#He was hurt by the sport in the past and watched people. especially kids. fall into mental and physical disrepair because over the sport | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sadlittlesquish · 10 months

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Never Let Me Go

The following fanfic will be rated 18+ for sexual content, drug use, mentions of Emotional, Physical and Sexual Abuse, mentions of past self harm and Suicidal Ideation. Minors DNI.

This story was written mostly on Character AI, so there will be some weird formatting issues. I just really wanna get these ideas out there, but not really post it on archive or anything. Both parties in this story are consenting adults, ie my OC is 18 going on 19 and Eddie just turned 20. If you are not a fan of reading OC stories, or you don't like my Original Character, please just move along. Rude comments will not be tolerated. I'm also doing my best to write this story set in 1986 as best as I can. If there are any discrepancies I will do my best to fix them. Please Enjoy Chapter One.

Chapter One: It’s so Sweet

You know I think your skin's the perfect color

But it's always your eyes that pull me under

The lunchroom of Hawkins High was cram packed with students fresh from Summer Break.

All of the same cliques formed and scattered across the room like pockets of cliches. The Cheerleaders sprinkled through the sports teams, flirting with the boys and doing each other's hair or makeup. A few tables away a group of Leaguers are blasting their portable radio, the billboard's top 100 pop songs bursting through the din of the crowd here and there.

And then there was the table where all of Hawkins’ least diserables hung out.

Eddie sits at the head of his table of freaks, toying with a D20 Keychain absentmindedly as Dustin and Mike gush excitedly about their Summer break.

The kids were cute, even if Eddie found them to be a little too talkative sometimes. Especially Dustin.

As Gareth chimes into the boys' conversation, a hush falls across a nearby table and they begin to point and snigger at a young woman who just walked by.

Eddie overhears one of the nearby boys say, "Look, Whorewood decided to show her face." All the teenagers surrounding this guy burst out in mocking laughter. It didn't take a fucking rocket scientist to realize what was going on here.

Another guy chips in a little too loudly so more people can hear him, "I wonder how easy it is to get little miss piggy to squeal," he emphasizes his insult with hog squeals, sending everyone around him into a fit of cruel laughter at this girl's expense.

Eddie watches the girl's ears turn pink in embarrassment, but much to his absolute delight, the girl doesn't give them the satisfaction of hurting her. She instead pulls herself up to her full height and lifts her chin defiantly at the boys who mocked her.

"I'd be careful with what you say, little boys with little peckers should be lucky any girl would sleep with them. Without sluts like me, you'd all be virgins."

The girl smirks as their faces go red in anger, and triumphantly walks away.

"Who was that," Eddie asks, lazily flicking his ringed fingers in the girl's direction as he questions his friends.

“That's Marnie Wellwood," Gareth begins, his face turning pink for some reason. "She uh... well, word is around school that she is kinda... easy."

Eddie realizes immediately why Gareth is so embarrassed right now, his eyebrows flicking up into his fluffy bangs as he lets out a low whistle through his teeth.

"Hm, never heard of her..." Eddie ponders thoughtfully, genuinely surprised that a social outcast like this girl is just now being brought to his attention. This table was the den for Freaks after all, and it seemed like one little lamb had not yet been brought into the fold.

"She's new," Dustin chimes in, "just started here at the end of last year at Hawkins High. A lot of guys think she's a bitch, but after what I just witnessed, I would have to disagree... She's just awesome."

Eddie hums in agreement, staring intently at the place where the girl had been before she left.

“Hey, if she’s giving those losers what they got comin’, then she’s good people in my book.”

Edddie shrugs.

This girl sounded like a badass, and he can’t help but respect that.

Jeff takes his voice down to a quiet hush so the younger boys don't hear him as he leans toward Eddie and Gareth, "I've heard some of the guys in my class say Wellwood will suck you off for cheap. I've considered it a few times... I bet she gives great head."

Eddie smacks Jeff upside the head, "Dumb boys spread dumb rumors. And even if she does give out blow jobs like they're candy on Halloween, don't stoop to those losers' level."

The school bell suddenly rings, and students begin to file out of the Cafeteria; trays and wrappers chucked into the garbage and backpacks gathered as students headed to their classes.

Eddie fingers the note that had been slipped into his locker; yet another little lost lamb coming to him for the one thing that made this shit hole town bearable: drugs.

"See ya around boys, I gotta date with Mary Jane," Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows playfully as his friends all roll their eyes at how corny his joke was.

Eddie snatches up his metal lunch box, and bows theatrically to the group, before heading to sneak out of school and to his usual spot where he did his deals.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie winds his way easily through the trees, the path to his secret spot practically memorized by this point. In fact if someone dared him to find his way blindfolded, he was pretty sure he could… maybe. This was the kind of place where all kinds of things could happen - deals, hangouts, fights, you name it. Eddie liked this place because it was secluded and no one could interrupt you.

He sits cross legged on the top of the table in his usual spot, making sure that his pipe is clean and that his stash is full, and that’s when Eddie hears a sound coming through the trees from behind him.

Whoever had slipped him the note requesting his special wares was most likely arriving. As he waits for the footsteps to sound closer, he taps out the melody of the new song he and his band mates were working on.

The sounds of twigs and leaves being disturbed alerts him to this mysterious person's approach and his hands still as he waits to see who it is.

A dark head of hair breaks through the trees, and then Eddie is face to face with the girl from the cafeteria.

Up close she was... kinda pretty. Eddie can feel a smile curling his face as he takes her in.

Short, only taller because of the chunky heeled shoes she was wearing. Ripped tights under ripped jeans. Almost as many upper layers of shirts and jackets that Eddie himself wore, along with various bracelets, rings and necklaces.

She was wearing darker, moodier makeup than most girls wore, and she had dark red streaks in her hair.

Very cute indeed, Eddie thought to himself.

"Well well Wellwood," Eddie makes a show of spreading his arms like a king showing power of his domain, "Can't stay out of trouble today can you?"

The girl stops ten feet away, her arms crossed loosely at torso level as she stares Eddie down with an unflinching level of calm.

"Skip the theatrics Munson, you know why I'm here."

"Alright, alright," Eddie chuckles. "Here, take your pick." He opens his metal lunchbox to show off all of the wares that he has with a flourish.

"Whatever I can do for the princess." Eddie flashes her a sly smile before continuing. "Pick what you want milady."

The girl walks over with such a purposeful, inelegant stride it was a little endearing.

She peers down into the metal lunchbox and takes in all the options with a stoic expression. Up close Eddie can see the silver gray flecks in her brown eyes. They were... mesmerizing.

After a moment of silent perusing the girl flicks her gaze up to stare Eddie intently in the eyes."Which one of these will make you not feel pain?"

"What kind of pain are we talking about here?" Eddie asks cautiously.

There's so many different kinds of pain in this world - physical, spiritual, emotional. What kind of pain is it that she's suffering from right now, he wonders.

"The kind of pain that my moms boyfriend doles out to me every time I mouth off... which is a lot."

It's in that moment that Eddie sees just the faintest dark edge of what was left of a bruise on this girl's cheek.

Eddie looks at her, and immediately understands. He can feel his blood begin to boil a little. There was no point in losing his cool in front of a girl he was meeting for the first time. Still… he really doesn't like the reality of seeing a fellow outcast like himself being abused by family. People like them already had enough shit to deal with.

After a moment of silence, Eddie gestures to the lunchbox. "Well, you can pick your poison. Go ahead, anything you want Miss Wellwood."

"I've never done drugs before, so I don't know what is safe for newbies."

Eddie looks at the girl and finds it oddly cute that her big scary attitude and appearance doesn't extend to every aspect of her life.

"Hm, weed is almost always the best place to start," Eddie drawls, surreptitiously raking his eyes over the girl's person. He picks up a baggie, nothing majorly big, and some rolling paper and hands it over to the girl."Normally that amount right there would cost you 20 bucks, but I can be persuaded into giving you a discount." Eddie says to the girl, leaning back and smiling up at her with a cheeky look in his eyes.

Eddie himself wasn’t quite sure if he was flirting with the girl, part of him naturally playing the fool to cheer her up. But… Well, maybe he was flirting a little.

"How about you let me take you out sometime and the weed is free. How does that sound?"

Shit… did he really just ask her out? Where the fuck did that come from… Eddie wondered.

"I don't do dates Munson," the girl drawls in a surprisingly cold way that throws Eddie off. He wasn't expecting her to be so... blunt.

"I got ten on me, but I can make it worth your while if you let me pay the rest," the girl pauses, her sultry eyes looking Eddie up and down, "with my own special services."

Eddie’s face is suddenly red and he feels a nervous energy surge through his body. There was no way in hell that he heard what he just thought he heard… so Eddie decides to press further, regardless of his skepticism.

“Yeah, I’ll take that deal,” he manages to say after a few seconds. "What exactly are these special services you're willing to provide?"

The girl moves in as close as she can get to Eddie, her hair smelling like vanilla cake and candy. Her lips are so close to Eddie's ear he can almost feel them brush with each word she speaks, low and smoky.

"Let's just say, a lot of boys around school know what it feels like to get their cocks sucked because of me."

Oh…

He can’t help flushing a little at how close she’s getting to him. Her lips are right next to his ear, and that voice of hers… It’s so fucking seductive. Eddie didn‘t know a girl’s voice could make him instantly hot and bothered like that. He kind of wants her to keep talking so he can keep hearing it.

At her last comment, though, he starts to blush even heavier and he can feel his face get hot.

She’s… quite straightforward, I’ll give her that.

“O-oh… okay shit… um… I think I, uh, understand.”

The girl pulls away, her eyes heavy lidded and a smirk on her face at how flustered Eddie is because of her forward advances.

"Munson... don't tell me, Hawkins High's biggest bad boy is actually a virgin." There's a devilish look on her face as she teases Eddie mercilessly.

Eddie flushes deeper, actually feeling embarrassed for the first time in a long time that the girl had figured out so quickly that he had never... been with a girl before.

“Okay… okay, I get your point,” Eddie grumbles, feeling very annoyed now. “Yeah, I’m… I’m a virgin alright? I’m also a geek. A freak. A weirdo. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He crosses his arms over his chest, his face turning stony as he tries to hide his embarrassment.

Eddien should’ve expected a girl like her to play games like this. No need to tell her that, though. He refused to give her the satisfaction.

"Don't take my teasing the wrong way Munson, it's not a cute look. I don't care that you're a virgin, just a little surprised."

The girl stops and looks Eddie over thoughtfully before finishing, "I think it's sweet that you're not what everyone thinks you are."

He stares at her for a few seconds. For once, Eddie doesn't know what to say. She’s not judging him. She’s not saying that there’s something wrong with him for having never even kissed a girl, let alone more. The fact that she genuinely thought it was sweet made him…blush.

“Oh… thanks… I… I appreciate that.” Eddie breathes out, his face squishing up into the cutest grin. “So, about that deal… What do I have to do to cash in on, ehm… y’know, your services?”

"Find us a place where we won't get interrupted, I wanna take my time with you. You don't deserve a quick blowie on a dirty bathroom floor. And roll us a joint big boy," the girl winks at Eddie as she gives the two stipulations to her deal.

Eddie can't believe how his day had just turned into... this. But he was far from complaining.

“My van is right this way. It’s as good a place to hideout as any,” Eddie stammers.

"Lead the way Munson." The girl quips, following behind Eddie in silence.

Eddie leads the girl to where he keeps his van parked. He doesn't like to park it on school grounds after some of the bullies around school vandalized his precious van last year.

He wrenches open the back doors, and pulls the beaded curtain aside so the girl can climb up into the van easier.

"I've always wanted to fuck a guy in the back of one of these," the girl says as she hops up into the back of the van..

As soon as Eddie shuts the door, the girl begins to take off her jacket. Underneath her jacket she is wearing a very low cut shirt that shows off quite a bit of her round, plump cleavage.

"Be a good boy and roll us a joint, and then we will get to the fun part."

Eddie realizes he’s staring at her after a moment, watching as she takes off her jacket to reveal the one thing he had longed to see in person since puberty struck: tits. His face feels like it’s on fire, and it’s very, very hard to keep his eyes from wandering back down to her chest every few seconds.

He finally tears his eyes away with an awkward cough though, to get to work on rolling a joint.

The girl watches Eddie with almost adorable fascination as his nimble fingers skillfully rolls the paper around all the green, until a perfectly tight rolled joint sits between his long, ringed fingers.

Eddie reaches into his vest pocket and gets his lighter so he can start the joint for her. He feels a little flustered as she watches him put the joint between his lips.

A few drags later and Eddie leans toward the girl to blow the smoke in her face. He was expecting her to be annoyed at the action, but instead she smiles sweetly at Eddie.

"Your turn," he says, passing her the joint and then gently guiding her on how to smoke it properly.

The irony of the situation is suddenly not lost on Eddie. He was taking her smoking virginity and she... Well, Eddie didn't want to think too much about what her lips would be doing soon. He was already half hard and embarrassed about it.

She takes a few drags just as Eddie instructed, and coughs suddenly; the smoke spilling out of her mouth. Eddie had a feeling she would cough on her first try, he only hoped that didn't stop her from wanting more.She passes the joint back to Eddie, and waits for him to take his hit.

Her eyes are already a little red, and her stern face is relaxing into a softer, more vulnerable expression.

The girl's eyes are getting more and more adventurous at looking Eddie over the more they pass the joint back and forth.

At this point Eddie is pleasantly high, and a little horny. A feeling not at all foreign to him.

A little bit of sweat was forming a sensual sheen on the girl's tits, drawing Eddie's attention back there far too easily.

Of course she would notice.

"Have you ever done anything with a girl before?"

Eddie normally would have thought she was judging him, but her expression was so open and curious and... cute.

He can feel a little sweat forming on the small of his back and underarms. He’s nervous, and it makes it hard to ignore how badly he just wants to get into it. But Eddie tries to stay focused on her hazy eyes as he responds."No... not really. I'm a little, uh... a little inexperienced with this kind of thing," he admits. "Why do you ask?”

"Because," the girl answers, noticing how badly Eddie was ogling her chest. "I want you to feel safe. If you want to stop at any time do not hesitate to tell me. Boys always get it in their heads that they need to lose their virginity as fast as possible. I don't want you to look back on this moment and regret it."

"Okay, yeah… I-I appreciate that," Eddie replies, trying and failing to sound calm. "I want us both to enjoy this whole experience, you know?"

She smiles faintly at Eddie’s words before launching into her usual spiel. "My safe word is Milkshake, but you can pick your own if you want to. If at any time I do something that you don't like or you start to have second thoughts, use your safe word, okay Munson?"

Eddie nods his head slowly in response. "Yeah, don’t worry I'll do that. My safe word will be… uh, shit… no not ‘shit’, it’ll be… " He looks down at himself for inspiration, his eyes landing on the logo of his shirt, a devious smile curling his lip. “Hellfire, my safe word will be Hellfire.”

Marnie’s smile slowly melts into a smirk at Eddie’s choice before she continues,

"Now, I have a few ground rules before we begin, okay?"

Nodding his head, a little absentminded Eddie replies around a suddenly dry throat, "Go on. I'm listening."

"You are allowed to touch my chest, thighs, back and ass over my clothes. Never under. You will not try and pleasure me in return. And under any circumstances are you allowed to kiss me. Do you agree?" Marnie levels Eddie with a serious frown, the pinch of apprehension between her eyes makes Eddie wonder what she’s thinking as she waits for his response.

He looks at her for a few moments, the weight of everything beginning to settle hot and heavy in his veins, before nodding once more. "Yeah, I can do that. Sounds...uh... pretty reasonable.” Eddie looks away for a moment, his darkened cheeks making him feel self conscious . He silently doubted the other boys Marnie had dallied with acted this fucking awkward before getting their dicks sucked.

"Do you have any rules of your own that you want me to follow Munson?" Marnie tilts her head to the side, and it instantly reminds Eddie of a curious little kitten. Which of course makes him even more flustered. He always knew girls were cute, but no one had ever looked at him like that. Being on the receiving end of a girl's charms… yeah. Eddie was beginning to understand why men could be such dicks to each other when they wanted a girl.

He was already mentally strangling any invisible and imagined guy who even came near Marnie again. Which was… stupid. She wasn’t even his to claim, but Eddie knew then and there that if given the chance, he would make Marnie Wellwood his girl.

For a few more moments Eddie just takes her in, trying to think of anything he wasn’t okay with. Porn mags were always too perfect. And even though Eddie knew that that was the appeal, that the fantasy is what sold each issue; well, he had always hoped his first time with a girl would be more… real. Not a procured imagining of what sex was, but more, intimate. But life had not been kind to Eddie Munson, and here he was just about to get his first blowjob from a girl he found out existed in his same sphere only hours ago.

Eventually, Eddie does speak up. "Um... you can touch, uh..." he blushes and looks down at his fingers, idly twirling his rings from all the nervous energy. "Pretty much anything you want to, I guess. I don't really mind as long as you're comfortable with it."

A fond smile touches upon Marnie’s lips for an instant, before her expression turns serious again. "One last question before we begin then. I always want my partners to get caught completely in the fantasy... When you think of being intimate with someone do you prefer gentle and loving? Passionate and needy? Or Dominant and Dirty?"

She's making it incredibly difficult for Eddie to keep his composure, But he answers her honestly. "Uhm... I think I would like it gentle and loving," Eddie mumbles, looking away slightly to hide his embarrassment.

The girl smiles, and it is a genuine smile that crinkles the edges of her hazy eyes.

"Okay," she murmurs softly, her whole demeanor shifting. In an instant she becomes soft and demure, like a chameleon shifting to blend in. It was almost scary at how fast she could move into a new persona.

"Can I have your hand Munson?"

Eddie’s lips part, the flush of his excitement turning his full lips dark and rosy. In the dim, hazy lighting of the van, Eddie’s eyes are dark and fathomless; the pupil practically consuming his iris hungrily. His hands shake, the slick sweat on his palms making him cringe at himself as she takes his long, trembling fingers into her own hand.

She lets her gentle fingers glide over the planes of Eddie's strong, well defined hands. Each knuckle reverently caressed. She takes the calloused pads of Eddie's fingertips and brings them to her lips and just lets him feel her hot, moist breath fan against them teasingly; her eyes never once leaving his as she quietly assesses his reactions.

The expectation Eddie had was for her to start sucking on his fingers in a facsimile of what was to come... so he is completely surprised when she bestows a soft kiss on each fingertip, her eyes fluttering closed sweetly.

After each finger has been kissed, the girl opens her eyes and whimpers pleadingly, gently guiding Eddie's hand to now cup one of her full breasts over her clothes.

"Please, touch me... tell me all the dirty thoughts you think every time you take your dick in your fist and fuck it."

Her sweet gestures mixing with her filthy words were going to be Eddie's undoing, he was sure of it.

Eddie cups the girls full, weighty breast in awe. There were very few moments in Eddie's life where he was absolutely speechless, no witty come back or snarky remark. Just pure fascination and wonder over being able to touch a girl's tits for the very first time.

His throat is getting a little dry from how quickly he was getting turned on; all of his blood pooling into his erection. The girl makes a throaty sound of encouragement, snapping Eddie back to reality.

She had asked him a question and he still hadn't answered.

"I dunno... don't really fantasize much about sex. I mostly just whack it to porn mags," Eddie finally supplies inelegantly.

"No, no, that's not what I mean," she replies quickly, shaking her head. She's back to being bold and assertive just like that. All the shyness was an act. Eddie’s blush returns as he realizes that - and not for the first time - he realizes he may have been a bit too gullible.

"Tell me the dirtiest thoughts you've ever had, in your entire life."

Eddie swallows thickly as she practically purrs the words. Wow. That's... that's a little more intense than he had even dared to imagine… Eddie wipes his hands absently on his jeans as they continue to sweat.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as he thinks; his thoughts falling through his mind like sand in an hourglass. He felt high, horny and hazy-- all of those things a horrible combination in regards to having to think.

His strong hands are cupping both of her breasts now, squeezing and massaging absentmindedly and enjoying every moment of it.

"Fuck..." Eddie bites out, his thoughts finally catching up to him as dirty images flicker behind his eyelids. "I wanna sit in my throne after d&d and have a girl ride me. Make me feel like a god," Eddie is mumbling, trying to keep the image from making him nut too soon.

The girl smiles ever so slightly at Eddie's reply to her question.

Her eyes flick down to his jeans, the hard line of his cock easy to see from how tight he wears his pants.

"Does your dick hurt from being so hard? Want me to make you feel so so good?" The girl croons, her gaze growing dark and sultry.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes the word into his lungs. There had been the slightest tremble in his voice, all too easily showing Marnie how close he already was, without even being touched yet. “Yeah, wanna feel you on my dick… pretty mouth’s gonna feel incredible.” He was practically slurring as if drunk. He might as well have been… drunk off the smell of her perfume, and the sound of her voice edging him closer to the finish line before the race even began.

"You're such an honest boy," she murmurs while her fingers trace the strong tendons in Eddie's hands.

Her hands trail up his arms, and then under his shirt; her nails pressing a little harder as they rake downward to add a little pain to the pleasure. It makes Eddie shiver, and the flush on his face deepens at how much he enjoyed the slight sting.

And god damn it made him fucking moan.

Even when he was at his most desperate to cum, fucking into his slick, sticky fist like his life depended on it in the privacy of his room, he had never moaned. Sigh, sure… hell maybe even whimpered occasionally. But the guttural sound she drew from him made him flush heatedly.

"Your moans are so pretty Munson, I'm having a hard time believing no one has ever touched you like this before. The girls around here really are dumb,"Her gaze turns slightly predatory as she licks the rim of her lower lip in a show of seduction and want.

The wet shine of her lips makes Eddie gulp at the knowledge that soon her sinful little mouth would be sucking him off.

There's no doubt about it. This girl was good. Really, really good. But there was no way in hell Eddie was backing out now just because he was slightly overwhelmed by her. No way.

Eddie swallows heavily, but tries to play it cool. "Nobody's ever talked to me like this before.” His eyes flutter closed for a moment, taking this all in. "Yeah... maybe I am missing out. You're really something, you know that?"

He watches breathlessly as the girl's hands work efficiently on his belt and jeans fasteners, the shine of her black nails catching his attention.

He can hardly hear the sound of his zipper being pulled down over the thundering of his heartbeat. The muggy air in the van is still cool enough to send a shiver through him as he feels the damp patch from his leaking dick cool from the sudden air flow.

The girl looks up at him through the rim of her pretty lashes, and smiles as her fingers begin to gently rub at the wetness leaking through his boxers from the weeping head of his dick.

Her lips look so tempting to Eddie, and he has an insatiable urge to kiss her. But he remembers, a little regretfully, her no kissing policy.

Instead he bites his own lip to keep from moaning again too loudly.

Eddie feels his jaw clench from the effort, his skin burning raw and sensitive all over with the desperate desire to press Marnie down and claim her. Ruin her until she’s quivering and moaning just as badly as him. But Eddie is able to keep himself in check. His heart rate is skyrocketing and the blood is still rushing through his body at a fever pitch, but he does his best to remain calm.

"God, that felt so good. Fuckin’ perfect…," Eddie adds with a soft sigh.

The girl gives Eddie a surprisingly gentle smile considering how domineering she has been this whole time at his words.

The feeling of her hands softly squeezing and rubbing his impossibly hard cock through his boxers was absolute heaven. Nothing in his life had ever felt as good as this, and they hadn't even gotten to the fun part.

"Fuck Munson," the girl whispers in awe, "you've got a big cock. The girls are definitely missing out at getting a taste of you.”

He can't help it - Eddie shivers as she says that. His breath hitches as she speaks, face flushing bright red once more. Eddie wanted to say to hell with any other girl…

Every girl he had ever fantasized about, every awkward boner at school when a skirt swished by, thighs so tantalizing he thought he could die, paled in comparison to this. To Marnie Wellwood looming over him, tits pulled taught in her tight shirt, and a mouth made of sin.

"Mmm. You... you think so?" Eddie slurs, her words making him throb. It clicked for him then that she definitely liked what she was feeling. Her appreciative appraisal of his cock made Eddie practically preen with pride.

"Of course. I overhear so many girls in our classes whine about their boyfriends lack of... downstairs equipment." As if to punctuate her Admiration, she finally pulls the full length of Eddie's dick out of his boxers; her velvety soft fingers finally directly touching the hot, throbbing length of him.

Her gaze turns wanton at the sight of him. His cock was long, and thick in perfect balance, with a lovely head and delicate veins. Precum was weeping from the eye of his dick to run down the length of it and onto his balls.

Eddie wondered if he was only imagining the drool at the corner of her mouth the moment she fully took in the sight of him.

"Ohhh... God..."

When she mentions how big he is Eddie feels a sudden, intense surge of pride. His heartbeat starts to race again, and for a second he thinks about what they would all say if they knew what Eddie the Freak Munson was doing right now, but then he reminds himself to focus on the present. Yeah, the present was good… Marnie’s smooth fingers had just begun to rub along the thickest vein on his cock and that alone was heaven.

The girl seems to sense how well her words lifted Eddie's self esteem, the way his cheeks flushed pleasantly at the praise. She thought it was sort of... cute. But she would never admit that out loud.

Instead she takes Eddie's dick and slicks her hands over it a few times to spread his precum so she can jerk his cock a little easier.

Eddie can't control the sound she wrenches out of him from how amazing it felt to have someone other than himself jerk his erection so good like that... it was enough to almost make him drool.

She pokes out her tongue teasingly, keeping it just a hair's breadth away from Eddie's erection. Her almost touch is driving him crazy, but he tries his best to play it cool and not let her know how badly he wants her.

Without warning however, her soft warm lips begin to swallow around the head of him, and the softness of her slick tongue running along his hot, hard cock almost makes him come undone. Eddie’s eyes roll back, and he blinks blearily at the roof of the van.

Lewd, wet sounds fill the silence; punctuated by Eddie’s voice. Unable to control himself, Eddie whimpers at every soft suckle. When she takes him down to the base and the head of his cock scrapes the back of her throat, Eddie keens as if the air has been punched from his lungs.

Eddie can feel his thighs trembling, pleasure sparking along his nerves. Up his spine, and neck; his head practically fuzzy with pleasure. A few times his hips jerk involuntarily, shoving his dick deeper into Marnie’s perfect mouth.

Apologies sit at the precipice of his tied up tongue, afraid that fucking into her throat like that would make her angry. So when her eyes flick up and she whimpers pleadingly at him as if… fuck, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he might think she liked him rutting his cock into her mouth as if he really was fucking it.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, as they clench and unclench at his sides uselessly. He's just trembling and breathing shakily through his nose. But he knows at least that he can't stop looking at her. His eyes drink her in greedily, and if he could burn the sight of her cheeks stretched full around his cock into his mind forever, he would.

What finally undoes Eddie are her eyes. At the height of his breathless panting for air, her eyes flick up and bore heatedly into his. They hold such unfathomable thoughts behind them, and Eddie finds it both maddening and exhilarating that he cannot begin to guess what she is thinking as he spills.

Her eyes felt like they were branding him, and though he did not know it then, they would forever leave a mark upon his heart.

She licks her lips after she swallows, which just makes Eddie groan from how overstimulated and over the edge she made him feel. There was the tiniest tinge of regret that it was all over now, but Eddie tried to not let that get to him. Instead he tries to affect an air of lazy nonchalance as he says, "I can't believe we just did... that." An almost note of disbelief colors his words as he looks the girl over.

“Did you… like it?” Eddie asks breathlessly while he collects himself enough to speak again. He feels a bit silly for even asking, but he needs to know.

"The question is, Munson, did you like it? This isn't about me, my hookups with you silly boys are never about how I feel. I provide a service and I get something in return. Nothing more, nothing less."

The girl is plucking at the almost burned away remnants of the joint they were sharing and takes a drag of what little remains, releasing the smoke in Eddie's direction. She seems unaffected by her own words, but Eddie can see the small twinge of sadness at the edges of her eyes as she says it.

“Well if it wasn’t obvious, I loved it. This was… this was amazing.” Eddie replies, honestly. Never in his wildest dreams had Eddie ever dared to think he would be in a moment like this. But seeing the hint of hurt from her own admission makes Eddie want to soften the ache.

“But, it would be better if you liked it too. Why do you do this if it doesn’t make you feel good?”

She smiles, it's small and reflective as if she is thinking a thought that she knows she has to hold back. It's in that moment that Eddie sees a hint of something behind her mask. She wanted people to think she was carefree and promiscuous.

"Look Munson, I did enjoy making you feel good. You're probably the... gentlest person I've been with. As long as you are satisfied with what I did for you then that's all that matters. Girls like me... we don't get to be cherished and adored. Treated like something precious... we just... exist for others' benefit."

“That’s not fair,” Eddie says with a small bit of resentment. “You deserve as much appreciation and love as you give. It just… seems unfair that you get the short end of the stick.”

"I never said anything about love Munson. Love has nothing to do with why I hook up like this with people like you. Love is the last thing any of you boys need to have with a girl like me "

"Well, what's so wrong with love?" He asks, confused and curious about what exactly she means by that.

But... There is a small part of Eddie that understands what she's saying - even if he doesn't like hearing it.

"Love isn't for someone like me, okay?" Her words have a bitter edge, "I'm the kind of person who is meant to be someone's dirty little secret. No one would proudly take me by the hand for the world to see. I'm the mistake that happens when you get too drunk, or miss your ex. I'm the filler in a space that just so happens to be free. Boys don't love girls who are like this. They just use them, and then cut them loose when they get bored of them."

Her words leave a very bitter taste in Eddie’s mouth. He can’t help feeling slighted, even if Marnie had made it clear from the get go what this was. Her being so candid and assuming his intentions… stung.

“Well… maybe you just haven’t met someone willing to care for you like that,” Eddie adds. He knows he is going into uncharted territory, and he hopes he won’t say anything too stupid or offensive to make her mad.

She laughs a little, the sound sardonic and dry and... sad. Her fingers put out the last bits of the joint, before going to brush the mess of her hair out of her face. "Don't you worry your pretty little head over me Munson. Just revel in the fact that you now officially know what it feels like to get a blowie in the back of your van."

“Wow. You just… it never stops with you, huh?” Eddie replies sarcastically. “I guess I should count myself lucky.”

He sighs softly as he realizes that, although they had both enjoyed themselves, she seems adamant about not letting herself get emotionally connected to anyone. This was a mistake in her mind, and that’s all it’ll ever be.

Eddie figures there are worse mistakes to make at least.

"Thanks for the weed, and for being nice to me." Her raspy voice grows a little soft and fluffy at the end, and she looks away. "You're not at all like I expected you to be."

"Really?" he asks, his usual playful smile returning. "Well, thank you for that. Coming from you, that means a lot."Eddie smiles warmly, a rush of endorphins flooding him from the compliment. "What did you expect me to be like?"

"Mean and scary. I know it's dumb... we both have pretty horrible reputations around school, don't we?"

"Yeah, we do..."

Eddie sighs, smiling warmly at her again. "But sometimes... what we're told isn't always reality. You know, we're not as scary as people make us out to be." He shrugs. "If anything, I'm just a bit of a nerd who likes to headbang to metal, and you... you're actually pretty sweet on the inside."

"You tell anyone I have a soft gooey inside Munson, and I'll tell everyone around school what you're like down there, and it won't be close to the truth at all."

He blushes again, just at the reminder of what she had said earlier about his… endowment. "Fine. I can keep a secret." Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. "But would they believe you?"

She smiles a wolfish, toothy smile at Eddie's response. "Touché," with that she straightens her clothes and reaches for the handle of Eddie's back door in his van.

"If you uh... ever want to request my services again, I might be inclined to say yes. You're pretty fun to hang out with Munson."

"Maybe I will,"He replies, his face crinkling as he smiles at her. Eddie feels both a bit silly and very embarrassed. But also happy. Really, really happy.

He turns the handle for her, and lets her know the coast is clear. "I'm glad you um, hit me up for a deal. That was... unexpected, but very nice."

She hops out of the back of the van like she hadn't just been in there doing very eyebrow raising things with Hawkins High's biggest Freak. It warms Eddie's heart just a little when she winks and gives him a small smile over her shoulder before disappearing into the woods.

With her back turned and fading steadily from view, Eddie makes a dramatic stabbing motion right into his heart and smiles.

Yeah… without a doubt, he knew he had it bad.

#eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x oc

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jonathangoodbyers · 2 years

Text

what happened in the years that neil was alone in raising billy (hc's)

((tw: child abuse, alcoholism))

- immediately after mom left, Neil was .. distraught ,, to say the least. He didn't think she'd actually work up the courage to leave him and he especially didn't expect her to abandon Billy in the process.

- so he drinks a lot, he's irritable and his temper somehow manages to get even shorter than it already was. he cries too, but only if he thinks no one is watching and he hates himself for it.

- Billy feels more alone than ever, he keeps hoping and praying that his mom will back. He tries to call her constantly, even attempts to track where she went, but he's only 10 and Neil screams at him when he asks if he has any clue where she went, so he doesn't get very far.

- Neil is an emotional drunk, sometimes that emotion is sadness, but a lot of the time it's rage, mixed with despair and blind hatred. He lashes out at Billy almost every night. It only happens once, but Billy will never forget, Neil apologizes. He knocked Billy against the wall so hard that he passes out for a second. In that moment, Neil thinks he's killed his son. When he realizes Billy's okay (ish, he's still injured) he breaks down and apologizes, pulling Billy close. He says he's sorry, but not what for. He doesn't say he'll try to be better, or even that he'll stop hurting him. Billy thinks about that night a lot.

- Neil doesn't get better, the day after he acts like it never happened. But gradually he tries to get his shit together and he stops drinking about a week later.

- The kids at school have figured out that Billy's mom left, even though he did his best to hide it from them. Billy wasn't a very popular kid back then and it doesn't take long before people start picking on him.

- Billy inherited his dad's short temper, so the slightest provocation tends to lead to Billy screaming and crying while simultaneously trying to beat the shit out of whoever pissed him off.

- The other kids aren't that scared of him, he's still a bit too small to really be all that intimidating. They make a game out of it, who can piss off Hargrove the fastest. In the beginning Billy responds by just yelling and cursing at them, but he gradually gets more and more violent. One time he gives another kid a concussion and that's when Neil decides that they need to move out of town.

- Neil has decided that a new house means a fresh start. He gets a new job, Billy's going to a new school and no one around here knows about their past. He also starts giving Billy more chores. Basically all the housework that mom used to do is now Billy's responsibility. He doesn't like it, but he learns quickly that arguing isn't going to make it better.

- Neil gets Billy more involved in sports, telling him to get his energy out that way, instead of getting into fights. It only kind of works.

- Billy establishes himself as 'the scary kid' at his new school. He hardly talks to people, glares at everyone and doesn't make any friends. He doesn't get picked on as much as he used to and when someone makes the mistake of making fun of him, they get their ass kicked. Mostly everyone leaves him alone.

- Billy is lonely. He quietly cries himself to sleep most nights. He dreams of his mom coming back and taking him with her to whatever paradise she must've run off to. Him and Neil never talk about it.

- At some point Neil realizes that if he wants his son to be a Real Man (tm), he can't have him doing housework all day long. He discovers that he can't really convince his son to do those chores AND teach him that it's a woman's job at the same time. Which is when Neil makes it his mission to find a replacement wife.

- Neil isn't looking to fall in love, he just wants a decent looking woman, who doesn't argue or put up a fight, and who is content just staying at home all day. After many failed dates and a few shortlived relationships, he meets Susan.

- Billy only sees Susan in passing for a while. It's not until Neil is already planning to propose that they actually meet. Billy hates Susan. He hates her for not being his mom, for crushing his last shred of hope that his parents could get back together. He hates that she's nothing like his mom, Susan is reserved, demure and soft-spoken. Billy's mom somehow always had the wind in her hair and she laughed loudly. She was wild and she liked to dance.

- Billy doesn't meet Max until after Neil and Susan get engaged. It really is the cherry on top of the shitcake that is his life. Because Max doesn't like him either and she's a brat. The worst part is that Neil lets her get away with it. She gets a stern look and a warning, he gets a smack to the face and house arrest.

- Billy can't lash out at Susan, he finds out pretty quickly. But Max seems to be a different story. He's forced to babysit her all the time and terrorizes her like only an older brother can. Max is resistent and a lot tougher than he had hoped. He pulls her hair and she pulls his right back, he makes her watch scary movies to give her nightmares and she becomes a horror fan, he steals her stuff and hides or breaks it, she just does the same thing back.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove meta #stranger things #stranger things meta #okay this is all ive got for now #tw: abuse

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blessednereid · 3 years

Text

Pity the Living

Daniel Sharman x Reader Series

A/N: The Much Requested, and By Requested, I mean @rogershoe wanted me to write this, MY DANIEL SHARMAN FANFICTION!!!!!! The character that Y/N plays is based on my OC for FTWD and is not an actual character in FTWD. Basic Premise of the setting for this chapter is that they're in high-school/ secondary school. But for the majority of the story(minus flashbacks) it's set in 2016/17 when s3 of FTWD was filmed.

Story Summary: When (Y/N) (L/N) reunites with a high-school friend on the set of the job she's been working on for the past 2-3 years, not only is she excited to work with the guy who inspired her to go into acting, but to hear about what he's done since she's seen him. But the more they talk, the more she realizes, this reunion is not going the way she had planned.

CW: Cursing? brief mention of alcohol, anxiety, mentions of food, fake dagger, fake blood, bets,

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Career Day

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Most of the students around you were chorusing to the tune of your school anthem, but not you. You had heard the melody and sung it almost a million times. Whether you were exaggerating or not, not even you knew. Instead, you were whispering and laughing with one of your best friends, Daniel Sharman.

You met Daniel when you first came to the school. You didn't know many people. You didn't even know yourself in this place. It was a completely foreign experience, but he stuck by your side and showed you around.

Since then, you had made friends, joined the swim team, learned your way around the school without ending up in the boys' restrooms instead of the girls' ones. Despite not needing Daniel to show you around anymore, he still provided plenty of comedic support and pick-me-ups and was a great mate all around.

Your teacher had just finished introducing all the parents who were presenting at career day. The assignment being after the presentations were finished, you were supposed to think about what you wanted to be in the future. You had no idea what you wanted to be. But of course… Daniel did.

"An actor."

"An actor?" he nodded. "Like Macbeth?"

"No, Macbeth is a character. An actor is a person who plays the character."

"Why an actor?"

"Dunno. Just seems right."

You frowned. "Huh, that's nice. Knowing what you want to be."

"You could always try acting. It's worth a shot."

"Hah, if I ever tried acting, it would probably be when I'm old, senile, and look like Betty White."

"Oh, come on. You're a great actress!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Sharman?" you gasped.

"Just that you tell fibs and stories as if they were the truth. That's all acting is."

"I DO NOT!"

"How did you convince your mum that your dog jumped onto the table and ate the cake without making any noise last weekend, then?" You opened your mouth to speak before closing it.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Shut up, Sharman."

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L/N Residence

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You and Daniel were both swimming in the pool in your backyard when Daniel asked you the question.

"Did you think about it?"

Still floating, you asked, "About what?"

"Acting."

You laughed incredulously. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was." He swam closer to you and pulled your leg down, making you flop around and splash water.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"Was just trying to get your attention," he remarked innocently.

You coughed. "You had it."

"Picture this," he waved you off. "Us, on the red carpet-"

"Who's red carpet?"

"Does it matter? We'll be each other's dates anyways."

"Why is that?" you asked.

"Because we're best friends."

"What if one of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "Ok, whatever. We're on the red carpet separately. It's both of ours red carpet-"

"So, does that mean we're in a movie together?"

"Yes, Y/N," he muttered exasperatedly.

"But that's impossible?"

"Why do you say that?"

You leaned closer to his ear. "BECAUSE I'M NOT BECOMING AN ACTOR."

He jumped away from you, proceeding to splash you with water.

"Mark my words. I know talent when I see it."

You sighed. "Could this just be you not wanting to be lonely in the acting world?"

He jutted his lip and spoke in a whiny voice. "Maybe…"

You laughed before splashing a giant wave of water at him. While he still had water in his eyes, you dove under and pulled him down.

He flailed around before his head popped up, and he calmed down.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"PAYBACK, SHARMAN!"

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Announcement

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The intercom gave a heavy buzz, and static-y noises ran amok over the building before a voice actually came through the speakers.

"Hello, Teachers, Students, and Faculty. Welcome back to school. We hope that you all enjoyed your holidays and got the rest you needed to pay attention in class today," the last part was passive. Your principal gave more announcements for clubs and sports around the school, such as upcoming games or reminders for students to buy the school yearbook.

You were nodding along interested, or looking for interest really when something caught your best friend's attention.

"The school will also be hosting its first-ever play, Romeo and Juliet. Interested people should report to the music room before the end of the week to receive information."

You saw Daniel's eyes widen only moments before he spoke up. "Hey," he waved at you. "You should audition!"

"Daniel, are you insane?"

He chuckled, "No, but I think you'd like it."

You tried arguing, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You're the one who said you didn't know what you wanted to do after you graduated. Doing this cannot hurt."

"Yeah, it can't hurt until I trip on my costumes and break my neck!"

"That rarely ever happens," he said exasperatedly. "Ok, how about this? You audition, and if you end up getting a role and actually doing the play, I'll give you fifty pounds."

You squinted. "Do you even have fifty pounds to give me?"

"Do you even have to ask," he feigned shock in the accusation? You gave a sour face before he truthfully answered. "Fine, I don't have it now. But I will by the time the play comes around."

"What do I get just for auditioning?"

"I'll convince my mum to make that cake you like."

"Fine."

"BUT!" he exclaimed. "You have to audition for Juliet."

"You're kidding?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not. You have to audition for Juliet."

"I hate you," you mumbled before sighing a whispered 'fine.'

He gave a toothy smile. "Then we have a deal."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Auditions

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You reluctantly walked onto the stage, Daniel's widening grin so visible in the audience. He said that he only put his name on the audition sheet so he could watch the auditions. He would've already been gone by the time it was his turn.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n, and I am auditioning for Juliet," your lips pressing into a straight line after saying the sentence.

You stammered through your first few lines. "Sh-Shall I speak ill of him— that is my husband?" You said with a laugh.

"Ah," you paused and clicked your tongue. "Poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name… When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?"

You said your following line in an accusatory manner. "But wherefore, villain... didst thou kill my cousin?" you said, though your voice squealed trying to pronounce 'didst.' "That villain cousin would have killed my husband."

"Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!" Your voice rose and fell several octaves. "Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Fake tears spring to your eyes, your voice cracked, and you began slowly falling against an invisible wall.

You looked down at your paper for what to say next. "My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?" You wiped your cheeks dramatically.

"Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murd'red me. I would forget it fain;" your lips quivered, and you sucked in deep, heaving breaths before speaking your line.

"But O, it presses to my memory. Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banishèd!" You shouted.

You stood back up in a startling jump, and with a proud smile, you said triumphantly, "And Scene!"

The directors and some students in the audience, especially Daniel, gave a round of applause before the director dismissed you.

You took the steps to the stage and sat next to Daniel as the director called the next student to audition.

"You were amazing! The director might as well have given you the role right then and there."

You laughed, "Hang on, charmer. There were a bunch of Juliet's who literally said that entire thing so… fluently. I stammered through the whole thing."

"But you showed more emotion than anyone else. You only had a week to prepare. The actual show will be like child's play."

"They want people who can memorize and recite. The emotion can be added later, but it's worth nothing if they forget their lines."

"There is such a thing called improvising for a reason," he reassured.

"Who in their right, bloody minds wants to improvise Shakespeare?"

He turned his head and chuckled before waving a five-pound note in front of your face. "Here, I got to go before they call me, but you earned this at least."

"Five pounds for being forced to audition for a stupid play so you can prove a point? Wow, you must really fancy me, huh, Sharman?" you said sarcastically.

"Goodbye, L/n," he whispered before sneaking out the back door of the auditorium.

"Alright, next up. Daniel Sharman!" The director shouted your friend's name a few more times before giving up.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Headmasters Office

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A week after your audition, you were called to the headmasters' office. Thus is the cause of the curious looks from your classmates. Oohs and Aahs flooded your ears as you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the front of the school.

When you got to the front of the building and went into the headmasters' office, you saw the Theatre director, Ms Parker, standing behind the desk. "Headmaster Leo allowed me to use his office to do this. Isn't that cool?"

Ms Parker was one of the younger teachers in school. She was twenty-four, and this was her first year teaching after receiving her bachelor's degree in education and a master's degree in music production. A fact she could astoundingly ramble about for fifteen minutes. As proven at the auditions.

"I didn't want to call you to the theatre room. That would be too predictable, correct?" You'd come to realize she was a very eccentric woman. "I have called you in here to inform you that you have been selected to perform in this year's play of Romeo and Juliet."

A wave of shock coursed through your body, and you were sure it reflected on your face. "Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm positive!- your audition was totally spectacular! So brilliant-in fact- that I am completely sure in my choice to make you our female lead- Juliet!"

"What!" Your eyes widened into a blank stare. Your thoughts were running rampant in your mind. You thought that performing on the stage would be a breeze when you weren't the lead.

"Ms Parker, I didn't actually want the part of Juliet! It's just that my friend dared me to audition for Juliet! Is there no way I can get a smaller part? I'm no Juliet. The show would be ruined," you rambled.

The directors' facial expressions softened, "Darling, you are the only choice. None of the other people who auditioned can even compare to the amount of passion you produced in that audition. I am determined to have you as our Juliet."

You whimpered out an "Ok." Professors had a strange way of convincing you to do extra credit assignments or things that aren't necessary.

"We have a chemistry read for you and a few of our other choices for Romeo after school today. Do you need to contact a parent to let them know where you'll be?"

"Uh, yes, please."

After you made your call, you walked back to your classroom with shaky hands. The class period was almost over, but you had to tell Daniel that you had gotten a part in the show. Not just any part- THE PART!

You shuffled into the classroom reluctantly. All eyes were on you as every student had assumed you'd been in trouble. Either suspended, expelled, or told your parents were going to have a sit-down with the headmaster.

You took your seat next to Daniel before taking out a piece of paper and writing out a note, encompassing the words, "I got the part!"

You slid the sheet discreetly onto his desk. When he read it, his eyes widened, and he quietly moved his hands toward yours, beckoning for a high five.

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First Rehearsal

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After the chemistry read, the role of Romeo was given to a kid named James Mercer-Allen got the part. Though it was more because the directors were starting to become tired.

The next day was the first rehearsal. Swimming season was last semester, so there was no clash in schedules with the play.

"Alright, this rehearsal is to get acquainted with the stage, your fellow actors, and directors," she insisted. "Now, let's introduce ourselves. Can our Romeo please stand up?"

James stood up and gave a brief introduction. You were called on next. You stated your name, "I was on the swim team last semester, and I'm in my thirteenth year. I hope I can do this role justice."

More students stood up to introduce themselves. The entire process took more than thirty minutes.

The next thing to happen was that the rest of the students were called to recite lines for various roles. The only parts that had been cast preliminarily were Romeo and Juliet.

You and James had sat on the wooden stools unless there was a scene going on that needed Romeo and/or Juliet.

By the end of the first rehearsal, the majority of the speaking roles were cast. You went home exhausted but not expecting the conversation that waited for you.

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The Talk

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"We're moving?" you shouted at your parents from your seat across from them in the sitting room. "What do you mean we're moving."

"Honey, your dad got a job in the states, so we have to move," your mother argued.

"But what about school? No school will take me in the middle of the year, and it's my last year of secondary school. I don't want to spend the rest of my last year knowing nobody."

Your dad, the man of the hour, spoke up. "Dear, we're moving at the end of the year. After school ends."

"But- What about Uni?"

"You said you were taking a sabbatical year!"

"Yes, so I could intern in London!"

"Can't you intern in California?" Your mother whined.

"We're going to California? It's the furthest state?"

Your dad attempted to reassure you but failed. "Darling, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll like it there more than you like it here!"

"I could never like anywhere more than I like it here!"

You agreed to go to your room and spent the rest of the day there. Later on, after you finished moping, you ringed up your closest friends to tell them you were moving. You did that until you were so tired you fell asleep on the phone with Sarah before you even called Daniel.

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Confrontation

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"Why am I hearing from everyone besides you that you're moving?" Daniel appeared out of thin air behind you, and the accusation was an assault on your conscience.

You could lie and tell him that you wanted to reveal that to him in person, or you could just tell him the truth- say you fell asleep. Mix-and-Match? You ended up just telling the truth. "I fell asleep when I was making some of my other calls. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

"Why didn't you call me first. I'm your best friend?"

"That's why! It was too hard. I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I didn't want to tell you, I don't want it to be true, and telling you of all people would make it feel real."

"Why can't you stay for Uni?"

"I already told my parents I was taking a gap year. I didn't apply to any colleges."

"Crap!" he sighed. "Ok, well, we're going to have to make the most of it. And! You're getting a going away party!"

"Daniel, I don't need-"

"No debate! You are getting a going away party!"

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Opening Night

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Four months later, after all the rehearsals and memorizations of lines. After much running around the entire film department, it was finally opening night, and your nerves were shot.

You were scrambling all morning to find everything you needed. All your costumes were at the school, but you still needed to bring your black leotard, skin-coloured tights, and wear your hair in an up-do style.

You decided to do your skincare routine, but your panic got the best of you, and you forgot what every single product was used for.

Daniel came over and helped you get ready but found you practically hyperventilating.

Your parents drove you both to the theatre, and when Ms Parker told you that Daniel couldn't be backstage, you promptly told her that he was your emotional support. After much arguing, she finally let him backstage.

Around an hour before showtime, the director told Daniel that he had to go wait in the audience if he already bought his ticket or that he had to go do it now.

Before he left, he gave you a pep-talk. "Hey, so one time, I was in this play, and the idea was that I was expelled, and there was a piece of paper I had to give my 'mother,' but I lost it. So we had to improvise, but I couldn't find the paper, and I felt horrible. So just know, even if you forget your lines, you must improvise, and remember, it still probably won't compare to the embarrassment I felt that day. So you can laugh at my humiliation. "

You chuckled, "I will. Ok, go before you get in trouble."

"Ok, me, our parents and all your friends will be in the front row. I've already reserved the entire row. I brought a whole bag of jackets just for that reason!"

"You can't do that," you said in between cackles.

"For you, I'll do anything," he grinned.

A few hours later and the show was almost done. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end," you wept.

"O, churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to die with thine restorative." You leaned over James and let your hair fall to the side of your head to cover your face. You pulled back without actually kissing James.

"Thy lips are warm."

A whispery voice came from offstage, "Which way?" The cue for you to take the poison, which was actually cranberry juice.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" You grabbed the dagger and brought it near your chest. "This is thy sheath;" you drew the fake knife back three inches from your chest and stabbed it to where the bag of more cranberry juice was and punctured the bag. 'Blood' soaked through your dress. "There rust, and let me die." You fell dramatically onto the altar and waited for the scene to end as the crowd cheered.

After the show, you dashed into the crowd where your friends and family waited for you. Ovations and Applauses were passed, lauded boxes of chocolates and gorgeous roses were given.

When you got to Daniel, he practically tackled you with a hug. "I actually thought you died for a split second. The blood looked so real."

"Daniel, most people don't bleed that fast, do they?"

"I don't know but fear kicked in, and I couldn't make sense of anything."

You grinned and almost went to your parents before Daniel grabbed your arm. "You don't have a date to the Leavers ball, do you?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I was thinking that you could go with me. I don't have a date either."

You squinted, thinking there was some ulterior motive behind his actions. "Ok, I'll go with you if you give me the money you owe me before then."

"It's right here," he smiled.

Your face scrunched up, but you reluctantly agreed. You only had a month of school left, and you might as well spend it having fun with your friends.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Leavers Ball and the Getaway Party

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You were dressed in a light blue, pleated, Mikado prom dress that cut off at mid-thigh. You had black wedges on your feet and a black pearl-beaded bracelet on your arm.

You were wearing a half-up, half-down style that framed your face and a silver necklace with a circle-shaped diamond.

You were sitting in the parlour when Daniel rang the doorbell. He was ten minutes late.

"Sorry," he said when your dad answered it. "I know I'm late. I was picking up Kat and James."

Kat and James were your and Daniel's respective friends who'd started last year after you and Daniel introduced them.

"Hi," you popped out of the shadows. "Alright, Mom, Dad, we're late, so we're just going to get goi-"

"Wait! I have to take pictures! Go get Kat and James."

"No, Mom. No pictures!"

"It's only right. I just want a few. We can take it outside."

You sighed but reluctantly caved into your mother's will.

The four of you took pictures outside of Daniel's Jeep Wrangler. You took ones with silly faces, just girls, just boys, and ones with all four of you before your parents allowed you to leave.

You were forty minutes late, and the ball was already in full swing by the time you got there.

You got on the dance floor immediately because one of your favourite songs was playing, but the DJ switched the song as soon as you found a decent spot. It was a slow song. You chuckled, and Daniel put his hands on your waist.

"Well, this is awkward."

A few minutes later, Daniel posed an interesting question.

"Did you know that I had a crush on you when you first came to school?"

"Uh, you stammered. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I did. It was short, though. Surface-level."

"Oh," you said. "Should I take offence to that?"

"What?" His eyes widened in realization with what he said. "No, that's not what I meant. You have an amazing personality. I just meant that… I just meant I like you more as a friend than to ruin that with any of those feelings."

"Oh, ok. You wouldn't have, though."

"I wouldn't?"

"No, everyone needs an ego boost every once in a while."

"Haha!"

"And besides, I've had feelings for you at one point too. But it was very cliche, so I tried to shake it as hard as I could."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And did you?"

"Like I said, as hard as I could. If it's still there somewhere, it's buried very deep, so much so that I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to like me?"

"I mean embarrassed to try and make my life seem like some movie."

"Oh, well, if you did, it would've just made you that much better as an actress. Speaking of that, would you consider acting in the least?"

"Maybe, now that I'm leaving, it's basically the last thing I have to connect me to you."

"No," he said, pointing to your bracelet. "You have that."

You had forgotten that it was Daniel who gave it to you, but the realization brought a smile to your face. "Oh yeah, I'll never take it off."

Later on, long before the ball ended, you saw many of your friends leaving.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Daniel approached you.

"Where is everyone going?"

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Afterparty!"

"But it's not over?"

"Quit being a party popper and just come with us, L/N!"

You gave in, something you did a lot, and you all started driving. When you got there, you realized you were at Daniel's house.

"The afterparty is at your house?" you asked.

"Well…" James answered.

Kat joined in. "It's really an afterparty!"

"This is your going away party!" Daniel finished.

"But I'm not going away for another month."

"Well, now you have an entire month for people to give you gifts and stuff, and you don't have to worry about the party!" He reasoned.

"But why did it have to be after the Leavers ball?"

"Because you're already in a dress, and it has to be a surprise! Surprise!" Kat exclaimed.

"Alright, fine!"

The entire night you partied and danced, and though you didn't drink alcohol, plentiful amounts of pop and mocktails were passed around. The music was a delight to your ears with all your favourite songs. There were chips and pizza with all your favourite toppings.

"This party is awesome!"

Daniel grinned. "Well, I am an amazing party planner if I do say so myself."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Airport

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Daniel's parents drove your family to the airport. Your parents had sold the car. Your dad would return in a week to close a deal on the house. Everything was official, and now you were leaving.

You got out of the car, and the tears forcefully began to fall.

"I'm really gonna miss you, jerk," you said disdainfully to Daniel.

He chuckled. "I'm going to miss you more."

"Impossible!"

He wiped the fallen tear from your eye, and for a moment, you could see every single multi-coloured speck in his eyes and noticed how sometimes they looked blue, and at others, they looked grey or green.

You noticed the curvature of his smile and the chisel of his jawline.You saw the hurt in his eyes that said, 'why do you have to go? You're killing me,' and wanted to never move from that position.

He continued to rub the tears that fell onto your cheek, and the sad moment was as sheltered as it could be. You felt safe with him, in his arms, just looking at his face and being reminded of how he comforted you in a place that felt as familiar as Oz felt to Dorothy.

"What am I gonna do without you?" you whispered.

"Get at least one acting job, get an assistant and an agent, I'll do the same thing, and then either one of us has our assistants reach out to our agents, so we get back in touch in case we ever lose touch."

He sounded so grave that you couldn't help but laugh. "That's assuming I do become an actress, Daniel."

"You're right," he whined. "But don't forget me."

"I promise."

And you tried to keep that promise. Throughout your first year, you interned at UCLA, working in the lab. You then applied to go to school there, and you still tried to keep Daniel in your mind. Maintaining a social life on campus combined with schoolwork already wasn't easy. However, you still wouldn't let yourself forget your best friend.

It wasn't until you entered your senior year and you were about to graduate that he started to wane in your memories. The things you did together became obsolete as new friends and memories replaced the old. The things he taught you were thrown out to make space for the new lessons you learned each day.

Even when you did become an actress, you never really remembered why you decided to. You remembered that your friend pushed you to do that play, but it was almost ten years ago, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember his name.

But you did do it, first as an extra, then a body double, and then you started getting l roles on smaller shows. But your big break was getting a quasi-lead role on the spin-off of a big television show, The Walking Dead. For two years, you enjoyed going to conventions and playing the complex character, Valeria Bishop, and you thought you had it all figured out.

But life has a funny way of coming full circle and throwing you a curveball that knows you off course and changes your life.

#Daniel Sharman x reader #daniel sharman fic #Daniel Sharman imagine #Daniel Sharman fluff #Daniel Sharman angst #very angsty #ftwd imagine #twd imagine #troy otto imagine #dylan obrien imagine #that last one is for exposure #I have no regrets

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bumblesimagines · 3 years

Text

Green Thumb

Part 18

Request: Yes or No

Also kind of short

You stared out at the river, fingers warm from the heat of the mug in your hands. You felt tired, empty, and disappointed. The roof was a nice place to sit and think. Your gaze dropped down to the ground below.

"I don't believe this is the safest way to test your abilities, (Y/N). Especially since Sam doesn't have on his wings." Vision said in concern, watching Sam hype himself up. You shook your head, laughing.

"It's definitely not safe." You grinned, watching Sam. He looked down from his spot on the roof, shaking off nerves.

"Run the idea by me again." Vision said as Wanda chuckled softly.

"Alright, Sam is gonna jump off the roof and I'm gonna use my powers to keep up in the air. If they don't work, Wanda will catch him."

"You're gonna allow this, Wanda?" Vision looked at the redhead. Wanda shrugged, sipping on her tea with a small smile.

"Ready?" Sam called, sliding down his googles. You nodded, backing up a bit, grinning widely. Sam backed up out of sight before running off the roof. You raised your hand, watching him suddenly fly up. He screamed, arms and legs flailing.

"You might gonna to catch him, Vis!" You called as Sam briefly disappeared past a cloud. Vision flew up, catching Sam and flying back to the ground. Sam raised a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat as he panted.

"Again?"

"Again."

"Kind of chilly out here, don't you think?" You turned your head, looking at Tony. He took a seat beside you, sighing.

"So, how'd it go?" Tony asked, turning to look at you. You licked your lips, lightly shrugging as you sipped on your hot chocolate.

"Good. I learned a lot about my family. It was confirmed that, uh, I was indeed abandoned by my mother. It's great." You told him, giving a small nod. Tony hummed.

"It builds character." Tony said. You snorted, looking down at the hot chocolate.

"Yeah, I guess so." You muttered.

"What'd you learn?" Tony asked, watching you. You sighed, head tilting up. You stared at the passing clouds.

"That my dad was killed here... By.. The Winter Soldier." You breathed out. Tony stayed silent, frowning as he nodded.

"I.. I can't blame him. He was brainwashed and not in control. How did you react when you found out about Bucky and your parents?" You asked, looking at him. Tony licked his lips, looking away from you. He seemed to think about his words, eyes squinting slightly.

"I.. I was more hurt by Rogers than by what Barnes did. Rogers kept it from me and he never planned on telling me. Even if we didn't consider each other friends.. We were teammates. How was I supposed to be okay with trusting him with my life when he was never gonna tell me about my parents?" Tony frowned, sighing heavily. You bit your bottom lip.

"I'm sorry Steve betrayed you like that." You said softly. You wouldn't want to work with someone who betrayed you either. You took in a small breath, looking at him curiously.

"Do you think Steve knows? About my dad?"

"Unless Barnes saw some similarities between you and your dad, probably not. Your dad covered his tracks. He made sure he wouldn't be connected to his family. Very smart of him." Tony offered a small smile. You reached into your back pocket, taking out a photo. It was of the whole family. Your grandparents, Florine, Michael, and even Gerdie as a pup. You turned it around to the back, looking at the phone number.

'Call when you need me, kid'

"People really need to stop calling me kid." You mumbled, huffing softly. Tony chuckled.

"You look like one."

"Oh, fuck off, old man." You gave Tony a playful glare. He scoffed, touching his chest dramatically.

"Are you really gonna retire? I mean, at this point, you're asking to be called an old man." You pointed out, grinning when Tony rolled his eyes.

"Pepper and Morgan need me. I don't want to be an absent father. I know how it feels to have one and.. I don't want to be like my father. I won't make the same mistakes."

"You'll make new mistakes." You shrugged lightly. Tony shot you a look. "But I'm sure you're a great father!"

"Right." Tony grunted, shaking his head. You chuckled softly, placing your cup beside you. You inhaled softly.

"When I was drunk.. I vividly remembering saying that you suck before passing out. What happened?"

"Oh, you were a goddamn mess. Definitely an emotional drunk." Tony replied, making you groan softly, cheeks flushing from embarrassment.

"You said I was a lucky bastard and you cried.. You also kissed me." Tony looked at you, gaze searching for a reaction. Your lips parted, brows raising.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Uhm.." You licked your lips, straightening up and clearing your throat. You stayed silent, thinking of what to say in response.

"Pepper doesn't have to know. It was a drunk kiss that nobody really saw, right? I mean, I already have enough on my plate. I don't need an angry wife on top of that." You blurted out, shrugging lightly. Tony cleared his throat, nodding.

"Yeah, of course. It barely lasted a second." Tony looked forward, scratching the side of his neck. Awkward silence took over, both you and Tony unsure on how to proceed without making things even more weird.

"How are you?" Tony suddenly asked, turning towards you. "Like, in general."

"Terrible."

"Yeah, I feel that. Wanna... Wanna talk about it?" Tony asked. You stared at him, brows furrowing.

"Are you practicing on me for when Morgan needs a talk with you?" You questioned, head tilting slightly. Tony shrugged.

"Yes and no."

"That's nice." You huffed softly, gaze drifting towards the setting sun. You watched him, shoulders slumping.

"I feel.. Incredibly alone. Yeah, Nat is here but I can't rely on her. She has her own issues to deal with. Bruce... Bruce is god fucking knows where and if I tried talking to him, he'd probably just stand there. Clint is also god fucking knows where. Thor fucked off the moment they came back from killing Thanos. The outerspace crew is kind of weird. Steve is... Steve. He'd just give me a speech and a pat on the shoulder. Carol barely comes to Earth and she's also pretty intimidating." You licked your lips, shaking your head as you brought your knees up to your chest.

"The people I used to talk to have either.. Died or chosen to leave. I have to take care of a big ass fucking farmhouse cause its goddamn owner left! My life is slowly falling apart and I have to comfort myself cause nobody seems to care enough! I am so fucking tired of feeling tired. I thought I had found a family but I guess I'm not good enough for those." You raised your voice, feeling the wind get harsh for a quick minute. You let out a deep breath, eyes shutting to keep the tears from falling. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, gently leaning you against a warm body. You sniffle, a shakey sigh leaving you.

"And I am so tired of crying." You whispered. Tony gently leaned his head against yours, hand squeezing your arm.

"I know.. I'm sorry." He said quietly. You relaxed against him, feeling numb and empty. You looked down at the photo. You wondered if this was the life Michael had wanted for you. To be a hero to a planet missing fifty percent of its inhabitants.

"You know what might make you feel better?" Tony asked.

"What?" You sat up, using the sleeve of your jacket to wipe your nose as you sniffled. Tony stood, motioning for you to follow. He offered his hand, watching you pick up the mug. You took his hand, holding it as Tony led you off the roof and down the stairs. You placed the mug on the nearest table, letting him guide you outside and onto the field. You stood in the middle, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"Letting it out." He finally answered, letting go of your hand and taking some steps back. He raised his arms.

"Let it out. Scream, kick, punch, curse. Let it all out." Tony said, smiling widely. You sniffled, still unsure.

"C'mon, I'll do it with you. On a count of three, okay? One... Two... Three!" You inhaled with Tony, eyes shutting as you screamed as loud as you could. You heard Tony chuckle in amazement, opening your eyes. You noticed he had been knocked down onto the grass, the trees nearby having been bent back by the wind. The grass around your feet were burned and gray clouds had formed in the sky. You noticed Tony looking up at something behind you so you turned, blinking and slowly looking up at the large ice spikes that almost reached the clouds.

"Holy shit." You whispered, taking a step back.

"You're still on the tip of the iceberg with your powers, Elsa." Tony said, getting up as it began to thunder. You felt some weight off your chest, turning to face you.

"You know.. That actually did help." You chuckled, smiling gently.

"Well, I am a genius." Tony replied, digging into his pocket and pulling out car keys.

"I should get going. Pepper's cooking dinner and I don't want to miss it." Tony said. You nodded, walking with him towards the road. A sports car drove out of the garage, stopping infront of Tony.

"All my things have already been sent home." Tony said, looking at you. You hummed, nodding.

"You can be an asshole sometimes but.. You'll be missed." You told him softly. Tony gave a genuine soft smile.

"You should visit, kid. You might like my new place." Tony said, opening the door and getting in.

"Give me a call and I'll visit when I can." You said, watching him buckle up. Tony nodded, sliding on sunglasses.

"I'll be seeing you."

"Not really looking forward to it." You replied, hearing a small snort before the car drove off. You watched it go, sighing softly. You looked over at the spikes, licking your lips.

"What more can I do?"

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace @jjk-is-my-shit

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onlyherefortheshowmances · 3 years

Text

So I saw someone else get an anon message that said: “I hate to admit this, but I really can't shake the feeling that Benji loves Victor more than Victor loves Benji at this point.” I wanted to respond as well, because I think this is something people are probably seeing a lot and I really want to explain how I’m looking at it (from personal experience and just from looking at and examining the characters).

CW/TW: Mental Health, suicidal ideation/action mention, Addiction, Emotional Trauma, sex mention, Predatory relationship mention, catholicism, homophobia, misunderstandings, lack of communication, spoilers for love victor seasons 1 & 2 [let me know if I missed anything please]

I want to be frank in saying that Benji is my favorite character and I project onto him a lot (along with seeing a lot of myself in him). I’m also white AF, so I’m sure some of you think that’s relevant, but I really don’t think it is in this particular case. I do also however identify with Victor in a number of ways and I am trying to see the characters both as complex individuals with deep personal histories. Both have suffered traumas and both are clearly dealing with a lot of their own shit on top of being sixteen/seventeen and dealing with junior year of high school and all the pressures and expectations that brings for everyone.

I think what people are interpreting at loving someone more/less is actually about prioritizing someone/a relationship more/less. In my mind, from what I see on screen and interpret, they both love each other beyond words. They are both very much in love with one another. It comes down to how they display that to each other and to the public as well as where on their list of priorities this relationship falls.

Let’s start with Victor, struggles and life:

He is dealing with internalized homophobia and associated thought-patterns stemming from his upbringing in the Catholic church as well from the vocalized homophobic remarks from his mother (toward himself and Benji as well as likely at other points in his life toward strangers), his father (stating that he hopes Adrian doesn’t turn out ‘like that’; the scene in S1 where they’re at the church in Texas and he calls the hairdresser ‘flojito’; etc.), and his grandparents (on his birthday and likely at other points in his life). As a result of this, Victor tried to make himself straight (or at least interested in a girl) by dating Mia because he did like her as a person and everyone was telling him that’s what he was supposed to do. He ended up hurting her and almost losing her friendship (temporarily, he did, but she does seem to have forgiven him now).

He is dealing with outside homophobia as well. That kid on the very first day he was Creekwood responding to Benji helping him up. Felix’s comment that same day of ‘you don’t want to give people the wrong idea.’ The basketball team/gym class guys roasting him about not hooking up with Mia on the ferris wheel. Felix saying he’d be crazy to not like Mia. Lake asking ‘are you gay or something’ when he brought Felix along to Mia’s house, etc., etc. Some of these things may seem innocent enough, but they weren’t. Not to Victor who was already struggling to accept even the possibility that he might be gay. Once he managed to come out to his parents, obviously his father got better fairly quickly, but Isabel continued to struggle for six months which put even more pressure on Victor to try to lead this double life. Once he came out at school, the whole fiasco with the basketball team also occurred and that was a lot for him, because Basketball as always his safe-space. It’s where he went to get away from all the other pressure. It was something he didn’t have to think about and now suddenly, he did. Those pressure are also affecting his ability to think about what he may want and it seems affecting his ability to think (at all sometimes) about how any of that is also affecting Benji. It’s affecting him so much that he’s basically blind to how it’s also affecting Benji to see him suffer. He doesn’t even consider that possibility until Felix brings up how hard it is for him the night Felix breaks up with Lake and Venji get caught having sex.

Victor also has struggles away from just his coming out and accepting himself journey. He has the struggles associated with his parents separation. Until fairly recently, Victor always thought his parents had a perfect relationship. He saw that as the ideal. Get together in High School, get married right away, stay together for ever, happily ever after. That’s what he was raised to expect. And now he’s seeing their relationship fall apart before his eyes. Hell, his devoutly Catholic mother had an affair, and he’s wondering if it’s really possible for your first love to be your only love especially after he and Benji start butting heads, so he’s already vulnerable to that viewpoint when Rahim brings up the possibility. He gets so lost in what’s happening to his parents and what Rahim is saying about it not usually working out that he forgets how in love he is and he sort of loses his will to fight for what he wants, because maybe it’s just doomed to fail anyway (until he sees Benji at the wedding and it sort of hits again - and then Felix’s speech thereafter, obviously). He kind of loses his way by getting caught up in the statistic improbability of your first love being the one and watching his parents’ marriage potentially fall apart and he wonders for a moment if it might be easier, if it might be better to just walk away and go toward Rahim who he seem to get along with and seems to understand the things Benji doesn’t about him, but what he fails to examine in that moment is that he’s only barely scratched the surface with Rahim and that Rahim doesn’t know him like Benji does and that every relationship has it’s ups and downs and what it always comes down to is how willing both parties are to work to make things right. How much you’re willing to step into the other person’s shoes and try to understand. In my opinion, even if he were to walk away from Benji and go to Rahim, that bubble of understanding isn’t going to last forever either. He’s failing to remember that when he got together with Benji (and for most of the summer it seems) that’s exactly what it was like and failing to remember that they have grown beyond that into a deep soul-altering love for one another that deserves his time, energy, and effort and NEEDS those things to keep it going.

Now let’s talk about Victor’s priorities in life:

Victor has always been close with his family, especially his mother. The strain on that relationship is very taxing on his mental well-being. He has a hard time ‘standing up to’ her or talking back to her, etc. because he loves her and he just wants their easy, close relationship back. He already overcame his own anger at her affair to get her back, but now she’s the one pulling away because of his sexuality and it’s hurting him because if he was able to forgive her for something that was actually wrong, why can’t she forgive him for something that he has no control over. So he loves his mother and his family and he hates disappointing them. He has spent most of his life fixing his family’s issues (as he explains to Simon in S1), but now he is the issue and he doesn’t know how to handle it. When in 2x1 he decides to just bring Benji over and try exposure therapy with his mom, it backfires in a big way. Even though they barely touch each other. Even though Benji just says the word boyfriend once, it’s too much for Isabel and Victor desperately wants to please. He desperately wants to not lose his mother (who has always been the person he is closest to), so that causes him to take a step back from going against her and the steps he still takes (telling her he wants her to call Benji his boyfriend not just his friend, the whole conversation outside the church, the conversation with Adrian, etc.) are things that Benji doesn’t get to see happening and it frustrated Victor that Benji won’t even listen to him when he tries to say that his mom is making progress at all, because she is so important to him and yet it seems like Benji just doesn’t even recognize or care about that. This leads him to say the thing he does at Brasstown before Benji runs out, because he assumes that it has to do with Benji being white and of course, that is part of it, but I think Victor in that moment is so overwhelmed by the rejection of his mother and now the refusal of his boyfriend to even try to understand that he snaps. He forgets all the struggles Benji has told him from his own past and he just lashes out which causes Benji to leave [more on Benji’s viewpoint of this whole thing later].

Victor also loves basketball. It’s true that in some case LGBTQIA+ individual participate in certain activities to make them seem more ‘normal’. Gay men participating in sports to seem more macho is a common one, so Benji thinking that’s why Victor plays basketball makes sense to an extend, but he never bothers to ask Victor about, only makes assumptions, and Victor feels like the fact that he actually likes sports makes him ‘not gay enough’ (see conversation with Andrew). What he’s forgetting entirely is his encounter with Bram and the gay basketball league in NYC from episode 1x8. There are many ways to be gay, and sports gays do exist and are perfectly valid. That’s not the type of gay Benji or his friends/bandmates are, but it is the type that Victor is and Benji failing to recognize that and failing to understand or even ask Victor about that drives one of many wrenches into their relationship. In episode 1x5 when Benji shows up to Victor’s first game back on the team and does the Go Grizzlies dance with the other basketball girlfriends, it definitely does a lot of help Victor realize this was just a miscommunication/misunderstanding rather than anything malicious. Basketball and his teammates continue to be a priority for him after this, but that seems to be something Benji is now capable of understanding.

Finally, Victor loves Benji. He wants to be with Benji; there is zero doubt about that. However, for Victor when he’s put on the spot (as in episode 2x8) and basically told he has to choose his mom (who has raised him and been his closest confidant and biggest supporter for his entire life) or his boyfriend (who he’s known for almost a year and been dating for six months and is helplessly in love with) it processes as an error message in his brain. He just wants everyone to get along. He’s not mad that Adrian knows that he’s gay (he’s wanted him to know for months), but he is upset that his mom is now even angrier. [see my section about Benji in this moment, for more about Isabel’s reactions as well] In his mind, telling Adrian could wait. In his mind, he was willing to go along with his mom’s requests for a while longer just to keep the peace so to speak. He didn’t want his whole life to fall apart and that’s what he thought was about to happen in that moment. That’s why he asked Benji to leave. He didn’t want to make his mom any angrier. Could he have chosen his words better? Yes. Could he have made Benji understand better? Yes. But he’s sixteen and his brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity because post-sex brain is definitely a thing and he was also looking at his mom who has already been horrible and barely able to look at him for six months, looking even angrier after he finally thought they’d made some progress after church the previous week.

So in conclusion, regarding Victor:

He loves his family (especially his mom). He loves Benji. He loves Basketball. Obviously, he’s not going to prioritize basketball over either of the human beings involved, but I think it’s important to at least note it’s importance in his life. As for Isabel vs. Benji. To Victor, these are the two most important people in his life. All he wants is to be able to love both of them and have both of them love him in return. When they are pit against each other, especially directly, it’s hard for him to make a choice. It’s hard for him to say ‘no’ to his mom and it’s hard for him to say ‘no’ to Benji, but in the moment (episode 2x8 specifically), he takes Isabel’s side, because he knows the ramifications of saying no to her and of making her even more angry that she already is are far worse than the ones for asking Benji to leave for the night. He failed to realize however, how close Benji already was to the edge and how upset he was going to be and how little he understood (or was willing to try to understand) about the situation. This is something he really needs to communicate with Benji (even though it’s not quite as important now that Isabel’s apparently come around). I think it’s important for Benji to understand that Victor values his relationship with his mother enough that it’s difficult for him to go against her without a lot of preparation and having a fully fledged reason, etc.

Now for Benji - Struggles and Life:

The obvious of course is that Benji is a sixteen/seventeen year old that’s barely a year sober and attending AA meetings regularly. Recovering from Alcoholism is difficult at any age let alone for a teenager. One of the most important factors in recovery is looking at the things that led you to drink in the first place. Looking at things that may be considered triggers and either learning to avoid those people/situations or learning healthy alternatives in those situations. I have multiple family members who are both actively drinking alcoholics as well as those in recovery. I also lost my best friend/ex-fiancé to alcoholism a few years ago, so to say I have some personal experience in this arena is putting it lightly. Benji admits to Victor in 1x7 that he used to drink a lot because he knew he was gay, but didn’t want to be. To me that whole story screamed, I’m an alcoholic and while a lot of others agreed with that opinion. I was not shocked that Victor didn’t understand that underlying truth. Those that don’t have intimate familiarity with alcoholism often do not recognize the signs (either as they happen when when they are not directly told). It is made clear in episodes 2x7 & 2x8 that Benji hates this part of himself, in fact he says as much to Victor when he arrives at his apartment late the night of his birthday. Benji has still not fully accepted that the alcoholic part of himself that attends AA meetings and drinks orange juice while his friends are drinking vodka is one and the same with the part of himself that loves Victor with all his heart. This is something I’d really like to see him reconcile and work on in season 3 and beyond. Understand that you can’t compartmentalize yourself. You are but one whole person and all facets of yourself are in fact part of the singular you. [Not accounting for those with dissociative identity disorder.] It’s not directly mentioned if he’s still struggling with urges to drink, but most if not all alcoholics do, especially when experiencing those aforementioned triggers. Seeing Benji meeting with his sponsor after the incident with Isabel/Victor is not shocking to me and if anything, that was the healthy and correct response on his part. The reason he was drinking in the first place was that he was gay and didn’t want to be (internalized and probably external homophobia) and he just experience some really intense homophobia at the hands of his boyfriend’s mom (and partially said boyfriend himself). Benji’s lack of understanding of where Isabel was coming from in episode 1x8 speaks volumes to just how traumatize Benji still is about his own experiences with homophobia. The only thing he can think about in that moment is that this woman hates me for being gay. She hates her son for being gay. Being gay isn’t okay, etc. What he doesn’t factor in is that Isabel is also devoutly Catholic. I honestly don’t think it’s the gay part of the sex that horrified her the most. The Catholic faith is also very clear on the practice of abstinence from sex (at all) prior to marriage. She would’ve responded the same way had she walked in on Victor having sex with a girl, in my opinion, but in the moment Benji’s own trauma is overriding his ability to understand that because all he can see is the homophobia. This is especially true after she calls him Victor’s friend rather than his boyfriend and that in my opinion, is why he snaps. Could he have phrased it better? Yes. Could he have said it without shouting? Yes. But he is a freshly seventeen-year-old whose brain is not functioning on all cylinders in that moment.

Sort of coupled with his alcoholism and recovery therefrom is the allusion his mother makes to ‘dark times’ following his accident. I do have suspicions that perhaps he was also struggling with mental illness, and likely continues to. Depression to the point of suicidal ideation or actions (possibly only in the form of drinking, but possibly in other forms as well). Anxiety is pretty obvious from his actions and reactions throughout the series as well. I also think he is dealing with some sort of trauma-based disorder stemming from the homophobia he experienced (especially the instance of his father taking him to strip-club). It may go as far as C-PTSD (which I myself am diagnosed with) or it maybe something less (or even more). I’m not in the habit of sticking mental health diagnoses of people (fictional or otherwise though). Dealing with these things on top of what in his eyes feels like rejection from not only Isabel, but in a way from Victor as well likely causes some very unpleasant thought patterns and the potential for thought spirals and the likely. I also see indications that he could suffer from co-dependency (whish I also have dealt with in the past), but I’m honestly not sure if that’s me projecting or if it’s actually there.

Then on top of all of that, his boyfriend who he loves more than anything in the world, tells his deepest darkest secret to someone he’s literally never met or spoken to and that said boyfriend has only known for maybe a week at best and thinks it’s no big deal. In that moment, I can 110% see why Benji requests to take a break and I feel that choice is 110% the right one to make. What is a relationship built on if not trust? Victor just destroyed most if not all of the trust Benji had in him. That doesn’t mean he stopped loving him, just that he doesn’t trust him. Love isn’t something you can turn off and on like a light switch especially not the kind these two share. I definitely think Victor has a lot of explaining to do and a lot of apologies to make. I do also think they both need to have a really long, really honest and open conversation. Benji needs to be willing to get a little vulnerable and explain why certain things are causing him so much distress, but he also needs to be willing to listen to Victor explain why he can’t simply go against his mother as Benji seems to think he should. They both really demonstrated a degree of selfishness this season along with an lack of communication and a lack of willingness to understand or even try to understand each other’s points of view and that is a recipe for disaster in any relationship.

There also exists the issue of Benji’s parents. His mother especially seems to overstep quite frequently and insert herself into his life where she was not invited or expected. I do wonder if this was always her personality or if this is something that started after Benji’s accident. I have a hunch it was likely the latter. I see indications that perhaps there was some neglect or just general indifference on his parents part as he was growing up. They clearly missed that he had started drinking heavily and that he stole his dad’s car that night. He was also evidently dating Derek for quite a while before the accident. (Derek is another section by himself though.) This not to mention the fact that his father took him to a strip club and paid for a lap dance when he was no more than sixteen if he was even that old, in an effort to turn him straight. Benji tells Victor in episode 1x7 that he and his dad used to be close and that they used to go to Dollywood on road trips and other such things, but that he’s been distant since he came out. We see from the scene where he walks in on Benji and Victor making out that he’s not vocally/outwardly homophobic, but I would not doubt that he still harbors some of those viewpoints in himself. It’s evident to me that Benji is not close to his parents (he may once have been, but at this point it’s pretty clear that he’s not anymore). Benji doesn’t have siblings to the best of our knowledge. It’s also mentioned that his nana (like a paternal grandmother) is deceased, so it’s really not clear how much contact he even has with his extended family or how much of one exists. For these reasons, in his mind, there is no circumstance where his family (especially not his parents) would take precedence of his own happiness or Victor’s. That is why it confuses/hurts/angers him that Victor doesn’t stand up to Isabel, because if the roles were reversed, he would have no problem at all telling his own mother (or father) off. He doesn’t seem to comprehend Victor’s need to keep his relationship with his mother intact. I’m very glad Isabel pointed out to him that Victor has stood up to her and risked their relationship for him, but the disconnect still lies in that Benji isn’t a fan of the fact that he didn't’ do that in his presence and that he didn’t do more.

Then there’s Derek. Derek is at least a sophomore in college in season 2 as he was clearly in college in season 1 as well. Meaning he is at least 19/20 when Benji is 16/17. They had been together for a year the previous spring (episode 1x6) which means they started dating when Benji was 15 and Derek was no younger than 18 (I think he is like at least a year older than the youngest possibility). Georgia’s age of consent is 16, and there are no ‘Romeo and Juliet’ laws in place in the state meaning it is categorically illegal for anyone 18 years of age or older to engage in sexual acts with anyone 15 years of age or younger unless they are legally wed, meaning until Benji’s 16th birthday, this relationship was illegal in general not to mention the predatory nature of someone in college dating a high school sophomore to begin with. They generally don’t prosecute if the people involved are within 4 years of each other though (which coincides with ‘Romeo and Juliet’ laws in other states) which they could’ve been within depending on Derek’s actual age and birthday. It doesn’t seem like charges were filed either way which is questionable on Benji’s parents part. Benji also tells Victor in 1x10 that Derek made him feel bad a lot of the time about the things he like and about being a romantic, we also see Derek crap all over Benji’s special anniversary date in 1x6. The toxicity of that relationship is sure to have left it’s mark on Benji and carried over into his new relationship with Victor. I also find it questionable that knowing that, Benji was shitting all over Victor’s love for basketball at one point (isn’t that exactly what he complained about Derek doing to him about his interests?), though as you see in my earlier comments, I do understand that perhaps Benji wasn't’ fully aware that Victor actually liked basketball and wasn’t just doing it to seem straight/make his dad happy/etc. I also think it’s quite confusing that Victor managed to come up with that date idea for Benji in 1x6 and then the best he could do for Benji’s birthday was champagne and sex? I’d be more than marginally hurt over that if I was Benji, to be completely fair. It is also worth it to note that Benji stayed with Derek for over a year despite all of their problems (which goes back to the possibility of co-dependency issues) and yet he was willing to break up with him just to chase after the possibility of Victor. They had already connected on so many levels even prior to that night that even the possibility of that relationship made Benji willing to leave someone he’d been with for more than a year (obviously Victor’s little speech in the hallway played a part in that).

Benji’s Priorities:

In Benji’s world, he has a few things that could be considered priorities.

Maintaining his sobriety is obviously one, but he keeps that separate from everything else. I don’t see it being held above or below anyone or anything. It’s just a completely separate thing to him (which again I feel he needs to reconcile). He was able to do that while also appeasing his friends and Victor (see episode 2x4 where he switches out his cups).

His music/band is obviously a priority, but again that’s something basic that everyone knows about and accepts. He doesn’t have choose between that and anything or anyone else that we’re shown.

Victor is his primary priority however. To him, that is the most important relationship/person in his life. He doesn’t know what he’d do without him. He says he loves that part of his life which I take to mean, he loves who he is when they’re together and not so much when they’re apart. To him, there is no question of who he would choose if there was a choice in front of him between Victor and literally anyone else (including his parents). That is why it confuses/hurts/angers him when the choice isn’t so simple for Victor when he actually has to make one between Benji and Isabel. Benji isn’t close with his parents and he doesn’t seem to understand what it is like for someone that is. Even if his parents didn’t come around right away. Even if they still may not be fully on board with everything, it didn't’ matter that much to him, because he could stand up to them because he didn’t care about destroying a relationship, because there already wasn’t much of one to begin with. This leads to him not understanding that Victor is seriously conflicted in the moments where he is made to choose between his boyfriend and his mother, because to Benji that choice is crystal clear. Again, they could really do with an honest conversation about this where Benji actually listens and tries to understand where Victor’s coming from, because right now, I think he just doesn’t quite get it. It’s clear that Isabel’s speech at Brasstown helped him to understand or at least start to, and obviously now that Isabel isn’t so much of an obstacle everything becomes a little easier, but it is still something that I really feel they need to discuss and understand about each other.

In conclusion:

Both of these boys need therapy (individual, family, and couples), and they would really benefit from a lot more open and honest communication where they both are able to speak honestly about their needs and desires as well as both being able to listen to and understand (or try to at least) one another.

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dizzydaisygettinglazy · 4 years

Note

Hi! In light of the recent episode, Do you think Mewtwo was in character?

Hi Anon! Thank you for the question! Strap in for an essay.

Disclaimer: I watched Episode 46 of Pokemon Journeys in Japanese with English subtitles. I think what’s considered in-character and out-of-character is very subjective. What I interpret as Mewtwo’s personality may be very different from someone else, and that’s OK! Taking the events of Mewtwo Strikes Back and Mewtwo Returns into account, I think Mewtwo is mostly in-character in this episode, though I am surprised by some of the ways he reacts to Ash and Goh, particularly the latter.

I think the setup is very like Mewtwo. He takes up temporary residence on Cero Island, “an isle surrounded by steep cliffs that keep people away,” as the lab assistant says. Sounds very similar to Mt. Quena. It’s secluded, heavily forested, and is built like a fortress, keeping humanity out. Unknown to Ash & co., he is there protecting a group of Pokemon who have been abused by humans.

Mewtwo saves Ash and Goh from drowning after they fall over a waterfall and pass out. When Ash asks him if he is the one who saved them, Mewtwo stays silent, glaring. This is very reminiscent of how Mewtwo goes through some mental gymnastics in justifying his rescue of a bus full of innocents on Mt. Quena. He still dislikes humanity, sure, but he now has a conscience, not to mention a bit of a soft spot for Ash. This encounter feels very in-character to me.

Then Mewtwo asks Goh why he is seeking Mew. Goh tells him that “catching every Pokemon to reach Mew” is his dream. Mewtwo’s eyes narrow. He asks Goh what he means. Goh reasons that catching a Pokemon means understanding it. In understanding every Pokemon, Goh believes that is how he will also understand Mew. And then Goh has the audacity to threaten to catch Mewtwo in an effort to “know” it.

It’s here that I am surprised that Mewtwo continues to keep his cool. To my ears, Goh’s reasoning sounds flimsy and a bit offensive. He sounds an awful lot like a scientist wanting to collect a thing in order to study it, something I’m sure Mewtwo is not at all happy to hear. I think Mewtwo of the MSB days would have jumped to the conclusion that this kid is a threat and needs to be dealt with. But it looks like Mewtwo has matured to the point of knowing what kind of people are actually dangerous and which ones are not. I’m sure the fact that Goh is Ash Ketchum’s friend doesn’t hurt.

So. Whether Mewtwo is inching closer to homicide or not, luckily for Goh, Ash changes the subject.

“Mewtwo, I want to battle you! [...] You’re fine with that, right?”

Mewtwo pauses, looking at the two determined--if not overconfident and misguided--kids, including the one who saved his life multiple times. And he smirks.

“As you wish.”

Mewtwo has matured past the point of pulverizing people as soon as they irritate him. He now protects others who have experienced the same traumas he has. But he can’t resist a battle. Especially against a kid who just threatened to catch him.

After an intense fight, Mewtwo unsurprisingly lays waste to Ash and Goh’s Pokemon. Mewtwo says he has “enjoyed today more than anything in a long time.” It makes me wonder if he’s been starved for conversation or battle or both. His whole attitude towards fighting Ash and Goh leads credence to the idea that it’s in Mewtwo’s very nature to want to fight. Perhaps he’s been trying to resist that side of himself, but today someone asked for it and he got to deliver.

Mewtwo decides that Ash and Goh have “formed bonds properly” with their Pokemon, that they treat their Pokemon with respect and are thus acceptable. This shows how Mewtwo has grown past the idea that “Pokemon and humans can never be friends.” He may or may not still think collecting Pokemon and battling them for sport is decent, but he does believe there is a right and wrong way to do it.

Finally, we get a great line from Mewtwo, as he is wont to do.

“You are frail, fleeting, immature… But that is exactly why you possess infinite potential.”

Mewtwo acknowledges Ash, Pikachu and friends’ flaws, but instead of seeing them as evidence of a corrupt world, he sees them for who they can become, the kind of future they can create. I think that’s beautiful.

Going from a confused, vengeful superbeing to someone who explores the world, using his powers to save Pokemon in need while still maintaining his edge is a wonderful bit of development for Mewtwo’s character. I feel the episode did a solid job keeping Mewtwo in-character while also developing him in a reasonable way. I of course have my nitpicks. I am surprised at the patience he shows Goh. I want to know more about Mewtwo’s escapades and wanted more conversation between him and Ash. Overall, though, I think Mewtwo is handled well in this episode.

#pokemon #mewtwo #ash ketchum #trainer goh #pokemon journeys #pikachu #mew #dizzy's asks #dizzy's gifs #fan thoughts #mewtwo meta

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 6

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,327

Warnings: panic attacks, Bucky recalls his accident

A/N: I don’t have much to say, Bucky’s real emotional in this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter :’)

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Everywhere Bucky looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and colours. Red and green baubles hung from the ceiling, shimmering like disco balls and sending sparkles around the mall.

The air smelled like pine and cinnamon, something he usually liked, but it was so pungent and unpleasant that it made his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat. He tried to breathe through his mouth, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Flashes of silver and gold momentarily blinded him, and as someone walked past him, their shopping bag knocked against his leg. It didn’t hurt but it made him seethe with misplaced anger. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

Christmas carols played over the mall speakers, more specifically Jingle Bells which they played three times in less than an hour. Enough, enough, enough. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. He felt too big for his own skin, he needed to escape.

Then he felt your hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward what looked like a furniture store. He followed blindly, his vision blurry and unfocused, and sat down when you gently pushed him down onto a sofa.

Bucky shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushion. A woman came up and asked if you needed help but you told her that everything was fine. The buzzing in his ears made the voices around him strangely soothing, as if he was underwater. Now that he was sitting down, he felt a lot better.

You didn’t try to touch him, something he was very grateful for. He could feel your weight shift next to him and knowing you were there was enough. He focused on you –your heat, your voice, the smell of your shampoo- and his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he breathed out with a small smile, his head lolling to one side to look at you. “I ruined our shopping spree.”

The fear and panic had dissipated, leaving him cold, exhausted and craving skin to skin contact. He took your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were freezing cold.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I did.” A sad smile curved his lips, he needed to change the subject. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

You sank further into the sofa cushion sitting shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

“We celebrated so many different holidays,” you said. “Perks of growing up in a multicultural family. Christmas was wild though. One tree, five kids. That poor thing never stood a chance. Now I don’t really celebrate anything. December used to be so much fun, now it’s just not the same.”

“We should create our own holiday,” Bucky suggested, squeezing your hand.

“Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“Nah,” he replied with a yawn. “My sister is taking her kids somewhere warm, and my parents are traveling the country in their RV. You can invite your siblings if you want.”

“They’re not available.”

Bucky tried to decipher the expression on your face. Every time you talked about your siblings, you had a faraway look in your eyes, as though you were reliving a memory. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your face twisted into a painful grimace. Then suddenly it was gone.

“I want a tree.”

He watched you with a lazy smile. “I’ll get you a tree.”

You pulled him up to his feet and decided it was time to go home. Home. It still made Bucky weirdly warm inside when you called his apartment ‘home’. You crossed the mall, your arm looped through his as you walked, and took a cab to Brooklyn.

He almost fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the car moving through the streets of Manhattan. When he glanced at you, you were looking out your window watching the snow fall.

You’d been living together for almost two months now and Bucky couldn’t have picked a better roommate. He liked the way you sang in the shower, loud, cheerful and most definitely off-key. He liked that you had more pyjamas than every day clothes. He liked watching you paint from the living room, and it always made him laugh when you added weird things to his grocery list.

He could go to bed and sleep the whole night without waking up, feeling safer knowing someone else was there. Of course, not everything was perfect but it was close enough.

He woke up on the sofa a few hours later, still dressed and with a fluffy blanket thrown over him. The sun was setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges. He basked in the setting sun, a content smile on his face, before he sat up.

The TV was on, the volume low, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table going through a bunch of old photographs. Bucky looked around the room, taking in the new furniture and decor.

There was a comfortable armchair in front of the gas burning fireplace. Your book was resting on the seat of the armchair. You had also bought a lot of decorative pillows, some were pretty funny like the one that looked like a giant cookie.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re awake! I bought some picture frames. I thought it’d make this place look less like a high end furniture store.”

“I liked it better when you thought this apartment was amazing.”

You laughed. “I still do, but it’s a bit... soulless.” You tilted your head back, looking at him upside down. “Sorry.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “All right, well, while you do that I’m going to start dinner.”

He pushed off the sofa but you caught his wrist before he could leave. “I’m already done. I’ve left some frames for you.”

“I already have lots of pictures upstairs.”

“I know, but no one ever goes upstairs,” you replied, letting go of his wrist. “And you’re not in any of the photos.”

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the picture you were holding. It must have been taken on the day of your high school graduation, you were dressed in a cap and gown, smiling with your whole face. He’d never seen you smile like that. He recognized Peggy Carter right away, her hair was more silver-white than brown and there were deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Your mom wasn’t looking at the camera, she was scolding the young man who was giving you bunny ears. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera. Bucky couldn’t tell how old he was, he appeared to be either twenty or fifty.

There were two other women wearing sundresses, one had long brown hair, the other had twisted her hair into Bantu knots. A young man with dyed silver hair and dark roots was squatting in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest à la Backstreet Boys.

“You should frame this one,” he said, sitting on the floor next to you.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me kinda sad.”

Bucky learned not to dwell on the past. It hadn’t been easy but it would have been impossible to heal without the support of his friends and family. Grief manifests itself in a number of ways, it’s raw and complex, and comes from your soul.

Bucky had a deep love for his childhood, especially his college years, but while he would cherish this time forever, he had accepted that he was a different person. He wasn’t the same naïve, youthful man he used to be, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

But he also knew that some people live in the past. It makes them feel alive.

“Y’know,” he started, meeting your eyes with a smile. “My hair used to be pretty long. I think I still have some photos in a folder somewhere.”

You clasped your hands together in a silent prayer. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you,” you deadpanned. “I need to see those pictures. I need them now. It’s a matter of life and death.”

He rolled his eyes while he got to his feet. “You’re so dramatic. I’ll go get ‘em.”

Bucky took the stairs up to his office and came back a few minutes later with a laptop under his arm. He sat on the floor next to you and set the laptop on his lap.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, mimicking a Cheshire cat grin.

He sighed and tried to look stern but it was nearly impossible. You were too lovely, and he couldn’t help but smile. He opened up the laptop and glanced at you from the corner of his eye; you were practically vibrating.

He started going through the photos when he found one of himself at a party. He was in his early twenties, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In the next one he had been joined by two equally drunk women, and he was now roaring at the camera.

“Early twenties, two arms, and not a care in the world,” he said with a little sigh.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the coffee table. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“College was a lot of fun,” Bucky said, grinning to himself.

“What was your major?”

“English,” he replied. “I was a really good student, I could have chosen anything but there were more girls studying literature so I enrolled as an English major.”

“Wait!” You recoiled as if you had misheard him. “Did you really choose English because there were more girls?”

He made a funny grimace, and his nose scrunched up a bit as he mulled it over. “Yeah... my priorities were a bit mixed up. Hormones and all.”

You lowered your face into your hand and laughed. When you looked up at him, he was sporting his boyish grin and you shook your head at him.

In the next picture, he was clad in a black university graduation gown standing next to a blond man also dressed in a black gown. They were smiling, sunglasses perched on their nose.

“When I graduated, I had no idea what to do with a BA in English,” Bucky said after taking a long look at the photo. “The thing is, I never found my life’s calling. In high school I didn’t know what job I wanted to do, or what really motivated me, and to be honest I never really thought about it. I figured I’d find my passion in college but...” he trailed off with a shrug. “You’re lucky to have found your passion.”

“Is that why you want to help me?” you asked. “Because I found my calling and I wasn’t pursuing it.”

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yes, I guess that’s part of the reason why I want to help you.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one struggling to keep my head above water.” He pressed his index finger to the computer screen. “This is Steve, my oldest friend. He had just started working as a professional freelance photographer. I had nothing to do so I decided to help him build his portfolio. You’re an artist, I’m sure you know that a portfolio will make or break you.”

“It shows what you’ve accomplished, the skills you mastered,” you said, nodding. “Your potential employers will want to see your portfolio.”

“Exactly, and you have to show them your best work. In Steve’s case, it meant taking risks. No matter how talented you are, no one’s gonna pay you for a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s gorgeous but it’s not rare.”

“So what did he do?”

“We decided to climb Mount Everest.” He mechanically rubbed his stump and your eyes followed his movement. “It might’ve been the dumbest idea we’ve ever had but it sort of made sense at the time. Steve needed a challenging project and I was trying to find my purpose. We trained for a year, put money aside and took a loan. We were young, we thought we were invincible.

“The thing is,” he continued, “Mount Everest is the most famous mountain in the world. It’s crowded and only half the climbers reach the summit. A lot of people die.” He took a small pause. “Sometimes they can’t remove their bodies and they become landmarks. Our Sherpa told us about this man, they call him Green Boots. He’s sort of curled up in a fetal position near what they call Green Boots’ cave. When you walk past him, it looks like he’s just sleeping and because it’s so cold out there he’s actually well-preserved.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Bucky let out a small, humourless laugh. “When I fell, I dislocated my arm and it pinched my axillary artery completely closed. It cut off circulation. That’s why they had to amputate. I was just lying there, too weak to call for help, watching people walk past me. They thought I was dead. And I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and people will refer to me as Blue Jacket.’ Then Steve and the Sherpa found me, and Steve carried me on his back until they found a shelter. When the rescue team arrived, it was too late to save my arm.”

He went through the photos in silence and glared at the screen without really seeing it, his mind far away. On the screen, there was an endless stream of blurry smiles and blue eyes but he couldn’t look away. His thoughts cleared up when he felt the back of your knuckles along his cheek and jaw.

He unclenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw. You brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. You mindlessly played with the curl on top of his head and raked your fingernails gently over his scalp. When you spoke, your voice was just a soft whisper.

“Come back to me.”

Bucky forced his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears pooling on his lower lashes. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. After a moment, he felt his body beginning to relax.

“How do you do that?” he asked in a pleading voice, turning his head to look at you. “How do you quiet the noise in my head?”

The question caught you off guard but you recovered quickly. You took his arm and draped it over your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you said, snuggling into his side. “It’s your second panic attack today. Did I push you too hard?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “I don’t like winter. It’s freezing cold and it gets dark at three thirty. Not my favorite time of the year.”

“But this helps, right?” you asked, waving your hand back and forth in the space between you.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it helps a lot.”

“Good.” You snuggled a little closer.

“But since you’re hoarding my arm, you’re gonna have to go through the pictures yourself,” he added, grinning down at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed. You reached out and slid two fingers over the touchpad guiding the cursor over the arrow icon. “So where are those pictures of you with long hair, uh?”

He knew you were trying to distract him but still made him blush. Those photos were in a folder titled: recovery spring 2010. He gave you directions to find it and waited for your reaction, wondering if you would burst into laughter at the sight of him with long hair and a lot more weight on.

“Wow.”

Bucky turned his attention to the screen to see which one had caught your interest. It was a selfie Steve had taken one sunny afternoon after he had forced Bucky to go out with him and Sam. They were sitting outside drinking iced tea.

Steve’s smile was blinding. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap he loved so much. Bucky sat hunched over in his seat behind Steve, his smile small but genuine. It was the kind of smile that said ‘my friends forced me to join them but I’m secretly glad they did’. Sam was leaning sideways against Bucky, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You look like a completely different person,” you said. “So... strong.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? I’m still strong.” He removed his arm from behind your shoulders and raised it to flex his biceps. “Look at that!”

With a roll of your eyes, you let your hand roam over his muscular arm slightly squeezing his biceps. “Okay, I’m impressed.”

“Ah! Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Now, c’mon, s’ time to eat.”

Bucky got to his feet and extended his hand to help you up. You trailed behind him as you walked toward the kitchen. “I bet Steve could rip a log in half with his bare hands.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Where is he?”

“Hard to say. He works for National Geographic now. I think he’s supposed to be in Siberia.”

You spent the next few days like tourists. You showed Bucky your favourite museums, stayed way too long in front of several artworks but he never complained. Bucky took you to the movies. You sat together in the dark for several hours watching foreign films, and you only fell asleep once. Then the two of you would walk around Manhattan speaking in a made-up language and pretending to be characters in a movie.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. A little voice in the back of his head kept repeating ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ but he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Bucky said, gesturing at the tree in the living room. “She went to the store to buy some ornaments.”

He handed Sam a bottle of beer which he took with a smile before tipping it to his lips for a long drink. Bucky hit his beer bottle on the counter to uncap it and followed Sam into the living room.

“She’s excited, uh,” Sam said with a grin. “You guys are spending Christmas together?”

“Liss,” Bucky replied after taking a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating Liss this year.”

“’The hell is that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s an old word. It means comfort, happiness.” A respite from pain. “We decided to make our own holiday. We’re going to spend two days in our fanciest loungewear, eating junk food and playing board games.”

“Cute,” Sam drawled out. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky glared at him. “Why do you always do that? I finally feel at peace with myself. I’m happy, I’m ready to take on new challenges. Why do you always have to make fun of me?”

Sam’s eyes widened at this. “Woah, I’m joking. It’s what we do. You tease me, I tease you. C’mon, I know things have been hard for you. I’m proud of you,” he rushed to say, afraid he might have hurt his friend’s feelings, but then he caught Bucky’s barely concealed smirk behind his beer bottle. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course, man. Can you say ‘I’m proud of you’ again? Wanna make it my ringtone.”

“Screw you.” They sipped their beer in silence, each deep in thought. “But you like her, right?”

Bucky twirled the neck of the bottle between two fingers. “I do, she’s nice.”

Sam shook his head like he was frustrated with the answer “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not in love with her, Sam.”

“I never said anything about being in love.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “Beside there’s an entire world between like and love.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of hurt and fear in the depths of Sam’s eyes. He reminded him of Steve: strong yet vulnerable, generous and righteous. Bucky had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about you.

“Is this about Natasha?”

Sam hung his head and stared at the beer bottle he rolled between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like it was inevitable. These sugar daddy relationships are complicated; at first it’s fun and easy, we both get what we want.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “And then it changes, so fast you barely see it coming, and it becomes the only thing you look forward to.” He took another swig of beer.

“These few hours with her mean more to me than anything else in this goddamn world. But it’s not real, none of this is real.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“I pay her.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She spends time with me because I pay her. Sex wasn’t part of our deal but it came naturally. It’s going to end, one way or another. And If my time with her is limited, why make things complicated, y’see?”

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Bucky’s stomach, taunting him, trying to make him see something he wasn’t ready to see yet. “What if she feels the same way ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “To know that I’d have to talk to her, and I’d rather not take my chances. I’m happy with the way things are right now. It hurts, but I’m okay.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “You gotta be careful, Bucky. I see the way you look at your angel. You’re skating on thin fucking ice.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like, love,” Sam said, weighing the two words. “And everything in between.”

They mulled over Sam’s words while they finished their beer. A million thoughts raged through Bucky’s head, circling around like wasps, buzzing and annoying. He was relieved when he heard the front door open.

“Italian leather loafers, mmh is Sam here?” you called out from the kitchen where you set your shopping bag down on the table before you joined them in the living room. “Hey guys! What’s the matter? You both look like someone kicked your puppy-OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT TREE!”

While you ran across the living room, Sam cast Bucky a look. The message was clear; be careful. They got to their feet and acted like nothing happened. Sam put on his coat and gave you a quick hug before he left.

Bucky was silent while you were decorating the tree. He let you decide where you wanted to put the tinsel and baubles. He just sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, handing baubles. A smile curled his lips when you cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone. He looked up at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Just old and moody.”

You laughed. “Come here, help me with this. It’s actually super boring when no one’s fighting for the baubles.”

“Oh, you wanna fight, angel,” he said with a smirk while he played with a tinsel garland. “Ok, let’s fight.”

You took a step back. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Too late!”

You shrieked when he launched himself at you. He wrapped the tinsel garland around you, loosely pinning your arms to your sides. You laughed so hard your eyes watered and your shoulders shook. He used it to his advantage and looped two baubles over your ears like giant earrings.

Still laughing, you tugged one of your hands free and threw a handful of tinsel all over Bucky before you ran away. He chased you around the living room, using one of the fairy lights as a lasso.

Soon, the living room was a giant mess. There was more tinsel in Bucky’s hair than on the tree, and you had managed to wrap the fairy lights around his body. You look pretty ridiculous with your giant earrings and dishevelled hair.

You and Bucky collapsed on the floor, out of breath and euphoric. The sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers casting a warm golden glow over the room. You turned on the fairy lights and burst out laughing when Bucky sparkled like a tree.

He found his phone on the sofa and handed it to you. You opened up the camera app and nestled closer to him. The first photo was blurry because you couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky thought the second photo was nice but you didn’t like it.

“My smile is too wild,” you said.

“You look beautiful,” he argued. “I look like a Christmas tree.”

Bucky felt a pleasant stir in his belly when you placed your head on his shoulder. Be careful. He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head. His chest was hurting. It wasn’t unpleasant, just peculiar and unexpected. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Bucky! You have to open your eyes,” you scolded him after looking at the picture, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He wasn’t sure he could; tears were welling up in his eyes. He was terrified of his feelings for you, but his body was screaming at him to stop burying his head in the sand. He didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to alarm you, because the truth was, he hadn’t been careful.

“Can’t. I’m comfy,” he replied, masking his true feelings behind a joke.

“Open them or I’ll tickle you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to use force.”

He soldiered on and opened his eyes, smiling at the camera. He liked you, and he promised himself he would never tell you. His feelings didn’t matter, it wasn’t part of your deal.

Part 7

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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izzielizzie · 3 years

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Can we talk about romance and the Bayview girls for a moment? So often in mainstream literature, girls are thrown into a relationship whether or not they need one or they are compatible with the person, or their entire story is about them finding love and nothing else. But Bronwyn, Addy, Phoebe, and Maeve? They spend their books growing independently, and falling into or out of relationships when it suits them.

Let’s start with Bronwyn, shall we? She begins the book by talking about Evan, who she considers a good prospect for a solid senior year relationship. Bronwyn’s got the grades, the extracurriculars, and the family that fits her “rich ivy league legacy” appearance. To her, having a good boyfriend is the icing on the cake. But there’s no passion and joy. She’s just checking boxes. Enter, Nate Macauley. Bronwyn doesn’t fall in love with the bad boy because he’s sexy and irresistible (although that’s part of it), but instead she falls for his scars and broken pieces. She learns to care for others instead of focusing on herself. Because, based on her interactions with Maeve, she’s book smart but not always people smart. She pushes people to get what she wants, and Nate is the one who shows her that sometimes she needs to take a step back. Which is so important, because so many girls feel the need to defy every expectation because from day one the odds are stacked against them. It was wonderful to watch Bronwyn learn to love while still retaining everything that makes her a badass.

Next is Addy, who is almost the opposite of Bronwyn. Addy started dating Jake when she was fourteen, which is basically still a kid. Her life, her thoughts, and - let’s be honest - her body was controlled by him. Her mother pushed the idea that she needed a man in her life, and her friends praised her for dating Jake. But Addy was voiceless, her autonomy taken away. She made one decision and it nearly cost her her life. Now, it could have been so easy for her to be paired up with TJ at the end of oouil. Her life was getting back on track: she had good friends, she’d moved out of her toxic mother’s house and into her wonderful sister’s apartment, she joined a sports team that made her feel happy. Having a boyfriend could be the next step in her recovery from trauma. But she makes the personal decision to shut the door in TJ’s face. Because she’s deciding that a boyfriend isn’t necessary. And in oouin, she’s happy. She might not be on the stereotypical path for post high school grads, but she’s making her own money, living her life, and making her choices. And it could have been so easy for her to gripe about becoming the seventh wheel when Maeve went through her existential crisis about Luis, but she didn’t. Because Addy was perfectly content with her relationship status and passing on her happiness. She’s grown so much from the shallow popular girl we first saw her as.

Speaking of popular girls, Phoebe Lawton is probably the most underrated main character, but her love story is amazing. She admits herself that she chose Brandon Weber because she thought she wasn’t worthy of loving anyone else. She made one choice, much like Addy, and it cost her her happiness. She lied to her friends and her sister, leading her to be a target in a vindictive game. She was called awful names and treated terribly because she made the choice that so many of the boys in the books made. I love Luis Santos, but he hooked up with as many people as Phoebe did, and he was celebrated for it. Phoebe is an amazing commentary on sexism when it comes to sex, but that’s not the point. This is about the romance, or rather, lack of it. Phoebe ends things with Brandon in the eighth chapter. That’s pretty early in the book, and we watch Phoebe struggle with the way she’s perceived for the rest of the book. But do you know who never says a word? Who never judges? Knox. Maeve seems judgey at moments, but never Knox. I know many people (including me) are annoyed that Phoebe and Knox weren’t together, but I’m so glad Phoebe herself is acknowledging that she’s not in a good place. She’s like Addy, but a little different. Addy is happy to be single for the foreseeable future, but Phoebe wants to be in a relationship. Not because she feels she needs one but because she likes being in a relationship. And that’s completely okay. It’s great that wanting to be in a relationship after her mental heath is stable is something that the characters, especially Knox who could have continued their kiss, understood.

And finally, my favorite, Maeve Rojas. Maeve hardly spoke ten words in the first book, but it was easy to tell that she was closed off and resisted affection. And it’s easy to see why: she’d nearly died before, and she knew that she scared the people she loved. I mean, she heard her father’s prayer about replacing her, and she made it her mission that he would never feel that way again. She’s so busy with making sure she doesn’t hurt the three people closest to her that she doesn’t have the willingness to let someone else love her. Because, let’s be honest, this girl needs to be loved. Which is where Luis comes in. He falls for her hard and fast, and she falls into him, like he was an old friend. She takes her time to open up, and in return he gives her space when she needs it, has her back when she isn’t able to protect herself, and isn’t afraid to call her out on her shit. It could have been so easy for Luis to be portrayed as “saving” her: the popular, handsome boy falling in love with the quiet girl who had cancer. But he doesn’t see it that way, and by extension, neither does Maeve. They supplement one another: he’s loud when she’s quiet, kind when she’s fierce, understanding when she can’t find the words. And the way she loves him is important too. If this was any other book, she’d probably suddenly become bold and willing to forget her entire past so they can be that popular couple with intense pda. But she doesn’t. She’s still broken and vulnerable and hiding being a façade, but she’s also learning to trust. She slept in his lap, which proves that she’s willing to try to love him in ways that are scary, and I think that’s so important: Maeve is learning to trust, something that is sped over in many other types of media.

#one of us is lying #one of us is next #bronwyn rojas #nate macauley #addy prentiss #jake riordan #tj forrester #phoebe lawton #knox myers #maeve rojas #luis santos

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yutahoes · 3 years

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Sakura

(Part Ten)

One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten

genre : Chaptered, Fluff

pairing : childhood friends: soccer player! Nakamoto Yuta x single mom! Y/N

word count : 1.9k words

You’ll always be his Sakura.

@ailoveyuta @loona-4-eva @aiforyuu @2-3-t-i @cosmiclatte28 @url-lindo-sexy @nuoyipeach @aaasteroidsky @readers-posts @delightfultacobread @bby-kji9

"...And then okaasan, Cherry made me this card to congratulate me for making the team." Yuta shared with a smile, lightly staring at the pink paper on the dashboard of his car. "I think she got Y/N's talent in drawing."

"It must be nostalgic to see her especially when you said that she looks exactly like Y/N." His mom's voice can be heard through the speaker phone of the car. He was driving to Jae's school since it's his first soccer match.

Yuta smiled at the memory of Y/N's surprised face when he asked for her to grant his wish. Well, Jae's wish. And that is to let him play in the little league of their school. The younger boy looked so happy when she agreed, even promising that he'll listen to the coach and not forget about his studies and eating.

He saw the passion in Jae's eyes while practicing and he can't wait to celebrate with him when he gets his first goal. Was he the same when he was a kid? He must be really pretty cool back then. "I hope you can meet Jae and Cherry, okaasan." Yuta said with a chuckle. "You'll love them both."

"I know I will." His mom claimed. "Son, you seemed happier than the past months you talked to me." Is he? "Whatever you're doing, you know that I and your otousan are here to support you."

If there is one thing that Yuta heavily realized about everything that's happening, parenting is not an easy task. He felt a great appreciation for his parents who never left his side and is always there whatever his decisions in life are. It is indeed true that you'll appreciate people more if you're in their shoes. "Okaasan, I never told you and otousan this but I love you both. And I'm always thankful that you're my parents."

He heard a sniffle in the background that made him chuckle, "Are you crying?" He asked in disbelief. His mom? The true Osaka mom, who never lets her child show her emotion, is crying? "I'll go home soon. I miss you already."

"And we miss you, Yuta. I'm glad you're happier now." And he is.

Yuta was surprised at how small the crowd is during the soccer league. It's one of the school's sports, why is there so little audience? He immediately saw them by the bleachers, Cherry was seated beside her mom who was carrying Jae who looked like he was crying. "What happened?" He asked immediately, putting down the things he brought.

Jae transferred to his arms, sobbing hard. "I'm scared. What if I don't get a goal today? What if I fall?" Yuta smiled at that. He's so cute. "What if the team loses?"

"Hey buddy, it's alright." He assured. "It's fine if we cannot goal today, we can do it next time. And it's alright to fall, that's part of the game." Jae stared at him, blinking his tears away. Yuta put him down, letting him sit. "I have something for you."

He took a box of shoes from the plastic bag he brought, opening it to show him a new set of soccer shoes. The older removed his old shoes, replacing them with new ones and even tying the shoelaces for him. "Just enjoy playing for now, Jae. Don't think of winning. We can do it next time."

The young boy nodded, jumping with his new shoes. "I will play soccer as cool as you. And then I'm going to be known in soccer like you." He said while smiling widely. "Appa."

Yuta smiled. That word. The butterflies in his stomach are fluttering. "That's my boy." He grinned, ruffling his hair. Jae ran down to the field as he watched him with the taller, bigger kids.

Y/N was looking at him, eyes twinkling. "What?" He asked but she shook her head. When he glanced at Cherry, she was just smiling knowingly at him.

The game is just a simple elementary soccer league at first, five kids played against another five kid team. But what surprised Yuta is how rough the children were. He remembered one kid, the guy who was bullying Jae the first time he saw him at school. He kept on kicking the other kid's ankle, stepping on another's foot just to have the ball for his own yet the coach isn't even telling him off. At one point, the kid even bumped on Jae purposely even if they're on the same team that made the smaller kid fall.

Y/N was about to storm down the bleachers when Yuta held her hand. "Let him. He needs to learn to stand up." She only grasped their intertwined hands that made Yuta smile. She didn't let go, instead held on to him tighter.

Jae was obviously stopping himself from crying while playing. When the ball was kicked in front of him, he didn’t hesitate to create a beeline to the goal. In his short stature, he kicked the ball which entered the goal that gave a score on the team. Cherry was cheering and Yuta grinned, Y/N’s hold on Yuta got tighter if possible and her eyes were twinkling once again. She’s happy. Jae was running on the whole field, smiling at himself. His first goal. He remembered feeling lightheaded when he did that in first grade, his parents watching him while smiling. Now, he felt proud of Jae. Like a dad. Maybe this is what his dad felt that time.

“Hey, shorty!” The coach called in a booming voice. “Isn’t it my order to give Siwoo the ball whatever happens?” What? Yuta was about to storm to where the coach was but Y/N pulled him back, shaking her head. “Come here, shorty.��

His eyes went red seeing how the big coach lightly hit the younger’s head using his finger. “Yuta…” Y/N called but he’s already in front of the bigger man.

“Do you really have to do that?” Yuta asked calmly. “What’s wrong with this kid scoring a goal? Is your son the only member of the team?”

The coach smirked and Yuta wanted to punch his cocky face that instant. “Oh look. If it isn’t the world-class soccer superstar.” he teased that made him glare. "This is a school league, hotshot. Last time I checked you don't have any children." Yuta clenched his jaw at that. He's so annoying. "Oh. Are you banging this kid's mom? Must be a pretty good fuck that you have to support this dadless loser."

That does it. Yuta landed a punch on his face, even holding the collar of his shirt in annoyance. "Shut your fucking mouth." He spat and was about to land another punch when he saw from his peripheral sight the fright in Jae's eyes while watching him. The younger had always stared at him in adoration so seeing him like this scared Yuta for a moment. He clenched his fist, dropping his arm on his sides when the coach landed a punch on his face.

"You think you're some amazing dude just because you play soccer?" The coach asked, punching his face once again. "Since you're so great, why don't you just coach them?" The principal and some other dads stopped the two but Yuta's eyes were focused on the younger boy looking at him with tears in his eyes. He can't even hear the profanities that the coach was saying, all he could hear is this little voice in his head scolding himself for getting angry and scaring Jae.

Yuta jolted in pain when Y/N applied the medicine to the cut on the side of his mouth. "I told you to calm down." She said while dabbing the Q Tip gently to the blood forming on his lip. "He's a former boxer. You're lucky you just had a cut on your lip. He can crush your face, you know?" Why didn't he know that before? Are boxers that short-tempered? His friend, Jung Jaehyun, isn't.

"Is Jae mad at me?" Yuta asked, eyes focused on his hands. His face doesn't hurt honestly. What hurts the most is that look imprinted on his memory. Of Jae being scared. Because of him. "You should be with him right now."

Y/N sat on the chair in front of him who was seated on the clinic bed. "Cherry said she'll take care of Jae. I can't really calm him down, only Cherry can." She explained and he pursed his lips at that. "You were usually a calm person, Yuta."

He is. That's the basic rule in soccer. Always cool your head. It's not helpful if you get angry easily. Soccer is a physical sport. You'll obviously get hurt and that's fine, as long as you keep your cool. But this is not soccer. "I'm sorry. He's just fucking annoying." Yuta explained in a soft voice. "I just hate it that he dared to say those things when he doesn't even know anything. How can you trust your child to someone like…?"

His words were cut off when she leaned closer, her lips touching his. He was too shocked to react when she pulled away. "Did you just…?"

"I'm going to check on Jae. We'll meet you at the school gate."

Wait. Is he knocked up with that punch? Is he dreaming? She kissed him, right? He touched his lips. If this is a dream, can't he just wake up?

Jae was so quiet when he drove them home. Y/N asked if the younger wanted to eat but he only shook his head. This is unusual for the younger who is always the talkative one. Y/N looked worryingly at Yuta when they stopped in front of her house. "Jae, buddy. Can we talk?"

Cherry and Y/N exited the car, leaving Jae in the backseat. "Buddy, I'm sorry." Yuta said sincerely. "I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry that you got scared. I promise I won't be angry like that again."

"Were you hurt?" The younger boy asked that surprised Yuta. Is that what's running in his mind? "I'm scared that you might get hurt, appa." The older shook his head and Jae leaned in to hug him. "I'm scared you're mad at me because I didn't play well. I don't want to see you angry like that again."

The older smiled. "I'm not mad at you. I won't be mad at you." He held the back of his head, caressing it. "And you played so well, buddy. That goal." He exclaimed in awe, remembering the goal Jae did and the happiness in his chest the moment he witnessed that. "You did so well, Jae."

"I'll play soccer well, appa. I'll make you proud of me."

"I am proud of you, Jae. Always."

When he exited the car, Cherry knocked on the door to the passenger seat. Yuta opened it for her and she sat on the seat next to him. "We heard everything that the coach said." She started. "You didn't get mad when he was saying bad things about you. You got angry when he said things about eomma and Jae." Yuta only stared at her, Cherry is such a great observer. The makings of a true detective. "You feel like our real dad now protecting Jae and eomma."

"Thank you, Yuta appa." Cherry whispered, hugging him.

Yuta just smiled. He could get used to these hugs. He could get used to these children calling him 'appa'.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Eleven

This took too long to write but here it is. This is the exact scene where the whole plotline for Sakura started and honestly, this is much better in my head than when I wrote it. 😂 I also want to thank those people who always leave comments in each chapters. I always keep your words in mind and is actually getting some ideas from those. So thank you so much. 💓

#nakamoto yuta #yuta nakamoto #yuta #nakamoto yuta chaptered #yuta nakamoto chaptered #yuta chaptered #nct 127 #nct 127 chaptered #nakamoto yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #yuta fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct chaptered #nct fluff

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btsmosphere · 3 years

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Soft Serve ~ myg

~summary: you didn’t expect anything remarkable to happen this birthday, but a basketball, an ice cream cone and an old friend might have something to say about that... ~wc: 1.3k ~childhood friends to... lovers?, fluff ~rating: g ~warnings: a slight bump on the head

~a/n: this is something I quickly whipped up (heh.. no pun intended) as a token of my love for @ddaechwita on her birthday!! it was last week but fear not, I sent this to her on the day as well😊chelle, you are the most gorgeous, creative, supportive and funny friend and an absolute dream to know!💜I’m so gald we met and became friends, and I look forward to our movie nights and hilarious chats for ages to come😘

it’s your birthday

just a simple fact, nothing special really

you don’t have any plans

but it feels sad to just sit around inside all day, so you decide to go out

there are a few messages from your friends screaming well wishes at you

they make you smile as you head for the door, sending off quick ‘thank you’s between shuffling into your boots

next to the park, there’s a cute ice cream café

you know the owner well enough, though you decide not to eat in

he notices that you go a little overboard from your usual order, but you brush it off

it’s a lot of effort telling people it’s your birthday, yknow? Then there’s some sort of expectation and they have to tell you happy birthday, meaningless out of obligation

so you take your order of mint chocolate, with a scoop of chocolate as well beside it, and head out

it’s a special occasion, why not treat yourself? Even if it’s from yourself, it still counts as a present, right?

thankfully it’s sunny, and the wind doesn’t bother you too much

perfect weather for an ice cream, really

it’s not melting either, so you stroll quietly while licking at it, savouring the taste

you’re in no rush, after all

the park is pretty empty, but you kind of like that

there are a few families walking around, one of them pushing a pram

and there are some teenagers hanging around a bench

you steer around them

yes, you’re several years older than them, plus one more year as of today, but still.. youths

at the end of this path are the sports courts, which is the busiest place

the sound of scuffling shoes and bouncing balls fill the air

you’re barely started on your veritable tower of ice cream when you walk past, head down even though you know no one behind the fence will look at you, caught up in their games

until a shout goes up, making you turn in time to find a shape flying rapidly towards you-

the impact has come and gone before you have a chance to move, and you come back to your senses as you double over, clutching your head where pain begins to seep in…

and there on the pavement under your nose, lies the slowly expanding puddle which once was your ice cream

though the pain passes soon enough – the kind which was familiar from the school playground, which would bloom intensely though you knew you were fine really, and fade away just as soon – you can’t help the dejected sigh at the loss of your ice cream

that’s when a breathless ‘hey’ meets your ears

straightening up, you catch sight of a guy jogging up to you, loose unbuttoned overshirt flapping a little behind him

protests are on the tip of your tongue, ready to assure him you’re okay and there is nothing to apologise about, before handing back the ball and continuing on your way, albeit short of a birthday ice cream tower

but that all dies on your lips as the sight of the man dawns on you with recognition

Min Yoongi

it can’t be

Min Yoongi, the basketball-crazy friend from school

the kid who used to be at the same sleepovers, who you shared those awful fruit ciders with when you were old enough to start drinking

here he is, stopping in front of you, slightly damp hair hanging from a headband fastened around his crown, looking… older, yet unmistakeably Yoongi

“Y/N!” he pants, flopping forwards to rest his palms against his knees, “you alright?”

“yeah, thank you,” you smile, almost apologetic as you scoop up the basketball that had stilled by your feet, offering it back to him

nodding, he takes it and chucks it across the fence in one move, holding up a hand in some gesture to the group the other side, who get back to playing

“sure you’re alright?”

“thanks”

he frowns down at the tragic sight on the floor

“let me get you another one”

“no, really, there’s no need”

“come on, Y/N, I just hit you on the head with a basketball and spilled your ice cream, all on your birthday. I can’t live with myself!”

his gummy grin is oh so familiar as he jokes, but you just stare

“how do you know it’s my birthday?”

he blinks

“well, it’s today.”

“I know that”

“so do I. not like I was there like, every year when we were kids”

“you still remember?”

he waits for a second longer, eyes locked with yours, before he makes a noncommittal noise, turning away with a slight nod

but he doesn’t go back towards the court

he’s walking back up the park, towards the ice cream parlour

hurrying to his side, you try to protest some more

but he simply cuts you off with a ‘mint and chocolate, right?’

“yeah-“ the words are out of your stunned mouth before you can register

and so, it looks like Min Yoongi is buying you ice cream

he walks out of the shop, both hands full, one with your original order, though somehow with a ton more cream and sprinkles than it had before

chewing your lip, you accept it with a shy ‘thank you’

how he remembered not only your birthday but your ice cream order, after all this time…

the two of you fall into step as you take the opposite direction, the long way around the park which will get you back to the courts right at the end of the route

when you start talking, it’s so easy, quickly slipping into conversation the way you always had until you’re halfway around the park

except...

he isn’t eating his ice cream

any drip that starts to fall, he catches with a finger and licks it up, but the ice cream stays otherwise untouched in his hand

“did they mess up your order?”

“hmm?”

“you’re not eating”

“oh. it’s caramel, in case you wanted any of that too…”

gaping, your feet slow

“that’s my other favourite”

“I know.”

“well, I’ll have some, if you’ll eat some at least. take the rest of this”

Yoongi only protests meekly as you press the half-consumed mint and chocolate monstrosity into his hands, and you’re happy to see him begin to eat

meanwhile, the caramel is a welcome change to the other flavours you had filled up on so far

but that doesn’t tell you why Yoongi still knows so much about you…

“so, care to tell me how you remembered all this?”

he’s silent

“are you stalking me or something?” you joke, and relief washes over you as he does smile at that, though it fades a little quickly

he isn’t meeting your eye

“I always remember”

“Yoongi…”

“every year, I think about you… especially on your birthday”

standing still at last, facing each other, you watch as his eyes lift, strikingly large, filled with a worried anticipation over your reaction

“that’s… that’s so sweet. Yoongi, I don’t know what to say”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he digs his free hand into his pocket, once again studying the pavement, “but really, I was happy to see you. this was the least I could do”

for a moment, you stand in quiet together and you’re pretty sure your heart is melting

this was absolutely not what you had expected for your lonesome trip outside for your birthday, but you were thankful for every part

even the part where you were hit on the head by a basketball

“thank you, Yoongi,” you smile

he seems to sag with relief, meeting your eyes at last

“would you wanna get my number?” you ask, “it’s been too long. and maybe we could meet without me getting a concussion”

his eyebrows shot up

“you said it didn’t hurt-“

“it doesn’t, I was just joking!” you quickly backtrack

swallowing, he chuckles

“okay”

“okay?”

“give me your phone”

taking it out and handing it to him, your eyes meet over the exchange in your hands

his eyes crease, smiling widely in a reflection of your own

yeah, this birthday hasn’t been half bad

Thank you for reading!! and happy birthday to chelle, I love you a lot!!

If you liked this, check out my masterlist and the drabble game I’m running at the moment!💜

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @un2-verse @ddaechwita @taegularities

#thebtswritersclub #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #btscreatorscorner #bangtanarmynet #purplearmynet #min yoongi imagine #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #suga scenario #yoongi scenario #bts birthday imagine #suga x reader #yoongi friends to lovers #bts fluff #bts x reader

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with-my-murder-flute · 4 years

Text

by the sword (Nile genfic, 2.6k)

Fic summary: Nile learned fencing and longsword and hand-to-hand fighting long before she ever met Andy's small army. But learning with them is a new form of difficult. Not because they've got thousands of years more experience (though they do), but because this time the practice doesn't stop when somebody gets hurt.

So she has to learn about war and how you balance it out with peace. Figure out how they do it and who she wants to be. And decide which weapons suit her best.

Content notes: Explicit depiction of the injuries Nile gets when training in knife fighting and quarterstaff combat with Nicky and Joe. There are also discussions of the physical damage done by different kinds of weapons, the butchering of animals, and people cutting off their own body parts in industrial accidents. (Oh, and a positive/sympathetic portrayal of Nile as a Christian)

They promised that in March they'd start teaching Nile how to fight with a sword, but when March came, Nicky gave her a knife.

A hauntingly familiar one, even though she'd never touched it before. For a second she thought it was her own, the Ka-Bar she planted in Andy's shoulder the day they met. Instead, as she turned it over, finding it familiar in every groove and contour, she found it an anonymous and identical match to her dad's instead. Not new, with the black paint worn down around the edges of the handle, but not a knife she knew. It could have been used by any Marine in the world except her. Except her father.

"You know too much," Joe explained from the side of the hangar, where he'd tumbled an umbrella stand of swords out onto a tarp and started removing their rust with fine-grit sandpaper. "We're not knights or cavaliers. For them, swordfighting was about honour. There were rules. We don't have any of that."

Nile knew going into this that nothing she knew so far was real swordsmanship. Like yes, she could fence; she'd competed in foil and saber for two years as a teenager. But that was closer to stagefighting than actual combat. It was all so staged and carefully managed. Even in her longsword league they said over and over again, it was a martial sport, not actual combat. They could imagine what it might have been like—could land heavy blows on armour, could mime falling down dead—but that wasn't the reality of it.

It seemed to her that the purpose of beginning with knife-fighting lessons was to go over territory she already knew, and do it for real this time. Nicky said he had something else in mind, some principle of combat he meant to teach. But that wasn't what Nile noticed.

What Nile noticed was that this time, she really died.

The old people argued it over, about how to teach Nile. Andy's example made them newly-cautious, but this was the way they'd always trained: You had to do it through blood and pain, you had to fight when you were still resurrecting. It was the way Andy and Quynh had trained Nicky and Joe.

Nile wondered, in the back of her mind, if being trained like that had something to do with the way Booker... well, Booker. After he'd already had such terrible experience of war that he'd wanted to desert. But that was the kind of thing she didn't air out loud, because they'd only just stopped having that kind of useless, circular, self-flagellating argument. She figured she'd keep her own peace on Booker.

She also opined, after hearing them wrangle over it for a day or two, that she'd rather practice with live weapons and get injured among friends than play it safe and incur a dangerous injury among enemies.

And when the knife fighting started, she was grateful they hadn't moved directly to longswords.

They taught knights how to do this, Nicky said, by having them slaughter and butcher animals. It taught you your way around muscles and tendons and joints. He offered to take her to a bullfight sometime, which she didn't say sounded so barbaric she had to wonder why PETA bothered with picketing rodeos.

He said that after her trachea healed over. She hadn't actually died that time; you had to aim further up or to the side to get the carotid artery. But the horror—not actually the pain, but the horror of feeling the air wheeze through the gash in her throat—had been so overwhelming that she'd barely resisted the pin he got her in. She'd just shuddered with her arms behind her back and his weight pressing her down until it healed, and tapped out of the rest of the afternoon. He'd been understanding when she didn't want to be around him for a bit, and let Joe gather her into a hug and let her cry.

That was when he told her about the bulls. She told him about Chicago's meatpacking district, about the old men she knew who'd butchered hogs every day of their lives for decades. About how they said they got numb to it, until one day one of them cut off his thumb with a machine and didn't feel it, until the guy next to him looked over and noticed all the new blood. About how after you see too much violence, your brain just stops processing it. About how a study on kids in the next neighbourhood over from hers had shown they had permanently elevated levels of cortisol, a sign that their bodies were under stress all the time and didn't know how to calm down.

Those were the kind of conversations Andy couldn't stay in the room for. She slunk off somewhere and got drunk, and you saw her the next morning, maybe. Nile used to judge her a lot more for it, but the day her throat got cut she let Joe and Nicky feed her a red wine as soft as velvet and fell asleep pressed against Joe on the sofa and understood, deeper than words, just how much keeping sane meant feeling anything other than your body shattering into pain.

Nicky braided her hair, the next day. Slow and careful, a little unpracticed, singing ballads in a language that wasn't exactly dead, but only had a few thousand speakers left in northern Italy. Their composer hadn't been good, exactly, but they'd been snowed into a castle with him one winter in the 1680s, so Nicky remembered his entire repertoire. Nile listened to the music and knew he'd refuse if she offered to record it, or write it down. One of the songs felt like the length of a novel (but was, when she checked her phone, more like one hour twenty) and by the end of it she was singing the chorus along with him, and it occurred to her that she could simply ask him to teach her.

"You can't rescue every one you see," she remembered her mom saying, when she found a half-stunned bird on the sidewalk. That was what it felt like with languages.

That afternoon Andy took her to the market. Ostensibly it was for groceries, but Andy didn't do simple errands, especially not when it involved food. She stopped to smell fruit Nile had never heard of; Google told Nile that medlar and quince were related to apples and also, apparently, roses. Nile had to try pine nuts, wild mustard, and three different kinds of yogurt drinks, one of which tasted of roses. Andy protested when she added a bag of potatoes to the load, saying they were bland, but Nile, who'd had enough of turnips, sweetly told her to pay the fuck up.

If you were lonely, and hurting, and didn't have someone to hold you, you could comfort yourself like this. Sunshine and sweetmeats and the steady hands of friends. Something, but probably still not enough. Nile understood it but it made her chest ache. She felt, sometimes, a little glad that Andy would die someday, the way families felt helping someone keep alive from cancer. Of course you wanted them to be alive, but you didn't want them to suffer.

Joe moved her on to staff fighting the next day. It was, he said, not the most useful of weapons in the current day and age, since it was most useful against long bladed weapons, "And who else but us uses those?" But there was some kind of theoretical basis behind the progression of her teaching, from weapon to weapon, and after knife came staff.

To tell the truth, Nile liked it. She'd learned about quarterstaff in her longsword weapons, as something that could defeat a swordsman, but nobody anybody she knew actually practiced it, because while you could wear percussion-resistant cloth and keep safe with blunted swords, there was simply no defending your bones against the percussive strike of a giant whirling stick.

There was something less offensive about getting your skull split or your collarbone broken, compared to getting stabbed. Partly it was because Joe was just a much nicer teacher, slower and more patient, while Nicky would keep stabbing you as you fought to reach your own knife. But also it felt more impersonal, more like an accident that had happened to you.

Okay, and it was also more fun. Knives created small imaginary hemispheres of pain, the angle of the arm as it swept out. Quarterstaves were huge, so long that if you wanted to get around them, sometimes it was literally easier to flip yourself into the air or dump your opponent to the ground instead of getting the staff to move. The first time she managed to run up a wall to get leverage on him, it felt so awesome she didn't actually mind that much that he popped her shoulder out taking her back down.

It was bloody and violent and really would have been impossible if dying had been a significant barrier for them. It made Nile laugh in a high-on-endorphins way, because it felt like she could finally push past the pain and find a place beyond her limits. It felt like being free. Like all her life she'd been wearing a heavy armor of caution, knowing she'd had to keep herself alive, and now she just felt the lightness of taking it off.

There were tears at the back of that laughter, about everything she'd lost because of it, but she pushed that away and went to shower. She and Joe spent the evening on Youtube, watching videos of capoeira and wushu, while the other two made a batch of some kind of pickled egg they thought they remembered from three hundred years ago.

Nile hugged Andy sometimes, because she looked like she needed to be hugged. Andy almost never turned her down.

A long time ago, she thought she remembered, holding a sword had seemed to transport her to some other time. Some other place. Like the sword had been a tangible connection to the past, to a time when things felt... clearer, or truer, or more real somehow. Like the feeling the word "honour" gave her, of something echoing and amplifying through a vaulted space. There was a time when people fought with swords for what they believed in. There was a time when you knew what was right and what was wrong and laid down your life accordingly.

She'd been twelve and believed in fairytales. So sue her.

The swords in their armory spelled out a long story of misery and war. When she held them now, Nile felt like she could feel the bodies that had come into contact with their blades. Curved single-bladed sabers and scimitars, ideally wielded from horseback, meant for a decisive downward chop. Nicky's giant longswords, meant to peel an armored knight like a tin can. (He'd used it, he said, to similar effect on a tank once or twice.) Andy's axes showed her age; before they had the metallurgy to make an entire blade, it was better to use a wood polearm with a blade on the end, and focus the sharp metal to a curved edge, to as small a surface area as possible.

Andy's axes showed her age, but not theirs; they were less than ten years old. Steel, especially steel that came into contact with blood, aged fast enough (and could only take so much of a beating) that the old people knew and had opinions on all the modern replica manufacturers. The oldest blades in the collection were used at Waterloo, only a little more than 200 years ago.

(Nile wondered, as she polished one and rubbed a state-of-the-art hydrophobic finish on it, if the quarterstaff lessons were actually preparing her to fight Booker, should she ever find herself opposing him. It was the kind of thing she couldn't help but think about the logistics of. Surely firearms would be more effective, she initially reasoned, except... guns jammed, guns broke, guns overheated, guns ran out of bullets. And then your gun became a very expensive bludgeon. And you're facing a swordsman who's had 200 years to train. So... why not try a very big stick?)

She knew that even this team could betray her. Even they could fight for the wrong cause. They'd supported revolutions that turned into dictatorships and fought alongside people who turned out to be monsters. There was no promise, no moral certainty, in violence.

So she felt really stupid about it, but the truth was that holding a sword... still brought back that old emotion. That feeling of being capable of doing things. Fighting for a better world. It made her feel taller. It made her feel like her life had a purpose that she'd been heading towards since she was young.

Like God had called her for a special purpose.

Which she'd never say to any of the rest of them, since Andy had been a god and Nicky had been a holy warrior and Joe had broken down completely once, when they let him get too close to a newspaper. They'd only ever hear it with the weight of all the horror they had seen.

So instead she had to carry it as a private conviction, a calling she would have to follow by herself, her own career to make holy instead of horrific. Like when she joined the Marines. Freer, in some ways, but even more out of her depth, not sure she totally understood the situations she was injecting herself into.

The fact that she wasn't sure she ever could walk the path of righteousness and keep herself always on the side of good... was absolutely no inducement not to try. It never had been.

"Picked one yet?" Andy asked, from the door.

"What, you guys weren't gonna pick one for me?" Nile asked, craning her neck around. Andy had her hands buried in the pockets of her jacket, smiling faintly.

"Some things, nobody can pick for you," she said. She picked up one of Nile's polished sabers and admired the sheen along its blade. "Your last-ditch weapon, least of all."

Nile already had a secret favourite of all the swords, but what she found herself saying was, "I want us to do some training in de-escalation."

Andy looked aside from the blade. "Sorry?"

Nile took a deep breath, her heart suddenly pounding like crazy. "That's what I was trained in, aside from combat. De-escalating conflicts. When I was a security guard, we... I got a course on mental health crisis from a guy who does hostage negotiation. I want... we should practice it."

She was ready to be seared by Andy's instant, caustic sarcasm. By a reminder that they were a specialist unit brought in when negotiation failed. Instead Andy looked back at the sword, twisting it to catch the light. "Was it useful?"

"Yeah," Nile said, trying not to let the breath shudder out of her in one long exhale. She didn't want Andy to know how nervous she'd been. "There's a... a lotta conflicts that don't have to turn violent, if you just approach it in..." She ran out of steam for an instant, and shrugged. "If you know how to respond."

"See if there's a webinar," Andy said, which flabbergasted Nile so much—coming from Andy!—that she didn't have anything to say while Andy set the saber down and sauntered back out of the building.

Nile sat for a good long while after that, surrounded by swords on a floor stained with her own blood, and got her breathing under control. Eventually she took her knife out of its sheath and looked it over.

It felt silly, to take a sacred oath on a Ka-Bar knife.

"I swear to almighty God," she said to it, anyway, "that I will use you as my last resort. Not my first."

#nileweek2020 #nile freeman #the old guard #my stuff

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Text

SFW Alphabet - Sonny Carisi

Karen asked when I was doing the SFW with Sonny, and I’m stuck on a fic, so I guess the answer is now. I haven’t decided if I’m doing the other two or not yet, I guess it depends if people want it?

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

(gif by @minidodds)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sonny is super affectionate—he needs to be touching you at all times. In public, it’s an arm around your shoulders or waist, a hand on your lower back or arm, his hand clutching yours. In private, he has you pulled against him, his fingertips trailing over you absentmindedly. He also loves cooking for you—it’s his love language. He knows your favorite dishes by heart and will make them on days you feel like crap, without you asking.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You and Sonny bonded over drinks in a bar. The hockey game was on, and you were both rooting for Islanders, creating an instant bond between you two. Sonny is the best of best friends; he’s there for advice, to listen, to take your mind off things for a while. Even if he’s stuck at work (unless he’s actively in the field being shot at, or in front of a jury), he’ll text you, or take a break to listen to you vent if you need it. Also, growing up with all girls means he understands the intricacies of the things you may need, especially during that time of the month.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Sonny is the best at cuddling! Those limbs were made to wrap around you, holding you close to him. He’s fond of cuddling on the couch while watching bad reality TV or sports. If it’s too hot or you’re both expecting to get up (for food or drinks), then he’ll pull you close to his side, sitting with you comfortably. If it’s a lazy night in, then he’ll lay with you on the couch, tugging you against his long body, kissing you/your skin every now and again.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes. Sonny wants a family—as soon as he finds the one, he’s full in; marriage, children, a house. He also loves cooking, but hates cleaning. He’ll clean his knives and the expensive pans he owns, but the rest can wait until morning. As for other cleaning, he likes vacuuming because he can dance like a goofball while doing it, but he hates doing laundry—folding clothes hurts his back.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In person. Sonny’s not one to do it over phone/text. It hurts him as much as you, but he’ll sit with you and explain why it’s happening, every single detail. He’ll offer to still be friends (as long as it’s an amicable breakup), and he’s still a comfort to talk to after a breakup, even if it’s awkward at first.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Sonny has a set of questions that he goes through within the beginning stages of a relationship. Man’s looking for a wife and he doesn’t want to waste his time; if you don’t fall into his category of wife material, he’ll move on. But, if you pass all the tests, then he’s quick to move in/have you move in with him. He’s busy and at work often, so it takes him a little, but he’s proposing within a year of living together. Marriage takes a little longer, but Ma Carisi is texting him every day asking when it is.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Sonny is the sweetest bean. He’s gentle, but knows how to be a little tougher if that’s what the situation calls for (thank you detective work). Every now and again, very rarely, he’ll say something really stupid, and you’ll give him a glare before he’s apologizing emphatically.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Sonny is a hugger! He’ll hug you every time he meets up with you, even if you’ve only been out of the room for a couple minutes. He’s also fond of hugging you from behind, his lanky body folding against your back. He envelops you with those long limbs, pulling you close and rocking with you slightly.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

If you pass all his tests, then Sonny says it pretty quickly. Once he says it that first time, though, he’ll never stop saying it; whispering “I love you,” into the night, saying a quick “love ya!” before rushing out the door to work, “god, I love you,” he chuckles, shaking his head as you surprise him at work with food.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Sonny’s not the jealous type; he trusts you completely. Though, because of his time as detective, he does have a general distrust of guys, especially at bars. So, while he’s not jealous, he is protective. If he sees someone staring at you, he’ll put his arm around you, pulling you closer to him while glaring at the offender.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Most of the time, Sonny’s kisses are sloppy—he’s normally grinning or laughing, especially when he gets to kiss you! It makes him so giddy and excited. But for kisses where he’s serious/turned on already, then it’s more passionate, desperate, his tongue moving with yours. He likes to kiss you all over your face—any part of it. You make the cutest little giggle when he does. And he likes when you kiss his neck or chest—your lips are so soft against him and it makes his heart flutter.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Uncle Sonny is the coolest uncle in existence! He watches the shows/movies/games with the kids and knows all their meme references. He’ll play Mario Kart (surprisingly well), talk about Pokemon, set up obstacle courses and forts to have nerf gun wars with them. He never runs out of energy until the kids are in bed (and then he crashes hard) and he gets to let his inner child out.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

On days that Sonny works, he’s up early to shower. Sometimes he makes it there right after waking up, sometimes you have lazy morning sex first. He owns an automatic coffee maker that was essential, and he has pre-made breakfast that he’ll pop in the microwave. Though, sometimes he doesn’t have time to eat. If you’re awake, too, he’ll spend the morning talking to you before dashing out the door. If you’re not up, he’s near-silent in the apartment, making sure not to wake you.

On days where Sonny’s off, he makes sure to stay in bed, cuddling with you. Sometimes, you’ll spend all day in bed, only getting up to use the bathroom or for food/drinks. Other times, he’ll drag himself sleepily out of bed, then make a huge breakfast, spending the morning talking and catching up with you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Late nights in the office, he’ll come home and curl against you on the couch. If neither of you have eaten yet, then give him an hour to decompress and he’ll make dinner…or you can convince him to order takeout. Otherwise, it’s leftovers that you’ll reheat for him, catching up on the day.

Days off, Sonny spends rememorizing you—not just your body, but your mind, too, and why he fell in love with you. He’ll stay up all night chatting with you, if that’s what you want. Otherwise, he’ll take you to bed, spending half the night caressing you with his hands and mouth.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

His personal life—his family and early years—he’ll talk about freely. It’s only when you get to his life as a cop/detective, and then lawyer, that he’s hesitant. Sonny doesn’t want to scare you with the gruesome details of past cases, whether they were resolved or not—they still keep him up at night; he doesn’t need to do that to you, too. And he never really does talk about details of cases; he’ll give you the broad strokes, but that’s about it. He also won’t tell you about the traumatic things (the car crash, the gun in his face) unless you were there for them, and even then, he’ll try and brush it off as nothing.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

For the most part, Sonny has infinite patience. But there’s a couple things that set him off, or if you happen to catch him on a bad day, his patience will be thin. He’s quicker to anger since becoming an ADA, but that’s only because he’s still a fish fighting against the stream. And even then, it’s only while in the thick of it—most days are fine. But a few cases have got him so worked up, he’ll be in a bad mood when he comes home. It’s nothing that cuddling and soft words can’t fix, though.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Sonny’s mind works in weird ways—he’s forgotten your birthstone (though he knows your birthday!), but he’ll remember the coffee you ordered on your first date. He knows a good deal about you, and he remembers the important things (allergies, birthdays, anniversaries), but he’ll forget things like when he went to the store and you asked him to grab a gallon of milk. It’s a hit or miss on what he remembers.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you both kissed. Sonny was nervous; he wanted to wait until the third date, like a good little Catholic boy, but you were putting the moves on him and he couldn’t stop himself. He made sure to ask you first, and you gave your consent. The moment his lips touched yours, his life changed forever—he knew in that moment that he loved you, with all his heart. As much of a cliché as it is, when you kissed, there were fireworks, and he was so excited, he forgot to continue kissing you. You leaned back, eyebrow raised, but he hadn’t moved, his eyes closed, a dreamy smile on his face. When he came to and realized what had happened, he apologized, and you chuckled before kissing him again.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Sometimes, Sonny goes all out for dates. Other times, he takes you for a simple walk through the park, fingers interlaced. Anniversaries, however, he goes above and beyond, making sure to take your breath away every time. He likes giving you gifts, and they are thoughtful. He can somehow always sense when you’ve had a bad day, and a coffee and cannoli will appear on your desk, with a heart on a sticky note. Dinner is what he puts a lot of effort into, even if he brushes it off, and he makes an effort to talk to you at least once a day, catching up on your day.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Sonny makes a mess of the bathroom counter—half empty cologne bottles, gel tubs, combs and brushes everywhere. He takes up more space than you, trying to make sure he’s presentable in court. You’ve tried to clean up/rearrange, but he’ll destroy it by the next morning. He also has a bad habit of stacking dishes in the sink (except his expensive ones), claiming to wash them tomorrow, but tomorrow never seems to come.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

On work days, Sonny is very concerned about looking good for the courts. He’s slowly collecting dress shirts and ties, making sure he has plenty of gel for his hair, and having a different cologne for every day of the week.

On days he’s off, Sonny cannot force himself to care about his looks. He’ll still gel his hair out of habit—and to keep the strands out of his eyes—but even that’s only if he’s going out. If he’s staying inside, then he won’t even do that.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

As soon as you’re living together, you’re a part of him. Sonny needs someone to hold and love, and vice versa; he needs some cuddles and a listening ear every now and again. After moving in, it’s very unlikely he’d break up with you—you complete him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Sonny’s ticklish on his hips/stomach. One day, he came home from work upset, trying to bury himself in work on the coffee table. It was a Friday, and the trial wasn’t until Monday, so you told him to relax. But he couldn’t just relax, he had arguments to prepare. So, you forced him to his feet, telling him that he had to have one dance with you, and then he could stress about work. He was still grumbling as you swayed together in the living room, even though he was fighting a smile. So, you tickled him until he was breathless from laughter, tears in his eyes. He relaxed after that, talking to you about his shitty day. And after unloading all of that, his mind was clearer, and he was able to make his arguments in the trial easier.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Sonny doesn’t like drunks—he’ll have a crazy night with you every now and again, or have a beer with dinner, but he’s not interested in taking care of you multiple times a week; if he needs to be an adult, so do you. He also doesn’t like partners who are clingy—physically clingy is fine (man must be touching you, remember), but emotionally? Nah, especially because he’ll have some early mornings and late nights at work and won’t be home for most of the day. If you can’t handle that, then it’s not going to work out.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Sonny has mild insomnia. He takes medication for it, but when the cases are bad, he’ll have trouble sleeping, even after a night of making love to you (though that can help). Sometimes, he’ll lay awake until the wee hours of the morning, listening to your soft breathing, finally drifting off only to be awoken a few hours later by his alarm.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #sfw alphabet #my writing

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Earthbound: Matthew’s Story

Context:

Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Full fic can be found here.

Arthur’s story can be found here.

-----

Matthew is four. His family have got their first dog and it’s a large, fluffy creature, all flank and tail and teeth. Matthew is horrified, at first, at this large thing that has suddenly appeared in his house, and he cries and tries to get away from it when it approaches him in the living room.

‘Just come say hello,’ Daddy says, hoisting him up to sit on his knees and taking his small hand in his larger one. His father’s body curls around him and, enveloped in arms, Matthew feels safe. His daddy reaches out his hand, thus, Matthew’s hand, giant thumb in the middle of his palm so that it is pinned there, and holds it aloft in front of the creature.

A large wet nose immediately descends and Matthew squeals because it is cold and strange and scary and Daddy shushes him, bouncing him on a knee. ‘He won’t bite’, Daddy says, ‘I won’t let him hurt you. He’s just trying to say hello; doggies say hello a little differently, is all.’

He kisses Matthew’s temple and rocks him, gently. ‘Want to try again?’

He is not but he nods and says yes because he wants to be brave and strong and he trusts Daddy, he does, or he really really wants to. At his reply, Daddy holds out their hands again, in front of the thing’s mouth, and whispers soothing nothings in Matthew’s ear- he’s not paying attention, too focused on the mouth with the teeth.

The creature snuffles their hands before giving them a lick, pink rough tongue and slobber; Matthew gasps, surprised, and then laughs. Daddy chuckles, and Matthew feels the vibrations rumble through him. ‘See? I told you; he only wants to be your friend. He’s called Kumajirou.’

The name doesn’t quite stick, too long and cumbersome for Matthew’s tentative tongue and he becomes Kuma, instead. It fits.

Matthew is eleven and wishes people could be more like dogs, open and friendly and honest about all that they are. He finds people too quick, children especially: too sly and fast and always with something hidden behind their smile. He’s figured out that he isn’t really a people person, anyway- it’s not that he doesn’t like people, exactly, but he doesn’t really know how to act around them; doesn’t know what to say or how to read them properly and now the whole process of opening his mouth to speak to someone feels daunting, like standing on the roof of his house and forcing himself to step off.

Matthew likes to sit on his thoughts, chew them about in his mouth a bit and be sure of the shape they will form before he lets them go. This means that he takes too long, is silent more often than not because kids his age don’t have the patience to stop and wait for him to get himself ready, lining up his words like soldiers about to march.

He’s known as the silent one at school, blending into the environment like a piece of furniture. Whether it’s in lessons, in sports, in games, or anything in between, his classmate’s eyes glaze past him and he knows that they’ve forgotten he’s there, forgotten that he’s an option to speak to. They’re not mean to him, they just don’t think about him, anymore. Even adults are not immune, more used to handling the demands of the louder kids, dazzled by the brightness of the smarter ones, fond of the affectionate children. Matthew is only half there, he supposes, sitting in the background with a mouthful of words that won’t come out when he wants them to.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s even really there at all, because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Memories of things and people and places and conversations- moments you share with other people that plant you in time, leaving a mark of your life like a footprint in their existence. He feels like a ghost of a person, a shade of parts that resemble someone else and it leaves him more tongue tied than ever.

But if Kuma is there, wherever he is, it’s instantly better because Matthew can be himself, can feel something loosen inside him and let him act like a person because Kuma loves him no matter what. Dogs act the same to everyone as long as you’re good to them- love them even a little. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew doesn’t want to talk, or doesn’t know how he properly wants to say something. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew struggles to find his words, tripping and stumbling over them as they clog his mind, clumping awkwardly on his tongue.

Kuma will sit there, patient and still, as Matthew whispers his day into his fur, words clear and strong and unsullied by fear in a way they never are with people. He will lick him on the nose and shove his head onto his lap when Matthew has curled himself into a ball in his room, replaying his day over and over so much that his mistakes blur together like paint, colouring everything with a smear of shame.

Matthew is fourteen and he feels as though he finally understands something. It starts as a small something, creeping and pattering through him and leaving tiny tracks in his mind, but now it’s growing larger and stronger, moving within him and sending his thoughts racing.

Kuma died a few months ago. This is what started it, Matthew knows, seeing Kuma slow and slow, more so each year, before, towards the end, it took all he had left to just lift his head. Matthew had felt terrible, of course- at a loss and helpless sitting there with him, stroking Kuma’s head and whispering final goodbyes. His father had joined him on the floor, both of them cocooned by a companionable silence in a way they couldn’t be at any other time, and Matthew felt truly heard, to the bottom of everything he was, in the depths of his grief. This was a moment that needed no words, was a thing that could not be named- only felt and experienced.

His father is a research scientist at some big lab in the heart of the colony and is more used to theory and hypothetical than practical application, but he had found some e-tab journals on dogs, about how their bodies worked and how to fix them, and used his skills to pour over them with Matthew on the floor, studying the miniscule entries as much as he could to provide some help. Matthew watched, days lit by the flash of the e-tab as story after journal after analysis was checked and rechecked by his father beside him. There was no medicine that could save Kuma, no special cure for age, but there was some information about helping it, easing it- gentling death until it was as soft as sleep and Matthew’s father tried each and every one that he found. Kuma left them with a shift and a sigh and Matthew was surprised at death’s kindness, how easy it could be.

His father, haggard, tired, and sad, had given something of himself for Kuma, and Matthew felt so proud of him, thankful for the benefit it had given his oldest friend. Kuma is gone, but Matthew thinks of that shared peaceful end, of those journals filled with age old accounts from long dead men. He realises that there must be many of these e-tab entries about so many other animals, the few that are left and the thousands that there were before and he flicks onto one, in passing, just to see.

That’s all it takes. One leads to another, which leads to another and another and another and then Matthew can’t stop himself from drinking up as many as he can sync to, allowing himself to be pulled down through trees of evolution, skipping through the classifications of mammals to haunt reptiles and glide past the wingspan of birds. There used to be so many animals, more than he can ever name, more than he can ever conceive being possible- in the seas and the skies and the land and all at once. In, out, around- a planet teeming with things besides humans, living alongside the hulking toxic growth known as mankind and breathing life into the skies.

When earth fell they were lost, all apart from the few that the survivors managed to cling to, stolen away in their bags and clutched under an arm. Small animals and creatures that could be carried and fed easily with scraps that weren’t needed by another fleeing human life, or domesticated food that was herded and pushed, clueless, into a slaughterhouse of spaceships. It is redundant, of course- a pointless skill for him to nurture but Matthew is hungry for all of it; drawn in and hooked to something beyond his control he syncs file after file, strange creatures taking shape in his mind to migrate the past into his waking day.

Matthew’s colony is one of those ones where they like to push people, like to specialise their children early and drive them to great things. They’re good at what they do, structurally organised to churn out success and Matthew see the benefit of this, finally. He hadn’t really taken part before, hadn’t really shown an interest in pushing himself into a single category, but now, all of a sudden, he wants to do what his dad does.

Well, not exactly what his dad does, numbers and figures and study of physics, but the process of it. The breaking down of information, the mythological categorising of data; the calm soothing expectation of silent contemplation. So, he picks to try to become a research scientist too, selects classes that will give him access to greater libraries and archives and locked journals for deeper study, searching for fur and teeth and claws amongst them.

Matthew is eighteen. He managed to find a uni that taught a few classes in veterinary studies, the medical beginnings for those wanting to specialise as a vet. Matthew doesn’t want to do this, exactly -he’s more interested in how animals work and what they’re like, what colours they come in and how big they are- but if he becomes a vet it will allow him to work with animals all day and this, small as it is, could be enough. He isn’t sure, really; doesn’t really know exactly what he wants other than to learn but he hopes that if he takes enough classes, he’ll eventually figure something out.

The bell rings and he stands, gathering his things and heading out of class -anatomy of canines, his favourite- and turns a corner, slinging his bag over a shoulder and aiming for the canteen where he hopes they’re serving pancakes. He keeps missing them, never making the queue in time, but today he’s hoping that maybe he can manage to push his way through. Suddenly, as he turns a corner someone bumps into him, not seeing him at all, it seems, and everything crashes to the floor, e-tab skidding away out of sight.

There’s a mumbled ‘watch it!’ from someone whom Matthew doesn’t see, just a mouthless shout from a sea of strangers, and then he’s left scrabbling on the floor, parting students like a boulder in a river. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of metallic grey and a flash of Kuma’s tail across the hallway by a wall. He sighs in relief and scoots his way over, bending to snatch his tab up before it can get trodden on and straightening to come face to face with an e-board, notice shining bright and loud.

Matthew blinks at it, then shakes his head and blinks again when the advert doesn’t change, displaying something he never thought possible. It’s Earth, there and large and green and Matthew can’t read the words properly because, out of nowhere, his eyes are filled with tears and he’s crying- great shuddering breaths that turn heads and rip his voice from out of him.

Earth. Earth, there, open. Looking for people. He’s crying, crying so hard he can’t breathe, just gasp and choke and cry and people stop to stare at him because all of a sudden he’s the centre of attention, the loudest thing there is. He can’t control himself, can’t reign it in because at the top, under a heading for ‘Looking for skills in:’ he sees-

Animal care.

He doesn’t need to think, doesn’t need to read any further, doesn’t even stop to feel shame for his outburst; class forgotten, lunch forgotten, life forgotten he sprints home, avoiding the shuttles and cars he runs as fast as his legs can carry him, pounding on the electric walkways that shoot through town and feeling himself grow lighter and lighter with each step.

His mother and father don’t want him to go, mother clinging to him with arms wrapped tight around his neck. They feel, briefly, like a noose and Matthew chokes to think of listening to them- at the thought of staying here.

He loves them, he loves them- they’re his parents and he loves them so fucking much but this is something he needs to do, has to do and as he pulls away from his mother and meets his father’s eyes he can see that his father knows this too.

‘You may not get to work with animals,’ he says seriously, ‘at least not the ones you want.’ Matthew’s mother steps back to look at his father in horror, betrayal raw on her face as she realises that his father isn’t saying no Matthew can’t go, that he must stay. She reads the acceptance there, understands the truth of it and leaves the room to compose herself, Matthew staring after her sad but determined.

Matthew nods. ‘I know.’

His father steps forwards and puts a large land on his shoulder, rooting him in this moment. ‘If you’re not happy, will you come home?’

Matthew feels his eyes begin to burn, throat tighten, and thinks of the birds he’ll see even if he works in a lab, the insects he will find and small animals he can watch from a window; life spilling over the edges to bleed into buildings. ‘I’ll be happy.’

#my writing #matthew Williams #aph canada #hws canada #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #APH England #hws #Oops oh no here we go #These are good little snippest if people don't fancy reading the whole thing #but sorry to anyone out there who already has!#(i love you)

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hetahonda · 4 years

Text

hetalia college AU headcanons

North Italy/Feliciano Vargas:

Fine Arts

Considered joining his brother Lovino in culinary arts, but wanted to try something outside of the Vargas family restaurant business, so here he is now

Feliciano’s favourite thing to draw is people, so his sketchbook is usually filled with drawings of his friends, family, and the occasional cat

Likes watching conspiracy videos on Youtube before bed, but scares himself to the point where he has to camp with Ludwig for the night

His Spotify playlist for when he’s working on coursework ranges from Monteverdi to songs from the Veggietales soundtrack

He’s usually really chatty, but is radio silent whenever he falls sick (which is pretty often, his immune system is terrible), and it’s unnerving as hell

Tells his professors that he’s ‘resting his eyes’ a lot to cover up for the fact that he can’t stay awake in class

Somehow, he’s friends with everyone on campus

Germany/Ludwig Beilschmidt:

Mechanical Engineering, because he’s a nerd like that

Ludwig’s notes are a work of art. He meticulously colour codes and binds all his material, and often receives offers to buy his notes during exam periods

Tends to forget to eat, so he eats a lot whenever he has the time to. His roommate Feliciano’s usually kind enough to share, his brother Gilbert not so much

President of the Student Council, and uses his Council privilege to get away with bringing his dogs into his dorm room

People call him a square - he’s a rigid, straight-edge rule follower to a t, but football season is when Ludwig is really in his element. That’s when he and Gilbert bust out the jerseys, beer, and go absolutely ham in front of the TV

Secretly wants to quit Council to join the football team

Japan/Kiku Honda:

Kiku deliberated between Digital Animation and the more ‘traditional’ route of engineering before deciding that if he was going to suffer for three years he was going to suffer doing something he liked

He only has the motivation to study at night, so he games all day and mugs all night. He lives off a diet of Red Bull and cup noodles

Roomies with Alfred. The both of them throw the sickest gaming parties every Friday night, just so that they can trash their guests at Super Smash Bros

Has a whole bunch of anime keychains and pins hanging off his bag that probably weigh more than the actual contents of his bag. Kiku’s cousin Yao’s hair got caught in it once and it took a lot of screaming before they managed to pull him free

Somehow manages to maintain that 4.0 GPA with that shitty sleep schedule/diet of his? How does he do it

America/Alfred F Jones:

ASTROPHYSICS ALL THE WAY BABY!

Al really loves his course but he also really loves putting work off until the last minute. You can usually spot him camping outside the printing room trying to print an essay minutes before submission time, but it doesn’t matter because he usually gets by with a B anyway

Overloads the fuck on extra-curriculars and clubs, so he’s quite well known around campus. He’s in the football team, track team, is Vice-President of the Student Council, and President of the anime club

He’s the poster boy of the school. College website? Alfred. College pamphlets? Alfred. Anti-smoking advisory that’s hung up in every godforsaken toilet in college? Alfred. What can he do? He’s just too damn handsome.

The biggest Halloween fucker on campus. He shows up to class every Halloween without fail in the exact same Captain America costume as last year’s

England/Arthur Kirkland:

Literature with Creative Writing

Tends to come off as snobby, but is actually really nice when you get to know him better. He’ll show up to your dorm armed with a kettle and a box of teabags if you need a study buddy or just someone to talk to

He’s also a terrible chef. The student dorms have had 6 fire scares in the past term, and they’re all Arthur related incidents

Talks big about only reading fine literature but writes fanfiction in his dorm room every night. It’s a secret he’ll take to his grave, especially since TheSlytherinGentleman is one of the biggest Harry Potter fanfiction accounts on AO3 right now

His room smells like tea and regret, because he opted for a four person dorm and now he’s living with Francis, Antonio and Gilbert for the next two years

Argues that his half brother Alfred’s GPA is higher than his because “Literary arts is subjective”

France/Francis Bonnefoy:

Film student

Francis’s favourite past time is renting out old movies and watching it on the library’s old VCR. Netflix just doesn’t have that same a e s t h e t i c

Among the four of them in the same dorm, he is the only one with a skincare routine and a 10pm bedtime

The mom friend of the house. He’s the one to call for hangover remedies (Antonio), or if something gets broken (Gilbert), or if something’s on fire (Arthur)

Resident heartthrob. Receives the most amount of chocolates and gifts every Valentine’s Day, and is always happy to share

Francis, Gilbert and Antonio have a “bully Arthur day” every year to commemorate the day Arthur moved in with them. It’s Francis’ favourite day of the year (apart from Christmas)

Goes all out on decorations for Christmas. The whole dorm is like a palace once he’s done with it

China/Yao Wang:

Business student, though everyone says he should’ve taken culinary instead (jokes on them, he’s starting his own restaurant empire after college)

Yao’s stuffed toys take up 80% of his bed space

Irregular sleeper, and wakes up at really odd hours of the night. There’s nothing to do until daybreak and it’s hard to fall back asleep, so he just wanders aimlessly around his dorm and scares the living hell out of Ivan from time to time

Listens to music at max volume. Likes to start his day with aggressive death metal in order to help himself stay awake for morning classes

He destresses by cooking. There’s always tupperware boxes of fried rice/egg noodles stacked in the dorm kitchens during exam season

Always has backache. He claims that the chairs in the lecture halls suck, but his kid brother Leon tells him that he’s just an old man with back problems

Russia/Ivan Braginsky:

Medical student, but doesn’t look like it

Ivan keeps really gross photos in his phone to help him reference back to the stuff he’s learning in class, and it tends to scare unsuspecting friends

Has so many stories from his time as a hospital intern. It grosses people out, that’s why he loves to tell them

“Did I tell you about the time I had to help sew a man’s fingers back one by one after his hand was crushed by a steamroller”

Likes the sun, but doesn’t really like sports. He’s the medic for a bunch of sports teams, and he likes to sit and watch the games

There’s also never a week that goes by where Alfred doesn’t get hurt. Seriously, can that Jones kid chill?

Roomies with Yao. They’re the most functional room in the entire campus. No noise complaints, no dirty dishes, no undone laundry, and they PRIDE themselves on it

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harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

Legacy

Summary: Slytherin Reader is married to Fred and the two have a daughter. When she goes off to Hogwarts and gets sorted into Slytherin, it’s a tough pill for Fred to swallow.

Warnings: angst, language

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: So I really enjoyed writing this one. It starts off a little slow but it picks up, I promise!! I’m just soft for dad Fred. he deserved better.

The pairing of Fred Weasley and Y/N Y/L/N was unlikely to say the least. The two, who had been in the same year, didn’t find themselves in each others’ company during their time at Hogwarts. But, Y/N, who was loyal to the school, had saved him from a terrible fate during the Battle of Hogwarts, and the two found their way together after that.

She had known of the Gryffindor prankster, he was not exactly subtle in their years together at Hogwarts. On multiple occasions, the tall ginger twin had set of Dungbombs and Fireworks in their classrooms. Y/N never admitted it, but she always found the twins’ pranks quite amusing. She would silently laugh behind her hand as McGonagall or Flitwick, or sometimes even Snape would glare at them and remove points from Gryffindor. But, that never dampened the spirits of the brothers, who always found a way to keep people on their toes.

Y/N, on the other hand, tried not to bring too much attention to herself in her time at the school. She was placed in Slytherin, much to her parents’ utter thrill, and kept her circle of friends small. She only really had two friends — a dark-haired boy named Stellan and a blonde girl named Alice. The two had been her go-to companions practically the whole time she was there. They had been some of the only non-pureblood-fanatics she had met. Sure, she prided herself in being a pureblood with well-respected parents, but found no understanding in why some people in her house — particularly Draco Malfoy — found pleasure in bringing down those who weren’t.

After graduating, Y/N took time off and debated coming back to Hogwarts as a professor — the late Professor Snape always told her she had a talent for Potions — but with the looming threat of the Dark Lord’s return, she decided to stay on the down-low and get a job in Diagon Alley at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

She spent five years being a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team, she really did love the sport. She also found herself wandering into Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes during her breaks, admiring the new products on the shelf and having a laugh at those who tried some of their infamous sweets. How the twins managed to keep people smiling in such a dark time, she had no idea.

When the Battle of Hogwarts came to be, Y/N found herself on the frontline, ready to defend the school that her heart belonged to. Which is how she found Fred, cornered in by a Death Eater, who looked ready to kill. She had sent him a curse — ‘levicorpus!’ — and Fred knew right there in that moment that she was the one.

The two found each other one day in Diagon Alley, and they were both done for. Falling in love didn’t come hard for these two. Five years later, they were married, and two years after that, their first child — a daughter — was born.

Ariella Weasley took after her father. She had long, curly ginger hair and freckles scattered across her pale cheeks. The older she got, the more she resembled him. She also did take after her mother, though, because she had Fred wrapped around her little finger. She also had her mother’s pale Y/E/C eyes and her honest smile.

“I’d die for the two of you, y’know?” Fred mumbled to Y/N one night as the two put their baby girl to sleep. Y/N knew, she’d die for the both of them too. They were her entire world.

As Ariella grew older, she started to have fun pranking her cousins with her dad. The two were like partners in crime, and Y/N felt like the luckiest woman alive to be surrounded by two of the liveliest people in the universe.

When Ariella was 11, her Hogwarts letter came in the mail.

“Now, Ari, you’ve got a reputation to live up to. A legacy if you will,” Fred told her, sitting her on the couch, “Uncle Georgie and I really left our mark on Hogwarts, yeah? So keep in mind that you’ve got to live up to it.”

Arielle looked to her mum, eyes wide.

“He’s kidding, love,” Y/N rubbed her back soothingly, “Your dad had a reputation of getting into trouble. If you chose not to go down that same path, you won’t hear me complaining.”

Fred rolled his eyes at his wife, “You know that I made sure things were never boring. Life is supposed to be fun!”

“Fun, yes,” Y/N chuckled, “But education is also important, especially for a young witch. Your dad caused many distractions.” Ariella looked between her two parents and shot them both a toothy grin.

“Trouble and learning go well together!”

Y/N shook her head, a smile on her face as well.

Fred grinned at the two of them, “That’s my girl! When you get sorted into Gryffindor, tell McGonagall I say hi.”

“If she gets sorted into Gryffindor,” Y/N reminded him, “Any house is fine, darling. They’ve all got their strengths.”

Fred was proud of his time in the scarlet and gold house, and he made sure people knew. Everyone in the Weasley family had been placed there and they had each been treated with respect every time they stepped foot back in the school. Ginny, Ron, Fred and George had been on the Quidditch team, Bill and Percy had been Head Boy — there was no shortage of love for the Gryffindor house in the Weasley family.

“But what if she gets placed in Slytherin?” Fred grimaced, “Goodness.”

Y/N thought he was joking, so she shrugged him off and faced her daughter, “I was a Slytherin, and I think I turned out fine.”

“You did, not everyone did. I mean, most Death Eaters came out of there,” Fred pressed on, arms crossed. Ariella looked between her parents, trying to figure out what she’d do if she wasn’t in Gryffindor.

“There are no more Death Eaters, Freddie,” Y/N was a little more stern, “Besides, I knew loads of people in Slytherin who didn’t end up working for the Dark Lord. You just gotta pick your battles.”

Fred dropped the subject and continued telling his daughter about all the things she has to look forward to in her upcoming years.

---

The day Y/N and Fred dropped her off at Platform Nine and Three Quarters was sad day indeed. Y/N shed a few tears, and Fred felt his heart crack slightly as he watched the red steam engine barrel out of sight.

The two made their way back, stopping by to have tea in London before taking their sweet time coming home, and when they got through the front doors a little after sunset, Fred threw his body down on the couch and dragged Y/N down with him. He wrapped her up in his arms and nuzzled his head into her neck.

“What are we gonna do with all this alone time, huh?” he smirked against her neck, placing a light kiss before abruptly pulling away, “Pillow fight!”

He caught her completely off guard and smacked a couch pillow across her face. She held back a gasp, grabbing the one behind her and smacking him right back.

The two battled it out until they were red in the face and panting, both slightly sore from toppling over furniture to avoid getting hit in the face.

“What should we do for dinner, love?” Fred wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the side of her cheek, “First dinner without Ariella in a long time.”

“I know,” Y/N replied, the hollow feeling in her chest growing as she missed her daughter, “It’s weird. But I know she’s off to go have the best seven years of her life.”

“Yeah,” Fred responded, “Maybe she can even bring home the House Cup!”

“Maybe she can,” Y/N twirled around, placing a light kiss to her husband’s lips and trailing off into the kitchen.

---

The next morning, Y/N and Fred Weasley were awoken by a large owl knocking at their window, a letter attached to its scrawny leg.

“Oh, it’s from Hogwarts,” Y/N grinned as she opened the window, plucking the letter off of the owl, tipping it with a quick snack, and letting it fly back to where it came from.

She opened the letter and read it aloud;

‘Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

We are thrilled to inform you that as of last night at 7:03pm, your daughter Ariella Weasley has been sorted into Slytherin House. Headmistress McGonagall would like to send her well-wishes and hopes this letter finds you well.

Forms will be going out next month to students who wish to come home for the Christmas and New Year holidays.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’

Y/N placed the letter down with a smile, her heart thumping loudly, “Hey, she takes after her mother after all! She’s in Slytherin!”

“What?” Fred muttered, his face paler than usual. His hands gripped the bedsheets, “She’s in Slytherin?”

Y/N clutched the letter in her hand and made her way over to the bed, sitting next to him with a smile on her face, oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm.

“That’s great, I’m happy for her. I wonder if I should tell her about the secret passageway next to the fireplace—”

“She’s in Slytherin? Why?” Fred placed his head in his hands as if searching his brain for the answer. Y/N dropped the letter and held onto his wrists, forcing him to look up at her.

“What’s the issue? Why are you so upset she’s in Slytherin?” she tried to hide the hurt in her voice at how lowly he thought of her house. Yes, Slytherin had a reputation, but that was in the past. Y/N had a lot of emerald pride.

“Because — Slytherin, Y/N,” he shook his head, “I mean, come on. Voldemort was Slytherin, Malfoy, Snape, Crabbe and Goyle—”

“So was I,” she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow, “First off, Voldemort was fifty years before us. Snape’s dead, may he rest in peace, so are Crabbe and Goyle. They made mistakes and paid for them. Not everyone in the house ended up being awful. Every house in Hogwarts has had their share of... troubled wizards. Slytherin happens to have had more, sure, but that’s not the house’s fault. It’s the wizard’s fault.”

Fred didn’t seem calmed by her words, not bothering to hide his distaste for Salazar Slytherin’s house.

“But they’re wicked. They’d cheat at Quidditch, they’d taunt first years, they’d always think they were better than everyone else.”

Y/N didn’t stop glaring at him, “Fred, you can’t be serious. I was a Slytherin and I saved your ass. Alice was Slytherin and she’s now an Auror, Stellan owns a store in Diagon Alley — which may I remind you, you do too.”

“That’s different,” he muttered, turning to face away from her and getting out of bed, “You were good. You’ve always been good. You should have been in Ravenclaw or something.”

“What?” she got up as well, forgetting about the letter on the bed, “What is your problem? Just suck it up and accept the fact that two of the women in your life are Slytherins.”

Without another word, she stormed out of the room and down the stairs, anger fuming from her ears. She knew Fred still held distaste for her house, but she thought that after all these years, he’d be way over it.

She stormed into the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea and grabbing the copy of the Daily Prophet that had been delivered at their doorstep that morning, sitting down at the table and sipping her tea. She looked over the announcements from the Ministry, seeing a few familiar names, and didn’t bother looking up from the newspaper when she noticed Fred begrudgingly walking down the stairs, his feet dragging across the floor as he sat across from her at the dining table.

“Love, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to look at her over the newspaper, “I shouldn’t have said what I did, I was just shocked, I guess.”

“Shocked? Is that what you call shock? Sounds like a grudge, if you ask me,” she replied cooly, still not looking at him.

He sighed, “I overreacted, I know. I don’t know why, I just can’t help but think of them the same way that I did when I was in school.”

“Freddie, you can’t do that,” she finally lowered the paper and placed it aside, “Firstly, it hurts me. Secondly, it’ll hurt Ari as well if you start dissing Slytherin. She was really nervous, she doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reached across the table and held her hands gently, “And I don’t want Ari to think I’m disappointed in her. I just — I’ll get over it, I promise.”

---

Over the next few months, Ariella wrote to the two of them, expressing how excited she was to be making friends. She also ranted on for two pages about her love for Transfigurations and Herbology. Her Professor, Neville Longbottom, had been a friend of Fred’s when he was at school.

Fred had grown more used to the fact that his daughter was a Slytherin, and the conversations involving her house were usually pretty short between him and Y/N.

As the Christmas holidays rolled around, Fred and Y/N had decorated the house in preparation to finally have their daughter home. Although they never really lost contact, it had been a long few months for her parents.

“The train’s arriving at two o’clock, Fred! You need to get going!” Y/N whisked him out the door, placing a quick kiss on his lips before returning to the kitchen and continuing the cookies she had been making. It was rare she did them the muggle way, but she had time to spare and thought baking would be fun.

Within the hour, Fred and Ariella arrived through the door, both grinning and red-nosed. Y/N rushed over to her daughter, scooping her up in her arms and squeezing her.

“Mum, ouch,” Ariella giggled, “At least let me take my shoes off.”

Y/N placed her daughter down and started removing her apron, rushing into the kitchen to place the fresh batch of cookies in front of them both. Fred grinned, shoving three of them in his mouth and smiling at Y/N, crumbs falling all over the table.

Ariella grabbed her trunk that Fred brought in and excused herself, rushing upstairs to her room to put it away.

“These are good, they taste like Christmas,” Fred spoke through another mouthful of cookie.

“Fred, don’t eat them all,” Y/N chuckled, moving the plate out of his reach with a smirk, “I haven’t got all holiday to keep making more.”

He sagged his shoulders and sighed dramatically, “Fiiiine.” He walked around the table, pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Ariella came tumbling down the stairs in a mess of green.

“You good?” Y/N asked her daughter, holding back a laugh as Ariella stood up, brushing herself off as if no one noticed her fall.

“Yep, totally,” she walked it off, placing a mess of fabric down on the table, “Anyways, I wanted to show you guys my stuff! Here’s my Slytherin scarf, I usually only wear it to Quidditch games — oh, we beat Hufflepuff real good — and here’s my tie. Getting used to it was weird but I quite like it now. And here’s my sweater that a girl in my house gave to me as a Christmas gift.”

She lifted up the bulky green sweater, showing off the giant Slytherin house crest on the front, “It’ll be my new go-to during matches in the springtime. Slughorn — he’s head of my house — says I’ve got unmatched Slytherin pride! He also says hi, mum.”

Y/N smiled, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, “This is all lovely, darling. I’m glad you’re so proud of your house. And tell Professor Slughorn I say hi back.”

Ariella grinned, picking up the scarf and wrapping it around her neck, tossing her ginger hair over her shoulder and posing, “Doesn’t green just suit me?”

“Of course —”

“We get it, you like Slytherin,” Fred snapped from next to the fridge. He was leaning against it, arms crossed as he watched his daughter flaunt her Slytherin clothing items, a proud grin on her face.

“Fred...” Y/N dropped her head, taking her hand off of her daughter’s shoulder, “Come on, we’ve been over this.”

“Over what?” Ariella piped up, slowly removing her scarf as if she was offending him, “Dad... were you... ashamed that I was placed in Slytherin?”

Fred sighed, avoiding eye contact with her and looking out the window at the slow snowfall. Ariella seemed to take this as a yes, and she dropped the scarf on the table with a defeated sigh.

“Ari, honey, it’s not —”

“It’s fine, I get it,” she scoffed, taking off upstairs with loud footsteps. Y/N flinched as the door slammed shut loudly, rattling the walls of the house. She picked up the scarf on the table, remembering how proud she was when she brought all of her stuff home to show her parents for the first time as well.

“Fred, you need to let this go,” Y/N said softly, not taking her eyes off of the scarf, “You can’t keep denying that she’s not in Gryffindor. I get it, every Weasley has been in that house, but she’s not just a Weasley. She’s a part of me too, and she’s taken after you in every other aspect — her hair, her attitude, her freckles, her laugh — why can’t you accept the fact that for once, she’s taken after me for something?”

Fred seemed to ponder her words. He had never thought about it that way. People always told him about how much she resembled him in every aspect, but it wasn’t often that people said that to Y/N. And now, she watched with pride as her daughter was placed in her old house. It was almost like she could finally see herself in her.

“You’re right,” Fred mumbled, “You’re completely right. Merlin’s beard, I’ve been an idiot.” He wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her into him, hugging her as if his action was louder than his words.

“You have to go tell her that, she’s the one who thinks you’re ashamed.”

Fred pulled away and sighed, running his hand down his face and nodding, “You’re... you’re right. I need to go talk to her. She needs to know that I am proud of her. I always will be. And... that her mum was the most badass Slytherin ever. She’ll take after you there.”

Y/N giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Go tell her that, Freddie.”

“Can you come with me?” his voice was barely above a whisper and Y/N nearly swooned at how desperate he was. Ariella was, no doubt, a daddy’s girl, so having her dad come around and reassure her would mean the world her.

“Of course, love,” Y/N placed a kiss on his cheek and the two of them walked upstairs. She knocked slowly on her door and once a quite ‘come in’ was heard, she opened it and looked down at her daughter. Ariella was sitting on her bed, reading ‘Hogwarts: A History.’

When she saw her parents walk in, both looking apologetic, she placed the book down and sat crosslegged, turning to face them.

“Your dad has something he wants to say,” Y/N nudged Fred forwards. He gave her a grateful nod and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and placing his hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry if you thought I was ashamed,” he started, “I was shocked when we got the letter saying you were in Slytherin, I won’t deny it. When I was at school, the Slytherin students were always cunning, mean, rushing around the halls looking for any reason to torment the people they saw. They cheated, they lied, and eventually, a lot of them ended up working for the Dark Lord. I guess that now, twenty years after my time, I’m still thinking about that side of Slytherin. But then, after I left school, I met your mum. And she changed my opinion completely.”

Y/N sat there in awe, listening to what he had to say.

“She was caring, smart, loyal, funny — everything I wouldn’t expect from a Slytherin. I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though you take after me in every aspect of your physical appearance, I’m glad that your heart is like your mother’s. I’m proud of you.”

Ariella was close to tears, and so was Y/N. She watcher her daughter flail her arms around her dad’s neck and hug him like her life depended on it. Y/N sat by the door, her hand over her heart, and a loving smile on her lips.

She watched the smile spread across Fred’s face as he hugged his daughter back, relieved she wasn’t mad at him.

Later that evening, after Ariella had gone to sleep, Y/N and Fred sat on the couch, wrapped in blankets and watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. Her head was leaning against his shoulder, and his head leaning against hers. His hand was on her thigh, rubbing slow circles.

“I love you,” he muttered quietly, “I’m so sorry for everything. I’ve really been an idiot.”

“You have, but it’s fine,” she giggled, leaning up to face him, “I still love you.”

And she really did, with all her heart.

Who knew these two were so perfect for each other?

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