugh of his?

Now let’s hypothesize that I like him (which I don’t, ew), why would he like me? But this is a conversation for another time.

This was sort of fun, maybe I’ll do this again tomorrow,

Bye bye Diary :)

#enhypen #enhypen reaction #enhypen scenario #jake sim #enha #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enha jake #jake imagines #sim jaeyun #i actually don't know how to use hastags #i promised myself i would have share this #so here it goes

62 notes · View notes

spideyobsessed · 3 years

Text

Before It’s Too Late - Prologue

peter parker x avenger!reader

Synopsis: With all the life changing events taking place, will you ever get to overcome some of your biggest fears?

Chapter one

“Come on, Y/n! Do it for me!” your best friend pleaded.

“I told you not at school! It’s not my fault you went out drinking on a Tuesday.” you scolded Gwen, who is being dramatic as always.

“Please! I’ll give you 5 dollars.” She clasps her hands together and pleads some more as she shoots you a sheepish smile. You let out a sigh and shake your head, knowing you’d give in to her eventually. “How about you just hand over your jello?” You bargain, doubting she even has money with her.

“Deal!” She cheers loudly before groaning and holding her head.

Ignoring your whiny friend, you scope out your area of the cafeteria. Once you were certain there were no eyes on you, you turn back to Gwen, “This is the last time I’m doing this at school.”

“Yeah yeah, just hurry!” She rushes.

You take a deep breath and focus all of your energy towards your hands. You place your fingertips on either side of Gwen’s head, a purple aura radiating from them. As the energy transfers from your fingers to her temples, you watch a wave of relief mask her face.

“Better?” You ask her, the purple already gone from your fingers. “So much better. Bless you, almighty Y/n!” Gwen bows her head and graciously hands you her jello cup. You let out a loud laugh before accepting the treat, “You are ever so welcome, peasant.” She shoves you slightly before joining you in laughter.

“I saw that, ya know?” A third voice suddenly appears.

Your eyes widen when you see who the voice belongs to. Michelle Jones. This girl notices everything and now she’s just seen you use your abilities. So dumb. So careless. How could I let her catch-

“See what, Mj?” Gwen interrupts your panicked train of thought.

The odd girl invites herself to sit at your table. She squints her eyes while looking back and forth between you and Gwen. “I saw how close you guys were just a minute ago. It just seemed like something is going on.” She speaks with subtle confidence, as if she just cracked a big case.

“What? Uh no. Nope. Nothing going on here, that’s crazy talk.” You chuckle nervously. The blonde girl besides you gives you a disappointed look, “Nice save.” You gulp hard and your palms being to sweat.

The secret is out. I’m done for. I’m going to live the rest of my life as a lab rat being poked and prodded every single day-

“I don’t know. Things just seemed kinda... fruity over here.” Your thoughts interrupted once more, this time by Mj and her idiotic comment. She and Gwen begin to laugh as you bury your face in your hands, your nerves settle, thankfully.

“Very funny, very funny.” Gwen manages to say through her laughing fit, “but we all know who Y/n really wants to swap spit with.” she points a finger.

You turn your head, and almost as if it was second nature, your eyes land on the guy you’ve been crushing on since 8th grade year.

Peter Parker.

You feel the heat spreading across your face and you’re sure your pupils are dilated out of this world, but none of it is enough to tear away your gaze. Gwen let’s out a high pitched “Aahh” as she attempts to replicate that of a beautiful church chorus (and does quite the opposite). You’ve learned to tune out your best friend’s theatrical tendencies.

The smallest smile creeps onto your lips as you watch him and his best friend, Ned, laugh and toss grapes into each other’s mouths. Gwen and Mj share a knowing glance before continuing their antics.

Look at him! The way he grabs his stomach when he laughs, the way his eyes crinkle in the corner when he smiles too wide, the way his curls droop over his forehead. He’s perfect... Oh no.

You whip your direction back to the girls next to you, “Is it that obvious? Does everyone really know I like him?” Your nerves return. “You only make it like super obvious, dude.” Mj snorts, stealing a fry from your tray. You sigh and start to pick at your rightfully earned jello.

“Too bad he doesn’t even know I exist.” You grumble, fully and shamelessly basking in your own self pity. “I can fix that,” Mj smirks, “Hey losers! Get over here!” She shouts from across the lunchroom.

She instantly captures the attention of Peter and Ned, who are obviously use to her ever so friendly nicknames, and everyone else in the cafeteria. You make brief eye contact with the curly haired boy and fight the urge to just melt in your seat.

Sweat starts to bead from your forehead as you turn to Mj and whisper harsh words of protests. “Just go with it, Y/n.” Gwen attempts to reassure you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Please please please don’t embarrass yourself, you thought as they approach your table.

“Yes, Mj?” Ned questions her with his eyes squinted. You can tell they’re both worried about what might come out of her mouth. Quite frankly, you are too! Mj has no filter and is too unpredictable.

You try to avoid making eye contact with Peter, which is really hard to do considering he’s standing right next to you. You smell the strong scent of cologne and suddenly your throat is drier than the Sahara Desert. You sit in silence as you fiddle with your fingers.

“You guys know Gwen and Y/n, right?” Mj speaks in her monotone voice as she points a thumb over to you and Gwen.

This brings out a loud chuckle from Ned, “Uh duh! Of course we know Gwen Stacy and Y/n Y/l/n.” You can’t help but tilt your head over to Gwen, who is just as confused as you, but seems to be entertained by the event unfolding before your eyes.

“What Ned means is, uh.. y-yes. We’ve seen you guys around. And totally not in a creepy way or anything. We’re not stalkers. I just mean I’ve seen you pass by my locker. Not that I was looking for you or anything. I-It’s just that- well...um. I’m gonna.. stop there.” Peter finally chimes in with a painfully awkward laugh, but you swear it’s music to your ears.

Mj clears her throat, “Anyway, it’s your lucky day, nerds. Liz is having a party this Friday and these ladies don’t have dates, so you’re gonna take them. Ned with Gwen and Peter with Y/n.”

While Mj sits back and watches in amusement as Peter and Ned take turns stuttering words of confusion and hesitation, you lean over to Gwen, “Are we just going to let her set us up with them?” “Shh. It’s getting good.” Gwen shushes you.

“Well what about you, Mj? Won’t you be like.. the fifth wheel?” Ned asks a pretty valid question.

“As a young woman, I will be attending the party alone because I refuse to contribute to today’s patriarchal society norms.” Mj answers the question, sounding even more serious than you thought was possible.

The four of you are left speechless, none of you really knowing how to respond to that subtly backhanded statement. Mj continues, “They’ll be ready by 8:00 though. So don’t be late.”

“Demanding much? What if we had plans on Friday?” Peter scoffs while crossing his arms over his chest.

“You two have plans on a Friday night that don’t include a lego death star?” Mj mirrors his actions, calling his bluff.

Peter trades a defeated look with Ned and drops his arms. “No.” he sighs. “Good! So like I said, 8 o’clock. You’re dismissed.” Mj asserts before waving them off.

You get a sudden jolt of confidence and shoot Peter a small smile. He gives you one in return as he walks away with Ned.

“Really?!” You slap your hand on the table as soon as you were sure the two boys were out of earshot. “I believe the words you’re looking for are “Thank you, Mj. You’re the best!” but whatever.” The sarcastic girl smiles, obviously satisfied with her ‘leadership skills’, as she likes to call it.

You could just burst with embarrassment, “Oh, I have a few words I want to say, alright.” However, the bell rings before you get the chance.

- - - - -

The final bell of the day had finally rung and you walk to your locker in a slump. You spent the last three hours replaying the impromptu game of matchmaker at lunch over and over again in your head.

I can’t believe Mj pulled that stunt, you thought, but why was he so against it? He probably doesn’t want to go with me.

You absentmindedly put away your books and shut your locker. As you begin to walk towards the exit, you don’t even realize that the boy you’re constantly thinking of was right next to you.

Peter jogs a bit to catch up with you. “Uh h-hey, Y/n.” he says timidly, his voice making you stop dead in your tracks.

Your eyes widen and your legs now feel weak once you realize it’s really him. “Peter, hi!” you practically yell. Don’t seem too excited! You cringe at your eagerness before giving him a more calming, “Hi.”

The two of you chuckle at how awkward you both are. After a few seconds of silence and avoided eye contact, Peter is the first to start a conversation. “So lunch was pretty...” “Interesting?” you finish his sentence. “You read my mind.” He breathes as he looks down at his shoes.

You take this as your chance to apologize for your very bold acquaintance friend’s behavior. “I’m really really sorry about Mj. I had no idea she was going to do any of that. You and Ned don’t have to take us, if you guys don’t want to.” You manage to push out in one breath.

“No, it’s okay! I know how Mj is.” He reassures you with the sweetest smile possible. “I actually came to ask you what you’re wearing on Friday. I wouldn’t want to be underdressed.”

Heat immediately rushes to your face. This is not a drill! Okay, okay. Just breathe. Be cool. “Uhm I really haven’t given it much thought yet.” You tried your best to keep your composure despite the happiness coursing through your body.

“Oh, that’s totally cool!” Peter hesitates for a moment before saying, “Maybe we could, ya know, trade numbers and you can let me know later.”

You nod your head, maybe one too many times. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea.” You tell him, unable to hide the big smile plastered across your face.

The two of you chuckle once again at the awkward, yet somehow endearing, tension as you switch phones.

I can’t believe this is happening.

You can’t help but take notice of almost every little detail.

Peter’s phone has a screen protector, but still has a good sized crack on the top left corner.

There’s several unread messages, emails, and missed calls.

His home screen is a picture of probably the most beautiful sunset you could get in Queens. And oddly enough, the picture looks like it was taken from the very top of one of the skyscrapers.

I wonder how he got this picture.

After taking in as much as you could, you finally put in the 10 digits of your number. You simply put your name in as “Y/n” and locked the phone, handing it back to Peter, who was taking his sweet time.

Once you got back your phone, you see that he did not keep it as simple as you did. He put his contact name as “Peter :)))” and somehow managed to take and upload a contact photo as well. You smile widely at the sight on your screen.

“Awesome! So I’ll... text you later?” You say more as a question, but Peter doesn’t seem to notice this. “Yes, later! Sounds great.” He smiles as he walks backwards in the opposite direction from you.

“Y-yeah, uh, later!” You say as you copy his actions and also begin to walk backwards. “Later.” Peter gives you that smile that you love so much. You quickly turn around before he could see you blush anymore than he already has. Anyone with decent eyesight can see that you ended the day happier than you started it.

Okay, okay. Thanks, Mj.

- - - - -

“Oh what’s that, Peter? You want my number?” You say out loud, reenacting your conversation with Peter just minutes ago. The stares of strangers walking by you go unnoticed because you’re in your own little world, thinking about the boy of your dreams asking for your number!

“I mean sure, but I can’t promise I’ll get to you right away. There’s just SO many people blowing up my phone.” You say with a sigh as you dramatically place the back of your hand to your forehead. Wow, I’ve been hanging around Gwen too much.

You laugh to yourself, and continue your routine trek home until you hear a faint cry. To your right is a little girl, no older than seven years old, sitting on the stoop of these apartment buildings. You take a quick glance around, checking for any adults she might belong to. When you see no one around, you decide to check on her. With caution, you stroll over to where she’s sitting, and it was in this moment that you realize she’s cradling a small kitten.

You crouch down to her level, “Hey, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

The young girl looks up at you with her big, tearful eyes and then back down at the kitten. You let her sniffle a few times and muster up the courage to speak. “It’s my kitty.” her voice cracks, “He’s really sick, but my mom said we can’t go to the vet.”

You look down at the poor cat. His fur is matted, his breathing is labored, and he looks as if he hasn’t been eating. You can’t help but pity the both of them.

She can barely finish her sentence before breaking down again. Instinct kicking in, you start to rub small circles on her back in order to comfort her, “Don’t cry, don’t cry. I can help him!” The child instantly perks up.

“How are you gonna do that?” She questions skeptically while simultaneously placing the small creature in your hands.

You flash a smug smile before wiggling your fingers in front of her face. “With magic.” You whisper. The little girl’s eyes sparkle as she gazes upon the purple aura beaming from your hand.

You had no problem showing off your abilities to children. With their hyperactive imaginations and short attention spans, they don’t pose a threat when it comes to exposing your secret.

Finally turning your attention to the sickly kitten once more, you press your index and middle finger to its stomach. Just as it did with Gwen earlier today, the purple energy moves from your fingers and onto the kitten. It only takes a few seconds for the cat to spring out of your hands and back to its tiny owner, moving with full strength and purring happily.

The little girl gasps in pure amazement as she picks up her cat and squeezes it to her chest. “Thank you so much! I love magic now!” She squeals, a hint of sparkle still in her eyes.

You let out a lighthearted laugh and ruffle her already messy hair a little bit. “Sure thing, hun. You take good care of him!”

“I will, I will!” She smiles brightly before rising to her feet. “Mommy, mommy! Spiderman feels better now!”

and with that, the little girl disappears through the door.

Did she really name that cat Spiderman?

You roll your eyes and shake your head before carrying on.

- - - - -

“Alice, I’m home- woah. What the hell is this?” You spit in shock at the sight in front of you.

Your Aunt Alice walks up to you and gently pulls you through the doorway. She lets out a loud over exaggerated laugh, “Y/n, we have a guest! Don’t be rude when we have a billionaire in our house.” She whispers the last part to you.

“Uh- right! My apologies. I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” You walk up to the clean cut man with an outstretched hand.

He whips his sunglasses off of his face and you immediately feel ten times more intimidated and a hundred times more confused. He pushes himself off of your couch and steps in front of you.

The man placed his firm hand in yours and gives you a subtle shake, “I know who you are, kid. I’m Tony Stark.”

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The next part!

Okay guys that’s the end of the introduction chapter!! I hope you guys like it! I’m sorry it’s everywhere right now, but it’ll start making more sense as it goes on, like most stories do.

I’m open for some feedback!! Let me know if the chapter was too long or too short. Maybe it could use more dialogue or less dialogue. Whatever you have in mind, just please be nice!! I haven’t written a story like this since I was like 15 so I might be a little rusty. If you’re still here, thank you for reading this far!!

edit: Sorry for any typos!!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #steve rogers #spiderman #spiderman: far from home #spiderman: homecoming #tom holland x reader #tom holland #sebastian stan #avengers x reader

381 notes · View notes

sunnyoldbear · 3 years

Text

Luca Headcanons Part 3!

I can’t fucking stop please someone help me

Luca:

All seamonsters have a lot of fish qualities and different sea monsters take on different fish qualities, even within a family.

While Luca isn’t as equipped to handle the deep as his uncle is, his father does have some traits that would help him out. Luca doesn’t know this, but he can survive deeper pressure than most others can. Like, significantly deeper, but not to the point of the Deep. He’s have to get accustomed to it and he might not have even survived.

His species can also echolocate! He also doesn’t know he can do this even though it’s from his mom’s side. He just thinks he clicks and squeaks when he’s happy, he doesn’t know he can also echolocate. Since, again, he hasn’t been to the Deep, the ability is very diluted and he can’t locate things very far but… he can, if he tries hard enough. He won’t, though, cause he just thinks his clicks and squeaks are just that.

He loses his shit when he finds out about dinosaurs. He loves them.

If you even mention a museum he will practically beg to go and he will be in there from opening to closing and still come back for more. He takes in every bit of information he possibly can

He doesn’t flip people off, he just sticks his tongue out

Cloud watches! He thinks it’s cute :)

Is cold blooded. They found this out when he passed out in the middle of class one day during the winter. Winter months are very hard for him at school because of it, so he treasures the break and stays under a bunch of warm blankets.

Talks with his hands a lot

One day when he was swimming to the surface after seeing his family, a fisherman who wasn’t too approving of sea monsters tossed their harpoon at him. It grazed his arm and it hurt like hell, but he still tried to hide it. Of course, since he was clutching his arm and there was blood between his fingers, the Marcovaldos panicked and healed him tot he best of their ability, but Luca simply smiled, turned to Alberto, and said “look, we match now!” (If you see Alberto standing beside Luca so that their scarred arms touch since they’re on opposite arms, no you didn’t)

He finds out about bubble wands and thinks they’re the coolest thing!

Avoids every kid named “Bruno” at school like the plague because he doesn’t want them to think he hates them

Whenever something cool happens he instinctively turns to tell Alberto and his face drops when he doesn’t see him

Definitely the kid to accidentally say “mom” (and)or “I love you” to a teacher and then stare in horror

Grabs Alberto’s arm, wrist, or hand when they’re doing something together if he’s not grabbed first just so they don’t lose each other. It’s just instinct.

Once sobbed for an hour because he saw a dead frog in a pool

Falls asleep if his hair is played with

Still gets made fun of for smelling like fish but due to being a fish he can’t really bathe so Giulia and her mom just spray him with perfume. It makes him feel better.

Forgives Guido and Ciccio with no hesitation, will never forgive Ercole. In fact, he’s terrified of Ercole.

Technically canon, but he is the biggest mama’s boy. She learns from her mistakes and fixes her relationship with him and he becomes super close to her

Only lets those close to him call him “Bubble” like his grandma does

Loses his mind when he sees fireflies

He keeps his hair pretty short

Refuses to eat fish

Is more of a prey fish

That being said, he develops a few survival markings, such as a spot on one of his fins to look like eyes

For some reason I feel like he’d be like clownfish and be able to swim through anemone without getting zapped

Was never good at making friends. The Branzino kid often tried to befriend him but he was too scared of disappointing his parents since Daniela and Mrs. Branzino don’t get along

Wears a seashell anklet

His grandma taught him to read secretly when he was little

Never stops talking. Never.

In class, he’s always the kid raising his hand, even if he doesn’t know the answers, just because of his eagerness

Calls Alberto all the time, more than he calls his family

Carries Alberto’s drawing with him everywhere. Used to be in his pockets and then transferred to his wallet.

Is definitely more of a writer than an artist! With his vivid imagination he can write for days, and Alberto is more than happy to draw them out for him

Lets his hair grow out a bit towards the end of his final school year. The stress of school means he doesn’t quite care for his appearance

Can’t sit still. When he’s at school he’s always fiddling with something but when he’s in Portorosso he just grabs Alberto’s hand and plays with his fingers

Definitely a teacher’s pet

Gets bullied a lot. You can’t expect the world to just be okay with sea monsters overnight. A lot of the world will never accept him. There are kids that make his life a living hell at school.

As much as he loves school, he aches to be free sometimes

Gets super flustered super fast

Sits at Alberto’s side and talks about anything and everything and Alberto will sketch it

His scales are more like a duck’s water-resistant feathers. Water rolls right off.

Loves taking Nerone for walks

Definitely wears skirts and dresses in secret! He just thinks they’re neat :)

Loves romance movies but will never admit it

Literally bites his tongue to hold back from rambling. Giulia and Alberto constantly have to tell him it’s okay and he can talk all he wants, but he’s bullied so often for talking too much that he still holds back if he catches himself

Alberto:

Similar to a Betta Fish! His kind of sea monster aren’t known for bonding well and tend to fight.

When healthy, his scales are long and gorgeous just like a Betta’s! (Giulia is mesmerized by them)

You know how dolphins get high with puffer fish? It’s not just dolphins.

His teeth are a little sharper than most other sea monsters. Yes, he bares them at Ercole every time they see each other. No, he won’t stop

Definitely the “he ask for no pickles” friend

No one knows what he’s talking about half the time except for Luca, Giulia, and (sometimes) Massimo. They just kinda go with it.

Has his own words for everything. Only Luca and Giulia know what he means.

He’s actually super, duper close to Giulia, but they do fight pretty often. They’re siblings.

Likes to put his hat on Luca

Everyone thinks he’d be a bad flirt/get flustered super easily but the opposite is true! He’s a big flirt! He just knows what to say to make others fluster around him! Even if he’s not into you, if your his age or he’s trying to charm you, he’ll flirt up a storm. Living on your own from such a young age means you need to pick up survival tactics, and charm and streetsmarts were the ones he picked up.

Sometimes he faces small boats he sees just for the fun of it

He also sometimes grabs a rope or a net from Massimo’s boat when they’re fishing and just zooms to land to get them there quicker

Loves playing games with the kids when he’s on lifeguard duty, even if it can get him in trouble with his boss

You better bet he makes fun of those school uniforms. He laughs his ass off. He thinks they’re the funniest things.

If he sees or hears even a hint of danger, he is shoving his loved ones behind him and will protect them with his life.

Prefers to be barefoot

Heals surprisingly fast. Something about them fish genes.

When he’s fifteen he jokingly tells Luca he should become a teacher and then Luca’s eyes get all big and excited and Alberto regrets opening his mouth. But he still supports him every step of the way.

Whenever he hears Luca click or chirp, he calls out for him if he’s a distance away or grabs his hand since he recognizes it as echolocation before Luca does

More of a predator fish

Keeps his hair long and growing

I think he’d probably grow a mustache. Giulia hates it so much which is why he keeps it. Okay, he kept it to annoy her, but then he actually started to like it. But when Luca said he liked it, that solidified it

He’s so strong it’s kinda scary. Definitely stronger than the average fisherman, but was stronger even beforehand.

Sometimes just eats fish live and terrifies those around him

He’s super fast! Since he’s based on a tuna or swordfish, he’s pretty quick

Unlike Luca, he’s warm blooded. So when he heard Luca has to keep really warm during winters, he offers most of his clothes

His father abandoning him may seem cruel, but for his kind of sea monsters, it was what had to happen. Still, Alberto is a child and it shouldn’t happen.

Mainly a night eater

Can see further than most of his fishy friends

Good night vision too!

Was taught to read and write as a kid by his father but it’s not perfect so he asks Massimo to do it

Loves playing cards

Fins are sharper than average

Squishes Luca’s cheeks

Sword fights with Giulia except they’re sticks

Whenever Luca falls asleep on him (often), he just stays still and refuses to move

Scoops Luca up sometimes

Grabs Luca’s face and blows raspberries instead of kissing it. (Can be interpreted as platonic or romantic!! Italians kiss on cheeks as greetings)

Protectively wraps his tail around those he loves

Water clings to him a bit more since his built-for-speed scales are less water repellent

Every year he gets scared Luca won’t return

Paints the Hideout to look like Luca’s dream fish-stars after he’s told about it. The ceiling, anyway. Don’t ask how he did it, no one knows.

Changes his last name to Marcovaldo

Thinks pet fish and aquariums are hilarious and will poke fun at the fish (“haha, losers! No freedom!” “Alberto!” “What?!”)

LOVES DINOSAURS

He and Luca share a bed when Luca comes over!

The Vespa poster hangs in his room on his door

Calls Luca’s nightlights “light fish” as a nod to stars

Has Giulia and Luca’s names tattooed onto him because they’re his best friends

Tried to take Caligola and Machiavelli on walks… yeah that goes as well as you think

Giulia:

Is a fast reader

Isn’t a massive poetry fan but does have a few favorites

Also keeps a few drawings from Alberto in her folders

Also scoops Luca up randomly

Can and will bite you

Wears dresses as much as she does shorts

Ties her hair up when serious

Rubs her nose against her family’s as a sign of love. It’s just something she did as a kid, so sometimes she’ll just rub her nose against Alberto’s and he gets really confused

Is low key a little jealous of her brother and best friend being sea monsters

Is a bit of a builder! She makes a bridge from her room to the treehouse

Rarely starts fights with Alberto, but she’ll sure finish them

Half regrets teaching Alberto to swear

Though she seems pretty calm, she’s gotten into her fair share of fights at school. Mainly punches kids who bully her and/or Luca. Also sexists.

Although this is 1950/60s Italy, I imagine she’d be very accepting of homosexuality and not hide it, even if rumors of her being one start spreading and she gets hurt. She has a strong sense of justice and she doesn’t care about consequences.

She’s the only person allowed to make fun of Alberto. No one else is. She’ll quite literally attack anyone who dares.

Her parents were surprised she didn’t take after them in fishing or painting

Honestly I can see her mentoring the kids for the race every summer! Once she hits 18 and is no longer able to compete, she holds practice sessions and loves seeing the kids have fun

She definitely runs the race when she’s older. She moves to Portorosso since her marine biology career is helped by her sea monster brother and the town’s closeness to water

Teaches the boys to make sandcastles

Holds such strong resentment for Alberto’s father and Daniela. Lorenzo and Luca’s grandmother she’s fine with, but Alberto’s biological father abandoning him pisses her off more than she can put into words, and Daniela manipulating her son and sending him away makes her want to break something.

Her “santa (cheese)!” comments slowly change into “Santa (fish)!” exclamations. Like, “Santa Goby!” for example.

Is more close to Alberto than he wants to let people know. She can read him like a book. He’s honestly her best friend. She tells him everything, they go to each other after nightmares, they share everything, all the fun cute stuff that Alberto would rather die than admit.

Still has no idea what “Silenzio Bruno” and “Piacere, girolamo trombetta” mean and at this point she’s too afraid to ask

Though she loves the Portorosso kids, she’d rather die than be a mother. Her parents understand, but secretly hope she changes her mind so they can spoil a grandbaby.

Begs Massimo to coverup his sea monster tattoo, which he does

Also a “he ask no pickles” friend!

Is super patient with Luca and Alberto’s adaption to the human world (though she doesn’t like it when Alberto shoves his feet on her-which he loves to do because it pisses her off)

Secretly saves money up for the boys to get a Vespa

While she isn’t the best cook, her pasta meals are pretty damn good!

Has the trophy from the Cup in her room next to a picture of the three of them on the Vespa

#Luca #luca movie #pixar luca #Luca Paguro #Alberto Scorfano #Giulia Marcovaldo #luca headcanons

73 notes · View notes

pridewhatpride · 3 years

Note

do you have any gx rivalshipping hcs!! im super curious on your take of them :]

When I saw this ask my immediate reaction was thinking: "Yes, I have an excuse to talk about gx rivalshipping, YES."

So yeah. I love this ship a lot, like a whole damn lot and it's a little hard to explain why, especially when gx has so many open possibilities for romances involving Judai. By which I mean two, really, and Manjoume is not one of them (sadly for me). I am referring to Yubel and Johan, by the way, I refuse to acknowledge Asuka as a love interest.

I'll start off with a bit of fluff headcanons?

Manjoume thinks Winged Kuriboh is really cute and that its friendly and fluffy appearance screams Judai, in a way. But he will never admit it because of what that might imply for him and the Ojamas.

Manjoume is fueled by caffeine and monster, he only really starts to recognise how nice it can be to have a meal because of how much Judai enjoys his food. He tries to sit at the table with him with dumb excuses.

Judai feels a bit guilty for how his actions impacted Manjoume's life, but Manjoume generally tells him that it's fine, it's better this way, that he's never this happy, that the only reason why Judai should maybe feel bad about it is because of his tendency to get overly invested in other people's problems and getting hurt in the process. Judai responds with bear hugs.

Manjoume brags about Judai a lot, actually. "Oh you think that's cool? One time Judai managed to do a backflip, you loser." "Slifer reds suck, but they do have redeeming qualities, by which I mean one of them is actually good."

Judai likes to indulge himself in the thought that he's Manjoume's most trusted, that he's the only one who could ever be allowed to have that many incriminating pictures of him. Because Judai just loves taking candid pictures of Manjoume. He thinks he looks and and cool in every situation, so yeah. A part of him does it because he has an inexplicable fear of forgetting people and the way they look, but he just can't say why that is.

They hang out in silence a lot, but once they start talking they just never stop. You'll find them on the beach at 3 am with a smiling Manjoume listening to Judai go on about how crazy it is that you can fry food in so many different ways and how he once caught a butterfly as a kid and named it Kujaku.

They share their music a lot, so Manjoume's tastes switch from just emo to fast paced rap and the weirdly happy sounding songs about very morbid things Judai listens to (plus emo). Judai starts to enjoy a bit of angry screaming into microphones thanks to Jun. Do they sing along like idiots as they share earphones? Yes. Is Manjoume mesmerised by Judai's singing voice? Also yes.

Judai loves hiking and sometimes invites Manjoume, but because he's a lot weaker and has less stamina, they take it slow. Manjoume keeps cursing himself for being slow and dead weight, but Judai is just happy to have a companion. Admittedly, going slower makes the walks better as he has the time to enjoy the scenery properly. He never teases Jun about his lack of physical training.

Now... I wanted to talk about my general view on the ship, plus headcanons I guess, but this is going to be EVEN LONGER (you are getting more than you asked for, your fault for enabling me, really). For the sake of the sanity of mobile users, I'm adding a cut so nobody has to unwillingly scroll through endless text.

On to the the juice, then. My thoughts on the ship. Manjoume and Judai are, of course, the rivals of the series and, if my thoughts on rivalry weren't clear enough, I am one of those people. It's just really romantic to me. What is very interesting about the two of them specifically is that they are polar opposites in the way the reason why they play, throughout the whole series. Hell, their views end up getting reversed completely: Manjoume goes from "if I don't win I'm gonna have a breakdown breakdown" to "losing is ok, as long as I enjoy the game and am true to myself", while Judai does the 180 from "I really just love playing cards with my friends, who cares about the outcome, it's fun" to "I have card game related trauma, nobody speak to me, games are only an excuse to assert a sort of power scale and honestly fuck that".

Manjoume is sort of the only person in the 'friend group' (he's never actually part of it, sadly, literally only Judai and Fubuki like him) to not idolise Judai, not explicitly. He clearly has an admiration for Judai from the beginning, but he is adamant on expressing it as hatred towards for being better than him. A part of me feels that a lot of his superior act is meant to try and fool himself and Jaden into thinking that he's a worthy rival, because I know for a fact that Manjoume doesn't believe that. He wants it to be true, yes.

What I am trying to get at is that Judai is probably a little confused by the fact that Manjoume doesn't drool all over him like the rest of the school does, but it soon becomes a crutch. Judai is under a lot of pressure because he is the hero who will save everyone and people like to remind him of how much they count on him. Manjoume is in it for Judai. He wants to be acknowledged by him, he wants his recognition and his attention, but he never asks for help or expects Judai to fix his problems for him. Judai is probably thankful for that.

Manjoume is also really scared of being left behind and cast aside as soon as he stops being useful and that's exactly what the writers do to him!!! hooray!, but Judai keeps insisting that he's not a bad guy, that he's fun to be around, that he's competent. Manjoume doesn't really believe all that that much, but Jaden keeps playing him despite his repeated losses and to Jun that's the equivalent of someone kissing his tears away. Manjoume only learns to accept his losses and shortcomings because Judai did it for him first.

So basically Manjoume is the only one who fully sees Judai as a person, while Judai is the only one who is really willing to look past his pretentious facade. I fully believe that Judai was relieved to learn that Manjoume was not just a perfect boy with perfect manners, by the way. They both just love to learn about every imperfection that the other has and silently thinking that they just add to the beauty of the other's character. Will they tease eachother about it? Fuck yes. Do they feel awful when the other tries to fix something about themselves because they pointed it out? Also fuck yes.

They are in a dumb competition against themselves to be better in order to earn the right to be friends with eachother, but because they are fucking dumb they never actually communicate (until they do), so for a long time it's endless pining that is definitely not gay because admittedly Judai just doesn't think that dating is a thing, while Manjoume is straight™, really straight. He has never liked a boy in his life, he's so very fucking straight, I swear.

So Manjoume is a bisexual disaster (and in my headcanon he prefers boys, actually, the Asuka incident is the biggest example of denial™ ever. He prefers Fubuki, fight me over this). The problem is that he never really considered he might be crushing on Judai, but at the same time admitting to maybe liking boys too means that there was more to wanting to stay at DA, to hanging out with Judai's crew despite their mutual dislike, to his continuous playful headlocks and ear pulling. To add onto that, there is probably a certain amount of guilt over having betrayed that bond with Judai by trying to throw away his cards and everything. Judai, on the other hand... is confused at how bothered he is by the public declarations of love, because Manjoume is his rival and rivals are supposed to focus on eachother, not on some girl, no matter how good said girl is at card games.

So maybe they are a bit gay for eachother. And maybe they just want excuses to be together as much as possible. And it's really just the vibe of highschool romance between two people who don't want to admit to caring for one another on a deeper level, but are also weirdly possessive of eachother for no apparent reason. And I think I'll stop here with my gay retelling, but really if you look at the two of them you do see that they do a lot for eachother's characters. It's kind of beautiful, really. They are the two socially inept characters who find comfort in someone being just like them and understanding them as they change and grow up.

I have a lot to say about how that changes once the transfer students come in, but I think I've bored everyone for long enough- as in nobody will read this lol. That's ok. I thank you again for the ask and for allowing me to gush about this ship that is so close to my heart. If anyone ever wants to talk about them, just. Do. Break into my house at night and I still won't mind, I just want to talk about them.

#shut me up #i'm so sorry #i started and i couldn't stop #i also didn't want to be disappointing by giving an half-assed response #i've thought about this ask all night #i still improvised the whole thing and i'm sure you can tell #yugioh #ygo #yugioh gx #ygo gx #gx rivalshipping #manjoume jun #jun manjoume #chazz princeton #yuki judai #judai yuki #jaden yuki

66 notes · View notes

mahixa · 3 years

Text

so @maxricciardo messaged me earlier today and maybe possibly probably inspired me to write this cute, fluffy lestappen fic. Listen, she’s great and she deserves to read something nice and comforting about Max after today’s race. And for any of you searching for something sweet and a short fic about the boys being happy together - I hope you will enjoy it as well.

You can read it on ao3 [HERE]

ship: lestappen

word count: 1734

fluff. It’s fluff. Boys kissing. Fluffity fluff. Let there be fluff. Max realises his feelings for Charles and thinks Charles is pretty. We all agree with Max.

The interviewer is someone Max has never seen before during their press conferences. He looks like he could live and survive on drama alone. Beastliness shines dangerously in his eyes and the way he tilts his head before he asks Max the question indicates deviousness.

Max doesn’t like this at all.

“So, Max,” his voice is obnoxious already. “We all know how painfully honest you can be. Let me ask you about Charles Leclerc.”

Something stings Max’s chest. It has been difficult couple of days for Charles, with his bad last racing weekend and a lot of family burden going on right now. The Monegasque, if asked about it, would kindly state that everything is fine and there is nothing to worry about.

But Max knows Charles and he is aware when things become too much for him. And it’s obvious that Charles has his ups and downs. Should anyone be surprised by that? No one. And yet the media keep doing what they do best – they wait for the smallest mistake, the tiniest inconvenience, and they dig deep into the topic. They remind Max of vultures, always ready to find a person during their weak moments and portray such person as the biggest victim possible. A loser. Rend their vulnerable skin and make them bleed for the sake of the headline. Pain them black and white.

For the media everything is zero to one. You either win, or you lose. You drive or you crash. There’s no in between.

And Charles is sitting right next to Max during this press conference, and Max can feel him switching his position uncomfortably as they both hear the begging of question.

“Charles seems to like creating controversy,” the man states the biggest lie Max has heard in a while and dares to continue speaking. “And recently he has been loosing his nerves in the most crucial moments. He is, let’s say, not good under pressure these days. Does it even make him a good driver then?”

Something boils inside Max.

“Does any of it have something to do with the upcoming date of Charles’ father’s death? Should Charles continue to drive during this weekend, or is he a threat to others? Clearly he might be, with his mental condition.”

The conference room goes completely silent.

Max doesn’t take his eyes off of the interviewer. He doesn’t even blink. His gaze must look dangerous enough for everyone to make them to look at him and the man multiple times, anticipating the answer. Max lifts his chin defiantly and squints, and it sends unspoken fulmination all across the room. Someone clears his throat nervously.

“You know,” Max starts, joining his hands together. “I think it takes some fucking audacity to come to this room and say such things about one of the greatest driver of this generation.” Someone gasps in the room and everyone lifts their cameras up. “So you come here, and you have your confidence, and well. You have to be confident, for sure, to ask such dumb questions and state such idiotic statements, clearly not understanding what does it mean to be a normal human in this sport, having better and worse days. So no. Charles is more than the questions about his father, he is more than your silly cheap mind games and neither him, or me, will waste our time on you. And he will drive with us on Sunday. He’s the best person out there when it comes to mental strenght and he doesn’t deserve such crap from the media. So shut up. Next question,” he finishes and points at another man.

His heart is beating incredibly fast and he can hardly hear another question. His mouth is dry, palms sweaty and his legs bouncing nervously.

He does his best to ignore Charles’ stunned look on his face and Lewis’ dropped jaw.

When Max comes back to his hotel room he is exhausted and doesn’t really know why. He has dealt with stupid interviewers on more than one occasion by now, and he thinks he should be able to handle this situation better. Not that he regrets saying what he said.

He just doesn’t know why it caused such him such an emotional response.

Before he can think about it more, there’s a soft knock on the door and there’s only one person who knocks like that.

“Come in, Charles.”

Charles’ smile is small and almost timid, as he enters the room and then looks around. Max smiles to himself, observing a very awkward Charles. As if he wasn’t here yesterday to see the room. And the day before.

“I, eh,” he starts, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to say thank you, Max.”

Max doesn’t know how to react to his cheeks which turn bright red.

Charles has always been like that. Like that? So like what? Max thinks, forcing himself to finally understand what he has been feeling for so long, searching in his head for the best word to describe the other man.

Lovely. Charles has always been quite lovely, he admits to himself.

That describes Charles pretty well, actually. And now Max thinks about all those moments they shared together, from the early karting days too. Their fights and arguments when they were children, and Charles coming to check on Max after their races. Bringing him his home-made cookies or lemonade, and thanking Max. Or saying he is sorry. And these confessions were always a bit clumsy, always a bit awkward, but the words were always there. Charles might not always look the most confident during moments like this, but he always is there. Ready to speak and be tender when other people hide themselves and run away from confrontation. Charles is ready to say the things Max is often unable to.

Today’s press conference was different, though. It was the first time Max said so many things about Charles. In a room full of people, on top of that – people who were paying attention to his every word. Wasn’t that rather stupid, to go off like that? But that question has to be one of the dumbest and most arrogant he has heard in a long while. And it was about Charles.

No one should ever talk about Charles like that.

Not about Charles. How dare they? Have they ever seen the way he drives? The way he trains? How he can stay under pressure? The way he achieves his goals and keeps his cool even in the most stressful moments?

Have they seen the way Charles smiles? The way he rolls his eyes when he sees something silly or the way he wrinkles his nose when he laughs, but truly, truly laughs? Have they seen the way Charles can’t cook or dance, but he likes to do these things and it makes it even more enjoyable to observe him?

And what about the way Charles sleeps, with his lips slightly parted and his strong chest moving up and down? Or the way he gets excited over the stupidest TV programs Max doesn’t understand, but doesn’t mind when Charles asks him to watch them together, already too fascinated by the way Charles comments on things? And the way he plays the piano. The way he chooses songs and hums to himself when he plays.

The way he sneezes and then apologizes for it. The way Charles can assemble furniture from IKEA, and refuse to use any instruction, but somehow his chaotic energy helps him manage? And Max knows how it looks like.

Because Charles helped him with his furnitures.

Charles has always been there. When Max was sick and didn’t want to take any pills, Charles was there. Brining him his mum’s soup and talking how much he likes the fact that they both live in Monaco now. And when Max got completely wasted in one of those bars they like to go to, it was Charles who helped him get clean from all the unpleasant post-party aspects of the night. And he didn’t complain. He didn’t make a sound. He took off Max’s clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, and helped him shower. He made sure Max made it to bed and he placed a glass of water on his bedside table.

Charles was there when Max won his most important races and he was there to celebrate it with him. He was there when Max argued with his father and when it all looked like a lost cause. He was there to rub soothing circles on Max’s back with his gentle hand and embrace him with his soft voice.

And he always says “thank you” and “I’m sorry” when other people could never do it, for different reasons. Charles has always been brave and able to rise above others. Be a bigger person.

Charles is kind and lovely.

And so damn handsome.

It all makes Max’s head dizzy. The realisation of his feelings washes over him and he has to grab the chair not to stumble. What now?

Charles looks beautiful in his blue hoodie, messy hair and his confused smile. He looks way too soft to remain reasonable or sensible about this.

“Those things you said during the press conference, did you mean them?” he asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Max nods, coming closer to Charles who doesn’t move away. His eyes are focused on Max’s and he licks his lips.

“I meant every word,” Max says, his voice becoming almost a whisper, as he moves even closer and cups Charles’ face with his hand. “Jesus, Charles.”

Charles closes his eyes at the contact and breathes in through his nose. He looks stunning and Max is mesmerised.

“Kiss me,” Charles whispers, not opening his eyes. “Please.”

Max feels like melting. He slowly cups Charles’ face with both his hands.

“Look at me,” Max whispers back, and when Charles opens his eyes slightly, Max places a kiss on Charles’ forehead.

Then on his cheek. And then the other.

And then they kiss. They kiss and kiss and kiss, Charles’ arms around Max’s shoulders and Max’s hands on Charles’ waist. It’s the softest thing to kiss Charles, his lips eager and opened and lovely, lovely, so, so lovely, and warm.

Max moves them around the room so Charles can fall on the bed, and as soon as he does, Max climbs on top of him. The way Charles’ reaches out for him, the way he holds him closer, kissing him harder and deeper – that definitely goes on top of “the different ways of Charles Leclerc” list Max has made.

And Charles is beautiful under his touch, and he glows like a golden, Autumn sun, and he sounds like the softest, warm melody.

“I meant every word,” Max says between kisses and touches, between moans and sighs. “Every word.”

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #fic #f1 fic #enjoy!!#my fic

70 notes · View notes

lorata · 3 years

Note

Have you written any peacekeeper-volunteer!Emory that you’d be willing to share? The idea of this au makes me so excited!

I have only written the Reaping and I honestly can't remember if I posted it before, but I tried to search for it and couldn't find it, so -- here it is

*******

It still feels weird, standing with her classmates at the Academy instead of the cluster of kids in the Program, but the second year isn’t so bad. This year at least Emory is solidly at the top of her beginner class, not floundering lost in the detox dorms, and it’s easier not to think of herself as a failure now that she has a proper career path in front of her.

This year it’s not about flunking out of the Program and what will her parents think and how can she look anyone in the eye again with a pale strip around her wrist from where they took the Centre bracelet away. This year Emory isn’t number one but that doesn’t matter at the Academy, it’s not like the Centre where there’s one position and everyone else is a loser, at the Academy there are tiers and she’s up with the best of them and there’s no more fears about whether or not she’s flashy enough or pretty enough or what weapon suits her physique or can she withstand a full shot of tracker jacker venom without losing her mind in a messy, non-photogenic way.

This year Emory is eighteen years old — nineteen in August — and her instructors at the Academy tell her that with her scores she could work anywhere in Two if she wants to, and maybe even the Capitol. This year there’s possibility, and the road ahead might not be what she thought it would but maybe that’s okay.

This year Emory is not going to die. This year another girl — a girl Emory has trained with since they were little more than children — may very well die so Emory doesn’t have to. It’s Emory’s last Reaping, and after next month she’ll go back to classes like normal and there will either be one more female Victor or one more corpse in District 2.

It’s a sobering thought, and they told Emory at the Academy that she doesn’t have to watch but she told them she has to and they didn’t fight her on it. Some things you have to do.

Emory doesn’t dwell on the fact that it could have been her, if she’d worked a little harder, been a little more convincing, if she’d put more effort into the acting part of her Field Exam and not focused so much on staying alive and sane. That part of her life is over, and she refuses to make what is statistically likely to be another girl’s death into a relief simply because it could have been her.

It always could have been her, anyway. Volunteering in District 2 is a privilege, not a right, and one the Capitol could withdraw any time. It’s a mistake going into any Reaping thinking that safety is a foregone conclusion. Emory’s first fistfight happened the year of the first Reaping she was old enough to understand, when a group of boys were snickering and not paying attention to the ceremony. She hadn’t made a scene during, of course, but as soon as the doors closed and everything ended Emory launched herself at the biggest boy and punched him right in the nose.

(The Peacekeepers broke it up almost immediately, and of course the boy was from the merchant class and his mother tried to have Emory dragged away to the juvenile mines, but when the Peacekeepers heard why she attacked they let her go and warned the woman to teach her son some respect. Emory got a hair ruffle and a friendly knock to the shoulder from the officers, and one of them even slipped her a piece of candy he had in his pocket.)

It won’t be her but Emory pays attention through the whole ceremony anyway, the speeches that always take forever and the movie that’s overdramatic and always gives her that itchy feeling of second-hand embarrassment for the actors. She watches in silence as the escort calls the name of the boy, and swallows hard but keeps her expression mostly steady when she recognizes Byron as he takes the stage.

They keep the boys separated from the girls for the most part after thirteen, but Emory’s fought with Byron a few times and knows him well enough. He’s a good sort, a quarry boy like her with the arms to prove it, and he’d done the Program for the money but because he had a temper that exploded out of nowhere and didn’t disappear until he’d broken something, or someone. He’ll do well in the Arena, not much in the way of surprises with him but the Capitol likes to know what they’re getting.

Emory keeps up the semi-detached analysis of his chances until he grins at the crowd with a fierceness that makes the escort twitter and pretend to shy away, and that’s when Emory can’t stop thinking that Byron likes blueberries better than any other food. After his first kill he got a whole bowl of them, laden with cream and two heaping spoonfuls of sugar, and he never ate another one again as long as Emory had known him.

Emory shivers, and there’s a sick weight in her stomach that doesn’t go away no matter how many times she swallows and takes deep breaths, but this isn’t about her. Byron chose this, he trained his whole life for it, and it’s not Emory’s place to feel bad for him. He’s getting what he wants, and that’s more than some people can say.

(But still — well, still.)

The escort calls the girl next, and Emory holds her breath. The girl called looks about fourteen or fifteen, a pretty little thing with dark hair pulled into pigtails and tied with ribbons, and she’s got a plain blue dress with hand-stitched lace at the collar. She’s also terrified in a way that the first boy — only thirteen or thereabouts, but quarry-proud and determined before Byron called out — was not, and that marks her as merchant more than the shoes or her slender build.

Emory waits — the escort waits — the whole square waits, but nothing happens. The escort calls for volunteers, even, the closest they can get to a prompt without actually acknowledging the fact that it’s a done deal here in Two, but silence. Four seconds. Five. Six. Seven.

Emory and her classmates are off to the side, and that means she’s able to catch a glimpse of the Centre kids at the back without having to turn her head. And yes, there they are, Emory’s former cohort, there’s Naia wide-eyed and furious, hissing something out of the side of her mouth to Lindsey, who’s gone so pale she’s turning green.

Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven.

“Well,” says the escort in a fake-jolly voice. The show must go on, after all. “If there’s no one —“

The year of the 30th, the male Volunteer choked and no one stepped up for the boy. He died quick and messy, likely an arranged execution between the mentors from Two and One, while the traitor — well. Emory has seen that video — Lindsey has seen that video, they’ve all seen it, the silent Peacekeepers and the hooded boy on the steps and the shocked, frozen trainees on the grass, what is she thinking — and it can’t. It can’t happen again. Fear can’t be allowed to win, not this time.

District 2 must have its sacrifice. Country before self, duty before life. If one falls, we all fall.

Emory steps forward. “I volunteer!” she shouts, and her voice rings the square and echoes off the limestone wall of the Justice Building, and a strange rustle floats through the crowd that she realizes a second later is a collective exhale. She strides forward, her heart pounding, and please, please let this be the right thing to do. All the Centre kids know, and anyone with any experience with the Games will see the lack of a bracelet on Emory’s wrist — and oh Snow she’s in her cadet uniform, even, the usual volunteers don’t have those — and maybe she made it worse. Maybe they’ll kill her for her impudence, for speaking out of turn when they’ve all been drilled since they were old enough to understand that you never, ever, everspeak at the Reaping, not as a joke, not as a dare, not for any reason.

Still. If they take her out back and shoot her, claim that the female volunteer met with an unfortunate accident, at least District 2 will not be branded cowards.

Emory offers up a silent prayer to President Snow and the mercy of the Capitol and climbs the stairs to the stage.

The stage is a lot higher in real life than it looks from the square or on television, which makes no sense because Emory has climbed and even jumped from higher without flinching, but there’s no helping it now. The entire square is staring at her, even Byron, and Emory keeps her gaze forward, high and over the tops of their heads so she won’t accidentally look at Lindsey or her other classmates and lose her nerve at whatever she sees on their faces.

“Well!” says the escort, pressing a fluttering hand to her chest. “You certainly had me going!” She turns to Emory, gives her an exaggeratedly sympathetic wink. “Don’t tell me you had second thoughts?”

Oh no. A Volunteer with cold feet is almost as bad as no Volunteer at all, and Emory didn’t just throw her entire life away to ruin it by stepping in bad press from the get-go. None of her training has the answer, either; back when she was in the running they played the honour and nobility card, the daughter of the district who wanted to make good in the Arena, but no amount of aw-shucks sincerity will get her out of this one.

Emory’s acting scores were the weakest of her lot, but this is bigger than tally marks on paper and the trainers’ opinions of her. Now it matters, and Emory has never backed down from a challenge. Even though she knows, from three years of watching the Games with the trainers dissecting every moment, that whatever she says and does onstage in this moment will set the tone for the rest of her time in the Arena.

(The Arena —)

“I wanted to make a dramatic entrance,” Emory says, with a grin that’s borrowed from a thousand reruns of Games past and a head toss that feels artificial even though she’s pretty sure she nailed it. “I might have gotten carried away in the moment.”

The escort giggles. “Oh is that so! Aren’t you the cocky one.”

It’s funny — the laugh bubbles up in her throat before Emory swallows it down — but volunteering, that was the easy part. Duty is clear and unambiguous, that’s what’s great about it; someone had to step in, and Emory did, end of story. But this — standing on stage, projecting cockiness and arrogance and idiotic teenage nonchalance like all the pretty, confident girls Emory used to watch on television and know that she could never be — this is much, much scarier. There’s no way to go backwards from the Reaping, not for a Two, and if she goes through with this then Emory can never show hesitation again even for a moment or the whole thing will fall to pieces.

But there’s no other way to explain the long silence, and Emory can’t let anyone — the districts, the Capitol, the President — think she’s anything but committed. And so she plants her stance, crosses her arms and shows her teeth. “Cocky is for posers,” she says, raising her chin and making sure not to flinch when the multi-storey version of herself on either side mirrors her action. “I’m good, that’s all. Wait and see.”

“I’m sure we will,” the escort titters. “Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the 52nd Hunger Games!”

Even without pre-Games training, Emory has seen enough footage to know the next step. She moves in close to Byron and takes his hand, and he might be as confused as she is but he knows even better how to play the game. He doesn’t hesitate, but raises their arms over their heads, fingers linked in a show of solidarity that will end when one or both lie dead on the Arena floor.

Emory shakes away the thought, steps forward, and shouts to the crowd. And for all her serenity at the decision to be a Peacekeeper, all the confidence she’d had that she made the right choice, she would be lying if she said it didn’t thrill a little when the crowd shouts back.

#anonymous #lorata answers #oc: emory #my writing #we must be killers: tales from district 2

41 notes · View notes

olivinesea · 3 years

Text

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter eight: starting to rust

a/n: Just barely coming in at under a month, oops. I think I’m going to take a break from this one for now, it seems to be a little too much while my thoughts are occupied with school things. When I planned this all out originally, this chapter was a possible ending point but then I got ambitious and there’s quite a bit more plotted out after this. But it might be a while before I come back to it, we’ll see. Anyway, thanks for coming along for all the torture, I know it wasn’t a pleasant time but the hurt can be nice occasionally? I’ll try to write something a little kinder in the future. Warnings for all the same things —substances, abuse, some very dark thoughts and themes. ~5.7k

Aaron tries to keep it all together but the world is indifferent.

He tried to stay away, he really did. As if he could see into the future, he could imagine how quickly he would tarnish her smile, could picture it fading right in front of him. He had nightmares where Haley sat, unresponsive and slowly dissolving. But she was insistent, seeking him out, towing him along with her through her day. She’d find him at lunch and push half a sandwich at him once she realized he hadn’t brought anything to eat. Brought him along after school to loiter in the sun with the other theater kids killing time between the end of class and the start of rehearsals, loudly asserting their presence on the world. Aaron hung back, uncomfortable around such casual chaos, everyone moving too fast, speaking too loudly. Compared to his world, Haley’s life was bright, unrestrained, and viscerally present. He didn’t fit there. He stuck out in his silence, dressed in his dark clothes, still too big on him though he was finally starting to grow.

The other kids eyed him suspiciously, muttering quietly about him when they thought he couldn’t hear. Only Haley’s position at the top of whatever social apparatus they operated by kept them from outright excluding him. He didn’t mind too much, he’d heard worse, what did he care what these kids thought of him anyway? What did they know with their golden lives, their excitement, their expectations for the future? Haley’s people believed that the world was for them, would provide what they wanted when they wanted. He found it odd, watching them as they screeched and tackled each other, a blur of color so jarring he had to squint.

He could feel how his difference was noted, their eyes making the back of his neck itch. More than once he tried to disappear but every time Haley slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently, pulling him back toward the group. She’d smile, encouraging, her belief that it would all work out, that he could assimilate given enough time, was unwavering. Her optimism baffled him, sometimes even irritated him. He would inevitably feel guilty about that. Surely it was ungrateful for him to find fault in this girl who had welcomed him when there was absolutely no need for her to do so.

Not everyone was tolerant of Aaron’s presence. The drama teacher regarded him with suspicion, allowing him to stay but making it clear that she was doing him a favor. It helped that he was able to sing, shoring up the weak lower register of the female dominated cast. He was given a minor role, nothing too complicated, nothing that would embarrass them if he failed, as she assumed he would. Some of the other kids caught on to this disapproval, emboldened by it they became less subtle in the ways that they mocked him. Aaron tried to mind his own business, even skipping out on rehearsals when the attention became too much. But Haley inevitably found him, running to catch him after school as he tried to escape out a side door. She dragged him back again and again, refusing to give up on him. Insisting she had seen something special, something she thought she could coax out if given enough time—like a stray dog, so used to mistreatment that he bristled when people came near but still craved affection.

He followed reluctantly, acutely conscious of the growing dislike, mutiny thickening the air. Everything was too sharp these days, he’d lost his sources for getting high. All he had were his cigarettes, too afraid to steal alcohol from his father. He desperately wanted to go back into the woods, to fall back under the quiet spell of muffled words about nothing, watching the light filter through the branches, sparkling as the leaves moved with the breeze. He hated it here, in the building, surrounded by these people with their constant need to be heard, each louder than the last. The smells of the theater, new paint and old fabrics and so much dust made it hard to breath. The too bright lights, unnaturally hot against his skin, and the way every sound echoed made his head ache. He’d be long gone if it wasn’t for the way Haley’s touch made his heart skip, her fingers lightly brushing across his arm to get his attention. Or the way she looped her arm through his as she caught him in the hallway and insisted on walking with him to class, leading him along her sheltered path.

Aaron wondered at the lightness of her head rested against his shoulder as they sat in the grass, sticking her tongue out at something stupid another kid said, then smiling when she heard his smothered laughter. He let his attention drift, eyes wandering until he saw a group in the distance. He watched as they moved away from school, easily guessing where they were headed. He felt a pang of longing as he watched them leave, wishing he could still be part of that. He wasn’t sure he had been happy with Cole but he had at least felt like he was in the right place, like he had found someone who understood him. No one here was like him, no one less so than Haley. He was attracted to her in a different way, fascinated at how she viewed the world and how the world viewed her. He’d never known anyone who moved so easily through life, who was loved and desired by everyone she met. He couldn’t begin to imagine what that felt like though he agreed with the rest of them, she was something special. He didn’t understand why she wanted him around but he wasn’t going to contradict her. Still, he wished to be gone with the group as they sought out unobserved spaces.

“Aaron?” Haley squeezed his knee, drawing his attention back.

“Hmm?” He had no idea what she had been saying.

“Do you want to come to Mike’s house after rehearsal tonight? His parents are out of town.”

Aaron looked dubiously across the group at Mike, someone who was clear in his dislike of Aaron.

“Please?”

Aaron shrugged a shoulder, shifting uncomfortably and causing Haley to sit up.

“It’ll be fun. And it’ll be good for you to get to know everyone a little better. You’re so quiet all the time.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Aaron murmured, watching as Mike narrowed his eyes in their direction.

“Don’t be silly,” she said as she hopped up. “C’mon, let’s go inside, it’s almost time.”

He looked up at her, now standing above him. Their eyes met and she smiled. She was pleased with how much he’d been softening. It had only been a few weeks and already he seemed more comfortable, at least with her. She congratulated herself a little, privately, on her success. People had gone out of their way to warn her when she started hanging out with him, bringing him places with her. He was bad, he was dangerous, he would hurt her. But she knew, had known from that first time she saw him looking at her, he wouldn’t hurt her, not ever. He wasn’t so complicated, she reasoned, they were all just scared away by his dark features, his perpetual scowl, the whispered rumors about his family. She, Haley Brooks, was better than that, deeper and more sympathetic. He wouldn’t be the first broken creature she’d healed, but he would be her biggest project yet. She didn’t imagine it could be that hard. Everyone was always happier around her, she could fix this.

He sighed, shaking his head and stood up. Sometimes he could see her watching him and he wasn’t sure he liked the look on her face. Like she was assessing him, marking his progress along some scale she had in her mind. Noting when he ate, when he was rested, when he laughed. He felt a little bit like an animal in a laboratory. But then she would smile at him and he forgot all his hesitation, forgot how he disliked being watched, how much he hated people thinking they knew what he needed. No one had ever cared like her before and he wasn’t sure what she expected in return. But he let himself forget all that and follow her where she led for another chance at that smile, another chance to hear her say his name, sounding so different coming from her lips that it might be a different name entirely.

One of her friends, already halfway back to the building, called Haley’s name and she skipped over to her, confident that Aaron would follow. He watched her go before turning back to pick up his backpack. When he straightened up, Mike was standing very close to him. Aaron wondered at how he’d moved so quickly.

“I hope you don’t think you’re coming to my house, loser.”

Aaron stared at him, debating what to do. He didn’t particularly want to go to this party, he’d really prefer not to go. But Haley had invited him and he didn’t like the way this guy was always looking at her possessively, then looking at Aaron like he’d like to strangle him. Not exactly subtle.

Mike stepped in closer. “Did you hear me? Or are you too high?” He turned to his friends and forced a laugh, “Maybe you shouldn’t have fried your brain with your little homo boyfriend.”

Aaron didn’t think, he just reacted, fist swinging up and punching the other boy in the jaw. He stumbled back, holding a hand to his face, eyes frozen wide in shock. Aaron didn’t pause, only advanced on him, swinging again. It felt good, the anger that was always simmering in his chest, the anger he only barely distracted himself from, finally had an outlet. It probably wasn’t a fair fight, Mike had been expecting Aaron to quietly take the insults as he’d been doing, pretending to ignore them as they needled him whenever Haley was out of earshot. But this insult was too far. More of a mean jab in the dark than an actual accusation, his words had hit a nerve and unlocked a force within Aaron.

Once he landed the first punch, his vision clouded over with anger and he continued to swing at the other kid. The other boys quickly jumped in, once the surprise of seeing Aaron actually fight back wore off, once they realized he meant to do real harm to their friend. He already had Mike pinned on the ground, lip bleeding, hands covering his face, before two more of his friends managed to drag Aaron off. He swung at them too, no technique but plenty of experience on the receiving end. He knew what would hurt and he had enough rage to power him through a dozen opponents. One of the others pulled him off balance, using his grip on Aaron’s wrist to fling him to the side. They blocked his path to Mike, who was scrambling backward on the grass, putting more distance between himself and this suddenly rabid opponent. Breathing hard, Aaron glared at the group, realizing he didn’t have enough strength to overpower them all, despite his murderous desire. He spit in their direction, then grabbed his bag and stalked away.

He didn’t have to think about where he was going. There was only one place to go. He’d tried to be a part of the regular world, a part of a world where time continued evenly, where lights turned on when it was dark and spotlights burned brightest on those with merit. He’d tried to fit himself into that space for Haley’s sake but he had only been fooling himself. They’d known he didn’t belong and he’d finally overstayed his welcome. It was time for him to retreat to the unlit corners of the world, return to the margins of society where people could avert their eyes, where it was easier for them to pretend they didn’t see the wrongness of the boy in front of them. He’d go back to the place in the woods and hope there was someone there that could give him what he wanted, could help him disconnect from this too bright reality. He was as sick of it as they were of him. He allowed himself a brief flicker of hope that he might find Cole out there, with his understanding and their shared history he didn’t have to think about his walls so much. But he stomped down hard on that desire, reminding himself how he had still ended up alone. No, it didn’t need to be Cole, it didn’t need to be anyone in particular, as long as they had something to get him high he didn’t care. It wouldn’t matter for very long anyway.

He crashed across the grass, his anger making his steps heavier, his thoughts louder. He didn’t realize he was being followed, that someone was calling his name. He didn’t notice until there was a hand tugging at the elbow of his jacket. He spun around fast, ready to fight. Haley shrank back at the anger in his face, the wildness in his eyes. He clenched his fists when he recognized her, trying and failing to pull back the storm of emotion that had been knocked loose. He never wanted to scare her but she was following where she didn’t belong. He only had so much control.

“Go away.”

“Are you hurt? Where are you going? Why’d you attack—”

She didn’t even have the question fully formed before he turned and started walking again, unwilling to be accused of something that wasn’t remotely his fault. He didn’t like the way it stung him, hearing that she assumed his guilt. He didn’t like that he’d let her get so close, let her have such influence over him. She ran a little to get ahead of him, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She was frightened by his fury, but she wouldn’t let him go this easily. Not after she’d spent so many hours persuading him to join her world.

“Aaron.”

He stopped short when he heard his name, looked at her with some of his anger melting into sadness, feeling betrayed even though he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

“I didn’t start it,” he could barely get the words out, hated how much he wanted her to believe him, hated that he had to explain himself.

She rubbed her face, trying to think as she pressed her palm against her lips. She found she was more frightened of this new emotion than she was of the anger. He looked so hopeless.

“I’m sorry, I just…” she didn’t know what to say now that she’d gotten him to stop, now that she could see past the heated front of anger and could see some of the broken edges he did so much to hide. Wasn’t this what she’d been asking for?

He watched her struggle with what to say, saw the moment the pity started to creep into her eyes. Before she could say anything else, before she could make him feel worse, he started walking again, pushing past her. “Just leave me alone,” he muttered. He didn’t bother to check if she followed.

When he reached the clearing it was empty except for one person stretched out on a broken down couch. At first all he could see was the back of their head, the dirty blond hair sticking up in places. The recognition was a visceral feeling, clawing through his chest. He almost couldn’t believe it was real, that he was getting exactly what he hoped for. Cole sat up when he heard Aaron’s heavy footsteps cracking through the dead leaves and sticks littering the ground. He remained seated, looking at Aaron idly, as if no time had passed, as if he’d only been waiting for Aaron to turn up after class. Aaron felt so many conflicting emotions, had so many things he wanted to say that he could only stand with his jaw clenched against the flood of words he knew he would regret. Cole twitched the corner of his mouth in a slightly mocking smile and Aaron snapped. He grabbed Cole by the collar, pulling him to his feet, unsure whether he meant to strangle him or kiss him. Cole’s gaze shifted to look behind him.

“Why’d you bring your girlfriend with you?”

Too caught up in the charge of the moment, Aaron didn’t understand what he was talking about. Cole pulled away and lifted his chin in the direction he was facing. Aaron turned and saw Haley. She’d continued to follow him, concerned about what he was planning on doing, haunted by the hollowed out look in his eyes. She stood, apprehensive, eyes darting between the two.

He scowled. “Go back to school Haley.”

“But—are you okay?” She stumbled over her words, staring openly at Cole. She’d seen him in the distance, even noticed how Aaron sometimes watched him when their paths crossed. He looked even more menacing up close.

“I’m fine.” His mouth pressed together, biting his lower lip to keep his composure. He didn’t understand why she was being so persistent, why she wouldn’t just go away like everyone else. When she still hesitated he got impatient. There were things he needed to handle and he didn’t need her here getting in the way. He waved his hand at her, brushing away her attention. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

From behind him Cole fluttered his fingers at her with false sweetness. She hated the way he was grinning at her, his obvious confidence that he was the one in charge of the situation. She glared at him and he laughed.

She looked one more time at Aaron, who was no longer paying attention to her, had turned back to Cole entirely. She shook her head. Fine, if he wanted this it was hardly her problem. What did she even know of his life anyway? Trying not to feel like she’d lost, she retraced the path back to school.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Aaron started in on Cole. His thoughts were disorganized and barely coherent but he’d spent weeks trying to understand the sudden distance. He needed Cole to explain, to know his reasons for turning on him so quickly after all that they’d shared.

“What the fuck—” He hadn’t finished his question before Cole clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Their eyes met and there was a mental struggle for the upper hand. One thing that had changed in the past few weeks was Aaron’s strength. No longer constantly submerged in a haze of intoxication, he felt everything more pointedly and he was ready to direct that pain elsewhere. He wanted to bite Cole, to scratch at his face, to scream at him for way he’d been abandoned, the sickness and shame he’d had to endure on his own. But the warmth of Cole’s palm, the familiar smell of his skin, the muscle memory of being in this exact position was too much. He relented almost instantly, sinking into the couch, pulling his knees up against his chest and waiting to see what Cole would do next.

Cole watched him thoughtfully, interested by this new spark of resistance but also pleased that he hadn’t made it too far on his own. A little fight kept things interesting, staved off the boredom Cole so often felt. It was probably that girl he’d been with, giving him ideas. He could see he’d have to do some damage control to bring Aaron back completely.

“I’m sorry,” he looked down, measuring drops of sincerity. “My grandma, she saw…she said she was going to report you.”

Aaron was confused, he didn’t know exactly what she could report about him but he heard the edge in Cole’s voice, knew better than to dig deeper. Cole sat down beside him, pulling one of his hands loose from where he’d wrapped it tightly around his legs. He traced Aaron’s palm with his thumb, looking into his face again.

“You know I didn’t mean it right? I didn’t have a choice.”

Aaron recoiled, sickened by the number of times those words had echoed through his life. Worse though was how easily he was willing to give into them if it only meant he could have back a little of that warmth he had found. He ducked his head and shrugged.

Cole squeezed his hand. “Good, cause I think I’ve got something you’ll like.” He let go and dug around in the couch cushions, pulling out a crumpled paper bag. When he smiled at Aaron, that familiar greedy smile, Aaron admitted to himself that he wasn’t here to fight with Cole, that he had never been coming for that. This was all he wanted, was all he was good for: to be lied to and to be led astray. He didn’t mind as long as he didn’t have to be fully present for it. He sat up a little straighter.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

They fell back in with one another but it remained uneasy. Aaron was still not allowed back at Cole’s house and he was afraid to miss too much class. Lately his father had been grumbling about sending him away and he wasn’t entirely sure he meant away to live somewhere else or away from life entirely. There were no peaceful interactions between them, only lucky days where Aaron successfully avoided being seen. A sudden increase in truancy calls would not work out well for him. If he had been a little more mature, a little less caught up in his own teenage drama, he might have noticed the changes in his father’s face, the way the lines grew deeper as his frame grew thinner. As it was he only noticed as much as he needed to know to keep himself out of the direct path of destruction. He once might have cared to notice his mother crying more, even when his father wasn’t there to be the cause of it but he was long past feeling any sort of connection to her. If she was troubled, she could find someone else to support her. She certainly hadn’t done anything to help him all these years. Nothing that he could see.

At school Haley continued to pester him. She stood up for him against the accusations that he had attacked Matt for no reason so he was still allowed at play rehearsals. He went grudgingly, only because he couldn’t shake the way he felt bewitched by Haley. Now he tried even harder to stay out of any social situations, to keep things strictly professional with the group of theater kids. However, he couldn’t help but enjoy Haley’s company at lunch and in between classes. Much as Aaron had disliked her friends, he couldn’t resist the brilliance of her personality. She made him feel like being a whole person was possible, made him forget for a few moments what he really was. She may have made him a little uncomfortable but she was relentlessly kind, and he was more than expert at keeping things hidden so he let her think she was doing some good as she badgered him into eating more and forced him to study. Even if it was only pretend, they were both getting something from it.

Only after the school day was over would he would slink away to the woods where he’d meet Cole. Cole still wasn’t speaking to him on campus, too aware of how their obvious closeness before had been risky. He hadn’t changed in their time apart either, his mood still swinging wildly from affection to disgust. It didn’t feel great but Aaron needed him, needed what Cole could give him. Attention and a steady supply of drugs. He didn’t have to worry about his insufficiencies around Cole, they were too similar for him to care about hiding the difficult parts of his life, didn’t have to worry about being pitied, about someone trying to fix him. They’d dragged more furniture into the abandoned shed, found an old metal trashcan they could burn things in to warm the place as the months crept deeper into the dark end of the year.

By the time Aaron’s sixteenth birthday came and went he felt like he was leading a completely fractured life. At home he was a ghost at best, a target when not; with Haley a treasured curiosity, constantly examined and prodded into a more acceptable shape; and with Cole, he was himself, angry and violent but self-medicated to the point where none of it mattered. Any gentleness that had existed between them over the summer was gone, every interaction was rough and scrambling, followed by a shame that only dissipated once the high kicked in.

It became harder to hold all the pieces together. He would look at himself in the mirror and struggle to remember his own name. He started smoking pot during the day again, just to ease some of the jarring transitions. At lunch, Haley talked and talked and he wouldn’t notice when she asked him a question until she poked him in the bicep and he jumped like a startled cat. When she tried to ask him about it he got annoyed, snapping at her and walking away from school, not caring that it was the middle of the day and that this bad choice was sure to come back to him that evening.

The show opening got closer as he missed more rehearsals. He missed so many that he didn’t know what he should be doing when he was there, very obviously sticking out when he went one way while the rest of the corps moved in the other direction. The drama teacher pulled him aside, giving him an ultimatum that he needed to be present at every subsequent rehearsal or he would be cut. Not so secretly hoping this would be enough to get him to leave. He started to say he didn’t give a shit about her stupid play when he saw Haley anxiously watching their conversation and swallowed his insults, only nodding, looking away so the teacher wouldn’t see his contempt for someone who could think something like a high school play mattered at all.

He made it to all the rehearsals but he was sure to be high, not enough that he would be caught but enough to be clear that it didn’t matter to him if he did. He wasn’t sure why he continued to come, why Haley had such a pull on him. It didn’t make sense that he wanted so badly to make her happy when she was so different, so far removed from everything else in his life. Maybe it was that he knew that without her, there was nothing tying him to the regular world, the place of school and society and jobs and futures. She was the only person that seemed to care if he was around, an emotion he was long past feeling for himself. She was the last reminder that he was a human being, that he mattered to someone. It was the only thing standing between him and completely giving in to the destructive force that had been whispering promises of an easy solution to his problems.

It was just enough to keep him behaved around these people who hated him without knowing anything about him. They hated what he represented, hated the way he forced them to see that the world could be ugly and painful. They were offended that he dared to show himself among the normal people when he so clearly belonged to the underside. He kept quiet and kept close to Haley when he was at school, when he was in the theater. He wore the stupid costume, the silly hat, followed the directions barked at him, sang just loud enough to carry the rest. Then he slipped away as soon as he was able.

The week of the opening performance was a bad one. Cole, having recently gotten his hands on some speed, was off on a manic high. Aaron had tried it once but hated the way the uppers spiked his anxiety, the way he felt every eye on him like his skin had turned inside out. After that first time he had declined, preferring to find oblivion in whatever downers were available. But Cole liked it quite a bit. It made his already unpredictable nature even worse, even more dangerous. He’d spend these highs running all over town, breaking car windows for fun, stealing anything worth a couple dollars. Aaron hated it and did his best to hide from him while he was strung out like that.

The afternoon of the show’s opening he’d gone to an old, private hiding spot after school with the intention of getting so stoned he couldn’t feel anything that might come his way later. He succeeded only to remember belatedly what day it was. Haley had tried to remind him several times during the day but he’d been too high, too distracted to listen. Swearing, he ran back to school, not sure what time it was or what time he was supposed to have been there.

The house lights were already off, the audience quiet as the opening bars played. He raced to get into his costume, having to re-button his shirt more than once as the tiny objects refused to line up properly. He gripped his hat as he stumbled into the wings to the sound of the chorus coming in—the chorus he was supposed to be a part of. He thought he could probably just slide onto the end of the line without attracting too much attention. Unfortunately, he found his path blocked by the drama teacher, her face dark and angry, completely out of patience for this mess of a teenager. She stared at him, his eyes red and glassy, skin pale, insultingly obvious in his intoxication.

“No.”

He looked at her unfazed, barely registering her as more than an object to move around. When he tried to step past her, she blocked him again.

“Go home Aaron,” her voice was quiet but unfriendly.

He shook his head, “I’m going to miss my cue.”

She frowned, surprised that he was aware enough to even know when his part was. “You’re high, you can’t be on school property.”

Aaron glanced into her face now, paying attention. No teacher had ever mentioned being able to tell he was not sober before.

“If you don’t leave now, I will call the police.”

He stepped back, narrowing his eyes, gauging how serious she was, if she would really draw that much attention to the situation. Her expression didn’t change and he could tell she meant it. He looked past her once more, seeing Haley step forward into the spotlight to begin her solo. His heart twisted, thinking about how disappointed she’d be that he couldn’t make this happen for her. He’d tried, tried so hard to keep it together for this. She’d been so excited and even though he couldn’t feel any of that, he liked the way it lit up her face when she talked about the performance, about how her parents and her sister would be in the audience, about how she wanted them to meet him. He’d never planned on staying for that but he’d wanted to at least be part of the show, to at least give her that.

“Now, Hotchner,” she insisted, voice cold and unsympathetic. He shrugged and tossed the hat on the ground by her feet before turning and walking out.

He headed straight for the shed, knowing there were supplies there that he had slowly siphoned away when Cole was too high to notice. He’d been saving them, watching his little stockpile grow larger. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saving it for, exactly what his intention was but now seemed as good a time as any to find out. He hoped Cole wasn’t there, at least not until he could get his fix. Nothing would matter then.

Once inside he turned on the camp lantern he’d stolen and climbed onto a rickety chair to reach the seam between the roof and the wall. He pulled out his supplies, examining them as he settled back down on the dirty old cushions on the floor and wrapped a blanket around himself. It was an old army surplus thing, scratchy and smelling of smoke but effective against the chill. He considered his options. There was a good amount in there, probably enough for two people if he waited for Cole to turn up. He could maybe ease him out of his frenzy, bring him down to Aaron’s level, to the place where they could float through time without moving, without worrying. He thought about the last time he’d seen him, the way his eyes had moved past him without any real recognition. He thought about the dark purple bruises on his wrist where Cole had grabbed him, twisting his arm and insisting Aaron give him whatever money he had.

Fuck him, he decided.

Cole would probably be angry if he came here and found Aaron high without him, would be suspicious of how that had come to be. He would probably regret not leaving any for him but just at that moment he didn’t care. Hurt and love and shame and desire were all the same to him, all more than he wanted to feel. He just wanted to feel nothing. He set himself up quickly, well practiced and sure of his movements. He glanced around the shed once, really seeing his surroundings, seeing how far he had sunk and he laughed as he pressed the plunger down. Anyone who heard him would have been alarmed, the sound more like an animal caught in a trap than an expression of human joy. His last thought as he sank back into the ground was that it really was too much for one person. Too much to be doing alone. Then he got what he wanted and everything was just black.

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #young hotch #young haley brooks #tw substances #tw abuse #a mixed blessing

9 notes · View notes

wtnrscap · 4 years

Text

Cursed Words- Daybreak

Pairings- Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Bruce Banner, mentions of past Natasha Romanoff x Clint Barton.

Summary- The fourth time it happens, you find out what you’ve been doing by accident, but don’t know how to help. Bucky refuses to talk about his feelings until you give him a proposition, something to work for. And for the first time, it feels to Bucky as though things are finally going the right way.

Warnings- (18+) Mentions of blood, death, injury detail, PTSD, panic and anxiety attacks. Fluff. Swearing. Dirty talk, dirty fantasies. Eventual smut.

A/N- This is gonna be a leading onto a longer chapter with more triggering subjects. I like to think the plot is gonna start moving forward now because I think it’s been a bit slow. Taglist is open.

Cursed Words Masterlist

The clock on the wall taunts Bucky. Moving so slowly he thinks it might start going backwards. He keeps his eyes trained on it, counting the seconds down till she lets him go. It was only an hour but it could of been 100 years for all he knew.

She shifts in her seat, her eyes on him, her face calm, waiting for a moment that would never come. She wanted him to talk, admit his feelings, but Bucky had been brought up in the 30s, where men didn’t do that. Being the eldest of four meant he often didn’t have time to worry about his own feelings and when he started looking out Steve, selfcare went out the window. It was strange to him, to be sitting in this prison of white walls, with someone asking him how he felt.

The timer on the coffee table rings out, high-pitched and she sighs, crossing her arms, “You can go now, James.”

He hated that she called him that. He hates the way she talks to him. He hates her. He knows nothing about her, not even bothering to learn her name but he knows he hates her.

“Do I have come tomorrow?” he asks, already knowing her answer. An unnecessary glance at her schedule and a nod of the head, “Yes, James.”

“I don’t see why-”

“Captain Rogers wants you to talk about and explore your past. You haven’t done that. You have come here everyday for 3 weeks and we have sat in silence. You need to work with me here.”

Bucky’s face twists and he turns, leaving the room with a stomp. He hates Steve. He hates everyone who tells him to talk and let it all out. But he can’t hate you. The reason for his being there. He’s tried to hate you, but he just can’t do it. It’s impossible to hate you.

Allison opens the door before you’ve even had the chance to knock. Her face says it all and you sit down with a grumble, “Doesn’t he realise that the longer he keeps up this silence, the longer he’ll be off missions? He’s an arsehole.”

“He knows,” responds Allison, “He’s just been through a lot and it’s hard for him to open up.”

You cock an eyebrow, “You don’t need to talk all therapist to me. He’s being arsehole because he knows he can.”

Allison tucks Bucky’s file under her arm and sits next to you, “Actually... I think he’s needs some... motivation...”

“Motivation?”

“Look,” Allison sighs, “As a therapist I can’t bribe people to open up to me and I’m not supposed encourage other people to bribe customers to open up to me but I think Bucky needs some help. You like him, right?”

“Yeah...”

“So give him a proposition. Tell him if he makes an effort in our sessions, tries to talk to me and tries to get better, then you will let him take you on a date.”

Your eyes widen, “Allison! I don’t even know if he likes me like that!”

“I mentioned you once and his eyes lit up like fireworks. The boy likes you. There’s just something holding him back. That’s what I’m here for. But he needs a push. Someone or something to force his hand. I think this could really work,” Allison stands and looks down at you, “At least think about it.”

A relaxed atmosphere had settled in the games room of the compound. A rare day where everyone was home, a day where the Avengers wanted to be surrounded by each other. Sam, Steve, Tony and Rhodey were fighting over snooker while Vision, Bruce and Thor caught up over stories of Asgard. Nat was creating crazy drinks from behind the bar, overlooked by Bucky, and you were sat with Wanda and Pepper, playing a a surprisingly calm game of Uno. You liked to revel in these moments, when everyone was together and happy. A shout from across the room jolts you, “You cheated, Capsicle!”

“I did not! The ball fell in by itself. You’re just a sore loser!”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Whatever, I’m done with this... this... GAME OF LIES! Let’s play truth or dare!”

The whole room groaned, but it took only minutes for everyone to gather on the leather chairs, an empty beer bottle on the table. Tony span it and every eye watched as it landed on Sam. Poor Sam, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. Tony grinned wickedly, “Truth or dare, Birdbrain?”

“Dare...?”

“I dare you to kiss the person you find most attractive, and if isn’t Cap, then I’m gonna be very disappointed.”

Sam scanned the room, his eyes bristling over Nat, Wanda, Pepper and eventually landing on you. You groan as he stands and makes his way over, “Please don’t... Sam, please...”

His lips connect with yours in a surprisingly good and respectful kiss as the room cheers. Sam pulls back with a flush, “It was you or Pepper and I really don’t feel like dying today.”

“You mean me and Wanda weren’t even considered?” snaps Nat with glare and Sam flushes even more as he spins the bottle. After a few turns it lands on Steve who quickly spits out, “Dare.”

“Take your jacket and shirt off. Give the people what they want.”

To anyone else, that wouldn’t have been so bad, but to Steve, it was a nightmare. Stripping off was reserved for the bedroom and the swimming pool, not for late night entertainment. But he took it like a man and soon you were shamelessly eyeing his body. He spotted it quickly, “Stop drooling, Y/N!”

“Am I not allowed to appreciate a good-looking man?”

Steve rolled his eyes and span the bottle, looking fairly relieved when it landed on Bucky, “True or dare, pal?”

Bucky shrugged, “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell us your biggest fear.”

A chrous of moans circulated around the room at how rubbish the dare was but Bucky had gone pale, prompting everyone to think that it might not be so bad. Steve interrupted quickly, “You don’t have to tell us if-”

“It’s fine. My biggest fear is that Y/N will keep saying my trigger words. She keeps saying them without knowing and they keep activating Winter. It’s why I run from her. It’s easier than to admit that I’m scared of turning into the Winter Soldier permanently. The words only effect me when she says them. My therapist would probably tell me that that means something deeper.”

The room had gone silent. Everyone was either staring at you or Bucky. Without thinking, you dived across the room to Bucky, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I thought you were running from because you hated me!”

“I could never hate you! The therapy is supposed to be helping me move forward but I just don’t wanna talk to her. I feel like I’m taking one step forward and two steps backward.”

The therapy... THE THERAPY!

You grab the bottle and pass it to Nat, “Spin the bottle and make sure it lands on me. When it does, ‘i’m gonna say truth. Ask me about the proposition.”

Nat raises her eyebrows but does as she’s told, angling the bottle so it lands on you, “Truth or dare, my dear friend.”

“Truth.”

“Tell us all about this very interesting proposition.”

You face the group, one hand on Bucky’s leg, the other rubbing your bottom lip anxiously, “If Bucky makes an effort in therapy, if he talks to Allison and tries to get better and if Steve gets the word that he is moving forward...” you turn to Bucky with a small smile on your painted lips, “I’ll let let you take me on a date. A date where you’re in control. You pick the time, the place, what we do, it’s all up to you. But you have to make an effort. You have to want to get better. And I really hope you do, because... I would love a daybreak date.”

Bucky flinches violently, almost tipping you off the chair. Quickly, he grabs you with a flush, fighting himself as the face looms through the darkness. But it’s like a tunnel now. One end is darkness, and the Winter Soldier with all the deaath and despair while the other is light and you, your hand outstretched, offering him a chance at redemption. He’s never seen a light before, and the hope spilling out almost kills him. He has a chance.

“Bucky?” your sweet voice drags him out of his thoughts and he locks eyes with you, “Bucky, are you okay? Did I say a word?”

Bucky nods his head and you sigh deeply, “I’m so sorry. But does that sound like a deal?”

“Doll...” Bucky whispers weakly, and the pet name makes you shiver, “I don’t know if I can-”

“But I know you can. I trust you. And I’ll wait. I understand that this isn’t going to go away in a few weeks. Just... agree to it... Please...”

A huff from across the table makes you look up to see Tony rolling his eyes, “Hey, Farquaad, a beautiful girl offers you a chance to get a date with her you don’t refuse, you agree!”

Bucky’s eyes are wet and he wraps his arms around your neck, hiding his face in your hair, “I agree. I wanna get better for you. If you believe I can, then I will really try.”

The room erupts into cheers, Steve patting his friend on the back with a smile while Nat screams, “Finally! I thought you two would never get past the awkward sexual tension phase!”

You smile widely as a laugh from Bucky vibrates through your body. Allison was right. Bucky needed a gentle push, and this was it. You know the problem isn’t solved, but it’s a start.

Bucky pushes the bleak out of his mind. The horrible images of blood, death, and trauma begin to fade. They’re not gone and they won’t be gone for a long time, but they’re going and he has a chance to get rid of them forever. He knows he has to grasp this with both hands. And with you by his side, he knows he can do it. He knows he could always do it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfiction #sebastian stan #avengers #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fic #marvel fanfic series #marvel #avengers x reader #avengers x you #the avengers #avengers x y/n

113 notes · View notes

weapingweasley · 4 years

Text

sore loser ~pt. 2~ (george weasley x narrator smut)

Description: Enemies to lovers (kinda). A Slytherin seeker has a minor bragging problem and manages to just get under every single cell of skin George has. After the biggest game of the year George decides he’s had enough.

Note: I am aware Umbridge banned Harry and the twins from quidditch and Draco is typically the seeker but we are going to ignore her and injure him for the sake of fiction.

Also, I am sure the narrator will piss a lot of people off, however I like her attitude a lot. She definitely receives the back lash for being a Slytherin, but is never the instigator. She just knows how to end any confrontation. I gave the boys a bit of a temper. Since the narrator is a Slytherin, I though I could use some of that prejudice to fuel some of the “hatred” between characters.

Disclaimer: NSFW, 18+, cursing, sex, and a lot of words.

I feel meh about the sore loser posts, but I am just trying to learn to write.

“Oh, I look forward to seeing you after the match. With my money.”

~ morning of the match ~

In the changing rooms I made sure to get all my gear on in the corner to avoid any benchwarmer jokes. I focus my mind on the game and how much fun it will be to even watch. Matches against Gryffindor are so much more enjoyable to watch just because of the clear rivalry. Nothing like beating down egos with Bludgers. Draco takes charge of the warm up and not so encouraging pep talk.

“If we lose to those incompetent freaks, practice will be hell for each and every one of you. I have worked too bloody hard to see them win and you should feel just the same. I want to see blood and not ours. So go out there and kill some Gryffindors!” Such a poetic man, really knows how to control his feelings.

We approach our tent and everyone gets into their positions, and I take mine right by the water. I swear if I hear one water girl joke I will indeed throw my broom through the commenter’s eye.

The head referee signals the match to begin and without hesitation Slytherin ambushes the balls. Vaisey is able to get ahold of the Quaffle and pass it back and forth with Montague avoiding the Bludgers coming from the Wealsey twins. It only takes about five minutes for us to score. Lee confirms the goal and I jump up screaming, “Too fast for you, Cowards? Huh?”.

Twenty minutes into the match and the Snitch finally enters. Both teams continue to score back and forth, while Draco and Harry fight to get a hold of the speedy golden flyer. I watch as Draco reaches closer and closer to the Snitch with Harry close behind him. They are approaching a quick dive when Draco lets go of his broom to snatch it. He is so close when I spot Harry suddenly pulling his broom quickly up and out of the race.

If I had blinked, I would have missed the Bludger hitting the very back of Draco’s broom. It sends him off his broom and down fifty metres where he lands on his wrist. The head referee calls a brief time out and I watch as Draco Malfoy is carried off the field. Panic erupts in my stomach. Yes, Malfoy was a coward when it came to everyday incidents, but not once has he ever allowed himself to be removed from a match. Never one was I expected to ever play seeker.

I can hear Montague in the distance calling me in, so I hesitantly grab my broom and fly onto the field. Before even getting into position, sweat droplets start forming on my forehead and my hands are pulsing. The noises coming from my gut sounded like I had left Fang in the dark for too long. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for, but now I actually have to prove myself.

As soon as the referee signals us to resume, I take my place above the action. I refuse to allow Fred and George the satisfaction of being responsible for getting me out of the game. If I keep moving while also keeping an eye out for Potter and the Snitch, I should survive. He stays close to his defense while I stray above the middle. Harry over the years has switched from staying above to being closer to the plays with the protection of the Twins. Too bad I do not have the guaranteed protection of my team.

The cashers on both teams were moving incredibly fast and it had turned into a game of catch me if you can. Each team was making goals and just quickly recovering. After about four goals each, the Snitch is set free again. It is dashing through the air and I can see Harry moving quickly to follow it’s every move. The twins react fast enough to hit any Slytherin that seems to be trying to get in his way. I sneak closer to the Snitch watching as Harry flips around trying to catch it. If he moved right, it moved left.

I can hear the stands yelling at me to move faster and to get more involved, but I am aware of my strengths and hell I am fast. I just need to figure out where the Snitch is moving to next. Suddenly, Harry dives following it close to the ground and towards the side of the arena. I push down on my broom to get there as fast as possible. As I approach, I can see Harry’s hand millimetres from the Snitch. Then it does exactly as I expected and flies straight up. I add more pressure onto my broom and propel faster than I ever had. If I keep on this path the Snitch will change. So before it could, I grip my legs tighter and flip below my broom. Embarrassingly enough, but I squeeze my eyes shut and reach for it as fast as I physically can.

I can feel resistance in my hand, but I am just too afraid to look. Lee Jordan’s voice screams out “THE SNITCH HAS BEEN CAUGHT! Slytherin wins (without cheating for once)!” The last part definitely earned him a slap in the back of the head from McGonagall.

I fucking did it. Holy shit. I actually fucking did it. A wide grin stretches across my face as I fly laps around the arena with the Snitch in my hand and still upside down on my broom. I’m arrogant, I know. As soon as I land a mosh of Slytherins surrounds me and I receive enthusiasm left and right from my teammates.

I hate to admit this, but all I can think about is look on George’s face when he gives me my 5 galleons.

Once the changing rooms settle, I sneak to the Gryffindor’s rooms. Without knocking I walk right in and up to the tall red head.

“I told you not to bet against me!” George’s facial expression resembles a child approaching their temper tantrum. Not only by the loss, but also from my inappropriate presence. His stare holds my eyes and with every step he takes towards me, I take one step back. We keep moving until the back of my legs meet a bench.

“You really had to come in here, after everyone left just to brag.” His steps continue closer to me and my heart pumps at a rate I’ve never experienced before.

“Five galleons, please.” My voice is barely audible with the lump that has grown in my throat. Our faces are so close that he can probably feel the irregular rhythm of my breaths. I need to break this eye contact. So my dumbass takes a quick glance at his lips just before he speaks.

“You only came here for your money?” George’s voice is huskier than usual. Most likely due to the intense game and frustration from the loss. He must have noticed my glance because suddenly his hands latch to the side of my neck and face. He connects our lips. Like an instinct, my eyes flutter shut and I follow his hungry movements. I curl my fingers into his shirt to keep myself from falling back onto the bench. There is something sloppy and greedy about the kiss, like every insult we have inside is coming out.

George leans deeper into me, forcing my grip on him to tighten. One side of my face becomes bare and he snakes his hand around the small of my back. The thumb still resting on my cheek moves in one small stroke and I melt. Before it can get any more affectionate his hand remaining on my face moves to the back of my thigh and grips my leg up to his hip. The gasp that exits my lips earns a grin from George and he shifts his lips from mine to the sensitive spot on my neck. His lips suck and nibble on the spot resulting in my rigid breathing. I grip his neck and his hungry attack encourages a light moan to leave me. My stomach fills with this light feeling and I cannot help but to tug at the hair on the nape of his neck causing a grin to form on George.

I nudge George to move his head from my neck, desperate to feel his mouth on mine again. He immediately takes the hint and reconnects our lips in a frenzy. His tongue parts my lips so he can bite and pull on my bottom lip. A whimper opens my mouth fully and George takes the opportunity to indulge his tongue. The make-out is scrappy with hands everywhere and hair being pulled. Our breathing became intense and wild. The pressure of the moment and George’s weight start paying a toll on my legs and I fall back onto the bench. The thud of my fall paints my cheeks pink and makes George chuckle. With the disconnect of our bodies, I slip off my quidditch robe slowly making sure his attention remains on me the entire time. The new exposure stops his chuckles quickly and the fire in his eyes that he had throughout the last few days returns.

“Five galleons, please?” My voice comes off quiet with a rasp due to our greedy actions.

George takes advantage of me being seated and dives right into my body with one knee between my legs and an elbow resting on the bench next to my head. The contact of his pelvis with my pulsing lower half makes me moan his name. The tightening of his pants tells me that’s what he likes to hear. My fingers move to pull at his robe as he continues to grind into my body.

George stands back up to take off his top robe and I took the opportunity to assist him with his pants. Once the button is undone, I look up and hold his eye contact as I pull his zipper down and drag the waistband down his legs. I cannot help but bite my lip as I see the tent in his boxers and his stare fixated on my face and eyes. I reach for the band of his boxers, but George grabs my bum and pulls me into a standing position. I wanted to taste him.

“I need you to keep me warm,” A shiver ripples through my body. I can feel his breath on my ear and the vibrations of his voice on my neck. He rips off the remainder of my clothing and plants wet kisses all over my shoulder and collar bone.

George’s large hand picks me up from my arse and holds my body up against the lockers with his tense hips. His free hand creeps onto my back and unclasps my bra. The cold air hardens my nipples and makes them sensitive to touch. The mix of our body heats keeps the frost from biting. His lips attach to my nipple and his tongue rolls over the sensitivity causing my back to arch into him.

“S-shit, George!” My shaky voice only encourages his feasting and he pushes our bodies deeper into the locker. My hand grips onto his back while the other strangles his upper arm. The more he works my body the deeper my nails dig into his triceps. His arm moves from under my bum into my panties. While his pointer finger makes circles around my clit, he strokes my folds with his middle finger. I could feel him glide through my moisture and my hips buckle into him.

George’s lips left my chest and he aligns our eyes, “I didn’t know you wanted me so bad, Princess.” The way George said Princess it felt like a dare.

I grab the sides of his face and hold his eye contact before speaking. “George. You need to fuck me right now,” Without a hesitation, George drops his boxers down just far enough to release his cock. My legs tangle around his waist. The force of the lockers are the only thing truly holding me up. George’s hands are now free and one keeps me by the back of my thigh and the other tears my panties right at the crotch.

George nuzzles his head into the side of my neck as he inserts himself. The size of him stretches my walls so much I let out a gasp. His hot breath on my neck is sending chills down my spine while each thrust sends them up. I cannot help but let my eyes and head fall back. He feels so sensational inside me.

“Merlin, you’re so tight around my cock.” His voice is deep like a moan and I flex inside.

George must have liked my response because my arm from behind his back is being pinned up above my head. His thrusts become deeper and harsher. Each movement he makes makes me want to scream in pleasure. My only available hand pulls his lips back to mine. The kisses are sporadic with our shaky breaths and harsh thrusts. I move a hand to the nape of his neck and pull on his hair again. His raspy moan causes my walls clench and legs to shake.

“G-George. F-fuck, I am gonna c-cum!” I grip tightly into his hair and dig my face into the crook of his neck. With his last thrust I plant a wet open-mouth kiss and tighten my legs around him.

My walls strangle him as I scream out his name one last time. It is enough to send him over the edge with a deep groan leaving him. His warmth fills my core.

Once we both come down from our orgasms, George sits us down on the bench with me straddling him. An exhausted smile appears on his soft face.

“You’re a sore winner,” he lets out in a baritone chuckle. I have a wide grin growing on my features. Our lips collide in a long soft kiss. I pull away to take in all of his features.

“And you, George Weasley, are a sore loser.”

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #fred weasley #narrator #hp fanfic #fanfic #hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #harry potter #quidditch #smut

94 notes · View notes

thedramaclubs · 4 years

Text

Changing lives (reprise)

Summery: Roman and Remus get the rest of the reviews and it was horrible that it closed their show. They soon meet one of their old friends and Remus’s husband meets them and soon they find something on Twitter to change their lives

Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, demus/dukeceit

When their singing

Remus-green

Roman-red

Janus-orange

C!thomas-pink

All-purple

“The rest of the reviews are in! New York post, associated press, New York times” exclaimed Joan with ther phone in the air everyone started to get excited and looked on their phones as Roman and Remus are about to listen to how great their musical is........or so they thought.

Everyone’s faces changed to a sad and disappointed look and started leaving

“What? What’s happening?” said Roman as he watch everyone look at him and his brother in sadness.

“This is not a review anyone wants when you have shitty advance sales. This is gonna close us” said Joan

Roman gasp and Remus was shocked “What didn’t they like was it the hip hop?”

“Yeah but not that”

“For gods sake sakes Joan read it.” The twins sat down as Joan read the horrible reviews.

“Ok here’s the highlights, “Remus Allen’s FDR might just be the most insulting misguided, offensive, and laughable performance that this reviewer has ever had the squirming misfortune to endure. Emphasis on the insulting because he try to make him self look like that he was trying to give me intrusive thoughts about FDR.”

“That’s how I normally look what the hell?!?!”

“I mean it’s not so bad” said Roman as he played with his dress

“DO HIM ALREADY!!” “What I’m just saying.”

“Watching Romans Eleanor Roosevelt, corking out a heavy-handed message of activism, is like paying an aging drag queen to shove a syurp-soaked American flag down my throat. And also Eleanor should have been played by a women”

Roman was on the verge of tears “Thats not criticism that’s a personal attack.” His voice cracked and Remus hugged him as he shed a tear

“If your considering buying a ticket to the show do yourself a favor. By a few feet of good heavy rope instead and then go hang yourself”

“Holy fuck, oh god, poopy. Was the show that bad?”

“It’s not the show it’s you two. Your just not likeable.”

“What?” They said simultaneously

“Nobody likes a narcissist.” They sat in silence over what they just heard. “Leave it to me I’ll go and try to change the narrative once again” Joan then left the twins alone in the bullding

“I hate this world” “this just hurts my heart, Where did everybody go?”

They talked over each other as the walk to the bar to find a man in a pink suit. “What can I get ya?” said the man “Yola mezcal blackberry smash” said the twins at the same time. “My condolences Roman. But remember you do have friends” said the man making their drinks.”

“Thank you. Who are you?”

“Thomas Sanders.......we’ve done five shows together.”

“Ugh Thomas went to Juilliard and won’t shut up about.” Whispered Remus as he told Roman “Oh right Thomas. Thomas haha....... why are you dressed like waiter?” I’m in between gigs at the moment. Honestly Roman I feel adrift as i did in my days before Juilliard” Remus proceed to chug a drink that was on the table as Thomas continued to talk about Juilliard and the two were just over it.

“Still I have played hamlet and I’m still known as that guy from the beloved early aughts sitcom “Talk to the hand” I question everything about my existence” As he continues to rant about the past what they didn’t notice as a man in a golden sequiny dress with a black hat and a yellow ribbon tied on it with long golden brown hair walking their way

“Hey guys!”

Roman and Remus turned around to see Janus Allen, Remus’s husband

“Jannie!!!” Remus picked up Janus and spun him around and soon dipped him into a kiss which turn into a make out session. “Ahem I know you two lovebirds haven’t seen each other all day but can it wait we’re still here ya know.” They both looked at Roman and giggle a little from embarrassment “Sorry your show closed on opening night again. Welcome to the world of the unemployed,hit me up next.”

“I thought you were in Chicago?” asked Remus “I totally didn’t quit just now 20 years in the chorus and still wouldn’t let me play Roxie Hart and now their letting Tina Louise play her” “That bitch is still alive” said Remus as he chugs another drink

“We’re wasting our lives.” Said Roman as they are all slightly drunk “Ok I refuse to give up we’re still celebrities we still have power.” “Yeah well The Times casted you out” said Thomas as he poured another drink “Yep they wrote you off as aging narcissist and I’m only allowed to call Remus that.” “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with that.” Said Roman as he drinks even more. “You know what we will become celebrity arsonist.” “Babe it’s call celebrity activist we are not burning down another building like last time.” “Ok everyone think of causes.”

“Poverty”

“World hunger”

“Too big we need something we can handle”

“Let’s see whats trending” said Janus “Trump, trump, trump, ooo how about this boy he’s all over Twitter. His names Patton Heart. He’s from edgewater, Indiana. He’s gay. He wanted to take his boyfriend to the highschool prom and the pta went apeshit and canceled it.”

We are now in Edgewater, Indiana and Patton Heart is watching the head of the pta, Mrs Green being interviewed. “We have very strict rules for prom. Young ladies must wear non-revealing dresses. Young men must wear suits or tuxes. And if a student chooses to bring a date it must be of the opposite sex” “Can’t you just ban this student?” “Well we’ve been advised that there may be some legal repercussions if we prevent this boy from attending so although it breaks my heart we have no choice to cancel prom.” We move to Mr Virgil Hawkins the principal “The first thing I’m going to do is contact the state attourney this is not about school rules this is a civil right case.” “Wait seriously?” Said Patton. “Yes and if word gets out people will get mad and next thing you know some modern day Eleanor Roosevelt is gonna come and hell’s gonna break loose.”

We move back to New York “We got to go down their and raise holy hell” exclaimed Roman “We’ll be the biggest thing to happen to Indiana since........whatever’s happen in Indiana are you with me!?!” Said Remus as he and Roman start stand on top of a table they all cheered “We’ll get Joan to tag along to find us a venue” “I just book us a non-union tour of Godspell and I goes through Indiana we can ride on the bus.” Said Thomas “Can we do this guys” Said Janus “You bet your sweet MILF ass we can jannie”

🎶 We are gonna prove that in this day and age being gay isn’t a crime. This is out moment to change the world one homo 🎶

🎶Homo🎶

🎶Homo 🎶

🎶Homo🎶

🎶At a time🎶

🎶 we’re gonna help that little homo, whether he likes it or not, when your a legendary thespian 🎶

🎶First you help the distressed 🎶

🎶Then you help the distraught🎶

🎶We’re gonna go to where the necks are red and lack of dentistry thrives, Why sing and dance when you can take a stance🎶

🎶And know your truly changing lives. We’re gonna March until that town looks like the end of act one in les mis. You don’t gotta have a Ph.D in psych to know that people kowtow to the folks in the biz🎶

🎶We’re gonna teach’em to be more PC the minute or group arrives🎶

🎶That’s right🎶

🎶Those fist-pumping🎶

🎶Bible-thumping🎶

🎶Spam-eating🎶

🎶Cousin-humping🎶

🎶Cow-tipping🎶

🎶Shoulder-slumping🎶

🎶Tea-bagging🎶

🎶Jesus-jumping🎶

🎶Losers and their inbred wives. They’ll learn compassion🎶

🎶And better fashion🎶

🎶Once we at last start changing lives!!!!🎶

🎶Now let’s go help that dyke🎶

People to tag/ @artissijules

This took a long time to write

#sanders sides #logicality #thomas sanders #livy writes #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #c!thomas #demus #dukeceit #sanders sides the prom au #ts joan #prinxiety

25 notes · View notes

ofmythsandmadness · 4 years

Text

laughing like there’s any other answer (part two)

part two to ‘laughing like there’s any good reason to smile’.

SUMMARY - maybe he should have ignored the voices above his room. pretended he was sleeping, or out, or mysterious murdered and unable to acknowledge that she was back, drunk again, and still laughing. but alas, the heart wants what it wants and it rarely thinks things through.

WARNINGS - egregious usage of the word ‘toothpaste’ at one point, some foul language, the avoidance of a lot of questions. one mention of throwing up (but it’s v quick and literally just two words and we skate past it, nothing graphic). also, poor onomatopoeia usage, as though i wasn’t an english fanatic in high school. WORD COUNT - 3790. diego hargreeves x female insert.

A/N - this was meant to be just a quick happy writ. and now it’s a bittersweet (more bitter than sweet) mess that’s just making this story more complicated, haha. but it’s fine, she says, nervously laughing like she hadn’t just mucked up the singular happy piece she’s ever written. i’m not sure how i’m doing, thanks for asking. :)

“IT’S ALL SO STUPID, DIEGO, BECAUSE PEOPLE COULD LIKE YOU.”

After the events of last week, Diego was certain he would never see her again.

Maybe he’d see her, but not her, her. Not the drunk-off-her-ass, mumbling about nonsense and threatening to throw herself out of cars woman, who laughed like she hadn’t a care in the world and called him really dumb, nonsensical nicknames for no reason at all. The one that he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter what he did; she haunted him even without being dead, and he was honestly impressed because that was a hard gift to master so fast.

No, that was a rare sighting of a weird miracle - like a double rainbow, just way less exciting and hopeful.

But as the week progressed, he had not heard from her at all. She was a ghost. He couldn’t find her anywhere, not at least where she would normally be. Diego was certain she wasn’t dead, because he would have heard about that, but apart from the most morbid of options, he was out of clues as to where she could possibly be.

He had not been sure how he felt about that. At first, the absence of her presence was a nice break, and he could do as he pleased without any arguments - but as the days went on and his dreams about the other night got stronger, he found himself curious. More than curious; worried. He didn’t want to have their last conversation be that bullshit.

“I like you, you know that?”

A week after they last spoke, and Diego was trying his very best to not care. It was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays were the days he ‘got off’. The stolen - ahem, borrowed - police scanner sat beside him, crackling every so often, but it didn’t say much more than the usual, professional bullshit that didn’t need his input on. He’d wait the night out, see if anything exciting happened, but he had a feeling it’d be a quiet night.

Diego stared at the punching bag in front of him, watching it sway every so gently. Sometimes he imagined a face on it, most times he didn’t, it was just fun to hit and slash. He probably shouldn’t, the little shits were expensive and Al hated his ass already, but-

THWANK.

To hell with it, anyways.

Two more knives joined their friends, quivering. But they didn’t stay long; Diego yanked them out of the soft flesh of the bag, groaning as he sank back down onto the chair. He threw them again, and then again, creating a sad pattern he often enjoyed after the work was done.

THWANK.

The silver metal glinted in the lamplight, cold and bright. The tip dug into the pad of his index finger; he ignored it and twirled the knife anyways.

THWANK.

An old song played in the back of his mind. He didn’t remember the words, but he remembered enough for it to be annoying as hell, repeating the few phrases over and over like a broken record. Diego tried to think of something else, replace the half-assed memory, and yet still the song played on. His only option was to try to listen to anything else, anything at all, but -

-THWANK.

It was quiet in the gym. The only people there were Al and himself, and neither were making much noise. He only knew the former was still there because of his groaning footsteps as he walked the worn wood above Diego’s head, and the occasional curse thrown out like a bullet towards nothing in particular. But the music of the daytime was gone, and with it had gone the hubbub of conversations, grunts and groans and whatever else atmospheric nonsense he normally got.

THWANK.

He didn’t like the quiet much. And he certainly did not like it then, with the stupid song stuck - why couldn’t he remember the name of it, or anything about it? Just a couple bars of an oldie he didn’t even like...some name with an ‘F’, maybe. A shithead singing out his poor heart for a love never returned back to him...why couldn’t there be any other song stuck?

Diego groaned and threw another knife. He poised another in his long fingers, twirling the handle without much thought before pulling back and -

“-what the hell don’t you get, huh?”

He froze. The knife fell from his hand; he fumbled to pick it up a second later, awkward and absent-minded. So focused on whatever Al was bitchin’ about then, he hardly realised he had squeezed too hard, and then-

“-OW!”

Diego roared with all the sound of a mouse, throwing himself off the chair and towards the small bathroom. The wound wasn’t deep, but it stung bright red and painful, scratching out his stupidness across his tender palm. He should have been more careful, he was always so careful with the things-

“-look...I know he’s here, mister!”

He paused again, scratch forgotten. That definitely was not Al.

“I don’t giv’a crap. We’re closed.”

“Uh...so why is this sign saying it’s open?”

“What - no, you just did that!”

Diego could scream. He would scream, if he wasn’t going to lose his job and home to Al’s pissed off ass - but he definitely, really wanted to, frustration bouncing around in his head like a toddler with a tantrum. Gone were all the thoughts of where Y/N was; all he could think about then, was stopping Y/N as soon as he possibly could.

He hurriedly wrapped gauze around his bleeding palm (which really didn’t do much, it just made the wound look worse) and left the bathroom. Taking the stair steps two at a time, it took him merely thirty seconds to get up to the main area.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Ah - see, I knew you had him hidden away somewhere!”

Al spun around and fixed his glare on Diego. “You know this lunatic?”

He sighed and nodded (not because he wanted to, but because he had to - there was no way she would walk away from this quietly). “Yeah, I know her. I’ll take care of it, Al.”

“You know, I put up with every single one of your stupid stunts, but I don’t appreciate-”

“-yeah, yeah, I know. I know,” Diego nodded, pretending to listen without hearing a single word of his boss’ speech. “I got it. C’mon.”

Y/N perked up then and stumbled over to him with the biggest smile he might have seen her ever wear in his whole life. If he wasn’t so pissed off…

“What happened to your hand, dear boy?”

He quickly retracted his grip, hiding the injured limb from her sight. “Nothin’.”

“Diego, I’m not stupid.”

“You sure? Cause turning up here, in the middle of the goddamn night on a Tuesday-”

-she yanked her arm away from his tight grip and carried on without him. Even as he protested and hurried behind her, somehow she remained faster, racing down the stairs with the grace of a newborn deer. All limbs and stumbles, but not a care in the world as she shouted something back at him he couldn’t quite catch.

“You can’t just be here.”

“And why not? I mean, you’ve shown up at my place without-”

“-that’s different.”

She stopped then and turned just as he reached her. Both chests heaved, and her eyes darted about his face as though piecing together a mosaic. He just watched her.

“And why is it different, my dainty...dear...Diego?”

“I...I-”

“-gotcha,” she whispered, before pushing the door in with a laugh. “Gotcha, ha - you just got beat by me - how does that feel? How does that feel?”

Diego groaned. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a loser,” she crowed back. But her interest quickly strayed from him, eyes tracing the walls of the tiny space. “You know, I’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, well-”

“-I like it! I was worried it’d suck total ass, but honestly, out of aaaall the guys’ rooms I’ve seen, this...this is pre-tty close to the top.”

He wasn’t sure whether to take it as a real compliment or not, but at least she didn’t seem interested in a response. It gave him the chance to head back into the bathroom and collect the gauze he had left all over the ground.

“Don’t you have,” he grunted, peeling off the fabric to reveal the sliced palm underneath, “work tomorrow?”

“Work, shmork.”

His teeth gritted. It wasn’t a bad cut, not at all - but it always had to be the shallowest that hurt the most. “Thought you were married to that shit.”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“Holy shi-give a man a warning,” he retorted, stepping back as much as he could. Though, in the tiny bathroom, there wasn’t much of that - the backs of his legs hit the shower curtain, and she just looked on with a sloppy smile and lidded eyes. “How’d you move so quietly--”

She waved off his question and pushed into the tiny room. “You’re gonna make a mess, trying to deal with that. Let me, loser.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy. And I’ve got the hands of a surgeon, with or without,” she grinned, refusing even the slightest rebuttal in her triumphant claims. Without any hesitation, she reached for the bottle of peroxide and promptly poured it down his hand like it was water off a duck’s back. Her expression didn’t shift when Diego shouted in pain; she just kept up the swift work with his hand as her hostage.

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re a little baby.”

“Rude.”

She stuck her tongue out his way.

“You don’t need to-ow,” he hissed, when the gauze tightened too far against his palm. “I could have done it, asshole.”

Y/N’s smile slipped a little at that, and for a moment she didn’t respond; her hands just worked the white bandages around his own, and pressed it together. Finally, once the task was done though, her eyes lifted to his again.

“Sometimes, we need the most help, even when we insist on the opposite.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I might have made it up. But it sounded real nice, didn’t it?”

Diego just nodded.

“Can I…” her breath hitched, and somehow, she got even closer than before; he could make out every individual lash glint in the bathroom light, and the way her lips were swollen and a little bruised - he guessed from the constant worrying between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question, Diego?”

He nodded again.

Her hand ever so lightly grazed over his own; fingers tracing up with the delicacy of a flower. “Do you…”

His breath caught in his throat. Gone were all the frustrations at her of before; all he could think about was her, on repeat in his mind like an EDM song, blaring her name as explosions echoed in the distance. Wasn’t it just seconds before, that she was torturing him with peroxide? Why couldn’t he think about anything but her eyes, and lips, the way she just --

“W-what?”

“Do you have any toothpaste?”

Diego blinked, then again, unsure if he had just misheard her. “What?”

“Toothpaste. Y’know, the shit ta clean your teeth?” Her head cocked, her eyes singing laughter, “don’t tell me those pearlies are magic-”

“-I have toothpaste - why the hell do you need toothpaste?”

Once more, she looked like she was in on a joke he just didn’t get. “To brush my teeth with...duh. You think I’m just gonna scrub my tongue with a plain toothbrush? Jeez, Diego, how-”

-he cut her off with a grunt that really didn’t sound like any word in the English language and swung past. In the back of his head, he was murdering his subconscious and wishing the idiot would stop acting for itself. “Here,” he said, passing her the tube. “Knock yourself out.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Kinky. But I’d rather just brush my teeth.”

“Jes-what does that even mean?!”

Diego, sadly, would never find out. He was left to simply watch her cross the room again, brandishing the tube with great pride in search of her purse - “I threw up on the way here,” she explained, “and I had my toothbrush, but no toothpaste! And I remembered, Diego has nice teeth, and obviously toothpaste is a necessity, so he must have toothpaste! I think that’s why I told the guy to drop me here, actually.”

“There - you know you’re making no sense, right?”

She shrugged, swooping past where he still stood again. She pulled a toothbrush out of its thin black case and started applying his toothpaste. He watched her, unsure what to do as she took over his bathroom and mumbled through an intense brushing session. Before he could even try to understand her, though, he realised something.

“Do you just carry around a toothbrush, wherever you go?”

Her motions paused for a second before resuming. It was so quick, a normal person would have just skipped right over it, but Diego gripped tight to maybe his only clue towards his personal investigation as to ‘what the hell she was doing there, and why’.

“I - I mwearn,” she paused, spitting out and resuming her brushing, “I dwown’t arwawys - swowry, wone swec.”

He waited.

“Sorry. I was saying, I don’t always have a toothbrush on me, but I did today, I had to pick up my stuff and I guess I just left this little guy in my bag. Which was lucky, right?”

Diego ignored her end question and pressed on. “Where were you picking up your stuff from? You’re moving?”

“Oh, ha - no, nothing like that. Just from a friend.” With a snap, the toothbrush had returned to its case and she was yet again pushing right past. That time, though, Diego followed.

“A friend?”

“You do know the definition of that word, right? I can-”

“-a friend that makes you get wasted after visiting with?”

Y/N pushed herself up her leaning, hands clutched tight to her tiny bag. Her smile still remained, but it wasn’t the easy one of just moments before; it was strained, forced onto unwilling cheeks like a suit of armour.

“I’m not wasted, dear, dapper, Diego. Far from it. If I was wasted, I’d be so much stupider than I am right now. I mean, I can-”

“-this the same friend from last week, too?”

“What? What are you-” Y/N swallowed. Her eyes slipped from his to her purse, watching her hands scrabble at the silver handle like it was her last lifeline. “Are you - I don’t get this routine, dude. I just needed toothpaste! I hate bad breath, don’t you?”

Diego stepped over and grabbed her hands in his uninjured one, pausing the frantic picking at the bag. It dropped with a solemn thud; neither looked down to it.

“What was that for?” She asked, quiet that time.

“You’re not here cause you needed toothpaste.”

“Do you want me to reimburse you for it? Cause I think I might have a dime somewhere, I don’t know how much you want but I’ll pay you back for the tiny, TINY amount of your precious paste I used.”

Diego groaned. For a moment, that flash of frustration flared up again and he was tempted to give up this at all. But it was easily quelled when he looked up again, seeing the worried look she badly covered up with a smile.

“Why’re you here, Y/N?”

“What d’y…” her bottom lip was tugged up into the grasp of her hungry teeth; they worried and nibbled without relief. “D’you want me to go?”

“No. No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Then just let it be, darling,” she sang softly, “and let’s let the toothpaste incident die.”

“No, cause…” his hand pressed softly into her palm, intertwining their fingers with a gentleness he himself didn’t know he possessed. “This is the second time now, you’ve come or called me after getting drunk off your ass, which really isn’t your style. I mean, you’re a freakin’ workaholic. It’s a Tuesday night. You’d be fast asleep right now.”

Her eyes shifted to just behind him, avoiding his soft stare. “You been stalking me or somethin’, my dear?”

“No, but I know you. You’re too caught up in making sure everyone thinks you’re Miss Perfect to be late for shit. Let alone hungover.”

“Well…” she sighed, a sad little sound that barely echoed from her own lips. She seemed to contemplate his words, tossing them over before throwing them away and moving right along. “You really think of me like that? You think everyone does?”

Diego frowned. “Like what?”

“Miss Perfect? Miss - miss -” her hand grew a little clammy in his grasp; she was getting nervous, and he supposed the alcohol wasn’t helping. “-you think of me as a stick in the mud, Diego? I’m not interesting or exciting, just a plain Jane who-”

“-I think you’re fascinating,” he murmured, even without thinking. He almost regretted the words the second they slipped from his mouth; her gaze snapped to his, wide-eyed and confused, and he could just see the cogs working behind her head. He wasn’t even sure where the words came from, or why they had - he hadn’t thought about anything past getting our where she was, and yet…

“You don’t even like me.”

Diego sighed and held her hand a little tighter. His injured palm came to rest over them, squeezing even with the twinge of pain. “Course I like you. You said that last week.”

“Did I?” She laughed, but it was shrill and pitiful. A mere shell of the glorious sounds that had filled his car days prior; if he hadn’t pressed every sound to his memory permanently, he’d have never known she was the same person. “I - doesn’t sound like me. Are you pulling my leg, Diego?”

He ignored her awkward question, pressing on. “That was the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh. You know that? And we’ve known each other for a while.”

“I’ve laughed before, dummy.”

“That’s - those - those’re bullshit laughs, professional garbage,” he responded, each word growing a little bit stronger. “I heard you laugh your ass off to nothing at all in my car last week, and it was be...n-nice. That’s the shit I know that’s real. Not this game you’re playin’ with yourself.”

Y/N still wouldn’t look at him, no matter how he pressed against her hand, or stared her down. Her eyes rested on a space past him, but they grew sadder by the second, losing that little spark of drunken happiness she had forced to build before.

“The Y/N I know,” Diego continued, made bold by a feeling he didn’t recognise, “doesn’t take shit from anybody. You don’t think twice; you just do. You trust your gut and it’s almost always right. Sure, sometimes you screw up, but…”

“...not sometimes, dear. Always.”

“No, not-”

“-dear me, I don’t know why I came here,” she muttered, and within a single pull, she was free and pushing away from him. “Sorry, Diego, I mean - it’s a Tuesday! You’ve got your little black-leather Batman fantasy and I’ve got work tomorrow. You know, I’ve been prepping for this meeting and it’s going to be good, I just need to finish those blasted points…”

She rattled on about nothing at all, repeating phrases and half-mumbling the words as she gathered her dropped belongings up. Her jacket, the bag that had fallen between them before, and something he couldn’t quite catch that had slipped out with it.

And Diego, stupidly, just watched.

“You be careful, okay? And-” she paused then, swaying ever so slightly in the windless room, “-just watch yourself. It’s a shitty world, and I can’t have the one person that - that - well, I don’t know where I’m going with this thought, it’s going to stop now. Ha...yeah, no. Just be safe, and make sure you get your six to nine hours or whatever bull...shit…” A sob ended the sentence, soft and sad and joined right after by a loud sniffle.

Diego still watched in silence.

“I know you don’t like me,” she muttered, voice growing raspy from presumably, tears building behind shitty defenses, “and that’s okay. But I...I appreciate you putting up with me. You’re a good guy, Diego. And that’s good. That’s nice. I think you might just be the last goddamn nice guy in this whole city...hm. Should get you a medal, or something. That’d make a good t-shirt…”

He watched her cross and head up the stairs, staggering on one but regaining her balance quickly. And just as she opened the door-

“-you can’t go home by yourself.”

Y/N stopped still and took in his words. She nodded slowly. “Sure...you’re...um, yeah. I’ll call my si...or...my friend, she’s at my place so...uh-huh.”

“C’mon, I’ll just-”

“-you’ve done enough for me tonight, dear,” she smiled, and he could just make out the glint of a tear on her cheek. “Let’s see if your boss won’t do me a favour, too.”

“Y/N.”

She mock-glared, though the expression wasn’t held long. “Diego - see, I can do that too.”

“Let me take you home.”

“This is good, trust me. I’ll...she has my car, so I’ll just call it in. I’ll be gone in four shakes of a scout’s tail, or…that’s not right.” She smiled. “Doesn’t matter. Thanks for the toothpaste, darling boy.”

“B-be safe...”

“I will,” she promised, still smiling like there was any reason to. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to waste anymore of your time, not going to make you have to save me...yeah. See you, Diego.”

She shut the door then, leaving him alone in the heavy silence.

Moments later, he heard the familiar voices above him again.

“Sir, sorry, if you don’t mind…”

“Great Scott, girl - did he do this to you?!”

“Oh, Diego? No, he’s a lovely boy and he was actually being very sweet, I just...I was just thinking about my grandma, and I...I need to make a call?”

The conversation continued, with Al trying his best to console Y/N, and her repeating - even on the phone - that she would be just fine, and that ‘she was awfully sorry for her behaviour, she’s not really the sort to play such sad pranks but desperate times called for bad measures’. Eventually, then, the voices faded, with her wishing him a cheery goodbye and footsteps clunking against the ceiling.

And it was only as her steps died into silence and the door clanged shut, that Diego unfroze from his standing position and realised what a deep, deep, ‘idiot’s only’ grave he had just dug for himself.

#the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves oneshot #tua x reader #diego hargreeves reader insert #part two

102 notes · View notes