#fuck everyone in my salary range i guess!!

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 8

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 8

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

Part 8

Billy read through the file on his desk for the third time that day. After the night of the gala he’d hired an investigator to gather info on you, and now all the major events in your life were neatly encompassed in a red folder, ready for his perusal. Despite your refusal to share anything, he’d managed to learn a lot about you reading your file. Except instead of giving him clarity on you, the documents triggered an avalanche of questions and emotions that left him rattled.

You grew up in the projects, in a poor neighbourhood in Chicago, but had managed to wrangle your way into a state university. He knew how expensive those were, and even with the scholarships you’d earned it was almost impossible for someone in your socio-economic background to be able to attend college – but you had, and judging by your relatively low student loans it wasn’t simply due to luck. Billy had learned a long time ago that when opportunities presented themselves, he had to make quick and tough decisions to get ahead. Rawlins had presented such an opportunity, which had given Billy the cashflow he needed to start Anvil. Who was your Rawlins, he wondered.

Throughout college you interned at a moderately-sized company in Chicago and they hired you immediately upon graduation. You never looked back after that, moving from firm to firm while going up the corporate ladder. There were so many things about your life you didn’t share with Billy but you had been honest about one thing – Anvil couldn’t afford you. If he’d hired you, your salary would be on par with his.  

Billy still remembered when he’d signed his first lucrative contract. He’d been eyeing the Wraith for months prior to that, and as soon as he could justify the purchase he did. The penthouse in a luxury high-rise building came next. You, however, were the complete opposite of him. You owned your condo, and while it was nice and in a decent neighbourhood, it certainly wasn’t a luxury purchase. You were careful with your money, except when it came to shoes. Based on your credit card records, you bought a lot but the ridiculously expensive purchases weren’t as numerous. He guessed those were the ones you bought when you were especially troubled, like Davina had said.

Billy had pored over your life starting from where you were now all the way back to your childhood. The first time he read the child abuse investigation report in your file was two days ago, and it had taken him hours to finish because of the sheer rage it provoked in him. It was an incident reported by one of your teachers after you’d shown up to school with bruises and burn marks. Of course the child protective services had done nothing, you’d been returned to your parents. There were no other reports filed after that but abuse that vicious didn’t stop just because the cops came around. Your parents probably just learned not to leave visible bruises.  Billy was all too familiar with that kind of violence and realizing you went through the same made him want to destroy every fucking person in your life that ever hurt you.

“I fought like hell to make something of myself, to be safe and happy.”

Your words still rung in his ears. They had haunted him for a week now. He could still remember the strange look of apathy on your face even though your words were obviously coming from a place of hurt and anger. At the time he didn’t know what you meant, but now he understood and it both sickened and infuriated him that you felt threatened by him. What could he have possibly done to conjure the same fear in you as your goddamn family? How could you compare him to them?

“You will not destroy me.”

Your voice had been steady and calm when you said the words, a complete contrast to the confusion he’d been feeling. Fine, he may not have recognized your worth sooner before but that didn’t mean he wanted to hurt you. Yet you’d accused him of doing just that and it pissed the fuck out of him. Yeah he’d bragged about Anvil to Roger but that was to get you actual protection and keep you safe – something your precious fucking Roger should have done from day one. Corporations didn’t give a fuck about their employees until their bottom lines were threatened and knowing a competitor had access to that kind of info meant bad PR for Valiant. You were smart, you should have realized exactly why Billy had played that card but instead you chose to be willfully blind and accuse him of jeopardizing your job. It made him so angry that it had taken every bit of willpower he had not to shake the stupidity out of you.

The phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. Upon seeing who it was, he picked it up immediately. “Yeah?”

“Hey, boss. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Looks like she’s lost her tail. Didn’t even take her that long. The guy’s an idiot.”

Frustrated, Billy ran his fingers through his hair. The little talk with Roger had worked and Valiant had assigned a bodyguard to you, but like everything else about the company, the guard was ineffective. Fortunately Billy had already anticipated Valiant’s ineptitude so he’d made arrangements for one of his best trackers to keep an eye on you. “Think she knows about you?”

Andy snorted. “This ain’t my first gig.”

Even though Billy knew Andy was great at what he did - he was one of Anvil’s best - it still didn’t assuage his anxieties about you. “Where is she right now?”

“Driving out of town. I’m on her tail.”

“Headed for?”

“Not sure yet. Connecticut, I think.”

Billy exhaled an agitated sigh. “Okay, let me know if there’s trouble.”

“Will do.”

After hanging up with Andy, he called your number. As expected, it went to your voicemail automatically. Just like it had every time this past week. Obviously you’d blocked him, which irritated the fuck out of him, but he realized it was something you needed to do for yourself. And if you didn’t have some unhinged lunatic after you, Billy would have given you the space you needed - but now was not the time to respect your goddamn boundaries.

“Hey, it’s me. I get it. You’re pissed but we need to talk. Call me.” He paused, breathing. A part of him wanted to add a ‘please’ but he didn’t like the thought of pleading with another person, even you. Because if he begged and you still didn’t call back… he didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Reluctantly, he put your file down and returned to reviewing the contracts in front of him.

***

It was almost two in the morning. He’d gone out for dinner with some potential clients and schmoozed the hell out of them. After a lot of booze and ass-kissing, they finally shook on the deal. All in all, it was a pretty great night except he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Every time his phone rang he hoped it was you; it never was. And now he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of you like some lovesick fool. It was pathetic. He should have gone home with the waitress that had slipped him her number. She’d been hot, fun, and more than happy to fuck him but some stupid part of him felt guilty – actually guilty even though you’d been ignoring him for a week – of sleeping with someone who wasn’t you. What the hell was wrong with him?

Yeah, sure, he’s been in some relationships before but they never lasted long. When things were bad, they were terribly, horribly bad and the good times just weren’t worth it. And so, in the past few years, he’d decided to keep things casual with everyone until you fucking came along and dropped a bomb and now he was right back in the middle of a hurricane. Fuck you. Fuck You. Fuck you for making him feel like this. For making him feel desperate and clingy and pathetic. For making him worry about you. For making him care.

He grabbed his phone and called you. There was your fucking voicemail greeting again and the dreaded beep.

“I make you feel worthless?” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “What the fuck did I do to make you feel that way? Tell me. Because you actually haven’t given me any reasons. You just spouted some bullshit about having feelings for me before you walked away. Now you’ve blocked my number and I’m sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck I did wrong.” He scooted off the bed and began pacing the floor. “Eleven fucking months we’ve been sleeping together and you tell me nothing about yourself. Nothing. You were a glorified sex doll. A fucking fleshlight who spoke and only told me things I wanted to hear. Yes, Billy. No, Billy. Fuck me, Billy. You kept everything bottled up! Not once did we have a real conversation. And then all of a sudden you come alive and I find out there’s more to you and I want to get to know you better but then you tell me you have feelings for me, that you might actually love me and instead of giving me a chance to process any of this shit you dump my ass and block me? Fuck you, Y/N!”  

He hung up the phone, feeling much better, but within seconds that feeling of euphoric release turned to anxiety. What if you misinterpreted what he meant? What if something he said inadvertently hurt you again? This time when he called you, his voice was calmer.

“This isn’t me, Y/N. I’m not the guy who calls a woman over and over again, especially when she wants nothing to do with me. But you’re in my head. You’re everywhere I look. I don’t want to think about you, I don’t want to give a fuck about you, but I do…” He took a deep breath. “You said you might love me but I think you’re full of shit. Because when you care about someone, you don’t leave them behind. Shutting someone out, abandoning them, that’s not love. That’s being a fucking coward.”

After putting his phone back on the nightstand table, he lay back in bed with his arm propped up behind his head. He pondered the message he left, realizing the truth. As hard as he’d fought it, as much as he didn’t want to, he had fallen for you. You. Not the woman he’d been fucking for eleven months who didn’t have any personality but the real you, the woman who challenged him, who made him laugh, who was brilliant and incredibly smart and so fucking beautiful he’d get a hard-on practically every time he looked at you. There was so much about you he didn’t know, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life discovering you, fucking you, making you his.

He didn’t believe in destiny or any of that romantic nonsense. The universe had fucked him over too many times for him to accept sentimental bullshit like that. But what he did believe in was himself. Everything he had he fought for and he destroyed anyone who got in his way. Something told him you were the same as him. You two were connected.

He reached for his phone again and dialed your number. His voice was strong, calm, and resolute as he left you a final message.

“I like you. I want you. I’m not walking away.”

He hung up, smirking.

Part 9

A/N - I’m back from lovely St Maarten, all tanned and relaxed :) I hope you guys had a wonderful week, and that you enjoyed this new chapter. I know it wasn’t plot-heavy, just thought-heavy but that was on purpose. I really wanted a chapter just for Billy to process his feelings about “You”. Hope the lack of plot wasn’t a disappointment. As always, thank you for the lovely feedback on the last chapter.  I’m sorry I didn’t respond in a timely manner while I was away!  Please know that I truly appreciate the likes, the reblogs, the wonderful feedback and the asks you guys left me.

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher #a woman scorned

[dopesotherstuff]

The Only Men to Miss Him

Mercurio deals with the loss of his Regnant and tries to figure out what to do next. He gets advice from an unexpected source.

I was halfway to drunk when the phone rang. Unlisted number, of course. I picked it up right away. I didn't know who would be on the other end of the line, but I knew what they would be.

I was right. I knew that voice from some of my meetings with the Boss. One of his kids. Apparently they hadn't died with him.

"Mercurio, this is Davison. I regret to inform you--"

"I know." The words came out flat and tired. "I felt it."

A moment's hesitation. "I see."

He didn't say anything about it, no "my condolences" or "we couldn't save him from himself" or even a flat "your Regnant got himself killed being greedy, stupid-evil and obsessed." No. I guessed that Davison was still processing the whole mess too. It had barely been an hour, after all.

I was going to remember that moment for the rest of my goddamn life. I had been sitting on my couch, waiting for the Boss's nightly phone call with his list of get-this-done-and-report-back-before-dawn orders. I had been dead sober too, which had been the worst part of it.

The feeling had been like something breaking inside of me--a sudden snap, and suddenly the vampire blood in my veins had gone colder. Dull-feeling. Like whatever had been powering it was...gone. And the sense of loss that had rolled through me had sent me off the couch and to my goddamn knees.

No lying to myself about it. I had screamed when I had realized what the feeling meant. Furious at that hulking fuck of a bodyguard who hadn’t done his job. Furious at LaCroix for dying, for leaving me, and for becoming a goddamn monster before he had. Furious that he had let himself slide, and slide, and slide until he had gone off a goddamn cliff. Feeling his absence like a piece ripped out of me--even as I felt the dog collar he’d kept around my neck break loose.

I was free. But I was also alone.

"Sebastian LaCroix is no more," Davison continued needlessly, his voice low, tone formal. "Because of this, you as his servant will no longer be receiving vitae or salary."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I kinda figured.” I wasn’t worried about money. I was still arms dealer to Santa Monica--minus the low-caliber scraps I had been throwing Trip, anyway. I could keep myself comfortable now without even going back to being a hitter. “So what now?"

"That is being determined by the Board." By which he meant, any Ventrue elders they could dig up in California. But of course, he wasn't going to say that. He didn't know how much I knew. "You may be taken on by another Regnant within the Clan," he went on. "Your service to Clan Ventrue for over thirty-five years is notable, especially during such...trying circumstances."

By "trying", well, he had to mean LaCroix. The Boss had slid so goddamn far away from the man I had once known and admired that I had gone to every meeting with him these last few years shaking in my fucking Florsheims. I had known that even after all this time together, and all I had done for him, the man he had become would have simply killed me for a minor failure. Like the explosives job. Everyone in his Clan had to know that he'd degenerated--especially his kids. They were barely above me on the food chain in his eyes--I'd seen him use more than one as cannon fodder. "I see. When will I know?"

"Given the circumstances, there may be some...delay." He took a deep breath he didn't need: buying time. "Possibly a few months."

"A few months...!" My gut dropped. LaCroix had given me my blood three nights ago. In roughly twenty-seven days it would leave my system, and the thirst would start--that bone-deep, painful thirst that water and booze couldn’t quench. Soon after, my strength would go, and soon after that...I would wake up almost forty years older. A senior fucking citizen. probably complete with baldness and bad knees.

I wanted to scream at the rich bastard on the other end of the line about it. Wanted to ask him why they would let a guy with my capabilities, my resources, dangle while he dried up like a raisin in an oven. But I knew. Deep down, I knew.

I was just a ghoul.

Just the fucking help. Who cared if I got old? Who cared if I died? Not the little asshole on the other end of the line, that was for sure.

"There is also the possibility of having your memories edited, and being returned to your old life..." Davison ventured. I could tell he could sense my distress.

"No." I kept my voice even. "This is my life. It's been forty years." Longer than fucking Davison had been alive, let alone undead. Goddamn kids. "I got nothing to go back to."

"I understand." But he offered no solutions. "You will be contacted as soon as a decision is made."

The line went dead, and I stared down at the receiver, feeling the tiny bit of the Beast inside of me snarling and pacing. Bastards!

I had expected LaCroix to be fine with throwing me away now that he'd gone dirty. But every single fucker in the local clan? Thanks a lot, guys. Not even gonna give me a commemorative fucking Timex before you shuffle me out the door with my box, huh?

"Fuck," I growled, setting the receiver back into its cradle. But I stayed calm this time. When I had felt LaCroix die, felt the plug being pulled inside of me, every damn emotion I'd been keeping in for years had spilled out.

Anger. Sorrow. Fear. Shame, because I had failed him too.

Relief. Because...he had been an evil stranger with an old friend’s face, in the end.

And now, here I was, four fingers deep into a bottle of Scotch, wondering what the hell I was going to do to keep myself going. Find a new boss? Start trading for blood? I doubted I could bargain to get a set of fangs of my own.

That would be something, though. I already have experience in that world. I already have power, and I know how to use my blood. And I’ve got way more knowledge of how things work than some kid like Davison.

But I wasn’t some silver-spoon fuck with a good pedigree, either. I was a guy from the streets, who had fought my way up with brains and fists and a silver fucking tongue. No old money. No “breeding”. The Ventrue probably wouldn’t ever take me as anything but a servant.

I stared down at the bottle of Glenlivet, then corked it and got up. I had to get the hell out of here.

It was raining again outside. Weird thing. Santa Monica was supposed to be dry and full of pollution, and instead here we were in a warm downpour that reminded me of summer in the Catskills. I walked in it, letting the rain soak into my hair and the shoulders of my suit. Trying to figure out where to go.

I could go to the Barons. But working for them means sucking down a dose of the Crazy Juice once a month. That Cleaver guy’s proof enough that that is a bad idea. The only other vampire I knew of in Santa Monica--besides the Thin Bloods, who were nice but couldn’t help me--was already breaking in a new ghoul.

I didn’t want to look in Downtown right now. My guess was that all those Camarilla guys would be looking for anyone that LaCroix might have called an ally. I didn’t know if they would interrogate me and let me go, or just kill me. No. Better to go somewhere else that the Camarilla didn’t hold.

LaCroix had bitched about Hollywood an awful lot. Maybe there I would find someone friendly who wasn’t in bed with my ex-boss’s executioners. The Baron over there didn’t have any grudge against me.

A cab idled in front of the Asylum. I walked over, hands shoved in my pockets, checking to make sure there were no passengers before leaning over to address the driver.

The man turned his head, and even behind the sunglasses I could feel his gaze hit me like a fist to the chest. My nerve endings prickled. His face was white as bone.

Kindred. Not one I recognized.

“Going somewhere?” he purred, in what sounded like a British accent.

I recovered as fast as I could. “Uh--yeah. Hollywood, by the old Asian theater,” I said. There was a restaurant over there that LaCroix had sent me to scout. Great food, open late. Maybe it would help.

The back door swung open and I slipped in behind him, the .44 under my jacket suddenly feeling pop-gun small. But what did I have to lose from riding with this guy that I hadn’t lost already?

Fuck it.

I felt sick as we pulled away from the curb. I was doing a mental fang count of every Kindred I knew in the city who was halfway friendly to me, and the ones worth asking were coming up short. I wasn’t used to feeling this fucking desperate. This vulnerable.

I could see the back of the cab driver’s neck from where I sat, but it still felt like he was watching me. Was I getting paranoid?

Then he spoke again, and I knew I wasn’t.

“You have lost your Regnant.”

I sucked air, ready to yell at him for poking around in my head. Last thing I needed right now was Malkavian bullshit on top of everything else. But then...I just let the breath out. “Yeah,” I said in a low, tired voice. “What’s it to ya?”

His raspy chuckle sent another rush of that prickly feeling through me. “Merely an observation. It seems...ironic, that the most trustworthy ghoul in town was bound to the least trustworthy Kindred.”

All the defensiveness deflated out of me like he’d poked a hole in it. I didn’t know how he knew me so well. He wasn’t just reading my thoughts. He was reading...me. Not judging me too harshly, apparently, but he was still doing it. “Yeah, well, them’s the breaks I guess,” I mumbled.

“Not necessarily.” He paused as he steered past a fender-bender on the overpass, the cars in front of the cab parting like fish before a gliding shark. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

I set my jaw, gathering my scraps of dignity together. “Not till I’m dead, stranger.”

“...Good.” He sounded pleased. I didn’t know why that made me feel any better. I didn’t know the guy from Adam.

But then my determination slipped, and the regret crept in again. “He wasn’t like this, before.”

“Nor was the Camarilla. Yet here we are. When high ideals build an edifice or a man, corruption breeds in every untended crack and flaw within them.”

“That’s very poetic.” I suddenly wanted a cigarette so badly I could taste it. I hadn’t had a smoke in twenty years. “So you’re saying him going down like this was...what? Inevitable?”

“No. There are men four times his age who have not degenerated so. This was born from his mistakes, and his refusal to seek any redemption. He allowed his Humanity to ebb away. He listened to the wrong people--an evil man, and his own ego. He destroyed himself, in many ways, Mercurio. Do not blame the ones that are left behind.”

I scoffed, but stayed quiet. He was right, after all. But then, I finally sighed and said, “I’m gonna miss the guy he used to be. Before all of this. But...you know, I’ve been missing him for years.”

And God help me, for a moment right then I actually got choked up. I swallowed hard and pulled myself together, hoping he didn’t read my struggle along with everything else.

“I know.” The man’s voice sounded almost wistful when he finally spoke. “Me too. But that story’s over now. His story. Not yours.”

“I...I get it.”  The streetlights blurred outside the cab window; I blinked rapidly until they cleared, telling myself there was no point mourning the guy when everything good in him had died sometime back in the late eighties. What had died tonight had been a shell--a shell I had simply needed, physically. This is just withdrawal.

I was gonna keep telling myself that until it stuck.

“You’re a good man,” the stranger said as he pulled up to the curb in front of the restaurant. “Hold onto that. It is more precious in these nights than you can possibly imagine.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t know why that fucked-up conversation felt like it meant so much. Maybe I was just that fucked up myself, right now.

He pushed back my cash gently with his clawed hand when I offered it. “You keep that. Your money’s no good with me.”

For a moment, he dropped his sunglasses down his sharp nose and I fell straight into his eyes. They were bottomless and black, with little points of light deep inside them, like far-off stars.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Mercurio.”

Suddenly I was back on the road, staring after the cab’s brake lights as it headed off. I blinked, looking around at the neon and dirty sidewalks, and wondered what the Hell just happened.

My mouth tasted of salt and copper, and the tip of my tongue stung like it had touched something hot. Had I bitten it?

My skin was still prickling. The vitae in my system hummed like a tuning fork. “The fuck even was that guy?” I mumbled to myself as I headed for the restaurant, the wad he’d refused clenched in my fist. I needed some good wine to clean my palate.

More Malkavian bullshit. That has to be it. He meant well, though. And he seemed to know LaCroix. Funny that I should run into the only other guy in town who would have a single kind word to say about him. Not much more than that, but hey.

Don’t speak ill of the dead. My family had drilled that into me but good back in the day. One day, though, I would probably get drunk and bitch about my asshole ex-boss until I had nothing left to say about it. But right now, the whole thing felt like a goddamn tragedy.

But I was going to go on. I was going to find a way to survive. If I had to, I’d hunt some of those Sabbat fuckers for their blood until I had a real supply. I wasn’t giving up because LaCroix was gone. My story wasn’t over.

I just had no fucking idea what the next chapter was going to look like.

#vtmb #my canon characters #vtm #mercurio #postgame #caine #prince lacroix #fan fiction #mine #vtmb fanfic

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 05 + 07.12.20 lbs

05.12.20

“tum saari property mere naam karoge.”

BITCH WHAT NOW???????????

V like dadiiiiiiiiiii ko dhokaaaaaaaa?!!!!?!?!?! oh ho, lagta hai pair chhoote chhoote V ko asli waale feels aa gaye dadi ke liye, free of charge!

THIS MAN AND HIS FACE NEED TO BE STOPPED SO HELP ME GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

also what else that tongue do (other than throw constant taane to guilt a bitch) baby boy mmmmmmmhmmmmmmm 😏😏😏

riddhima thinking ki property meaning khatra and she can’t allow it to stay on dadi, she has to take it on herself, so that if kabir tries hurting anyone, it’ll be her.

this one’s paar ki nazar has recognized that train of thought, i think.

she’s like think whatever you want idgaf, just do whatever the fuck i say or else. and don’t even think of charging me an extra paisa. jaake bhaanda phodna hai toh phod lo, phir you won’t get your remaining 4.5 cr. DAMN GIRL, WHERE THIS SHAATIR TAKE-CHARGE SIDE OF YOURS BEEN ALL THIS TIME???????/

hubs thinking same thing. he’s never been more turned on by her as when she’s using maximum brain.

“kya hai?????? aise taad kyun rahe ho?????????”

“taadna ekdum free of cost hai. only for your pretty face!” I HATE HIM.

LOVE THIS TROPE. LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE.

face change from smiley eyes to shaatir eyes, as he contemplates the facts before him. unf, the things it does to me to see him emote.

lijiye, iss show ke Idiot Brothers. and their plans to prove it’s not vansh and to get riddhima thrown out. i’ll pass.

but this one’s face tho. cutest. 

same, aryan. mera bhi yehiiiii reaction hai. taareeef karoon kya uskiiiii, jissne, tumhe banaaya!

some rando has come and is like hi, i’m your new lawyer; your old one appointed me before he left. no doubt he’s been sent by kabir.

V’s face: chutiya samajh rakha hai kya???? that’s not how this shit works.

v is like you’re here about my will and lmao riddhima’s all happy thinking oh vihaan has started my work already. SIS TILL NOW WHAT HAS HE DONE ACC TO YOUR PLAN? TELL ME ONE (1) THING THAT HE’S DONE LIKE YOU SAID.

yadda yadda yadda lawyer is like the property cannot be transferred for a few months. because Reasons. sure. sounds legit.

kabir is ecstatic. needs to learn to hide his MWAHAHAHAHAHA MERA CHAAL KAAM KAR GAYA FACE better if he wants to win at this game. he’s up against poker face all india/tellywood champion.

fb to kabir bribe/threatening lawyer. zero surprise.

V telling dadi idc about all this, meri asli daulat toh aap hai. lmao he really just does not give the other grandkids a chance to be #1 in dadi’s books.

ishani is pakka sure this is vansh bhai itselfffffffffff. and lmao angre’s suspicious face. they’re legit like:

V trying to negotiate salary increase (10% per month!!!!!!!!) and riddhima’s like bhakkkkkkk, sabzi mandi laga rakhi hai kya maine? yeh faltu ki bargaining nahi chalegi yahaan, jo karna hai karlo.

ishani’s back with bhai’s favvvvvvvvv chocolate cake and.... OH NO HE WAS SO FUCKING RUDE TO HERRRRRRRRRRRRR. riddhima ko sabak sikhaane ke liye ishani ko kyun sunaaaa rahe hoooo!?!?!?!!?

anyway riddhima tried to sametofy that raita by apologizing to ishani and.......... that went as well as expected.

kabir and aryan watching and lootofying mazze.

lmaooooo aryan tubelight ko situation samajh hi nahi aaya and kabir is just like

lmao have you seen a more pitying look????

angsty piano playing time.

lmaooooooooo she’s like “jahaan vansh banna tha, wahaan bann nahi paaye, yahaan yeh karke kya kya fayyda hai?” which......... troo. i really like this give-no-fucks version of riddhima who says what’s on her mind, instead of just doing lengthy internal monologues of stupidity. 

as,kjdlkasjd;lksjd;lkjsa;ldkjsa;lk she’s like vansh never yelled at anyone if it wasn’t a big deal. to which V is reacting just the way i am rn.......

‘lmao reallllllllly??? i don’t remember it like that.’

more lecture and yeah, i relate to him.

ishani over here crying to angre about bachpan se leke aaj tak vansh bhai ne kabhi nahi daanta. which again i’m like?????????? i have literally only seen V1.0 yelling at ishani for some bs or the other. literally never has he shown her any pyaar; the most he’s ever mellowed at her was when he gruffly told her sunny’s “truth” and made her understand that the wedding with angre would be good for her. nostalgia comes with some reallllll rose tinted glasses huh, ki everyone’s whitewashing asshole!vansh this way.

soft ship gently chugging along!

anyway angre has a plan and ishani like so help me god imma murder this fucker if he’s not vansh. there’s my girl!!!!!

this one is driving a hardddddddd bargain and wow, really going to town on that piano. riddhima doesn’t find it shady at allllllllllllllllll that he’s an equally good piano player as vansh huh? zerooooo thoughts about that.

“gunaah karne waale se bada gunehgaar hota hai gunaah sehne waala.” bhai waaah, isske victim complex ko mera salaam, ki bechaara is ONLY GETTING 5 CRORES, BOOOOOO HOOOOO.

“jabse tumse yeh deal kii haina, badi gandiiiii waali feeling aa rahi hai!” lmaoooooo yeah sureee, i can see how torturous it is, to be paid OBSCENELY to......... play yourself.

“mujhe teen guna chahiye. i want triple.”

BITCH WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF 3X SLKJDFSLKJFLDK 15 CRORES I KNOW TERA HI PAISA HAI BUT HADH HAI BHAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII?!?!? YOU SOUNDING A LOT LIKE THIS GUY:

oh boy ishani and angre have entered hearing about “triple”.

badi safaai se he said OH I MEANT IMMA BAKE A TRIPLE LAYER CHOCOLATE CAKE FOR YOU TO SAY SORRY.

softttttttttttttttttttt siblingssssssss. baaaaabies.

but hubs and wifey have come with some stress relief for bhai, lol.

lmao riddhima’s reactionnnnnnnnn.

lo ji yeh bhi aa gaya rang mein bhang daalne. wants to make things interesting via bet. some realllllll high stakes shit. good lord, don’t be gross and bet riddhima or something, maharabharat style.

aaaaaand it’s on!

no point screaming in your mind, riddhima. should have sent him to basketball camp before you recruited him.

"bohut mazaa aayega!!!!” lmaooooooo seeeeee, i told y’all. all this big baby legit wants is someone to playyy with himmmmm. have you ever seen him look THISSSSS HAPPY EVERRRRRR??????????

——————————————————————— 

07.12.20

lmao @ his purposely bad dribbling.

stressing Dollar Biwi out some more by saying he hasn’t even watched the game on tv.

unffffff. Chehra Appreciation Break. these go out to my girl @nawaazishein​ (she knows exaaaaaaaactly why.)

riddhima is like when you pick teams, pick me, and kabir is here to talk smack and say everyone’s gonna find outtttttt nowwww.

ok great, whole fam’s here. there’s a chalkboard set up for the score and everythinggggg. coz as per usual, no one else has nothing else to do. not even catch up on their podcasts or play some candy crush or nothing. they just wanna watch these two grownass men having a pissing contest.

V wins the toss but aryan’s bitch ass lies and says kabir won it. K selects riddhima first.

he knew that kabir’s dumb ass would do exactly that. besides, he’s seen riddhima play. she sucks ass at it. best if she brings down K’s team from the inside, lol.

V’s picks: useless!chacha, angre. K’s pick: aryan. rules established, ki after every 10 points, rival team se player will be out.

all i can think of rn is that everyone went and changed and riddhima’s gonna play in her sari and heels?!?!?!?!!!?!?

game faces on!

lol such bball captain and his gf head cheerleader vibes. CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh god are we supposed to sit and listen to chachi’s commentary?!?!!?!?

please note i’m literally only watching this ep to see the boys’ shirts move and expose chest and abs. 

riddhima gets the ball and is standing there in one place dribbling so that V can easily intercept and he’s just..........

............. imitating a frilled dragon or some shit?????

kabir just took the ball from her and scored.

first basket he made and he’s already telling vansh to give up. dude, hadh hoti hai overconfidence ki.

V like haar-jeet ka faisla end mein hota hai. i would say i’ve already won, getting to see this much sweaty neck and chest, mmmmhmmmmmm.

SCOREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! i mean, yeah V scored a point in the game or whateverrrrrrrr, BUT **I** GOT TO SEE SOME TUMMY WHEN HE JUMPED UP!!!!!

lol idk what the sassy finger wave was for, but i liked watching it.

THIS DUMBASS. SOMEONE PLEASE JUST PUT HER OUT OF HER MISERY.

aryan’s out.

AND I SCORE AGAIN!!!!! ouff, the things i have to resort to coz they don’t gimme tellywood men shirtless anymore.

useless!chacha’s out.

askljdlkjlkdjlsakjdlsakjdlsdjlaskjdlj bechaara kabir.

“you. out, please!”

sureeeeeely he will not pull the kkhh move in front of the whole fam??????/ will he?????????

look at his face, ki awwwwww, how cute that she’s trying.

riddhima is so stupid, if she scored all these points, why didn’t she pick V to leave the game instead of angre!?!?!?!!?!?

BITCH DID THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“isski har harkat vansh se kyun milti hai?????” idk sis, take a wiiiiiiiiiild guess. if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck........... MAYBE THE FUCKING 6 FOOT 2″ DUCK LOOMING IN FRONT OF YOU AND RUNNING HIS HANDS ALL OVER YOU IS YOUR FUCKING HUSBAND??????

the way he’s smiling is practically challenging her to figure it out.

she’s still like nope, not him. just a coincidence. while she mulls on that brain fart, imma stare at rrahul’s chest some more.

of course.

YOUR WHOLEASS FAMILY IS STANDING THERE WATCHING THIS OMG I’M DYING OF SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENTTTTTTTT FUCKING TAKE IT TO YOUR ROOM YOU WEIRDOS

“yeh bonus hai. free of charge. just for your pretty face!”

this dumbass is also hung up ki how overnight he became good at playing basketball. abbe oh gobar ganesh why can’t you just accept it’s him?!!?!?!?

aryan’s like dude, it’s him. i’ve seen him play. this is him.

but there must be somethinggggggg unique about vansh’s style right????

ahaaaa, ambidextrous.

kabir legit threw something like that looks like a clown’s nose. i guess he just carries that around full time coz he’s a 🤡🤡🤡

blah blah we already knew this from the precap. i’m just fwding to when he plays with the left and wins.

lmao V’s faaaaaaaaace. when kabir finally gets his day of reckoning, vansh is really nottttttt gonna hold back.

never seen ppl THIS happy to see a left handed person, lol.

“vihaan vansh ki tarah left hand se khel sakta hai??????”

CUTESTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

lmaoooooooooo his face is like jo toota nahi tha, woh bhi tod ke rakh degi.

lolllllllllllllllllllllllllllll. asshole.

uh huh honeyyyyyyyyy. did the Vansh Move.

asking how you did all this when i never told you these facts about vansh?

“tum zaroorat se zyaada sochti ho, Sweetheart.”

DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“kya aisa humne pehle kabhi nahi kiya? kya yeh pal humaari zindagi mein kabhi bhi nahi aaya, riddhima?” he said her name The Vansh Way, not The Vihaan Way!!!!!!!

“tum mere......”

“haan riddhima, yeh tumhara veham nahi hai. main vihaan nahi, vansh hoon. tumhara vansh.”

haaaaaaye bechaari. at this point i’m feeling quite bad for her. it’s not her fault she’s so stupid. ab hai toh hai. kya kar sakte hain. bedagarkkkkkk ho tera, vansh. may you die of blue balls for fucking with her simple mind this way.

i just did my homework reallllllllllly well, it seems. so my 3x payment is totally worth it. god i wish that pool was full, so that i could dunk his head into it and hold it there for a few minutes.

THIS ASSHOLE DOESN’T EVEN FEEL A LITTLE BIT BAD FOR WHAT HE’S DOING. LIKE, THODAAAA TOH HE SHOULD FEEL.

and then he turns around and looks at her like this!?!?!?!!?!?!? OUFFFF. FUCK YOU MANNNNNN.

blah blah talk about how now everyone must be convinced (except kabir) but yeah, i’m just here for The Face.

JFC SIS. AT THIS POINT YOU JUST NEED TO PULL A KHUSHI KUMARI GUPTA SINGH RAIZADA AND YANK A FEW HAIRS OUT FROM HIM AND ISHANI AND SEND IT FOR A DNA TEST.

shhhhhhhhhh, koi hai. yup. and not at all an excuse to get touchy touchy with wifey and give her some more mindfucky clues as to who you are.

someone’s watching us, we gotta sort out the property shit realllll quickkkkkkkkk.

he has An Idea, it seems. oh boy.

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

[violetsystems]

#personal

As promised, I am projecting less frustration this morning.  I think maybe just because the rhythm of things in my life.  I read that ritual during the pandemic has been a reliable coping mechanism for many.  I have very small rituals.  I get a bowl of Yukejang from down the street on Sundays.  Same order.  Same price.  I tap it into a spreadsheet somewhere in the cloud and plan around it.  All the way back in September, I chiseled out a budget for myself to figure out how to weather out this situation.  The situation as it is continues to morph and shift towards the edges of chaos.  This is why I try to keep things normal through planning and maybe a little ritual.  I’ve been writing the same three paragraphs here for too many years for me to count.  There are actually people out there who get what I’m saying.  Sometimes people just like to read them.  Other people just like to skim them.  But these rituals kind of keep the element of control over your life in focus.  Some rituals can go a little overboard.  And sometimes some pandemics can go longer than a year.  I try to plan for the future all the same without having much to go on.  I know that a vaccine needs to happen first.  At this point I won’t see that until earliest June.  I’ve been seeing jobs in my salary range but nothing I want to spend the rest of my life doing.  I’ve made enough money by myself this year to worry about paying taxes.  But it isn’t something I really feel is sustainable.  And this is where thoughts start to spiral out of control.  Which is what brings me back to rituals.  I make it through week to week in probably one of the most bullshit situations by looking forward to things.  Broadcasting on Fridays is fun even if nobody watches it live.  I’ve learned that creating content for output is more important than worrying about the results.  For all the intelligent words I write, a lot of the things that come out of my actual mouth on the fly are incredibly stupid and funny to me.  I like that that brings me down to earth somehow.  Because most of the time I’m wondering if I’m even visible to the naked eye.  You can fade away into your own self doubt even if you seem the most confident and together person.  This can happen because the world ceaselessly throws shade.  People don’t want you to succeed because it complicates things.  Doesn’t fit into whatever plan or main questline you haven’t been briefed on.  These days I’ve grown less sensitive to suggestion.  I follow my own path and rules no matter what feelings it evokes.  And yes I feel a sense of dread more often than not.  I feel actual mental pain quite often.  And that pain doesn’t come from inside of me or the result of things I do other than work out or ride my bike.  The pain is the pressure from society to put it all on you.  People out there are just as confused, lost and fearful.  To have some sort of closure or something to blame lifts that temporarily.  It’s not always true.  Paranoia and isolation does that to people.  Even to me.  So I like to focus on the sacred parts of my life that I’ve kept to myself.  And ritual keeps me in a predictable mood.  That you keep going on week to week because you’ve created space that you and you alone value.  

Sometimes other people value it too.  And that gets tricky to manage.  It isn’t really in my best interest to be at odds with society all the time.  I am a loner mostly because I grew up an only child.  But I’ve become a lot less sensitive as a result of whatever crucible of destiny I’ve been forged in.  I think sometimes when you walk the path of ritual, it’s easy to stay in your lane.  For me, for all these years I’ve been doing pretty much the same exact thing in real life often.  Mostly to not cause anyone cognitive dissonance enough to fuck with me.  Society is a nightmare anywhere you are it seems.  Chicago can be batshit insane.  It makes me project that like a mirror sometimes when I’m exhausted.  And the things that keep me going aren’t always there front and center to hold my hand.  I’m tough enough at this point to take it.  But it’s a lot of disappointment to live with.  The ritual of having a salaried job working with people who seemed pretty much like they were your friends was disrupted by all this a year ago.  I got ghosted.  I never really understood why.  Over the months, I blamed myself over and over again.  And then I started to realize people were hopelessly locked within themselves.  They couldn’t communicate anything meaningful so they just decided to let it go entirely.  Or I did.  Communication to me over the years is funny.  Sometimes people say the most to me without saying any words.  If you walk away from a job after twenty years and everyone you work with pretends you never existed that’s a message.  The opposite is true.  If you wake up every morning to cryptic interactions on your phone that probably means something too.  If you write three paragraphs every week for three years on the internet to nobody in particular, it’s true somebody will read it.  Maybe somebody will even have the reading comprehension to enjoy it.  The ritual of it is pretty sacred to me.  I think people know me well enough to realize I err on the side of authenticity.  I don’t like to betray the things that keep me going.  I know how it feels to be betrayed.  It sounds so cold saying that.  But I’m sure we all know it to a certain degree.  Some people get so abandoned that they have no choice but to move forward.  And how you keep yourself moving at a regular pace in these times is anybody’s guess.  Sanctuary is something more than ritual.  It’s a space where you feel safe enough to protect the things that keep you alive.  A safe spot to pursue your life, liberty and happiness despite the world’s encroaching bullshit around you.  After years of pacing the streets here people have varying opinions of me and my rituals.  It’s not the most ideal situation by far.  But if anyone knows anything about maintaining sanctuary in one of the world’s most in your face cities, it is me.  I’ve been to New York enough to know.  Chicago is some sort of nightmare zone mix of both coasts.  It’s also still fairly affordable to live.  It’s also fairly free enough to go about your business with more than a few stares.  People are bored, hungry, and anxious.  People are looking for rituals and ideas for their own.  And sometimes people cross the line of sanctuary and the holy ground gets smaller.  I can’t even take out my trash without a dirty look sometimes.  And I have to manage it just the same.  When I shut the door and mutter to myself about politics and the government or whatever, nobody comes knocking.  Or I’m over it quick enough so nobody does.  Kind of like here.  The good news is spring is here.  I can open up the windows and listen to music alone.  I can continue to work on my search for meaningful employment wherever that may take me.  I honestly think after all this time someone has better ideas on where I belong.  

That somebody has most always had to be me.  I had to take the initiative in this entire situation.  And it’s become something else entirely.  I build rituals around that.  Some outdated rituals I retire.  Kind of like how I was.  I used to travel to New York every couple of months before this all went to shit.  I think I may go back this summer for a few days.  I don’t really have a solid answer for the future in my head.  I’ve had more time to enjoy things.  I spend way more time learning how to block in Tekken and it actually becomes a whole new game.  I could be harassing people in public and on the internet but I’d rather just keep to myself.  I am lonely just like anyone would be in this situation.  But people communicate with me just the same.  And it’s on me to value it enough to interpret whether it’s worth my time.  I keep hearing the president proclaim that July will mark our independence from the virus.  It’s ironic.  I was let go two days before the fourth last year.  Still nursing those wounds as you would expect.  Simply because there’s no closure.  No acknowledgement of anything.  And this is what I’ve had to read into.  I’m on my own in this.  And then again I’m not.  I’ve led myself through an absolute shit show daily.  And I’ve maintained sanctuary enough to keep doing it.  The rituals and sacred things I hold dear are protected by the reputations I uphold.  The moral capital I reserve is the real hard work.  Because often I would like nothing other than to go apeshit in the face of all this misunderstanding and hallucinatory bullshit.  It’s like being a celebrity and a pariah at the same time.  Banging your head against the wall trying to read into everybody’s sudden interest in whatever it is you represent in real time.  I don’t really know what people want from me at all.  And in some ways it doesn’t matter here in America.  This is what I’ve come to realize in some respects about freedom.  It’s complex, messy and not easily managed efficiently.  And yet no other country in the world has this many layers to navigate.  If you hold your ground long enough, nobody dares cross the line.  I mean nobody.  For as funny, sardonic and self deprecating as I can be, people are still ultimately scared shitless of me.  I’ve grown to understand that and work on that as best I can in a bullshit situation.  And through that I’ve found that staying true to the things you love and care about require meditation.  Self awareness and self care are the only weapons to guide you through a process that is meant to break your individual will.  I could blame capitalism.  I could blame the government.  I could unite and tear down the very fabric of society that has kept me invisible and be forgotten all over again.  And then I realize both sides are to blame mostly because nobody is really talking to anyone.  Entire political parties acting like they meet you eye to eye on the street when everyone has their head slung down low at every moment of the day.  And I’m not exactly interested in inviting more people into my life to violate my already questionable boundaries of privacy.  Rituals give us the focus to concentrate on the things that really matter to us.  Maybe they help us define what is sacred to us.  If people respect that the sanctuary grows.  If people challenge, question or hijack the narrative, you write them out of the story.  It’s definitely easier to control the pen when nobody is on your back to tell you how to write your dreams.  I wholeheartedly want that for everybody.  A real sanctuary for people to be themselves.  It’s not easy to manage.  But where ever I end up I know want thing is true.  I will always keep things sacred when it comes to you. <3 Tim

[barbarasbae]

Even in Hawkins-Family Planning

Part Six of Even in Hawkins

Billy Hargrove x Reader x Steve Harrington 

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: implication of pregnancy/baby making

Steve didn’t give her the shirt. He was the one in heat but was brushed aside by the alpha in favor for another omega that was willing to submit to him. He was a little more understanding because his needs were still taken care of and that other omega was his girlfriend, but still. But Steve knew he couldn’t hold onto it and asked Y/n to give the shirt back to Billy. She walked over to Billy’s car, the blond smirking as she came into view. “Here, Steve wanted me to give this to you.” His face fell a bit. “Did you not wear it?” She shook her head, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Little bitch.” He hissed, but wasn’t looking at her. He was glaring at Steve across the parking lot. He took off his jacket and threw it at Y/n. Her confusion must have been on her face, Billy crossing his arms and looking over her. “You look cold.” She was. Sweaters and sweatshirts alone weren’t covering it anymore. “Thanks.” The jacket was quite oversized on her. Cute. The bell rang. “See you around.” She called, going to grab her stuff out of her car and walking into the building.

 Billy actually had a class with her, but had forgotten. She typically sat on the opposite side of the room from him, but today they were partnered up for a project. The teacher had been hinting at a large project for weeks, revealing the partners finally in the 11 am economics class. “Okay, everyone with their partner? Good.” Y/n felt that Billy was sitting much too close, their arms touching. As if wearing his jacket wasn’t enough. “Today we start your mid-semester project. You’re going to get this sheet of paper that you and your partner will  use to determine what lifestyle you might want as adults and what it will cost to support that.” Y/n held back a groan. “For my alpha and omega groups, you might want to take into account that the omega would most likely be at home with babies.” Y/n didn’t hold back her eye roll. Billy went to open his mouth but she cut him off before he could get a word out. “I want to be a science teacher.” 

“I want five kids.” 

“Two.”

“Four.”

“Three.” 

“Fine.” She smiled, writing three kids on the chart. “How about all with in three years?” He suggested with a smirk, her jaw falling open. “That would mean I’d have to be pregnant again less than a month after I had the first baby.”

“Yeah.” 

“You know, Billy, pushing out a human is kinda fucking hard. Usually takes at least three months to recover.” He shrugged. “I believe in you.”

“I’m going to hit you with my shoe.” He laughed. “Okay, okay. How ‘bout in five years.”

“Okay, fine.” She watched him mark it down. “What do you wanna do?” She asked, scooting closer to look at the sheet. “Mechanical Engineer.” She nodded, marking it on the income section. They guessed how much they would each make doing what they said and divided it with the price of raising three children. “Where do we wanna live?” 

“California.” He instantly said, his thigh touching hers. She guessed as much. “Sure.” She agreed with a shrug, not really caring. She wouldn’t mind living in Hawkins but wanted to see at least another state before she was thirty. Mrs. Porter was suddenly standing in front of them. “How are you getting along?” She chirped, looking at the two of them. “Good,” Billy supplied without looking up, focused on calculating the taxes they’d most likely have to pay based on the info on the paper. Y/n smiled at her before turning her attention back to what Billy was doing. Mrs. Porter was glad to see they were getting along. When some students found out the project was about family planning, she’d had several omega students ask her about being partnered with Billy for the project. She had been tempted to put him with a beta student (out of spite), but then remembered Y/n. And how she was always good at these types of projects. Y/n met eyes with Billy, who was staring at her. “Yeah?”

“Groceries are fucking expensive.” 

“Language!”

“Sorry, Mrs. Porter!” Y/n chuckled, the small smile on Billy’s face not going unnoticed by her. They finished halfway through the bell, Y/n doodling while Billy checked his Calculus homework. She stiffened when Billy placed his hand on her lower back. She had abandoned his jacket awhile ago, getting too hot. Which meant she fully felt the warmth of his body touching hers through her sweatshirt. “This Steve’s?” He tugged on her sweatshirt gently. She shook her head. “Didn’t think so. Doesn’t smell like either of us. Whose is it?” He asked quietly,  leaning in close. “Adam’s.” He raised an eyebrow, Y/n trying not to whimper as he got too close to her neck for comfort. “Adam Johanson.” 

“You trying to get with every alpha now that you’ve been with one?”

“You’re disgusting. He’s my cousin.” 

“It’s Hawkins, babe.” 

“Nasty.” She spat, his arm wrapping around her. She rolled her eyes. “Hargrove!” Mrs. Porter called, Y/n panicking. “No scenting in my classroom. Get off of her.” She felt eyes burning into her, sinking into her chair in an attempt to hide. “I want a dog.” She commented, Billy liking the idea. “I wanna rottweiler.” She didn’t like his idea. She saw herself with something smaller, more easy to take places. “What about a jack russell?” 

“Absolutely not.” She thought for a moment about what he might like in a dog. 

“Bull dog?” He considered. “Sure.” She smiled, finding herself actually picturing this pretend future they’d been planning together. What appealed to her the most was the three little heads of golden blonde hair she would hope their ‘kids’ would get from Billy. 

About ten more minutes passed and they were picked to talk about theirs first, Mrs. Porter asking Billy to tell her the basics of their paper. “So, we have three kids, and on $21,935 plus $23,278 a year, which will increase every year by about 10%-”

“Where’s the $21,000 number coming from?” 

“Yearly teacher salary.”

“You’re planning on working two jobs?” Confusion was plainly written on his face. “No.”

“I want to be a science teacher, Mrs. Porter. We’re basing it on that.” She piped up. Teaching was among the most common omega jobs, but it was still a rarity to find an omega working as a teacher. She tried to ignore the embarrassment she felt as she heard Macayla Stevens whisper to her friend that if she’s with Hargrove she’ll need the money for a better body to keep him interested. Billy turned in his seat. “Like your daddy needed to buy you a new nose for your 16th birthday?” She turned red. The bell rang, Billy tugging Y/n with him. He slung his arm around her shoulders, walking with her tucked into his side. “I have to go the other way.”

“So do I. We’re going to my car.”

“No, we’re not.” She pushed his arm off, going after Steve who she happened to see by his locker. He looked confused at the sight of the two of them together. Billy watched angrily (which was really bitter jealousy)  as she wrapped her arms around Steve’s middle, the taller omegas face lighting up. Steve pressed his forehead against hers, Y/n kissing him. “PDA!” A teacher barked, right as Tommy and Carol (betas) were sucking face two feet away from them. Y/n rolled her eyes in annoyance, tugging Steve along to their next class.

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#billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader x billy hargrove #harringrove #omegaverse #even in hawkins #even in hawkins family planning #mo writes #billy hargrove x reader fluff #alpha billy #omega steve #omega reader #omegaverse harringrove

[zukofenty]

just my luck

➜ Summary: The one where Katara whisks away her picture-perfect life the night she kisses a stranger with the worst luck in the world.

“I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!” 

“I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, Journalist!Katara, Girl group manager!Zuko, Music Producer!Zuko

AO3, @zutaraweek

“I am too pretty to be punched!” Katara yelps, ducking and clenching the holding cell’s bars until her knuckles turn white. 

  “And I thought I was too pretty to commit tax fraud, but here we are.” Ty Lee rolls her eyes. “That’s just how the pussy crumbles.” 

  “First, you need a gynecologist. Second, I think the saying goes ‘that’s how the cookie—’” Nothing in life could have prepared Katara for the tiny girl to deliver a resounding punch that has her head rattling against the jail cell. 

  “I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!” 

  “I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?” 

  Katara sighs, still recovering from the intense nosebleed Ty Lee bestowed on her. “Where the fuck would I even find a leprechaun?” She promptly shoves wads of tissues up her nostrils. Of course, the next one she reaches for actually had a spider in it, and she thinks killing herself just might be easier on her soul at this point. 

  “Just say you like Megan Thee Stallion and all of a sudden all the men under 5’7” start giving you a 5’11” attitude. Easy peasy.” 

  She’d managed to limp her way back to Suki and Toph’s apartment from prison, after getting a call that her apartment had flooded, destroying everything in it. Only her apartment. She was barely holding on to her broken YSL pump in one hand and her pride in the other. Emphasis on limp , because while calling taxis to instantly stop for her was always her thing , now she was nothing but an ant (in head-to-toe Prada) on their radar. If they do stop, the taxi either gets snatched up by someone else, or the drivers tell her, not so kindly, to eat a dick. 

  Nevertheless, she’s still determined to have a positive day, walking and humming a Rihanna song to try and calm her nerves. But, because this day was sent by Satan himself (Jeff Bezos), she was drenched, face to booty to toes, in drain water by the seemingly hundreds of Uber Eats whizzing by, trying to get someone’s Buffalo Wild Wings order to them quickly. 

  “I can’t believe you guys actually think all that stuff’s real!” Suki scoffs, diligently painting her toenails a pretty pastel purple and not giving any mind to the conversation. 

  “Tell me, how would you explain this bitch’s life?” Toph points an accusatory finger in Katara’s way. “Katara has been living life as the main character. For fuck’s sake, you won prom queen five years in a row at Ba Sing Se High!” 

  “A lot of people win prom queen—” 

  “We went to Omashu High!” Toph adds with frustration. “You even won the year after you graduated!” 

  Toph and Suki could never quite wrap their heads around Katara’s life. 

  For as long as they knew her, she was always the luckiest girl in the world. 

  At seemingly every turn, the girl had all the luck in the world on her side. I mean, just the other day she was accidentally delivered Rihanna’s dry cleaning, because of course she lives in the same fucking building as Rihanna, the goddess herself. See, Katara was the type of person with the luck to manage to find an upscale apartment on their shitty salary in the city for nearly half of what Suki and Toph were paying to sleep next to inbred cockroaches. 

  “Bitch, you do not have the range for that.” Toph snatches the dress away before Suki or Katara could make a face and whimper a soft ‘gimmie gimmie’ that surprisingly always worked.  

  “I might not, but at least we could clone Rihanna now.” 

  Toph pauses. “Say what?” 

  “I’m getting the girls and gays that album, no matter what.” 

  Katara went to return the dress after getting in a helicopter with her date of the night, People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive, Haru (before the mustache). On top of all that madness, she said Rihanna, in the shimmery, Fenty Beauty Body Lava coated flesh, even complimented her makeup. Suki almost shit herself when Katara was added to the Fenty Savage PR list. 

  Katara would walk outside and the clouds seemed to part as if on her command. She could wear all-white in the city without a bird unloading one on her shoulder, or one of those guys on the street flicking feces in a pudding cup her way. Jammed streets or congested traffic never ceased her from being ten minutes early to every meeting, event, or even accidental movie set she walked on and got cast as an extra instantly. The lead actor, Academy Award winning Bolin, is still sending her detailed DMs about the various ways he would harvest her toenails because it reminded him of her. 

  And you know those Airpods or laptop scams that go around on social media you have to train your grandparents not to click on? Or those princes that email you promising to marry you after you send them your banking information? Guess which bitch manages to actually win over a prince’s heart and his inheritance? 

  Katara had the universe wrapped around her finger, and it didn’t seem to mind bending to her will. 

  Fresh out of college, after much clawing and fighting and miraculously switching coats with an editor at a restaurant, Katara managed to snag a job at Nyla magazine and secured spots for her best friends, too. They’d been reading the entertainment magazine before they could even process solid food. While they were all saddled with a mailroom job, Katara’s quote unquote irresistible charm had landed her as a scribe to record meetings when their original conveniently broke a nail. 

  Of fucking course, the day their entire team is stuck in a broken elevator is the day the CEO of White Lotus Records was coming into the office to discuss Nyla ’s next cover star. 

  Their next big thing, teen singer, Song was still hesitant to work with a magazine aimed at young adults with unhealthy coping mechanisms, compared to the J14s and Tiger Beats with the foldable poster at the back you could steal if you were quick enough at Walgreens. 

  “ Young lady.” Ugh, why do old men always sound so fucking condescending? You know how easy it is to push an old person? “You know how much dough I make so I can regularly spend it on drugs? Every minute of my time is worth $964.” While Piandao gets up for his assistants to put on his fur coat, Katara slams her hand on the table. 

  “I promise you this cover story will be worth every minute of your time. I’ll even pay you $965 at the end of my presentation if you hate it.” 

  And who could say no to that sweet (and scary) face? 

  When editor-in-chief June waddles back, glazed with sweat after someone farted their entire Del Taco Thursday three chicken soft tacos for $2.49 deal in her face , their cover story was booked. The carnival themed, masquerade party to celebrate Song’s new cover was already scheduled in Google Calendar. Soon enough, Katara was handed her own office, Tesla, and platinum corporate card to start planning the entire event. 

  Everything was going fine . There were acrobats doing flying yoga in the sky, a fortune teller she hired at the last minute that everyone loved. Music was playing, people were dancing without a care in the world, and everyone was having a good fucking time. She even snagged her bitchy boss a date with her hot neighbor, and her Painted Lady costume was designed by Vera Wang herself. By the end of the night, her brain was scrambled from the paperwork and yelling and pen marks all on her hand. Yet, with her luck, she still managed to kiss the cute guy who asked her to dance. 

  Well, at least she knew he felt and smelled like a cute guy, considering half his face was covered by a mask. 

  He was a bumbling thing, managing to stomp on her feet a few times even when she reassures him at the end of the day. Despite being all broad shoulders and muscles, he seemed to shrink in on himself at that moment.  “I’m really, really bad at dancing.” She gave him a weird look and Zuko had to remember that he had stolen a backup dancer named Lee’s gig for the night to sneak into the event.  

  Katara rolls her eyes. Dancing, much like nearly everything else, always came easy to her. “So what if you gave a girl a black eye and another guy a concussion?” Her laugh is so pretty and her waist between his warm fingers just felt right. 

  He lets himself laugh, too. Wrapped up in the girl’s spell. Forgetting any thought of trying to win over the White Lotus CEO. 

  She leaned in first, and he was more than happy to reciprocate. Zuko didn’t have time for impulsive decisions, not when the universe was actively always trying to kill him. For some reason, he couldn’t help but be drawn in. Her soft lips against his felt like a plush dream, and all he didn’t want to wake up to reality. Not when in that moment, there were sparks and blood rushing to his head and soft skin peeking out of her expensive dress he wanted to discover more of. 

  One minute, Katara was throwing back a margarita in case she had dumb bitch breath that caused her mystery man ran off. The next, she was choking to death, only spitting out the olive on Suki’s face after Toph delivers a quick punch to her sternum, right between the titties. 

  “Eenie meenie miney mo, catch a stupid whore by her throat!” 

  “Stop choking me, June!”

  “No!” June screeches. How was Katara supposed to know she accidentally set her boss up with the ‘ King Kuei ’? The FBI’s most wanted illegal animal trader by day, male prostitute by night? And who knew that would land her a night in jail? 

  “The universe is a stupid fucking whore!” Katara sniffs, still trying to detangle the chunk of hair embedded deep into Suki’s blow dryer. Katara managed to not only break a mirror with the blow dryer in her mere ten minutes in Suki and Toph’s place, but also rip out a section of her hair after throwing said blow dryer in their bathtub which promptly caught on fire. The icing on the dog shit cake of the day was when she managed to cause the building’s power to short circuit, shutting off everyone’s lights.

  //

  The universe, for the first time in his life, was finally on Zuko’s side. 

  For as long as Zuko could remember, rain clouds suddenly appeared when he walked outside, even despite what Alexa told him earlier that morning. 

  “Alexa, what’s the weather like today?” 

  “Completely sunny with a chance of naive bitch,” the smart speaker might as well have said. 

  Zuko was sure of four things in life. 

  Adderall and 7 up were never a good combination 

Alexa was always watching for an opportunity to strike fear in his heart

He could never catch a fucking break

Having a waterpark poncho always on hand never hurt

  He heard from his Uncle Iroh his family was perpetually cursed. Something about a fame-hungry witch with the last name Kardashian in the past life, and one of his relatives eating said witch’s ass that inflicted the present day curse on his family.

  Everyone he knew was impossibly clumsy. Random flooding accidents, cars always running into you, bugs trying to get their fuck on in your ear. It was like the universe said yeet! On their good fortune.

  What does he wish for every year on his birthday? For it to be easy just to be him . To be easily liked, like Adele, or Dippin Dots. He wished life could be easy enough for him to take a shit without the toilet bowl accidentally caving in, or a lightbulb somehow always falling on his good eye.

  Zuko had always been relatively clumsy, worse than what Iroh’s seen before. After so many years of being shit-out-of-luck, and having literal shit on you at all times, he was used to being alone. 

  It stopped stinging a few years ago. Besides, he had his half-sister Kiyi to keep him company these days. 

  Nobody wanted to be around the guy who constantly smells like dog shit because he always manages to find a shit covered dollar bill flowing down the street. No one wanted to be associated with the guy who, without fail, splits his pants open every time he bends down.  Saddling him with yet another public indecency charge. 

  Like clockwork, at least two times a week, he was getting his face shoved into the concrete and handcuffs slapped on him. He started investing in a mouth guard about five years ago.

  It was like a safety hazard, just being him. There were so many times you could get struck by lightning before you were banned by the nation from buying umbrellas. 

  Predictably, he has been rejected from every job he applied to. His laptop has been hacked by so many Hentai porn bots he doesn’t even bother upgrading his Dell from 2013. He even started a conversation with the guy monitoring his keystrokes. Landlords chucked his application out the window before he could even give them his soul and a deposit, and while the doctors didn’t think he’d do it, he found out that yes you can survive being hit after someone throws a piano out their window while you leave the leasing office. 

  Sure, he came to the city with dreams of making it big, loving music since his mom taught him the difference between a treble and bass clef. But when he’s always accidentally setting his tsungi horn on fire? Breaking his nose open trying to put resin on his violin’s bow? Somehow getting a reed stuck in his throat and his sphincter (on the same day)? No chance in hell was anyone willing to risk their lives to let him play anything on stage. 

  So he stuck to writing and producing, watching YouTube tutorial after tutorial to learn mixing, because he thinks it’s safer for everyone involved. 

  “Zuko, someone tried shoving Nutella up their ass and shat it back over the bathroom.” He looks up from his laptop to see a plunger too close for comfort near his face. 

  “Why?” 

  “Some weird sex thing! I don’t fucking know.” Jet points to the elderly couple nearby. “You ask them why!”

  Zuko takes a deep breath in. “No, I’m asking ‘why?’ because my shift doesn’t start for another two hours.” 

  He was a janitor at the bowling alley across the street (it was the only place that would hire him, but he thinks they felt bad for him after he ugly cried and ate out their supply of shitty, frozen curly fries). 

  “You know I love you, Zuko! But these!” Jet cups Zuko’s chest with two, oddly gentle, hands.  “Make our alley’s world go round.” He even gives them a squeeze for emphasis. 

  “Let go of my man titties,” Zuko glares at Jet. “ Now .” 

  “You’re the breast.” 

  Zuko’s eye twitches. 

  It wasn’t all bad. After all, the alley does let him make music in his free time, and the girl group he was “managing” can perform their sets on Fridays. 

  “We’re firing you!” Mai pokes at his chest and has him readjusting his glasses from the force. 

  It was a Monday and his week was starting off better than most. He was scraping green colored poop from the walls and was already being threatened at 9 a.m. without any weapons in sight. 

  “You don’t pay me!” He points out, which only seems to get everyone in the room angrier. His sister and her friends formed Shooters 4 Rihanna when they were pre-teens. They wanted to be a group trying to make it big in the pop scene, and quickly signed to a record label together. The girls were promised all their years of childhood training would pay off when they would debut as young adults. That was, until their CEO was broadcast on TLC’s My Strange Addiction for his habit of collecting Mark Ruffalo’s nose hairs, and confessed to killing someone for it. 

  Investors weren’t too happy. 

  While all the girls could see was repressed childhood trauma, Zuko saw that and potential star power. 

  Every single member already had years of dancing and singing lessons under their belt. They could play their own instruments, write their own songs, and had the stage presence. A few Twitter DMs later (from his multiple accounts, because they thought his profile picture made him look like a fucking creep and blocked him years ago) they were dumb enough to trust him with their future. He’d been trying to get them signed for months to no avail. Somehow fucking up, or electrocuting himself in the process of showing an executive their new single. 

  “This was a mistake!” Jin shoveled the curly fries in her face. 

  While Yue was always one to stay positive, her sad ‘ I miss pickled fish ,’ had the rest of the girls wanting to leave, too. Going back home, just give up seemed sensible. Why waste your prime years on a pipe dream?   

  He stopped them, plunger in hand. Against all logic, and partially because they could smell the desperation, the girls gave him one week . 

  One masquerade party later, he managed to throw Piandao out of harm’s way, taking the brunt of the taxi running into him. 

  “ Are you fucking stupid !” The CEO screams. The boy had blood flowing from his scalp, but looked as alive as ever handing over Shooters 4 Rihanna’s demo CD. 

  “A little.” Zuko admits. He could feel his bones still intact, and judging by the blood it wasn’t anything serious. Piandao gives him a call the next day after listening to the tape. 

  By some miracle, or Kardashian curse lifting, the girl group and him were shuffled into the city’s upscale penthouses, and their debut single was slated to be released on the radio the next day.

  While he headed for lunch at a nearby cafe (one he couldn’t afford to eat at just last week) he can’t help but notice her . 

  //

  “Ma’am, I have already told you our restaurant’s motto! No eat, no shit!” The waiter glares down at her. “Either pay up or get out, broke bitch.” 

  Katara was caked head to toe in mud, tissues shoved yet again up her nose. Haru had invited her out to his dad’s art show the night before. After insulting the literal piece of shit art, she tripped over the clump of clay on display and landed face-first in his million dollar creation. 

  Of course, it would land her in prison, and of course Ty Lee would be there, too. “Move bitch, I’m gay! ” When Katara was too exhausted to budge, the girl, yet again, socked the shit out of her. 

  Katara just wanted a plate of steaming breakfast foods, but of course all her cards declined. And of course, she has a meltdown because she was fucking tired, hungry, and was about to throw hands.

  She grabbed the salt shaker. “Look, I’m just going to try one thing before I go!” 

  “It’s the bath salts,” she hears one woman whisper. “Those fashion bitches are always on bath salts.” 

  “Just smile politely. We’re witnessing mental illness.” 

  She didn’t expect that throwing salt over her shoulder would land in the waiter’s eye, or cause him to collapse on the table of Mormons nearby. Or something to catch on fire, or someone to get stabbed with a fork with a pancake on it. 

  She certainly didn’t expect a (cute) stranger to be so gentle with her, helping her escape the madness and handing over his turkey on rye. Or him following her as she tried to save face and sit on a random bench away from any nearby birds’ tiny assholes. 

  “You look sad.” He’s not mocking in the slightest.

  “What does that even mean?” She went from sad to affronted in just a second. 

  “What’s wrong?” Fuck this guy and those eyes that were so damn enchanting . 

  “I don’t look sad.” She says with the roll of her eyes. “I am fucking sad.” She was blackballed from every newspaper in the Four Nations, the prince she was talking to did indeed end up stealing her savings, and on top of all of that, her undereye concealer was creasing. 

  “You!” Katara points her finger in the fortuneteller’s face. 

  “Me?” Aunt Wu looks beyond irritated. “Look, I can’t predict when you’ll get a fat ass, just buy a resistance band and leave me—”

  “You’re the one who told me whatever Wheel of Fortune would spin back on me! And Alex Tribek would take away my good luck or something!” Katara was crazed and running on two hours of sleep, but she had a bone to pick. “My perfect life is gone.” 

  “Wow, that was a lot to unpack.” Aunt Wu locks her shop’s door. “Look, can you think of anything strange that happened that night?” 

  “Besides someone telling me to make them toilet wine in prison, no I don’t think so!” Katara grunts out petulantly. 

  Aunt Wu smacks her with a stack of tarot cards. “No! Jesus! What else happened?” 

  “Can’t you just tell me? Childhood trauma has really fucked with my memory.” 

  “You kissed someone, didn’t you?” The fortuneteller scurries to her Kia Soul before Katara could retaliate. “Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!” 

  She tried kissing every single dancer that was working that stupid party, and came up with nothing but mono and the feeling of defeat.

  “Did you know, I even fucking sharted myself today!” She smacks her forehead repeatedly. “At twenty-fucking-three! How fucking embarrassing . All I could do is run to the H&M with my cheeks out to buy a pair of sweatpants.” 

  “I know a job looking for someone,” he says and even when he’s staring at her with nothing but understanding, she’s still apprehensive.  

  “Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus you’re a colonizer.” If she had any energy she would’ve put more force into the shove. “Why are you even helping me?” 

  She looked like shit on a dick and he was just smiling at her. “Let’s say, I just know what it’s like to be SOL.” 

  “What’s the catch?” She stares at him down and pouts. He’s wearing an Armani shirt with an Off-White belt, which was already offending her senses, but on top of that he dared pair the atrocity with a pair of knock-off Converse. He couldn’t have sprung for a real pair, he just had  to get the off-brand from Costco that made everyone’s ankles look like cankles. 

  New money . “I am not letting anyone suck my toes for money, again. Try a different girl.” 

  Zuko grows positively red, but at least it brings the ghost of a smile to her face. “No toe sucking. Only on Wednesdays.” 

  She delivers a well-aimed kick to his crotch. While she’d expect him heaving and puffing, he’s unphased. He’d put on his MMA fighter grade, groin protector out of habit, even though he’s getting kicked a lot less in the ball bags lately. 

  “So, you’re trying to convert me to Scientology?” Katara scoffs. “I’ll pass, Asian Tom Cruise.”

  “Not that either.” He sees the defeated look in her eyes, the same one he’s seen in himself. There’s a spark there, though. A willingness to just keep going. Something he lost years ago. “Trust me.” 

  “No.” 

  “All good.” He shrugs. “Can I at least help you up?” Before she could bite back, she turned to the spot on the bench where he was pointing.

  Wet paint. 

  He’s taking her mustard covered hands (the sandwich exploded in the foil) in his soft ones without question, and peeling her off the bench. 

  “Of fucking course,” she huffs. 

  //

  She thinks he knows. He knows the fact that she wants him sticking around. Even with her adamant protests against it, he’s persistent. 

  Stopping by after long days at the studio to her shit job, handful of first aid supplies at the ready.  

  He’s just always there . 

  He’s there when she’s scraping gum from under the alley’s tables and almost swallows one that had “Live, Laugh, Love” carved into it. He quickly stops her from choking, practically an expert at the heimlich with how many times he’s almost died from drinking boba. 

  There when she electrocutes herself changing the alley’s light bulbs to catch her as she falls straight off the ladder. He’s not even phased, pushing a fried piece of hair sticking up the heavens and staring at her as though she squirted cupcake frosting from her nipples. 

  He’s there with his first-aid messenger bag, all duct taped and falling apart and it makes her want to say sorry to Alexander Wang for daring to wear it with his Spring 2019 boots after Zuko forces her to carry it around. But then he’s pulling out a tube of toothpaste from the bag while she’s cooling her burnt fingertips on a 10 year old Yerba Mate can, and she’s reminded why he’s so firm about it. 

  “Earth Nation trick to heal burnt skin.” He’s too concentrated on rubbing the paste into her flaming skin to notice her staring. She remembers that he included her favorite Fenty gloss in the bag after handing it off to her, and blushes. 

  “I don’t need your help, you know.”  Katara was always the one fighting for her own dreams. She didn’t want to stick back living the life other people imagined for her. Even all the luck in the world couldn’t help her escape a sleepy town or an unsupportive family. 

  When they came to the city, she knew her friends let her take care of them on purpose. It was second nature, what she grew up on. She’d always been the one looking out for everyone, even if they didn’t ask, and they let her do it because they all needed a coping mechanism. Toph’s is cake cutting videos, Suki’s is practicing her crying face because she always wanted to be a pretty crier, and Katara’s is being overbearing. 

  She was confused. As many times as she tried drilling through his thick head that her grandma was a nurse, that she could easily wrap up every cut, bruise, and swollen toe, he never budged. For the first time in a while, someone was there, stubbornly making sure she was okay. 

  “I know?” He says it as though it was obvious. “I’ll make you a deal, though. Just let me help you out, just this one time?” He gently taps her fingers wrapped in Minion bandaids he got her just because he knew she hated them in public, loved them in private. “I won’t do it again.” 

  He’s teasing and it’s obvious he knows she’s putty in his hands. Though, his newfound look (she helped with) balancing boy-next-door with heartthrob is not working on her heart. Her pussy, sure. Not her heart, though. She swears. 

  “That’s what you said last time,” Katara protests, without any energy behind it. 

  He sends her a lopsided smile. “I know.” 

  Zuko wasn’t about to let any hair on her pretty head get hurt. 

  While Kiyi already had enough of a bad case of bad luck, considering all the Power Ranger figurines she had super glued to her face by fourth grade boys, Katara’s was just something else. 

  It reminded him of him . Whatever stroke of good luck he had, he knew the universe takes in ten-fold what it might give. So he’s taking advantage of every bit of luck he has for a girl without any. 

  While he’s been stabbed many a time walking back home at night, somehow he’s in the clear when he escorts Katara back to her apartment. Or the times he buys her Water Tribe take out because she’s still figuring out how that prince managed to spend $10,000 on Swampbender diet pills. Or when he sneaks in before her shift to do some of her tasks for the day (he still has the keys), so he doesn’t have to worry about her bruising her pubic bone with the vacuum, or breaking the ceiling with a slippery bowling ball. 

  He wasn’t all used to his new life. The designer shoes, the fancy parties, the attention . Girls in the past would look at him as though he wasn’t more than shit at the bottom of their Jimmy Choo, but his good luck brought this newfound female attention that was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Especially when, all he wanted was to catch her eye. 

  She was his good luck charm and didn’t even know it. 

  Since he’s met her, everything just was going right . She brought Toph over with her guitar to string together a few verses the day they were in desperate need of new lyrics to go with the beat he’s spent the last few nights cranking out. The day after they released it on Apple Music, the song went #1 on Billboard. Piandao had even booked them to play the Hard Boulder Cafe for their first performance, and tickets were sold out. 

  Even when things just seemed to get better and better for him, the universe doubled down in its punishment for her. 

  He’s there when she’s walking back from work, drenched to the bone because she missed all trains for the day, a taxi said her face looked stupid, and she was just tired of it all and wanted to go home and eat processed frozen food and die. 

  Zuko’s there, though. Without fail.

  He’s there with his fucking Tesla and personal driver and Chanel top and she couldn’t be any more embarassed. 

  “Get in!” He hesitates before approaching. “Also, maybe let’s put down the umbrella?” It was inverted anyways, and looked three seconds from whisking her away into the storm. 

  “No, I’m good!” Katara insists. She was afraid that falling for Zuko, going to bed and waking up thinking of him was messing with her brain and she didn’t know if she wanted it to stop. 

  “You could get hit by lightning.” 

  “That can’t—” She ponders it for a second. “You know what, fuck you.” 

  He throws his expensive jacket over her to quell the shivers, and when she protests, seeing as it was a Valentino Lacquered Nylon Jacket, he bundles her even deeper in the thing, buttoning it up until she’s complaining from the warmth.  

  “You’re laughing at me.” She pouts.

  He’s covered completely in bubbles. Not her fault he decided to strip off his shirt to throw in the cycle with her wet clothes, and she got distracted by the abs and dumped the whole bottle of laundry detergent in the washing machine. 

  Zuko shoves her face into a pile of the suds. “I am, yeah.” She looks upset and he stops the mirth growing on his face. Reaching out to her, instead. “Katara, I’m sorry did I—” 

  She might’ve leaned out to accept his embrace, but then she’s flipping them over, pinning him down to the floor. Her warm, still soaking wet body, pressed against him and her arms coming out to pin his hands to the ground. 

  He gulps. 

  “This would be more fun if you let me peg you afterwards.” 

  Her laugh vibrates her whole body and he couldn’t help joining in, too. 

  He let her have her pick of his dress shirts, and she looked so much at home. Little strands of her bangs framing her face and growing curly with the addition of water. Her brow furrows when she mentions her leave-in conditioner washing away with the suds, and he takes advantage of the momentary distraction. Flipping her and placing two hands at the sides of her head. 

  She knows he’s covered in the bubbles, just so she wouldn’t feel anymore of a stupid bitch than she already does. He never seems to mind it, even when Katara was frustrated and just couldn’t figure out why all this was happening to her and dragging him into every single accident. 

  “What would you say to the universe, right now?” She’s curled up on his couch and he’s massaging the balls of her feet she presses in his lap. 

  “Welcome to your tape.” 

  “Katara, no.” 

  “That bridge off of Fourth Street? Looking really easy to jump off of right about now, universe.” 

  He lets her take his bed that night after he cooked up his famous komodo chicken and both Kiyi and her complain about having a food-baby.

  “Hey, Katara.” He whispers while her eyes could barely open. He tucked her in those blankets all ethnic people have, the super fluffy ones with a tiger on them that are always wrapped in a plastic bag.  “You’re cute.” 

  “Yeah?” She breathes out, crinkling her nose and blinking those long lashes and making his heart skip beats. “Hey, Zuko.” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “I think I like you.” 

  He pinches her cheek. “I think I like you, too.” 

  //

  He was right. As soon as life blessed him with everything he’s wanted and more, it whisked it away just as fast. 

  He’d mustered up the courage to invite her to a studio session after everyone in Shooters 4 Rihanna insisted on meeting her. Their songs were getting a little too emotional and they wanted to meet his muse. It was going well, too well. He even catches all the lamps she knocks down. When she rights herself, she manages to knock down the table with their food. Double bagging existed for a reason, just like he warned her! But, of course, the bags holding the takeout she was supposed to surprise him with broke from the bottom. He’d go hungry, that day. But, anything for her, though. 

  She looked so into the session, asking him if she could play with the buttons, leaning into his chest when he hesitantly surrounds her space. His two lean arms coming out to steady her waist when she trips on herself and sends him a sheepish smile that has him hypnotized. 

  Katara normally felt lightheaded around him, but she felt absolutely faint as soon as Piandao walked in to finalize the details of the performance, and Zuko started talking about some lucky masquerade ball. 

  She couldn’t hear much else, body getting up before she even registered it. 

  Before he could fully get into his chair at the mixing console because just one little note in their new song “Rihanna Impregnate Me” just sounded off, she’s tugging him up. 

  “Can I kiss you?” 

  “W—what?” She’s holding him up by the collar of his shirt. 

  Katara smirks. “I really want to kiss you.” 

  “I mean, uh, yes! Definitely a ye—”

  It’s everything he’s imagined, hoped, prayed for the last few months and more. She’s sweet and soft and tasted like lip gloss and the toothpaste he had stowed away in her bag. When he’s leaning in for more, ready to do things like give her his heart or do her taxes for her because he couldn’t think straight and his heart was guiding him through the motions, she’s gone. 

  //

  Katara’s gone when Ty Lee somehow gets into, yet another, tax fraud case and can’t make their performance. 

  She’s gone when he needs her by his side because even though he’s not performing he still manages to feel fucking sick. He wants her holding his unnaturally sweaty palms and telling him it’s going to be okay, just like what she does during his late night writing sessions where she stays up and refuses to sleep until he does. 

  She’s gone when the band has to answer to an angry crowd, an angry CEO who already sees the articles lambasting the girl group’s unprofessionalism and was ten seconds away from pulling the plug on his dreams. 

  “Zuko!” 

  He hates his heart rushes, even when it was about to break because of her, too. 

  She's gotten her perfect life. She’d gotten the job back, her apartment back, Rihanna even sent her a secret song for fuck’s sake. 

  She must really love this fucker, because she was giving up a chance to stalk Rihanna so he could be happy. 

  “Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!” Was running through her head the entire week she avoided him.

  “I don’t know what to do, Suki!” 

  “Why don’t you both fuck leprechauns?” She says between bites of string cheese. 

  Katara sighs. “Why are yours and Toph’s minds built like that?” 

  “I heard my mom tried punching her stomach every day, hoping that I wasn’t going to be a result of St. Patrick’s Day sex. That’s why my head’s lopsided.” 

  He felt nauseous. Not only did 3 of the girls just spew their lunch into whatever container they could get their hands on, of course Azula has gone missing. “Katara not now I—” 

  She comes to him flushed, extensions stuck to her hand after running too fast and accidentally grabbing someone’s hair. Her feet hurt, her heart hurt, but in this moment she knew. She knew he needed this more than her. He was soft and kind and took people in and cherished the moments with his half-sister because he missed all the ones with Azula. He worked so hard now because he was afraid she hated him, and even when he was on the verge of giving up, he still pushed through. He gave people chances, even when the universe was never as kind to him. 

  After she presses her lips to his, suddenly Azula presses a button from the underground room she was trapped in, appearing on stage in front of their very eyes. They have the best show the Hard Boulder Cafe’s seen in decades . Their contract is extended, and he opens a bottle of champagne to celebrate without taking his eye out. 

  He was the luckiest man in the world. 

  Though, when he turns, he realizes. 

  His girl’s missing. 

  //

  “Katara!” She tried shuffling away, but accidentally slips on a few drug needles someone threw carelessly on the ground. 

  She’s still nursing the sore spot on her forehead, where the champagne cork hit. “Zuko, please just...go.” She waves him off with a bandaged hand. 

  “I know you’re going to be stuck here for the next three hours. Because trains never come on time for you no matter what.” 

  Even in the middle of the nearly dead station, he was right. Every stop flashed to delayed .  

  “Then you’ll be robbed by someone on the train, and then you might even get spit on by the guy with the imaginary dog who’s afraid of whoever gets too close to it, and then you’ll get an eye infection.” 

  Katara wipes the snot at her nose. “So?” 

  “So?” He laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I’ve lived a whole lifetime of bad luck, and I can’t let you do that for me.” 

  She lets him turn her to face him, lets him gather her up in his arms and hold her like she’s delicate and irreplaceable, and not just a girl with mascara running down her face and her heart stolen by someone she couldn’t love. 

  “Even in a lifetime of being shit out of luck, I still got the chance to meet you.” 

  “Zuko, stop.” Katara wipes at her tears. “Our luck will just get switched, and I always figure things out, I always do. But, I just want you to keep this. You put it to better use than I would’ve.”

  Zuko shakes his head. “I don’t want it anymore.” 

  “I said that to my bladder infection, and that didn’t work. What makes you think that will work now?” 

  “I can live without it.” He smiles. “A few bumps and bruises are the price I’m willing to pay for you in my life.” 

  She’s blushing, hands coming up to bring his head closer to hers, to see every little detail of him.  

  “You’re so fucking stupid.” She whispers, millimeters away from his lips. 

  The grin splits on his face without his permission. “I am, yeah.” 

#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #Zutara Week 2020 #Celestial #Day 4 #atla #avatar the last airbender #Zutara Week #Zutara fanfiction

[alfredosauce50]

Who’s the bad guy? (2p + 1p America x reader) 15

Wordcount: 2,212 The reader is referred to as she/her

For a get-together between four people to come up with an intricately-thought out plan that dragged on into the small hours, it was not even that good in Allen's opinion.  Nothing but a table lamp illuminated the interior of the house, but that was no big deal for all the souls under that roof were huddled together in the living room. Tens and tens of ideas and strategies were scrapped, tweaked and polished until it all came down to this. Alfred had suggested doing a team up with the NYPD for backup, to where Happy agreed to with no objection at all. Allen and Flavio, on the other hand, were not so keen on this idea. 

"What did I say about getting the police involved with our business, Alfred?" The redhead murmured with a click of the tongue. "I'm not on the best terms with them and Flavio sure as hell ain't either because of his shithead of a brother. I don't wanna repeat this anymore." His voice was husky and low with vexation as he addressed the small group huddled around the coffee table. A soft hum of agreement was heard from the blonde just next to him whose arms were wrapped around his knees buried in his chest. 

"Yep. I don't want to be rounded up for questioning because of my brother. So telling the po po about this is an absolute no no." He added, causing the men sitting opposite to exchange looks. The one with blood-stained bandages returned his visage to the rest and leaned forward in a hunch. Lines of white coiled around his shoulder and chest, and the pristine condition of them all was ruined by bright red blotches seeping into the material from underneath. His brows lowered in a small frown and so did his eyes. What were they to do without the support? They needed all the help they could get; no longer would they be afraid of being outnumbered if the whole department was there with them, but being outgunned would forever be a problem. How else were Luciano and the empire he built able to survive so long engaging in the most heinous crimes? His name was on the very top of the list of FBI's most wanted, and yet, nobody had even scored something as pathetic and significant as a single lead. Not the feds. Not anyone. All except for a few well-informed inhabitants of New York City. Alfred's eyes flew open and lit up. "Yo... I just came up with the best fucking idea ever." He finally broke the silence and he scanned the faces with a mischievous grin that practically screamed you-are-never-going-to-guess-what-I-came-up-with. "Let's go and consult with the police! We can threaten them with the knowledge we have about Luciano and his gang," His cousin clicked his fingers. "And we give them a couple of conditions to follow before we give it to them. Alfred, you actually suggested something smart for once." Happy let out a small laugh. "Yeah, that idea isn't half-bad!" Said man narrowed his eyes at his cousin. "Hey! That's not nice!" "Since when was I nice to you?" "... Touché. But things have improved, I guess." Alfred shrugged. The other just sat there and made no response. He was taken aback by what he said, but he was not wrong. "Anyway, let's not run off on a tangent. So our plan to get the police to help us is to bribe them with information on the most wanted cartel they never could get their hands on. Then we give them a few rules to follow that'll work in our-" He dragged the last word on for a while and let it change into something else. "-your advantage. Flavio's too." "-And we also tell them to drop all of my criminal charges." Allen added. An awkward silence ensued, but it was broken by a few coughs. Before then, Flavio and Happy had their brows raised at him. Alfred's lips stretched into a thin line after the coughing ceased. "Okay... I'm not even gonna ask." It was unexpected for him to leave the conversation there, and yet it wasn't. The redhead eyed him with an incredulous look and fixated his visage on him for a while as if he expected those lips to move again along with his sharp tongue. Knowing him, he would be up his ass by now with a few insults thrown here and there about his questionable background. But this time, he heard nothing but a statement indicating his intention to continue moving forward with a change of subject. It was nice, actually. Weird too. An unprecedented event it was, for he never anticipated himself to ever experience feelings of gratitude towards his cousin. Allen folded his arms together and darted his eyes away to the rest. "Great. So that's solved." He murmured. He too, leaned forward in a hunch when his mind floated off to the other details of their skeleton of a plan. "Wait." Everyone returned their attention to him. Rubbing his chin with an index finger and thumb, he glided his tongue over his bottom lip. "How are we supposed to get the police to help us without... Making it obvious that the police are helping us? You know how the whole world knows when the cops pull up with their bright-ass lights?" A hum rumbled from Alfred's throat and he nodded. "I see where you're coming from. Their uniforms also give it away." "Exactly. They can't just suddenly crash the place, cuz that little piece of shit has eyes and ears everywhere. They'll disappear down the friggin' sewer before we can infiltrate the damn place." His cousin pointed at him with a million dollar smile. "I just had another epiphany." He mumbled, sounding as though he was biting back an explosion of obnoxious laughter. "Disguises, dude. Undercover cops! We'll have em all waiting around outside in the cafes and stores and shit. They'll look like normal citizens, but nahh-" Shooting up on the spot, he pulled out an imaginary gun from under his imaginary clothes and fired it a few times at the door. "Bang, bang, bang! Put your hands up in the air where I can see them!" Happy knitted his brows together and gawked at him with disbelief. It was understandable that he was being paid a six-digit salary to protect a big shot like him, but seriously? He'd rather risk his life for the president. "Alfred-" He hissed. "Just- just- sit down." The other let out a disappointed whine and sat back down. "What? Was my idea bad?" "No. I just want you to act your age." He responded. Alfred felt his eye twitch. "I don't wanna act like an old fart like you!" "The fuck did you say?" Happy growled. "I'm not old! I'm only a few years older than you, you manbaby!" "Well, it sure looks like a whole lot more than that!" As the two bickered on, Allen pulled the butcher's paper splayed out on the glass surface closer to himself and popped off the cap of a pen. Letting the nib glide across the sheet quickly, he wrote a few dot points that really looked like a few squiggles. The figure with a baby pink scarf coiled around his neck leaned over to watch him work his magic with illegible writing. "Whatcha writing?" "Everything we just said." He grumbled, drilling his scorching gaze at the two men wrestling each other on his carpet. A vein was popping around his neck as he bit back all the anger he had lodged in his throat. Even at a crucial time like this when your whereabouts and fate were unknown, they still had the audacity to argue about their insecurities, and it made his blood boil. "Because right now, Alfred and Happy aren't contributing." Allen rose his voice sharply when their names rolled off his tongue. The two stopped what they were doing and sat up at the mention of their names. When they caught the hint of death glinting in those dangerous scarlet eyes glaring at them, they paled like they had just seen a ghost. And If they did not cooperate with him, a ghost was what they were going to become. Allen set his pen down without breaking away from their intense stare down. That way, he would know if they were listening or not. "According to Flavio, Luciano's next auction is going to be held in two days at the Four Seasons Hotel. We're going to one of the police departments tomorrow to get them to join us. Together, we'll solidify a plan." He needed to ask Flavio a few times if he was sure that the venue for the auction was correct. It was just too close to them that it was suspicious. It was as if Luciano wanted them to come to him. Usually, they would take place in other cities- different states even, like Las Vegas. Thankfully, there was no need to fly across the United States just to get to The Bellagio. All they needed was a short car ride to Manhattan, to the same godforsaken site where you were taken in the first place. *** The moment the group stepped into the police department, all eyes were on them. Mixed reactions were stirred, ranging from awe to disgust depending on who you were gawking at. Striding down the halls were a billionaire, his bodyguard, a fugitive, and a guy who liked fashion. Making their way past a wall displaying New York's most wanted, Allen pointed at one of the men and joked that he looked like Alfred. "Hey! This 11201 motherfucker looks just like you! He looks more like you than you do!" They were not given the warmest welcome per se, for the figure in the bomber jacket was shoved to a wall shortly after teasing his cousin. His face collided with the cold harsh surface and he let out a painful grunt as his skin began to sting. A dent was already made by the strong impact of his head making contact with the wall. A burly man standing at about 6 feet tall had appeared out of nowhere to hold him there against the wall. Letting his piercing icy blue eyes search those red ones, he neared his face with a patronizing glare. "You've got guts walking in here, Allen." Before any of them could explain themselves, Alfred walked up to them with a smirk. "Karma got right back at ya." With invaluable knowledge on Luciano's cartel delivered straight to their door, it was impossible to keep it closed. Even if they needed to be convinced to accept some of the conditions, it all worked out in the end. Now, everyone was on the same page with the same goal in mind-- to seize an illegal auction, save a hostage and arrest the mastermind behind it all. *** Restaurants and eateries that lined the street were swarmed with hungry patrons whose mouths all watered for a delicious lunch. For those who already ate, retailers and boutiques called for all the shopaholics to enter them with their inviting display of high-end goods. And outside those establishments was the bustle of life, people walking and talking with friends and family to fill the air with the hum of lively chatter. To be frank, the sheer number of those there in that particular street was unbelievably high, especially for a working day. But what was the reason for the influx of people? Half of those in the cafes were not even intending to eat anything. Two-thirds of those browsing in the shops never touched their wallets. Instead, their eyes kept darting to the entrance of a five-star hotel. Those who were situated at much closer proximity were noting down the faces and appearances of guests stepping out of the polished cars and limousines that pulled up in the driveway. Comparing to what they were all wearing, the onlookers of what looked like a party or convention were pathetic. The women adorned themselves in beautiful dresses flowing like fabric waterfalls, and on top of that, they decorated their necks, wrists, and ears with priceless jewelry that glimmered under the sun. Their male counterparts did not fall far behind either. Although they were less flamboyant than their partners, their tuxedos were just as dashing. A man with choppy blonde hair continued to flicker his bright green irises to the esteemed guests stepping out of their vehicles, but when he spotted a young woman that fit a certain description nailed into his brain through the art of repetition, he reached up to scratch his ear. Or at least, it looked like he was scratching his ear. "Hostage sighted. She's wearing a black knee-length dress with spaghetti straps. She just entered the hotel with a man... Dark auburn hair and weird looking eyes. Standing at about five foot seven. Wait..." The revelation pierced through his body like an arrow. Clamping a hand over his mouth as he gagged into it, he swallowed down his lunch he had consumed around an hour ago. "Fuck me." He whispered, never tearing his dumbfounded expression away from the man. "It's Lucky Luciano."

#hetalia #Axis powers ヘタリア #Axis Powers Hetalia #hetalia x reader #reader #reader insert #aph #aph america #america x reader #alfred f jones #aphamerica #2ptalia #crime #fanfic #hetalia fanfic #fanfiction #2pamericaxreader #2pamerica #romance

[gingers-writing-blog]

New York Bound

Chapter 4

Everything pretty much goes to shit in this chapter

Triggers: Physical Abuse, Swearing, Head Injury, Fight

New Words: /

Word Count: 2,876

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

"Cat! Cat! Wake up!" I opened my eyes slowly and propped myself up on my elbows as I wiped some sleep away.

"Wha---What's up?" I asked, bleary-eyed.

"Fletcher didn't come back last night."

"Shit!" I bolted upright and whacked my head on the bottom of the bunk above me. I held my head and swing my legs down off the bed. "What happened to him?"

"No one knows! I've asked around, but no one can figure out where he is!" I hunched over - still holdin' my head - and leaned on my knees while sittin' on the bed, Tommy Boy sat down next to me.

"Shit...shit...shit!" I whispered. The Jordan Brothers must have him. "Ok...shit!" I said out loud.

"What?" He asked, his face lined with worry.

"Nothing...I'm just worried. I need to make sure he's alright..." Tommy lifted his arms and wrapped them around my shoulders. He pulled me into a hug and kissed my head where I whacked it. I could feel a bruise formin' and I was grateful that Tommy kissed it gently.

"I get it...He's probably still at Alice's place...He'll be ok, it's Fletch..."

"Yeah...He'll be fine..." I reassured myself, but it was just for show...I knew what was really goin' on, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him what was really happening...

"Ok...I'm gonna go get dressed, then we can go out selling..."

"Oh remember the new rule...Can you remind people about the new sellin' groups? Thank you, baby..." He nodded and stood up. He walked back to his bunk and got dressed, remindin' people as he went.

A couple of people rolled their eyes but didn't make a stink about it.

Thank god...

I stood up and pulled my clothes and shoes out from under my bed. I brushed the thin layer of dust off them and got dressed slowly. I wasn't in the right frame of mind for anythin' today. I couldn't even start my new book last night, I just couldn't focus on it at all...

I tied up my shoelaces and waited for the distribution bell to ring.

"Hey Cat..." Lucky came up to me.

"Hey Lucky. You sleep alright? How you farin' without Smalls...?" I asked.

"I...I don't know...I'm kinda alright I guess..." She trailed off and we stood around awkwardly. Then the bell rang.

Saved by the bell.

Everyone made their way down the stairs, but no one laughed, or shouted, no one talked above a whisper...Everyone could tell somethin' was wrong.

There was uncertainty laced with anxious tension in the air.

I was the last out the Lodging House and I closed the door behind me. I turned around to see Robin, Lucky and Tommy Boy waitin' for me.

"You didn't have to wait for me guys," I said.

"Are you ok?" Tommy Boy asked.

"Yeah, my head just hurts is all..." I replied. That wasn't the full reason, but I didn't want to go into it...

"Maybe you should stay here for today, you don't look too good." He suggested.

"I said I'm fine." I snapped. I immediately regretted it. His face changed. His eyes softened and he lowed his hands. His shoulders slumped and he sighed slightly.

"I---I'm sorry Tommy. I...I'm just not with it today..." He nodded. "I'm sorry," I said as he walked off.

"Shit!" I muttered again. I ran and caught up with him.

"Tommy!" I grabbed his shoulders and make his turn to face me. I didn't let go when he tried to walk away from me again. "Look, I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes. "You say that a lot Cat. But are you really sorry?"

"Yes! I am! I'm so sorry." I let go of his shoulders and he didn't walk away. "I'm just stressed. There's some shit goin' on with our allies and the Jordan Brothers and Mr Fink and The Foreman and the Workhouses. And my period started last night and I hit my head and I think I'm gonna throw up and I'm so sorry that I snapped at you but---"

"Wait what?"

"What?"

"You said there's shit happenin' with the Workhouses..."

"Oh...yeah...I...didn't mean to say anything..."

"Tell me. What's goin' on Cat?"

I yanked my hat off my head and stuffed it into my trouser pocket. I raked my hands through my hair and blew air out through my cheeks in one long breath. My stomach was full of spiders and it really didn't help my sick feeling. My hands shook slightly, but I couldn't understand why...

"Ok...ok, ok, ok," When I lowered my hands to my sides, he took them in his and squeezed them. It grounded me and kept me from havin' a full-blown panic attack.

"Ok...the Jordan Brothers, Mr Fink, The Foreman and the Workhouses have been arrestin' kids and lockin' them up. None of them have been able to get out and no one knows why."

"Fuck...That...is...really not good." He said. His breathin' got faster, but not out of control. He was still panickin' slightly and this time it was me squeezin' his hands to keep him grounded.

"That can't be legal..."

"Nothin' those bastards do is legal."

"So that's why we have the new rules, and why you opened the emergency room..."

I nodded. "Yeah, I also told everyone to take somethin' to defend themselves. Some of the older guys took knives and brass knuckles. They also sorted out their sellin' groups and I'm pretty sure everyone hates me now." I took one of my hands away, checked that I had my knife in my waistband, and put it back in its place holdin' Tommy's free hand.

"That's not true."

"Really?"

He didn't answer. I clenched my jaw and nodded, turnin' away slightly.

"Exactly."

"Well, I don't hate you. I couldn't love you more."

"I love you too." I let go of one of his hands and we walked to the distribution gates. I thought we were goin' to be really late, and we were, but no one was buyin' their papers anyways...

"Hey Cat! Get over here!" I heard someone shout from across the distribution square.

I let go of Tommy's hand and ran over. "Hey Lucky. What's up? Why's no one gettin' their papers?"

"The Jordan Brother's ain't there." She pointed up to the window and I turned around to get a proper look.

"What? Why?" I asked.

"I don't know...I don't wanna know..." I turned back around.

"Fink ain't there either."

"Shit..." I took a deep breath in. "Well, we gotta get out papers either way."

"Ok." I walked back to Tommy Boy and Lucky yelled across the square. "Ok guys! Let's just get our papers and get the hell outta here."

~ Meanwhile at the Lambeth Workhouse ~

The Foreman placed his thick, scarred forearms on his ornate desk, his fingers interlaced in front of him and his back straightened. His shoulders set and he had a dangerous air about him.

Despite the confident façade, his left foot tapped so quickly it almost sent vibrations through the wood flooring.

He stared straight ahead at the 3 men cowering before him. His jaw clenched, his eyes hard.

"We've paid the substitute distributors for such short notice."

"Yeah, it came out of my salary..." Joey mumbled. His older brother stamped on his foot for talking out of turn and he looked back down at the floor, staring intensely at a nail sticking out of the wood.

Mr Fink coughed to cover up his nephew's mistake, and waited for the signal to carry on talking. It came when the Foreman nodded once.

"We've managed to arrest 10 more kids from...uhhh...Brent, Tower Hamlets and Southwark."

"Poor kids..." Joey whispered again, shaking his head slightly. He thought he kept his voice quiet enough, but not quite.

Mr Fink turned around, saw Dan cuff his brother on the back of the head, then cleared his throat again and turned back to the Foreman, anger blazing in his eyes.

He was a hair's breadth away from losing his temper and he always had a very short fuse...especially after a few drinks.

He kept his anger down and kept talking. "We've decided to take you up on your offer."

The Foreman raised his eyebrows expectantly.  

"We're going to get the Barnes' kid. Today. Even if it's the last thing we do on this earth. The kid for 20 pounds."

Joey scoffed. He remembered the rules a fraction of a second late.

"Have you got something to say to me?" The Foreman lifted his chin slightly, and his foot stopped tapping.

The boy stayed silent.

"Well? Speak up!"

"I just..." He looked over at his brother. He could see it in Dan's eyes.

The message: 'Don't do this Joey!'

"I just...think we've got enough kids now...I don't see why we have to...keep...hurting them..." The Foreman stood up, his chest swelling. "They're just kids!"

The man walked around his desk, his steel-toed boots falling heavily on the floor. He came to a halt in front of Joey. He towered above the boy and he wished he'd stayed silent.

No one in the office dared to even breathe.

You could almost hear Joey's heart pounding in his chest.

"Joey." The Foreman rumbled in a low, threatening voice.

"Yes, sir."

"Either you find a way to keep arresting those kids...or you find a way to get out of a sack at the bottom of the Thames."

"Yes, sir." He swallowed, despite the dry feeling in his mouth, and rubbed his hands together behind his back.

The Foreman stepped away and Mr Fink lunged forwards.

Dan had to dive out of the way as quickly as he could so that he could dodge the backhand slap that inevitably found its mark on Joey's cheek.

The boy cried out and was reminded of his place.

"Get out. Your uncle and I need to have a little chat."

Dan and Joey left the office as quickly as they could and Joey's eyes pricked with tears. His brother stormed off down the corridor, but Joey stood outside the office. One tear streaked down his red cheek and he wiped it away.

"Hey. Come on! You wanna be here when they get out of there?" Dan called from the end of the hallway.

Joey shook his head and ran down the hallway. He got to the end and Dan put an arm around his shoulders.

"Why did you speak up, Joe?"

"I don't know...Those kids don't deserve what we're giving them."

"I know." Dan sighed. "But we're too young to do anything about it. We're basically nothing to them."

"Come on! You're 19! That's old enough to do...I don't know...something!"

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?" Joey stopped on the bottom of the 3 steps of the workhouse entrance.

"You're still to young to move out," Dan replied from the top.

"I'm 17! That was old enough for mum to have you! Why can't we just---"

"Yeah, well mum's not here anymore!" Dan all but yelled.

Joey took a sharp breath in and tears reformed in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but images...horrific images...of their mum flashed before him.

"I'm sorry. Look, we can't do anything about it. Let's just get one more and be done with it." Dan shook his head and looked down. He scuffed his foot on the floor.

"Ok. I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

~ In the office ~

"My client in New York is expecting another delivery within the next month." The Foreman sat back behind his desk. He span around and glared down at the city through his window.

Behind him, Mr Fink fidgeted with his hat. "And they will get it." He assured nervously.

The Foreman nodded.

"Sir...The Mayor is getting suspicious of your...dealings and agreements."

"Don't use large words, Fink. You only sound stupid."

"Did you hear me, sir? The Mayor wasn't born yesterday. He's noticing things."

"Let him." The Foreman commented nonchalantly.

"You're not gonna do anything about it? About him?"

"The deals between myself and my client will be closed within the next 2 months. Let him investigate. I shall be destroying any and all evidence tying myself to anything remotely deviant." He rose from his chair. "I won't need to do anything about him."

~ Back with Cat and Tommy Boy ~

The coins jingled in my pockets when I jumped down from my box and counted how many papers I had left.

'21 left...'

I put my free hand into my left pocket and rhythmically ran my thumb over one of the coins, the cold metal groundin' me. Through the day, I had become easier and easier to scare, which was growin' increasingly annoyin' since I was also zonin' out easier.

I put my remainin' papers on the box I'd just jumped off and lowered my head. I rubbed the back of my neck with my right hand.

I tipped my head all the way back since there weren't any people around yet. I had about 5 minutes before the dock workers swapped their shifts.

I looked around and saw Tommy Boy about 30 feet away, near the union office and the pub. He called over to me and I waved back half-heartedly. He wasn't smiling. Neither was I.

I needed a break. I needed to sit down.

I shoved my papers off the box, not carin' if they flew away, and sat down. I had enough money for the day anyway...

5 minutes. That's all I need.

I took a couple of deep breaths in and before I knew it, the clock on the front of the union office tolled out 12 times and a hoard of men came floodin' up from the lower platforms of the docks.

I stood up again and was immediately lost in the sea of men. I scrambled around to salvage some of my papers.

'Why the fuck did I push them off the box? I'm so stupid! That was the worst thing I could possibly have done...'

I managed to save about 10 and sold them as quickly as I could.

"Cheers girly!"

"Thanks."

"Just chuck it 'ere!" A few of the men shouted to me.

A few coins fell out of my hand when I sold the last of my papers. I was strugglin' to hold them. The workers had been quite generous today.

I dropped to my knees to pick them up, but when I came back up, a hand closed over my mouth and I was dragged backwards.

No one noticed.

No one noticed because the crowd of men for the next dock shift was weavin' their way through the clusters of men from the previous shift and no one could see me anyway.

I was dragged backwards until I was thrown to the ground. I crashed into some metal bins and I figured out where I was.

I was in the side alley of the Hook and Tackle pub. I then realised who took me there.

Dan and Joey Jordan.

I scrambled to my feet and ripped my knife out of my waistband. I gripped it tight as I looked from one brother to the other.

"What do you want?" I asked. I knew exactly what they were doing. They had come to take me to the Workhouse.

"Please just come with us," Dan replied, not answerin' my question.

"We don't wanna hurt you." Joey rubbed his arm slowly.

I jerked my head in Joey's direction. "Nice shiner." Pointin' out the bruise on Joey's right eye.

He clenched his jaw slightly and took half a step back.

"I'm not comin' with you." I turned back to Dan.

"You don't understand. We have to do this...They'll kill us if we don't."

"Not my problem."

"If you don't let us take you...they'll kill you anyway." Joey looked at me, pleadin' with his eyes.

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could get anythin' out, Tommy came sprintin' around the corner into the alley with brass knuckles on his fist.

"Get away from her!"

"Tommy wait---" He punched Joey hard in the jaw and he went down to the ground. He spat out some blood while I was frozen in place.

Tommy aimed a punch at Dan's head, but he dodged and managed to get Tommy into a headlock.

"Get off him! Please!" I cried as he struggled against the much stronger 19-year-old.

"Come with us!"

"No!" Dan sighed and nodded to Joey who had got to his feet by that time.

With remorse in his eyes, Joey punched Tommy on the side of his head and he went limp. Dan let go of him and he crumpled on the ground.

"Tommy." I choked out. I knelt down next to him and looked up at the two men standin' above me.

"I can't go. My newsies...I can't go. Please don't." I begged.

The last thing I saw was Dan Jordan's foot rapidly fallin' towards my head.

My body slumped over Tommy's and we were both carried to the Workhouse van waitin' for us.

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

A/N I hope that wasn’t too bad! Once again, thanks for reading! Please like and reblog! It would mean so much to me

#newsies fanfiction #newsies #gingers-writing-blog #new york bound chapter 4 #tommy boy #tommy boy newsies

[imthunderstxrms]

Take it easy for a little while #2

Two days passed since the last time the three of us were together, and I must admit that in that time me and Alex have been texting, even though we are not supposed to. I felt such a strong attraction to him that I'd be lying if I said that I won't talk to him ever again. And besides, the fact that he could meet some other girl any day, and that she can take him away from me, keeps me awake at night. Alex is so close, but yet, so far. And I wouldn't let go someone like him so easily, I mean, at the end, we're talking about Alex Turner. And now I comprehend why Miles never shut his mouth about him, he's mesmerizing. He's wise, smart, handsome, nice, he has a sense of humor, he's cocky sometimes, and the combination of all of this is dangerously alluring. (...) I'd never had such a terrible day at work like the one I had today. I have been working in the same place for almost 7 years, and I thought I deserved a raise, I knew that by right I should've had one like... 3 years ago, but no one raised my salary, but I didn't say anything, but lately, I've been struggling with money, and I'm ashamed to ask Miles for monetary help, so I decided to take the matter on my own hands, and perhaps, I shouldn't have. “Listen, Mr. Brown, I know that this will be outrageous, but... I think I deserve a raise.” I said, it took me a while to have the confidence to ask, but I finally did it. “Excuse me, I think I didn't hear well, what did you say?” He asked, and oh no, this is not how it's supposed to be going. “That... I think that I deserve a raise, I've been working here for almost seven years and I've been gaining the same money since the day one.” I explained, starting to get nervous under the man's gaze. “It's not that it's not okay, but I mean... I've been struggling lately.” “Well... that's sad, I must admit, but you're not having that raise.” “Why not?” “Well, you're not as efficient as men, so... Why should I pay you the same?” “Huh... Are you really going there?” I asked him, forgetting completely that he is my boss. “Yes, I am. But you have an advantage that an idiot man doesn't have.” He said and I have a bad feeling about this. “Which one?” “You can give me something that no other men can.” He said, starting to get closer and closer. “And with that, I'll be sure to give you a raise.” “No... I don't think so.” “Come on... Are you really missing the chance? It's nothing out of this world.” He said, insisting, and placing a hand on my cheek, the one I quickly took off. “Fuck you.” I said, clearly, while he grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me closer to him. “That's exactly what I'm asking.” That comment grossed me out so much, that it gave me the bravery to storm out of his office, and to run as fast as I could. I called Miles, but he didn't pick up, then I remembered that he has a meeting today, damn. I tried again three times, but there was still no answer from him. I heard the voice of Mr. Brown asking for me, so I did the unthinkable. “Alex?” I asked, as soon as he picked up the phone. “Hey you... Are you okay?” “Not exactly, or else I wouldn't be calling you.” “You're so mean to me sweetheart... what happened?” “I'll explain later, I need you to pick me up.” “I mean... Yeah, sure, where are you?” “On the guitar shop, on the 34 street.” “I'll be there in no time.” he hung up. Well, he was quite nice. (...) Alex showed up when I was about to panic, his car parked in the street in front of me right when Mr. Brown came out of the store, I ran to Alex's car, and got inside. “Let's go.” I said, and he understood quickly that I was running from the old man running behind me. “What happened? Are you alright? Did he do something to you?” Alex started asking questions, genuinely concerned. “I'm fine, I escaped barely in time.” I explained and he raised an eyebrow. “Stop the car and I'll explain you, I don't want to crash and die because of your fault.” “Okay drama queen, but you have to explain every single thing.” he accepted, and parked in a parking lot that was a couple of streets away from the incident. “What happened?” “Okay, so, I had been working there for almost 7 years...” I started explaining, and he listened carefully. “And I never got a raise.” “Never?” He asked, shocked. “Never.” I answered, and kept talking. “So I decided to go to my boss office and ask him politely for a raise and well... things didn't turn out well.” “Is this going to where I think it's going?” He asked, and I nodded, he tensed his jawline and I raised an eyebrow. “Hey, we might just pretend we don't care about each other, but this is... I need to worry, okay? Don't judge.” “I'm not judging you.” I said. “What happened next?” “He offered me a raise in exchange for getting laid with him, and of course I said no.” I continued. “But he kept getting closer and closer, and I... ran away.” “He didn't...?” “No.” “Are you sure? Because if that bastard....” “I'm sure.” I said. “But that's not what's worrying me...” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted talking. He'll think I only called him for his money. “That's not? Holy shit.” He said and got worried immediately. “What is it? Are you bleeding or something?” “No, I'm fine.” I said, and I felt my throat getting smaller. “It's just that I... I lost my job, Alex, and if I was asking for a raise... It was because I'm... nothing. Forget it.” I said, looking down, I'm ashamed now, and I want to cry so bad... “No, no.” he said, placing his hand carefully in my chin and forcing me to look at him. “You don't have to worry about that, okay? I'll pay anything you need for as long as you need me to.” “No, Alex, you don't have to.” “No, you're right, I don't have to, but I want to.” He said, and hell... Maybe he isn't as bad as everyone has made me think. “No Alex...” “Please.” he was the one begging, even though, under the circumstances, it should be me. I nodded slowly and unexpectedly, he hugged me. I remained frozen for a couple of seconds, while I processed it, but then, I wrapped my hands around his neck, and pulled him closer. I couldn't help but break into tears, I had been holding it up for so long that it had started to burn. “I'm here for you...” He whispered in my ear, while he caressed my hair. We kept that position for a while, till my crying stopped. We undid the hug, and our eyes connected immediately, as magnets. We were so close, that I could feel his hot breath hitting against my face. Alex looked into my eyes and then to my lips, and then he looked back into my eyes. You know what? Fuck it. We both pulled each other closer and crashed our lips into a kiss. It felt so right. My fingers traveled to his hair, while his hands slid down to my hips, the kiss stopped being a shy and regretful one, and quickly started to turn into a more heated, and confident one. His tongue slid into my mouth in search for dominance, while his hands slowly caressed my hips, and then... My phone rang once, then twice. I separated from Alex's lips and picked up the phone without checking who was calling. “Darling, are you okay?” It was Miles, damn, I have to regulate my breath. “I saw your missed calls.” “I'm fine, Alex is here.” I responded, and Alex opened his eyes widely, understanding that I'm talking with Miles. “He is?” Miles, asked surprised. “Yeah, he is.” I said, trying to smile, I mean, I just kissed him. “Can we catch up in my house? We're going there.” “Yeah, absolutely, drive safe doll!” Miles said, and hang up. “That was close.” “Yeah.” We arrived to my home and Miles was already there, I gave him a spare key a long time ago. “Are you okay darling?” He asked, as soon as he saw me in the house. I asked him sit down and explained everything. He was shocked, but at the same time, he was comprehensive. “Did you lost your job?” Miles asked, carefully. “I mean, well... yeah.” “But don't worry about that.” Alex said and Miles looked at him, and then at me. “What the hell did you do to the man, Alexander?” Miles asked, worried, he has told me plenty of times that Alex tends to get out of control if there isn't someone there to stop him. “Nothing, he didn't do anything to the man.” I explained, and Miles started to pay attention to me again. “He offered to... pay everything I need for as long as I need.” “That's kind.” Miles said, giving Alex a suspicious look that only the two of them could perceive. “But you already know doll if you need anything, it doesn't matter what, you can always count on me, alright?” “Alright Mi.” I said, smiling widely, Miles came closer and hugged me tightly, so tightly that I was barely able to breathe. “Damn, I wanna live, Kane.” He let me go and we all laughed. And we hanged out for a couple of hours, the ambiance between me and Alexander was much lighter now, and I think Miles noticed. “Guys, sorry but, I'm tired, and I can't sleep with you singing, or... should I say, yelling? In my house so...” I explained, and they both laughed, understanding that I wanted them both out of my house. “See you tomorrow, doll.” Miles said goodbye, kissing my cheek. He started walking to the door, knowing that it wouldn't take time for Alex to be behind him. “If you need anything, you call me okay?” Alex asked, getting closer so Miles couldn't hear us. “See you tomorrow, I guess love.” he said, and he planted a kiss in the corner of my lips, dangerously close. “See ya.”

#ArcticMonkeys #arcticmonkeysimagines #AlexTurner #AlexTurnerImagines #NickO'Malley #JamieCook #MattHelders #MilesKane #MilesPeterKane #TheLastShadowPuppets #tlsp #tlspimagines

[aintnothingleft]

wash us away // mini fic // ch. 1

Rosalia was Niall’s girl—except she wasn’t, and Harry has the stars to thank.

mini-fic story page

Rosalia was Niall’s girl—except she wasn’t. Harry’s eyes had settled on her before he knew this, watching the way her red dress skimmed the floor and the light hit her exposed shoulders. This was the first time they met. She had been a little brash, although very apologetic, which Harry accredited to the glasses of champagne that she took long sips of as if she didn’t know what else to do with her hands. It was the Cancer Research UK Charity Ball, and while Harry supported the cause, he was in desperate need of a drink. The bar, located at the back of the main hall and up a series of steps, was largely deserted, except for the few that loitered in the area. Among them was Rosalia, who had been standing alone at the end of the bar with a glass of champagne, looking either lost or bored—he hadn’t decided. He made his way up to the bar, a few feet away from her, to make his order. The bartender was preoccupied with another attendee, and Harry took the time to admire his surroundings. Glancing over at the girl next to him, he noticed her looking at him curiously. He broke the ice with a casual hello. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I’ve just heard a lot about you. I’m Rosalia, I’m friends with Niall.”

Ah. Harry recognized her. She was the American Niall had met in an Irish pub, of all places, some months ago. Despite the distance, the two had been quietly joined at the hip. Niall claimed they were just friends and refused to speak more on the matter. She slept in his guest bedroom.

He shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

And she smiled. Harry didn’t want to admit that he was curiously attracted to her. Although Niall denied it, he had a small suspicion that there was something more to their friendship than he had let on.

But Harry couldn’t help but smile back at her. Rosalia hoped that he didn’t notice the flush in her cheeks that had resulted from a mixture of alcohol and staring at his dimples. She didn’t think anything of it, however. You would have to be blind not to notice how attractive he is, she thought.

The bartender approached the pair, and Harry ordered more champagne for the both of them.

“That’s a beautiful dress.”

And it was—deep red silk that hung off her shoulders and plunged slightly down her chest and grazed the carpet beneath them.

Rosalia hesitated but thanked Harry with a soft smile. She paused again, then stated as if it were a secret, “it doesn’t feel right to wear something so expensive. Niall bought it for me, but honestly, this dress cost about the same as a semester of my tuition. It’s Oscar de la Renta.”

Harry thought he detected a hint of sarcasm mixed with the incredulousness, but wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He didn’t have to, as Rosalia took another long sip of champagne and continued.

“Doesn’t it feel weird to you sometimes? Knowing that some of the outfits you wear could cover the cost of someone’s tuition? In the U.S., at least, it’s fucked. My loan payments start soon.”

Then she sighed--a deep sigh that she felt in the back of her chest, and her eyes squeezed shut for just a moment too long.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. You’ve obviously worked very hard for your money, and I didn’t mean to sound so judgmental.”

Harry, although slightly offended, knew that she meant no harm and made an effort to wipe the surprised look off his face. He wanted to tell her that he donated to charity but stopped himself. While this was true, (he was at a charity ball after all), he thought of the cars and houses and clothes that he owned that perhaps did err on the lavish side.

The bartender brought over their glasses, and Harry lifted his flute with a soft “cheers.”

Rosalia smiled again and took a sip of her own. She was embarrassed that she had brought up money around someone with so much of it and cursed the champagne that had been flowing freely down her throat all night. But the bubbles were sweet and welcome to the foreign and unfamiliar scene she was dealing with tonight. “I should find Niall, I think they are serving dinner soon.”

“I’ll come with you,” Harry offered. “It’s been a couple months since I’ve seen him.”

They walked back into the ballroom together, weaving through tables and chairs in search of Niall. Harry didn’t mind chatting with Rosalia in the meantime.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

Harry almost cringed at his own words; it was like he was trying to pick up a girl in a crowded bar. She grimaced back at his question.

“I don’t think there’s much to tell. I’m from Vancouver, Oregon, but I went to college in Eugene. I’m working in a coffee shop there...well, I’m searching for an actual job. I graduated in December, and, well, it’s May.”

“S’alright though,” he responded, although he really had no idea what he was talking about. Harry sometimes tried to imagine himself as a student but had little success in those thoughts. “What did you study at university?”

“International Studies, but I’m looking for a job with an NGO or nonprofit. There aren’t very many international relations jobs unless you move to a really big city like D.C. or New York. Or London, I suppose.” Rosalia grimaced again to herself at the thought of the cost of living in somewhere like D.C. or San Francisco.

“Would you want to move to a bigger city someday?”

Rosalia watched how his eyebrows pushed together as if he was in the midst of a serious conversation. She stifled a giggle.“Yes, definitely! But I’m sticking to Eugene for now, so I can save up some money.”

“What sort of nonprofit do you want to work at?”

“I’m not really sure! Anywhere that will hire me at this point, I guess. I just want to be able to make a difference, you know? Otherwise, what’s the point of it all.”

“To be happy?” he asked genuinely.

“I think that’s what would make me happy,” she offered.

As if to respond, Harry’s eyebrows pushed together again.

“Also, I’m sorry again about that tuition comment.”

He promised her it was okay. They found Niall, who had been busy chatting with people who Harry recognized and who Rosalia had never met, and he watched the smile that broke across Niall’s face when he saw the two of them approach.

“Harry! You’ve met Rosa, I see! I was gonna introduce ya’ two.”

“We met at the bar,” Rosalia replied with a sly smile, and her and Niall both laughed. Harry found himself watching them interact--they way they touched but never lingered. Niall’s hand grazed across her palm for a brief moment, but he made no effort to hold it.

While Niall responded to someone’s question, Rosalia turned to Harry and, in that same voice that reminded him of a secret whisper, said, “I’m glad I met you, I didn’t know anyone here besides Niall.’just gets a bit boring and all.” Harry was glad he had met her too.

***** The next day, Harry made a call to his agency. He wasn’t certain of all of the logistics, only the idea; however, he knew that he wanted Rosalia involved. Harry couldn’t decide exactly why--if he wanted her to feel proud of him or if he was embarrassed at how money had seemed so trivial to him recently or if, maybe, he was doing it for purely selfless, good reasons. Harry sent a text to Niall.

It was hours before he responded with her number, surprisingly with no further questions asked, and Harry contemplated between texting or calling her. He decided on the latter, pulling at his lip while the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Harry. Er, Harry Styles”

“Oh, hi!” She pipped in surprise, and he chuckled in response. “Um, what’s up?

Harry assumed that Niall hadn’t told her he’d asked for her phone number. “Look, I’ve thought about that comment you made yesterday...about your dress and tuition. I’ve pitched an idea to my label, and, well, they’re all for it because it’ll be good PR and, ehm, it’s my money technically,” Harry took a pause, struggling to string his words together. “Basically, I want to set up a scholarship fund using a portion of ticket sales from my concerts? I think for the U.S. and U.K. right now, and then we can look into extending it to other countries. I don’t really know where to start, but I was wondering if you’d want to join the project. I’d pay you a salary, of course.”

Rosalia was caught off guard; she hadn’t even gotten fully dressed yet for the day and was being offered her first real job since graduating.  “Harry, I would love to! But the thing is that I’m flying back home in a few days. The 18th to be exact.”

“That’s not a problem,” he responded. “You can work remotely, it doesn’t matter. I would just want to arrange a meeting with Megan Fitzpatrick, who’s joining on from my label, and myself before you go to run through some logistics. She’ll probably be handling most of the UK side of this. Or, if you want, I can connect you to someone in LA? I’ll be flying in at the end of the month”

“No, this week works for me. Could we do Monday or Tuesday?”

“Yeah, I’ll let Megan know and have her get in touch with you, alright?.”

Rosalia  paused. “You know I don’t have experience with this stuff, right?”

“Everyone has to learn somewhere. Just prepare some ideas, and you’ll be great.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

#harry styles #hs #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #hs2 #harry styles 2019 #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #one direction fic #one direction love triangle #harry fic

[dominicvail]

thjslove replied to your post

“do you think this could be end in one of them getting killed and...”

omg what CM receipts? ��

@thjslove cm is one of the most convoluted behind the scenes messes i have ever witnessed and i am just Astounded till this day like, i’ll bullet point for you because i Genuinely will be here writing this for 3 hours if i do details;

think of all the female cast members that have ever been on cm?? yeah?? a lot! well, the only ones who left in non suspicious circumstances? Lola Glaudini (elle) and Jennifer Love Hewitt (kate). Literally. The only ones. 

one time (between seasons 8 and 9) they almost cancelled the show because aj cook and kirsten vangsness decided they didn’t like that their male costars were making $70,000 more PER EPISODE than they were (this was back when they did 24 eps a season so like... i’m not gonna do the math but that is A Lot Of Money). (they renewed it last day of renewals, it was the same year cote de pablo walked from ncis because of the same reason, legit the only reason they got anywhere was b/c they said ‘we both get raises or we both walk’. 

btw while this was happening, minus Moore, the rest of the male cast was holding up negotiations so they got perks on top of being paid over 50% more than the women. 

this sequence is the kicker

u know season six, the jj and prentiss absences??? 

it was because they both got fired, listed as ‘creative decisions’ (that’s important later), which basically seemed to amount to ‘we want both less women and for her to be younger than both of you’. 

they fired aj cook flat out as her contract had expired that year, in the middle of a 2 parter, and didn���t even want to let her do an exit???? they legit had to fight for the right to have her to film an exit episode (they negotiatied 3 episodes, one for finishing the 2 parter, one exit, and one for when prentiss exited). 

brewster’s contract had Not expired (also important later), they just only decided she should be in 8 episodes. 

it’s important to the sequence of events that i mention outside influences, b/c the cm fans were PISSED. There was a straight up public outcry, i have Never seen a response like it in my many years of obsessive TV watching. People were Very fond of Prentiss and JJ and were Not impressed they were being booted as unnecessary to the narrative, those pesky creative decisions!!! the petitions and public support towards them were pretty incredible actually. 

by that point there wasn’t much that could be done about Cook, but seeing the response CBS kept making Brewster film Way more than those 8 episodes she got slotted for actively dragging her along, Still fired but p much unable to find other work realistically??? b/c they kept calling her back in???

public support was still Overwhelmingly on the actresses side. 

To the point that CBS started ardently claiming the actresses were fired for Monetary reasons. Yeah, they straight up lied, and still lie about it today. I have seen cbs affiliate websites print said lie bluntly in their articles (i no longer read cbs affiliate anything). 

I listed the pay scandal first for perspective on the money lie. At that point i think the men on the cast were wearing about $110,000 an episode, and it got out Cook was earning about £50,000 an ep, and we never heard about Brewster’s salary But when i say she made a Big Deal over finally getting paid as much as the men in the past couple of years i mean it, so we can assume she was also being paid a lot less. My point being, if they needed to save money, it would have been more profitable for them to fire One man on the show than two women. They pay gap was that much. 

so they lied, still lie, about why they fired them and it wasn’t even a good lie. 

ANYWAY

i know the show’s writing isn’t really applicable but Prentiss and Seaver  were never meant to be main characters on the show together, where they dragged out prentiss’ exit, they overlapped and Rachel Nichols had very little to do. 

Anyway, by the time the late eps of the season were airing (and i assume they looked at how many viewers cut loose when brewster left) cbs straight up rang up aj cook and asked her to sign back on (why she was in the last ep despite only being hired for 3 eps that season). She said she hated them but she had a young kid at the time and regular work that was local was helpful (plus, u know, i bet it was a great ego boost).

the season finishes airing, it goes on hiatus with the cast listed 4 season 7 as the men, garcia, jj and seaver. 

u know how i mentioned paget had a contract for s6 still but they cut her episodes down??? Well, CBS used the fact that they wouldn’t let her work on the show anymore despite being signed on as evidence that she was breaching contract if she didn’t go back as a regular for season 7. They threatened to sue her for breach of contract. The only reason prentiss was in s7 was because they used what they did against her that she had no power over to threaten her. So, u know, super nice. 

meanwhile, they fire rachel nichols, don’t bother to actually tell her they’d done it!!! and she found out on fucking twitter (and rachel is such a nice person, and she was absolutely vilified and abused by every idiot on the internet too thick to realise none of the above was her fault jeez). 

so s7 happens w/ the same cast as before, but brewster will Only work to contract and refuses to sign on again for s8. Understandable, tbh. 

they hire jeanne tripplehorn, fandom is disgusting as usual, like, absolutely vile, not surprised just disappointed. 

at the end of season 9 (they have 2 year contracts so like.. it was the end of her contract), despite everything in the  storyline process indicating otherwise and how much of a farce for her character what went down was... Blake left???? No more Jeanne???

Not one peep from bts over what happened.

if that sounds suspicious to you, it is, one of the crew members let slip they’d all been gagged and were not allowed to talk about it. So cbs learnt it’s lessons in as such that they learnt to hide their shitty actions rather than not do anything shitty.

p sure there was another pay scandal in here somewhere too??? 

in terms of The Gay(tm), Reid was like, conceptualised as bi from the get go but that thing in season one with Lila happened so the execs said he could not possibly be bisexual. Yeah. Yeah u read that right. Most ppl laugh at that one and say uhm do you not know what bi is??? but honestly it was just an excuse they knew full well what they were doing imo

why? they did it again! the writers, producers and Brewster all agreed on a scene where an episode opens w/ prentiss waking up in bed with another woman, guess who nixed it!!!! cbs. They also put a gag order on That little fact too! Kirsten Vangsness, bless her, did a podcast a few years ago on afterellen (before it got fuckawful and was with it’s original owners) and, i’d say ‘let slip’ but she knowingly dropped that truth bomb knowing full well she shouldn’t have. I love her. 

lately they’ve made brewster do “interviews” with some of those cbs affiliates where they try and get points??? for saying prentiss was gonna be gay??? like they’re not the ones removing the rep from the show??? and expecting a pat on the back for... refusing to have any kind of gay rep in a show that is by this point conspicuously straight (not that LA isn’t, but it’s not nearly as bad as cm). 

the whole mess with Gibson is... Wild b/c as much as i Loathe the dude he supposedly attacked cbs would not just fire their white guy show lead for no reason and i didn’t see any above the level sites claim any funny business there, but he got fired and cbs rang up Brewster and asked her to be the show lead which, honestly, after being fired for being old and irrelevant must have been AMAZING.

she also takes the time to point out to anybody who asks about her and aj being fired for money reasons that no, it was not about money at all. She basically calls her bosses out for being liars in public interviews frequently and it’s Amazing. 

i’m sure there’s more crap but i’m not recalling it rn

honestly cm bts drama is Wild and this doesn’t even get into the Patinkin drama (which while drama, is not actually anything to do with cbs). 

Interestingly enough, it’s super hard to find out all this stuff unless u were in the fandom the whole time because they’ve bloody lied So Much it’s all everyone even believes anymore. It’s disgusting. 

Still can’t believe  ncis:la’s female cast has done this well for so long???? These are just CM’s reciepts, they have a history of doing this stuff over and over on multiple shows, i know of it as far back as when trek tng was airing in the 80′s and can name more in between. 

#thjslove #not ncis la #sorry i just wrote this much about cm on this blog l o l

[eyebrowluv]

4 Minutes

“I’m so fucking sick of this!”

“What the hell is your problem?  I told you I would get it, but you can’t wait just a few minutes?”

“I’m tired of picking up after you, Erwin.  That’s my problem.  You’re a big fucking slob!”

“Levi, it is one fucking cup in the sink!  One!  It was so late when I got home.  I didn’t feel like unloading the dishwasher for one fucking cup.  It’s not even worth the fit you’re throwing right now.”

“It’s more than that and you know it.  I have a full time job too.  Then I still have to come home and clean up after you like you’re a damn toddler.  I’m sick of it.  You haven’t been around all week, and the only thing I have is the mess you leave in your wake.  I’m not your fucking maid!”

“I haven’t been around all week so I can close up loose ends before I start the new job you wanted me to take.  So I can spend more time at home helping you.  And it’s not like I don’t help, Levi.  I mowed yesterday morning before going to work.  It was barely daylight.”

“Well, whoopie freakin’ do.  You want a gold star?  Maybe a medal?”

“What the hell is your problem?  Really?  I doubt it has anything to do with a damn cup.”

“YOU!  You’re my fucking problem!  I can’t even stand to look at you right now.  I wish I had never married you.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?  I said that I don’t want you here.”

Silence finally descended.  Erwin turned away, face red.  Levi stood there, rage shaking his small frame.

“I see,” Erwin finally broke the silence.  “I guess...I guess I can leave.  Yeah, um, that’s what you want?  Okay, uh, I’ll just grab a few things and go.”

“Yeah, you do that.  Just leave, like everyone else.  I always knew you were no different, just a better actor,” Levi spat as Erwin walked past him, eyes trained to the ground.

“Levi, I’m not even going to dignify that nonsense with a response.  If you don’t know how much I love you after all these years, I don’t know what else to do.  I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff while you’re at work.”  Erwin disappeared into their bedroom and emerged about a half hour later with a small suitcase.  He was on the phone asking someone if he could stay for a few days.

“Erwin.”  The man stopped when Levi spoke his name.  The blonde tensed as Levi approached.  “Here, I don’t want this anymore.”  He pulled off his wedding band and handed it to Erwin.  The blonde stared at it for a moment, swallowing audibly.

“Keep it, or sell it, or throw it away.  It’s yours.  It will always be yours.  I can’t-“ Erwin’s voice broke and he blinked rapidly.  “I can’t.  I just can’t.  Bye, Levi.”  The ring dropped to the floor.

The sound of the front door softly clicking closed was too loud, and Levi winced.  He took a deep breath, trying to get his anger under control.  He wasn’t even sure why he was so angry.  He picked up the water glass resting innocuously in the sink, taunting him.  He picked it up and gripped it tightly before hurling it across the room to shatter against the wall.  

This is what he wanted.  He was tired of it all.  Tired of Erwin working all the time, being alone all the time, cleaning the ‘messes,’ having to do it all, and tired of being held down.  He didn’t get married to be a maid, nor did he get married to spend all his time by himself.  Erwin had taken him for granted too many times.  It was time for him to be free.  He had spent too many years of his life living for someone else.  He could stand on his own now, not answering to anyone.  It was...it was…

Hell, it was already the biggest mistake of his life.

Tears came unbidden to his eyes, then the sobs followed close behind.  Erwin hadn’t even had time to get out of the neighborhood, and Levi was already grieving the loss of him as if he were dead.  He thought about calling Erwin and begging him to come home, but a mixture of pride and shame stayed his fingers from reaching out for his phone.  His pride told him that he was vindicated in feeling overwhelmed and under appreciated.  His shame told him that some words cannot be taken back.  Erwin was gone and it was all his fault.  He always managed to lose everything good in his life.

Levi had made this king sized bed, and now he would have to lay in it...alone.

*****

“Thanks for helping me move, Mike,” Erwin said as he sat down another box.

“No problem.  I’m sure the storage building was starting to get pricey,” the taller man grunted as he sat down a particularly heavy box.

“It wasn’t too bad, but I’m sure you’re happy to get me out of your guest room.”  Erwin sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the tail of his t-shirt.

“You could have stayed as long as you needed,” Mike stayed as he collapsed against the kitchen counter.

“It’s been two months.  You are a married man.  You don’t need me around.  I’m just in the way.”  Erwin’s face was pale, gaunt and highlighted by dark circles under his dull, dead blue eyes.  He was a broken man.

“Two months or two years, it doesn’t matter.  If you need me, I’m there.  Besides, Nanaba enjoyed the view.”  Erwin snorted out a chuckle at that, which Mike considered a small victory.  Erwin didn’t smile much these days, and laughter was nonexistent.

“Well, what do you think of the place?”  Erwin gestured around the apartment, trying to put up an excited front.

“It’s small.”  Mike wrinkled up his nose.  “But it smells okay.  It’s too close to the airport for my tastes, but you could always sleep like the dead, so I’m sure the noise won’t bother you too much.”

“It’s all I could find within my price range that was available on a monthly lease.  I’m hoping to find something nicer once the house sells.”  Mike didn’t miss the catch in Erwin’s voice.

“You’re selling the house?”

“We’re going to have to.  Neither of us can afford the mortgage on just one salary.  When I took that new job, I took a substantial pay cut.  I know it’s temporary until my probation period is over, but I can’t cover all the expenses by myself until then.”

“I have a solution.  And it will help you keep the house,” Mike announced.

“Well, I’m open for suggestions,” Erwin prompted.

“You two kiss and make up.  You’re both miserable apart, and I know you two love each other.  Don’t give up, work for your marriage,” Mike almost begged.

“I tried.  I’m trying.  He won’t answer my calls.  He blocked my number.  The only communication I have with him is either through Hanji, or the divorce attorney that didn’t even know about until three days ago.  He served me the divorce papers as I was walking out of work on Thursday.  Levi couldn’t even tell me he was filing the papers himself.  I don’t want a divorce, but Levi has made it perfectly clear he can’t wait to be rid of me.”  Mike cringed when he saw tears streaming down his friend’s face.  He pulled Erwin into a bear hug and kicked himself for opening a fresh wound.

******

“We have to do something,” Hanji wailed.  “I’m so sick of staring at his sour little face.”

“At least you didn’t have to watch Erwin cry.  Can we talk about depressing?” Mike exclaimed.

“No, it was worse being the only one home the day he was served with divorce papers,” Nanaba interjected.

“Levi really filed for divorce.” Sweet little Petra sounded devastated.

“Yeah, apparently they are going to try to sell the house, too.”  Mike ran a hand down his face in frustration.  “Erwin has moved into a cracker box of an apartment and looking for a real estate agent that Levi’s attorney will approve of.”

“He even has an attorney?”  Petra slammed her hands down on the table.  “I don’t understand.  Levi is miserable without Erwin.  Can’t Erwin just try...get over his pride-“

“He has.  Levi has blocked his calls,” Nanaba interrupted.

“We need to stage an intervention,” Hanji declared.  

“I’m open to ideas,” said Mike.

“Petra, you’re the psychologist.  What do you suggest?”  Nanaba’s blue eyes were begging.

“I have an idea, but we have to get them together...in the same room...without killing each other.”

“We’ll do it.  Just tell us the plan.”  Hanji’s face was set with determination.

******

“Okay, Petra, what am I here for again?”  Erwin asked as he followed Petra through her apartment to the bathroom.  

“I need help hanging my new medicine cabinet.  I’m not tall enough and Mike was too busy to help.”  Petra opened the bathroom door and motioned to the mirrored cabinet on the sink.  “It won’t take long, I promise.  And...I ordered you a pizza for payment.”

“Well, with an offer like that, how can I refuse?”  

“Thank you!”  Petra hugged the larger man as the doorbell rang.  “Must be the pizza.  Be right back.”  She rushed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“That girl is so strange,” Erwin murmured as he got to work.

*****

“Why in the hell are you dragging me here for?” Levi spat venomously as he followed Hanji to Petra’s apartment, pizza boxes in hand.

“It’s called socializing, Levi.  You haven’t been out of that house in almost a week, calling in sick at work, living on cheap take out...that’s no way to live, my friend.”  Hange rang the bell and waited for Petra to answer the door.  “I figured a night in watching crappy movies and pizza would be more acceptable than bar hopping.”

“God, I don’t want to even think about another bar,” Levi groaned as he tried to forget about the two weeks after Erwin left.  He had spent every evening at the bar beside his office, getting shit-faced before going home in a puddle of misery and vomit.  One night he even let some tall, blonde stranger lead him into the bathroom to indulge in more nefarious activities, but his stomach turned when the man’s eyes were brown and not that beautiful crystalline blue he always associated with Erwin.  He pushed the man away and left the bar at a run.  He hadn’t drank since.

He started looking for a divorce lawyer the next day.

“Levi!”  Petra squealed, pulling him into a hug.  “You made it.”  She took the pizza and put it on the counter.  

“Yeah, we called ahead to see what you wanted on your pizza,” Levi said with a roll of his eyes.

“Haha, so you did,” Petra said with a giggle.  She started to hand him a drink, but dropped it, spilling it all over his shirt.

“Damn it, Petra!”

“Sorry.  You better go get a towel.  I might have a shirt that will fit you.”  Petra pushed Levi toward her bedroom, Hanji hot on their heels.

“Okay, Petra, your new medicine cabinet is installed and ready to go,” Erwin stated as he emerged from the bathroom.

“What the fuck?”

“Levi?”

“What the hell is this?”  Levi turned from the beautiful sight that was Erwin Smith to glare daggers at his friends.  “Why is he here?”

“This is an intervention,” Petra explained.  “You two belong together and I’m going to prove it.”

“Petra, please, don’t do this,” Erwin begged.  “Levi doesn’t want this.  It’s okay.  I…”  Erwin swallowed audibly.  “I appreciate your concern.”

“You don’t know what I want, so don’t speak for me,” Levi growled as he turned back to Erwin.

“Not like I would know, now would I, since you haven’t exactly spoke to me in almost three months.”

“Okay, stop, you two,” Petra interrupted as Levi opened his mouth.  “All I’m asking is for four minutes of your time.”

“Four minutes?  You think you’re going to convince me to change my mind in four minutes?”  Levi’s tone was so scathing that Erwin winced.  Petra, however, was unaffected.

“Yup.  I’m sick of looking at your pouting faces.  So, you are going to look at each other’s.”

“What?  You’re not making any sense.”  Levi wasn’t past pushing Petra out of his way to get the hell out of this situation and away from Erwin.  It hurt too much to see him.

“I want you two to stand and face each other.”  Both men glanced at each other and looked at Petra.  “Well, come on now, I’m not getting any younger.”  She motioned with her arms.  Levi sighed and turned to look at Erwin.  Erwin shuffled slightly to square up with Levi.

“Like this?” the blonde asked.

“Stand a little closer.”  They both took a step toward each other.  “Good.”

“Now what?”  Levi looked over his shoulder at Petra.

“Don’t look at me.  Look at Erwin.  I want you two to look into each other’s eyes for four minutes.  Don’t look away, no matter what.  Just look at each other.  You don’t even have to say anything.”

“That’s it?”  Erwin asked softly.

“Yup, that’s it.”

“What kind of bullshit psycho-babble crap you pulling on us?”  Despite the venom in Levi’s words, his gaze trained on Erwin.

“It’s usually done with estranged families, but I think it can be beneficial here.  You two have been too busy lately...closing on the house, moving, new jobs.  You neglected each other.  Now, look at the person right in front of you, and, if after four minutes, you can honestly say that you no longer want them in your life, we drop it right here.”  Petra pulled out an egg timer and set it.  “Time starts now gentlemen.”  She quietly left the room.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Levi mumbled, but gaze resolutely fixed on Erwin’s.

“I’m not sure what this will accomplish.”  Erwin’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nothing.  It’s a waste of fucking time.”

“You really think that?  You don’t even want to try to see if we can save our marriage?  Have you already given up on us?”  Erwin’s tone was accusatory and it made Levi bristle.

“Fuck you.  It’s not like you’re tripping all over yourself to make an effort.”  

“You blocked me!  You had divorce papers served on me at work.  What would you have me do, Levi?  Stalk you, so you can get a restraining order?”

“Just shut up.  I can’t even listen to you right now,” Levi snapped.

“That’s right.  Clam up like always.  You say your piece and that’s it.  You can’t stand the thought that someone might prove you wrong.”

“Better than you, Mr. Holier Than Thou.  You’re never wrong about anything because you’re so damn perfect.”  Levi sneered.  “Just be quiet.”

“Fine.”  

They stood there in silence for a few moments.  Levi took in the sight of Erwin, more pale, thinner, sadder.  He looked older, weathered, resigned.  There was a deadness dulling his normally vibrant blue eyes accentuated by the dark circles underneath.  The man obviously wasn’t sleeping or eating, just wasting away.

Levi felt like he was looking in the mirror.  He had those same dark circles, the same gray complexion, the same haunted look in his eyes.  He saw his own misery painted on the face of the man in front of him.  He couldn’t deny that he felt a tug at his heart.

He then met Erwin’s eyes.  How he loved those eyes.  They were endlessly blue.  He looked into those eyes every day for almost ten years.  He thought he knew them like the back of his hand.  But how did he miss the striations of blue-gray among the bright blue, or how the right eye was a little darker than the left?  How could he not notice how long his eyelashes were?  They were so light, like wisps of gold, just a hint that they were there.  He didn’t realize how the laugh-lines softened Erwin’s face.

Then he noticed the emotion in those eyes.  First, he noticed the anger, bright and fiery, passionate.  The longer they stared at each other, the anger melted into sadness, deep and painful, gut-wrenching - breathtaking in its intensity.  Finally, came love.  Levi recognized it immediately.  The blue became lighter, softer.  It made his heart race, his mouth dry.  How could he have ever doubted how Erwin felt?

“Levi?”  Erwin’s voice quivered.  It was only then that Levi realized that he was crying.  “Please, don’t cry.  I’ll do anything, just don’t cry.”

“Erwin, I can’t do this anymore,” Levi sobbed.

“I know.  I’m so sorry.  I screwed up.  You deserved better...you still do.”  Tears finally slipped from Erwin’s eyes.  “I know I need to let you go.  I just don’t know how.”

“No,” Levi begged.  “I’m the one who’s sorry.  You didn’t screw up.  I’m just fucked up in the head.  I thought maybe you would realize I’m not good enough.  I kept waiting on you to figure it out.  Then we got married, and bought a house, and started making plans for a family.  It was more than I could hope for, and more than I thought I deserved.”

“Oh, Levi, you deserve more than I can ever give you.  I love you.  You’re my life.  Please, let me show you.  Let me come home,”  Erwin reached for him, afraid to touch.

“Please, please come home.  I don’t want to do this without you anymore.  I love you.”

******  

“You think we should tell them that their four minutes are up?”  Hanji asked.

“Nah, it’s too sweet.”

“I just hope they remember they’re not at home.”

“Why’s that?”

“Make-up sex, Petra.  That’s your bedroom.”

“Damn, you’re right.  Hey guys!”

#eruri #erwin x levi #snk #angst #breakup and makeup

[imagining-supernatural]

Chapter 1: The Party

Cracks In The Dam Series -- Reader’s POV

She’s a quiet engineering and physics major trying to forget the demons of her past, and he’s the campus playboy trying to turn over a new leaf. Their friendship is unlikely, but just might be forged to withstand the cracks in the dams they’ve built to protect themselves. (BuckyxReader college au)

Word Count: 1875

A/N: I wasn’t going to post this fic for a while, because I’ve been playing around with it for a while and I didn’t want to get locked into a certain storyline, but I just saw Infinity War and I decided I needed a little denial in my life (not a spoiler, but when the credits started rolling, I turned to my friend and whispered, “What the shit?”) So here’s the beginning of a mostly fluffy Bucky fic!

Why do I let him talk me into these things? If I could choose, I’d be spending my Friday night in my room with my music turned loud, hosting my own dance party for one. I definitely wouldn’t choose to be strolling around one of the biggest underground gambling rings in the city, keeping an eye out for some idiot who stole one of Stark’s designs.

Seriously, why do I let him talk me into these things?

Oh, right. Because he pays me the big bucks.

“How much do you think this place costs?” My boss’s voice comes over the comm system he implanted in a diamond barrette fastened in my hair right next to my ear.

“I don’t doubt that you could afford to buy it, but I strongly suggest you find a bit of self-control, Tony. You’re already walking on thin ice with Pepper.”

He just scoffed and I heard him ordering a drink, so I cast my eyes over to the bar and catch sight of him leaning against the glass counter. He flashes a smile at a woman sitting nearby and I can’t hold in my chuckle at how she nearly swoons. Really. The effect Tony Stark has on women baffles me. But, I guess I’m a little biased. After all, the man is like an Uncle to me. He changed my diapers when I was a baby and never lets anyone forget that fact.

“Canary, you spot anyone yet?” He mumbled that into his glass of whiskey so as to not raise suspicion by talking to himself. I turn around and keep up my perusal of the crowd.

Smoke from cigars mixed with the dim lighting makes it difficult to see everyone, but I make do. “I think one of my professors is over there. But other than that, I’m not seeing anyone suspicious.”

I can practically feel Tony rolling his eyes. “He’s not going to look suspicious.”

“I know that Tony. By the way, when my dad told you to keep an eye on me, I don’t think he meant for you to take me to illegal gambling setups and parties with Russian mobsters.”

“Cannie, you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be my assistant. Besides, how else am I supposed to keep an eye on you?”

“Yeah. An amazing salary and you paying for all of my school. I’m not complaining. Just sayin’.” There was something niggling in the corner of my mind, so I quieted and tried to focus on that. Tony kept babbling through the comm piece, but I tuned him out. It was a necessary skill I’d learned years earlier.

I thought back to the surveillance video he’d shown me of the bump and grab someone had performed on one of his lackeys to steal the new weapon design. Needless to say, the person who lost the design was fired.

“Tony… how sure are you that it was a dude who stole it?”

From the corner of my eye and through the haze of cigar smoke, I saw his eyes slide over to me and his head cock to the side. “Why?”

“There’s a woman over there. The one in the green dress and pearls. Next time she walks around, watch her. She moves like the person did in the video.”

I made my way over to a craps table and pretended to be invested in what was going on. I really hoped that was her. The sooner we got the designs back, the sooner I could get back to my house. It had been a long week with a lot of midterms and homework, and Tony had been especially needy with our big deadline coming up that I needed to help him with, and I just needed two days of pure and utter relaxation.

“You’re right. I’ll get the guys on it. You did good, kid. I’ll meet you out by the car.”

“Oh, thank God,” I breathed, ignoring Tony’s soft laughter. Before heading to the door, I made a stop by the bar and ordered a shot. There was alcohol back at my place, but it wouldn’t hurt to get started on my night right now.

I slowly made my way through the crowd of well-dressed people, sighing heavily with relief once I was out of the sea of diamonds, pearls, and velvet. I may have grown up surrounded by wealth, but I’d learned at a young age that it comes with a high cost. I put up with it for Tony’s sake, but I was anxious to get back to my normal, college life. Or, what I convinced myself was a normal life. Working for Tony Stark, I suppose I would never really know what normal was.

Like a James Bond movie, Tony was leaning against his too-expensive sports car that I honestly didn’t care enough to even know what make it was. He straightened up when I came closer and opened the passenger door for me. I eyed him, crossing my arms over my chest. “You good to drive? You spent a lot of time at the bar tonight.”

He rolled his eyes. “Get in, Cannie. I’m not even close to drunk. You think I’d risk your life like that?”

Point: Tony. Sliding into the sleek leather seat, I waited until Tony was in the driver seat before speaking up again. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Add a stop at that liquor store on third, please. Tony owes me a really expensive bottle of good wine for tonight.”

“Will do, Miss Y/L/N. Mr. Stark, take a right at the next intersection.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.”

“Since when do you listen to her orders?” Tony asked, trying to act put-off, but I knew better. He loved me and spoiled me just like a real uncle would.

If Jarvis had a face, he would definitely be smirking. “Since she says please and thank you. Manners are important, Mr. Stark.”

My laughter rang out, nearly covering up the good-natured grumbling that came from the driver’s seat. Out of all of the creations that Tony’s made, Jarvis was my favorite.

After making that stop at the liquor store, Tony made his way to the house he bought for me. Having Tony Stark as a family friend definitely had its perks. No rent, expensive alcohol, free school… what more could a girl ask for?

“Fuck,” I muttered when I noticed all of the cars parked on the street as we got closer. “I forgot Nat and Wanda are throwing a party tonight.”

“It’ll do you good. Get you out of your shell.” The car came to a stop in the middle of the street. Tony twisted in his seat to look at me. “Seriously, have fun tonight, kid. Next week we’ve gotta hit that presentation hard.”

“Oh, is Tony Stark actually going to prepare for something for once in his life?” He just raised an eyebrow at my teasing and I schooled my grin into a serious expression. “Okay. I’ll be on my A-game. We’ll get you back in the good graces of the board.”

I picked up my purse and got out of the car. Before he pulled away, he rolled down the window. “I’m serious, Cannie. Party hard. Make me proud, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Right... that’s not a long list.” I had taken one step away when I suddenly twirled around before he could leave. “Wait, Tony!” He watched as I wrestled with the barrette. It took a few seconds, but I finally unclasped it and tugged it free from my hair. Tossing it onto the passenger seat, I leaned down to talk to him. “I only make that mistake once.”

The first time Tony had taken me on a recon mission, as he put it, I’d forgotten to give him back the comm device. The next time I saw him, he gave me all sorts of shit for the things he’d overheard Wanda, Nat, and I talking about.

Even now, he smirked. “I was happy to hear that Wanda finally asked that Sam guy out.”

“Oh, fuck off, Tony.”

At my retreating back, he shouted, “Have fun! Use protection!”

“Drive away, Tony!”

The growl of his engine accelerating gave me all the permission I needed to finally let my smile loose. As odd as he was, I had to admit that my life would be much duller without my boss slash pseudo uncle in it.

But now I had to face a house full of drunk frat boys and sorority girls. Really, all I needed was to make it to my room and change out of this dress. Everyone knew that our bedrooms were off limits during parties, so that was my safe zone. My destination. However, I was dressed like I was going to walk the red carpet, so getting there unnoticed was going to be a struggle.

“Need some help up those stairs, doll?”

Exactly who I wanted to see. With pursed lips, I walked up the stairs to the porch and gave a tight smile to the man sitting on the porch swing with a cigarette hanging from his fingers. “Hi Bucky.”

“Your date didn’t go well? It’s only midnight and you’re already home.” He tsked and shook his head. “Such a shame too. You got all gussied up for him. What a waste.”

“Gussied up? What is this, the 1940s?”

“Obviously not, since your date would have walked you to your door instead of dropping you off in the middle of the street.” He took another drag of his cigarette before standing up and dropping it onto the porch, using his shoe to grind it up. “Where are people’s manners nowadays?”

With my eyes trained purposefully on the destroyed cigarette on my porch, I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Where are people’s manners anymore?”

He laughed and opened the door, using his free arm to motion me in first. “After you, doll. See, I have manners.”

“What a catch,” I respond drily. There are so many people here. How I ended up becoming friends with two of the most social people on campus was a mystery. I was the complete opposite of Wanda and Nat. Somehow, we worked though.

Heat from Bucky’s body right behind me set me on edge. He rested his hand on my waist and leaned forward until his lips were at my ear and he was practically pressed against me. “You’d be damn lucky to catch me, Y/L/N.”

“In your dreams, Barnes.”

That damn carefree smile on that damn gorgeous face with that damn twinkle in his eyes was all that I could take. Of course, just as I was about to come up with a good come back and walk away with the last word, he had to ramp up his charm. His hand stole my fingers as he came around in front of me and brought my knuckles up to brush his lips across the skin in a feathery kiss. “Maybe one day, Y/N. Maybe one day.”

Then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd of drunken bodies. I huffed and turned towards the stairs, making my way up to my room. What a cocky arrogant bastard.

Chapter 2: History Class

Series Taglist Open. Add Yourself HERE

Bucky Babes: @lavieenlex @hallow-hazel @infinity-dreamchaser @andhiseyesweregreen 

#buckyxreader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel oneshot #buckyxreader fluff #tony stark #tonyxplatonic!reader #bucky barnes oneshot #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader

[auroraynld]

as sincere as i could be.

Quick update: for the past 3 months, i was transferred to other team in my office, and yup, i lost approximately 3,5 mios per month due to the adjustment to the government salary, my cash flow is messy as fuck as i cannot even save a single penny due to those business trips that i did yet, i need to pay for everything in advance.

The system in this office is MESSED UP. I can't bear it any longer. It's stressful with tons of drama ranging from the staffs to the first echelon rank of the team. I still don't understand how ones could be unprofessional in this office. Yet, i, now, understand, all of the reasons that my current country is as messed up as now, is because of the rotten bureaucracy as well as the system in its own governmental offices. I know that i am doing a very wide ranging program for the society, an impactful program for the sake of humanity. However, i can not notice but this is such a huge fraud, wasteful, and ineffective program that those bureaucrats are trying to do. This program that i carry out, is loaded with corrupts and unprofessional workers who only attempt to enrichen themselves with the money that should be shared to the ones in need.

As sincere as i could be, since the moment i was transferred to this place, i really wish that i could put things to the places it supposed to be. But shocker, i ain't have any power AT ALL. I was focused, i am willing to be transferred to this place to fix the problem to the bottom. Yet, i still can't. All day and all night i spent without content, all i want is just to sulk around and cry. How i envy those people i worked with few months ago, where they have so much power, money, financially secured which drove them to the highest place of vanity and arrogance. I might be that kind of arrogant bitch after all, i realized that, yet seriously, i really can't bear it all now, not ever.

As sincere as i could be, with this current economic condition, i know that what i have now is such a huge grace from the universe. I still able to secure my financial need, as neat as it could be. I still able to sleep in peace, to pay for my brothers' tuition fees, to help my parents financially. I know this is such a big grace and privileges not everyone have in this current days. I keep trying to see this as one of my charity work. Doing it for the sake of humanity, doing it as best as i could manage. I may not be appreciated enough. Nothing of my hard work are credited to me, but it's OK i guess? Attempting to be as sincere as i can be.

I am indeed beyond blessed. I have experienced many graces, i have achieved the milestones that i have set since the beginning. Hence, for now, what i really wish is just the tranquility and serenity. I might still have long way to go to, yet i have enough. I am beyond blessed for every single thing that i ever had, since the beginning.

As sincere as i can be, i am doing this for humanity.

[fictionalabyss]

Welcome back.

Pairing : Past!JaredxReader, Jensen, Gen, River (Oc)

Word count : 2,244

Warning : Not much this chapter. Is this a touch of angst?

Part 1 in ‘My son, Bringer of Storms’.

Making his way across the lot from his trailer to the set, Jared was looking down at his phone, smiling at the picture of his boys, when Jensen seemed to pop up out of nowhere. “Jesus, Jen..” He shot his friend a look. “What’s up?”

“Uh. Hang out out here with me for a bit?”

Jared furrowed his brow. “Dude, we just got called to set..”

“Yeah but.. You don’t want to go in there right now..” Jensen licked his lips, hoping he could convince Jared to stay out just a bit longer.

“What did you do?” Jared smiled.

“What? Nothing.” Jensen scoffed.

“I heard there’s new people working on set. Did you prank someone without me? This I gotta see.” He chuckled and pulled open the door.

“Fuck.” Jensen grumbled and followed him in.

“That one of the newbies?” He was smiling still, as he motioned to a woman standing about 10 feet away, her back to them.

“Kinda….” Jensen winced. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. He hoped to give Jared fair warning first. “Jare-” He started but was cut off by someone walking past.

“Hey Y/N! Welcome back.”

You turned, smile spread over your lips. “Morning. And thanks.”

“Y/N….” It flowed like a breath of fresh air out of his mouth.

You turned further, hearing his voice, your smile getting softer. “Hey, Jared.”

“You’re here.. Wh-when did you get back?” He asked moving closer. He hadn’t seen you since you had suddenly left years ago.

“Few days ago. I finally caved and begged for my job back.” You joked, but his expression didn’t change. “Hi, Jensen.” He gave you a smile in response.

“Y/N!?”

You turned towards the voice, then back to Jared. “I got to go. Work to do. Unlike you guys, I don’t get paid to just stand around and look good. It was good seeing you again Jared.” You gave Jensen a wave before turning and heading off.

“That’s why you tried to keep me outside?” Jared asked softly.

“Yeah, I had hoped to give you some warning.” Jensen sighed. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react to seeing her again.”

Lunch rolled around and your day had been awkward so far. You just wanted to sit on your own, eat and relax. But by the time you got the chance to, the tables were packed. You were considering going off to sit somewhere else when you felt eyes on you. Looking up, you spotted Jared and Jensen. Jensen was glancing up to see what his friend was so focused on, you sighed, averted your eyes and started to walk off to find somewhere quiet to eat.

“Hey..” You felt a hand on your arm as you moved past them. You looked down at Jared. “Sit.” He motioned to the space across from him and Jensen. “I haven’t seen you in years, 10 minutes of catching up won’t kill you.” He gave you that half smile that he always gave when he felt awkward. The one where the left side of his mouth curls up, and he looks adorable.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I guess I could survive it.” You moved back a step and sat down. It was beyond awkward. You really hope he didn’t drag up the past, but with the way he was looking at you, he might. Part of you had always regretted leaving like you did, leaving him, but it was done. You couldn’t change it. And he had long since moved on.

“Soo..” Jensen tried to kill the awkward silence. “They just hand you your job back?”

You shook your head. “No, not really. I have to work my way back up again. But, they were nice enough to give me my old salary back. Enough people remember me being a good, hard worker.” You smiled.

“That’s good.” He nodded. He glanced at Jared who was just staring at you, ignoring his food. You were awkwardly picking at yours, taking small bites. He sighed, shaking his head and went back to his lunch.

You let out a sigh of relief when your cellphone rang. “Hello?” Jared watched you, ducking his head slightly to take a bite after Jensen nudged him, but still he watched you, watched how your face changed to one of worry as you listened to the person on the other end. “Shit.. Uhm. I’m at work, so I’ll get there as soon as I can. Thanks for calling.”

You hung up, and stared at your plate for a sec before tucking your phone back into your pocket and standing. “Everything okay?” Jared asked.

“The one day I walk to work, I need my damn car..” You shook your head and scoffed. He cocked an eyebrow. “My kid. That was school, he’s puking up a storm so I need to go get him..” You grabbed your plate and started to walk away. “See ya around boys.” As much as you dreaded dealing with a sick kid, and puke, you were glad for this awkwardness to be over.

There was silence from Jared until after you discarded the uneaten food and plate. “I’ll drive you.” You turned to look at Jared, who was now standing and gathering his things. “I’m on break anyways. I can drive you.” He shrugged.

You glanced to Jensen, hoping he’d find a reason to keep Jared on set, but he just shrugged. “You don’t need to, I’ll be fine. I-”

“I insist.” He was next to you now, tossing out what he hadn’t eaten, which was almost his whole plate.

When you sighed, Jensen joined you both. “Guess I’ll come along for the ride.” If lunch was any indication, leaving the two of you alone would just drive Jared crazy, and drive you away.

Jared shot Jensen a look and was about to protest, he wanted to talk to you about what had happened, but you answered first. “Mkay.” You gave him a small smile. “Just let me go let them know I have to leave. Meet you by your car?” You asked Jared.

He nodded. “Do you know which car is mine?”

You shrugged as you started away. “I have a feeling if you stand next to it, I’ll find it.” You smiled.

Jensen sighed as you walked away. “You okay?” Jared just shrugged. It had to hurt him hearing you had a kid. “I’ll let em know we’ll be right back.” He walked off, and Jared sighed, put his hands in his pockets and headed for the parking lot.

You were in the car, almost at the school, and the drive was as awkward as lunch. “So, you had a kid huh. Son, daughter, how old?” Jensen looked back and smiled.

“Son.” You told him with a smile. Jared glanced back at you in the rear-view. “River. He’s 8.”

Jensen’s smile fell, and he glanced at Jared. “Huh..” He swallowed and looked out the window before talking to you again. “Can’t believe you named your kid River.” He teased, trying to keep the conversation moving.

“River Stormborn Y/L/N.” You chuckled.

“Stormborn?” He turned again.

You laughed. “I enjoy fantasy books.” You shrugged. “Besides, born during the biggest storm of the year. It seemed fitting. No power, and I didn’t even make it to the hospital. Paramedics had to help deliver at home, and they did not have an anesthesiologist with them. Fucking sucked.” Jared pulled up outside the school.

Neither of them spoke as you slipped out the back headed into the school. Jensen broke the silence when he saw you coming out. “Son of a bitch..”

Jared glanced at Jensen, then turned to you. His chest ached when he saw your arm around a too tall boy, with long shaggy brown hair. Almost the same cut as Jared’s. Jared pulled his eyes away as you got closer. Neither said anything as you pulled open the back door and you and your son slipped in. Jensen kept looking from Jared, to the pale kid in the back seat who was putting on his seat belt.

“Thank you for driving my mom to come get me.” He mumbled out as he clicked the buckle into place.

“No problem.” Jared mumbled in response. You glanced up, and could see the pain in Jared’s eyes when he glanced back in the rear-view.

You told Jared where you lived, and he nodded, starting the car back up and pulled out. It was then that your son started to look around. “Sup.” Jensen gave him a small smile.

When River looked to him, he froze for a minute. “You’re Dean Winchester..” Then he really took a good look around. “Are we going on a hunt!?” He started to look excited, and less like he was about to throw up. “This isn’t the Impala..”

You and Jensen laughed, even Jared smiled a bit. “The only place you’re going, is home to rest. And please hold in the puke until we get there.”

“This is Sammy’s car.” Jensen went into character, and motioned to Jared. “Sucks, right.”

“It’s no Impala, but it’s still pretty sweet.” River smiled.

“Kids a fan, huh.” Jensen smiled. “Maybe your mom can bring you to work one day. Meet everyone else.” Rivers face lit up and you nodded.

“Sam is his favorite Winchester. Hence the mini Sam look.”

Jared glanced back at that. “Why is Sam your favorite?”

“He’s really smart!” River smiled at him. “And big, and strong. He’s mom’s favorite too!” Jared glanced back at you, and you shrugged. Jensen kept the conversation going with River until the car stopped outside your building.

“Thanks again, Jared.” You smiled at him.

“Anytime.” He watched you both get out and head into the building. He stared for a bit then sighed. “What the fuck, Jensen..” He finally turned to his friend.

“I don’t know, man.”

“We were good, right? I thought we were good, I loved her. I-” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to sort out his thoughts.

“I know. You told her you wanted a family, she didn’t. She left. And now..” He motioned to the door.

“This is so fucked up.” He groaned starting his car back up.

After pulling into the lot, he had told Jensen he just needed a minute. So here he sat, five minutes later alone, still in his car with his phone in his hand. He closed his eyes and finally hit the call button. “Hey baby.” He smiled hearing his wife’s voice.

“Jared, what’s wrong?”

He swallowed. “Remember, uhm. Remember when we first started dating.. Maybe a bit before, I don’t know… You heard about Y/N, around the set…” He had been open with her about you in the beginning. And he knew a few people had warned her if you came back, Jared might go back to you.

“Uh… Yeah.. Girl who left, not long before I started as Ruby, right?”

“Yeah..” He breathed out, looking down at his lap. He could hear Gen moving around.

“Yeah, I remember that. Jared-”

“She’s back, Gen.”

“..O-okay. Jared are you okay?” She sounded worried.

“No. She has a kid, Gen. He’s 8.” He hung his head, hearing silence on the other end.

Gen had called Daneel after talking to Jared. She needed a friend, needed someone to talk this out with. While she waited for her to get there, she did something she wasn’t particularly proud of. She googled you.

Social media accounts came up, of course. A facebook page, that Gen found was set to private. Then a twitter, that she clicked on. She saw that you were following various cast and crew, Jared included. She scrolled through tweets, and pictures, trying to get a feel for who you were. She saw you had just posted another tweet, and refreshed the page.

It was a picture of you and your son cuddled on the couch captioned “When a sick River Stormborn demands to binge watch something, you obey or he’ll unleash the storm. Lol #pukestorm.” She sighed looking at the picture.

You hopped in the shower after River fell asleep an episode and a half in. You were just stepping out when there was a knock on your door. Throwing on a bathrobe, you hurried out to get it. Tying it tight, you then reached for the door and froze when you saw who was on the other side. “Jared.. How did you..”

“You aren’t the only person on set who lives in this building. I live upstairs, so finding out which one was yours, was just a matter of checking the mailboxes.” He gave you an awkward smile.

“Oh..” Your voice was low, and you nodded. It made sense, you got the place through work, and a few other people you knew from set lived in the building. You should have guessed it was possible he would too.

“We need to talk. After all these years, I think you owe me at least that much.”

Your eyes met his, those beautiful hazel eyes that sometimes haunted your dreams. “Yeah, I guess I do.” You licked your lips. “Come on in.”

He glanced past you, looking to the couch where your son slept. He slowly stepped in, it was an uneasy step, he was too anxious.

“Can I get you anything?” You asked, shutting the door.

He shook his head. “I just need to know one thing. Is he mine?”

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