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lovincherries · 2 years

Note

makeup sex with rooster. maybe reader and him got into a fight cause he was jealous or something

Worship This Love

Okay, literally perfect, perfect, perfect. I don’t have my computer with me cause I’m visiting my dads, but I will try my best on my phone!!!!!

Also, listen to false god by Taylor swift while reading this. It’s perfecttttt

Summary: makeup sex with Rooster after arguing over how jealous he is.

Warnings: sex, possessiveness, arguing, unprotected sex (wrap the stump before you hump)

••••••

“C’mon Bradley, it was just some random guy at the bar who offered to buy me a drink. It’s not even like I accepted!” You stated matter of factly, quite honestly you couldn’t even begin to understand why you were having this argument. Rooster could be so possessive at times, didn’t even want another man looking at you. It’s like you were arguing with a wall, his back turned to you as you were entering his home.

“Oh, so now I’m just Bradley? Huh?” His words could’ve cut you with how sharp he spit them out, not even sparing a glance your way. “You know, we wouldn’t even be in this situation if you didn’t dress like that.”

Now he was just being mean to you, his words pierced through you. Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall but you wouldn’t let them. “So, now I’m just some common whore huh? It’s my fault that a man found me attractive? You know what, fuck you Bradley. I’m going home,” now it was your turn to face away from him. It was your turn to walk away.

He grabbed your wrist stopping you, “let me go,” you said darkly, “I can’t talk to you when your like this,” your hard exterior cracked. His words hurt you, you knew he wasn’t in his right mind. Still, nonetheless, you were hurt.

“Don’t leave, you’re mine Y/N,” he pressed his front into your back, moving your hair behind your ear. Whispering, only for you to hear. “You’re only mine.”

He had a way of doing that, drawing you back in when you were just about to leave. It truly wasn’t fair that he knew what he did to you.

“You know i don’t think you’re a slut, Y/N,” he hummed into your ear, his breath reeking of some strong alcohol. Rooster was always the jealous type, especially when he got tipsy. You could never understand why he was that way, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. “Unless we’re talking about for me, then yes you are. We both know you wanted to make me green tonight, huh? Wear a dress so short that your ass and titties are practically hanging out. You didn’t leave a thing to the imagination, did you?” His words were cruel, but it sparked something in you. Maybe he was right, maybe you unintentionally decided to dress like this for that exact reason. No matter what, he should’ve never talked to you like that. Despite this, His words were like electricity, sparking excitement in your veins. Excitement for what was to come.

You turned to face him, determination set in your eyes. If he wanted you to be a whore, then he would get one. “If I’m such a whore, then fuck me like one,”

That’s all you had to say, that short little sentence and it sent him over the edge. He kissed you harsh, his hands grabbing anything they could get ahold of, your ass, your titties, your hair. He pulled away, “I’ll ruin you for any other man, Y/N. They’ll never stand a chance.”

That’s the one thing he was right about, no one else could have possibly stood a chance compared to him. He lifted you up and pressed you against the wall, your legs squeezing around his waist, his bulge pressing into you. You began to kiss from his neckline to his ear, “oh, sweetheart, you already have,” you bit his ear. You knew it was his sweet spot, something to make him go wild. He began to kiss you and carry you to the bedroom, you only know you were there when he threw you on the bed.

He stood at the edge, watching you panting. “You look so beautiful like this, like a work of art. Hair messy, lip stick smeared, tits out like a common whore.” He said, his voice rough with an edge to it. “Touch yourself,” he demanded. This was new, he had never done that before.

“W-what?” You questioned, confused. He normally hated it when you did that, saying he was the only one who could bring you that pleasure. “You heard me, Y/N, touch yourself. Do it now, or you won’t get anything more from me tonight.”

You did as he said, you always did what he told you. It was a crying shame the power this man held over you, it was something you could never shake. Your hand began to trail its’ way down to your underwear. You couldn’t stop yourself. You circled your clit over you underwear for a moment, wanting to truly tease him. You let out a soft moan at the sensation, you were truly desperate for something, any kind of friction.

“More, Y/N, i want you to make yourself cum,” he stated. You opened your eyes to look at him, you could see the massive tent in his pants.

“Yes sir,” you put on an extra sweet voice, you knew how it effected him. You moved your underwear to the side, you began circling your clit once more. It sent shockwaves everywhere, it was almost too much. It was too good. It went on like this for a few minutes more before you got bored. You were here to fuck your fiancé, not get yourself off.

“I’m bored, baby. I thought you were gonna prove something to me,” you said with a pout. Pulling yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, legs wide open so he could see how wet you were. He began to walk towards you till he was standing right in front of you, his hand reaching towards your chin. He caressed your face, fingers sliding into your mouth. You sucked on them, twirling your tongue on the tip of his fingers. It was almost like you were teasing him till he shoved your fingers down his throat.

“Good girls get what they want, whores don’t. Have you decided what you are?” He questioned you.

“Yes, daddy. I’m your good girl,” once again, you lost the power dynamic. No matter what you did, it seemed like he had the control. “No more dresses like this, i promise.”

His hands moved toward your throat, putting pressure on it and forcing you so you were laying on your back again. He then began to kiss you with his hands wrapped around your throat, it was powerful and possessive. It was everything you loved from him.

“You’re gonna take my cock pretty girl, you’re gonna take it well,” before you knew it he was pulling his pants down and your panties to the side. He didn’t even bother to take your underwear off or your dress. He was gonna fuck you as you were, he wanted to prove a point.

He entered you, slowly but hard. He didn’t give you a second to adjust before he was pounding into you. It felt like you couldn’t breathe from the pressure.

“O-oh my god,” you moaned out. It felt too good, the argument was worth this. He flipped you over, you had to hold yourself up with your hands and knees. He entered you again without the slight gentleness, it was hard. It was borderline painful to be this full.

“Taking it so well, Y/N. You’re my good girl, huh? No one else’s’,” he groaned out, still pounding into you from behind. He was so deep from this angle.

It wouldn’t be long from this position, you knew that he couldn’t control himself like this. He loved to see your ass move against him. He was fucking you into the sheets, you couldn’t even keep yourself up anymore.

“Fuck, I’m about to cum,” you moaned out. It all felt too good, too real. It was too much of him.

“You’ve been a good girl now, c’mon Y/N. You’ve got it,” he groaned out, smacking your ass. You felt it build until it popped, the orgasm released and it was the best you’ve ever felt. You knew he would follow soon behind.

“Almost there, doll. Gonna finish, ruin this dress,” he almost whispered. You were too incoherent to understand what he even was saying.

He fastened his pace and then right before he came, he pulled out and began to jerk himself off over your back till he came thick ropes all over the back of your dress. You gasped once you realized what he did, Rooster never ever pulled out willingly. He liked to finish deep inside you, said it was intimate.

“Rooster! This dress was expensive,” you said in shock. Turning to face him, he had a slight smirk on his face. He did not care, not one bit.

“It was also inappropriate,” he said as he began to take it off you and throw it to the side. You knew that you would never wear it again.

A/N: sorry i tried to rush it out, if it’s not good I’ll edit it later. Also, not proof read

To be tagged: click on this link and type in your @

#smut #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun #top gun smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster smut #maverick smut #peter mitchell #hangman smut #bob smut

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irisisasiren · 1 year

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♡𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧♡

Chapter 0: New start of life

A/n: feeling kinda poetic today:3 so enjoy

Warning: mentioning of death, cussing, ruff past, crying

Summary: You have just recently to Japan to start a new life with your friend Meloco and Doppio in order to escape from the past that has cling on to for years and enroll into Niji High School, a school it's famous for talented students and their council as well. Then by accident you bumped into a your secondary school crush while chatting with your friends. May be... it was that both of your are reunited? U/A: Xsoliel are just normal student council, they're not vtuber in this ua;w;

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ Ⓟⓡⓞⓜⓘⓢⓔⓢ ⓒⓐⓝⓣ ⓑⓔ ⓑⓡⓞⓚⓔⓝ ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

How did you even to manage to escape that nightmare that had been on your mind for the past year? Is it a miracle or just... fate? It's been a long time since you've have a home-cooked meal after your mom death. After that tragic incident, your father became more aggressive and an alcoholic because he have lost the one and only love of his life. Which leads to bruises on your arms, legs, or even your face.

After having an argument with your dad about your future that you craved to have, you decided that you have indulged too much for nothing so you packed thing up and leave for good when your father went to buy more beer and wine.

While standing at the airport in Japan, you called your friends, Meloco and Doppio bcs y'all do to the same secondary school.

Moshi moshi, Meloco Kyoran speaking Doppio Dropscythe speaking as wellll!!! Hi besties... Can you pick me up from the airport? What do you mean pick you up? We're at Japan and you're at *a country* Unless you're at *insert Japan airport name* What if I am? *insert gaps* DOPPIO GET THE FUCKING CAR RN!!! ON IT, MA'AM!!! Wait have you been crying? ahaahaha gotta use the bathroom byeee~ DON'T YOU DARE HANG UP ON U- *insert hang up noises*

*time skip to you being in Doppio's car with Meloco bcs author-chan is to lazy:')"

After you explain every thing that has happened in your life, Meloco patted your back and Doppio look at the mirror to make sure your alright. Doppio decided to put on some music like Hold it down by a new music group so that you would feel much better.

*Hold it down ended*

Naw, bestie you did not just rap the whole song:0

Heck, yeah I did:) *A thousand miles started to play* Ayo? Y/N this is your jam! AIN'T NO FUCKING WAY MAKING MY WAY DOWN TOWN WALKING FAST- WAIT OH SHIT I FORGOT THE LYRIC Y/N ITS HAS JUST BEEN A COUPLE OF YEARS>:0

The rest of car ride was filled with laughter, karaoke and pure chaotic sound:-).

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*Meloco offered you to be her roomate and you have to agree bcs you don't have no where to go*

"What about you're education and your future?" Meloco asked as she puts down her umbrella.

You look up from the ground when you're taking off your shoes when the raven-haired asked you.

"I don't know actually. Maybe I could enroll into Nijisanji High or some school that is near our apartment-"

"That's it! You should enroll into Nijisanji High since they provided the best education andddddd your two besties are your student councils!"

"... Is there anything else?" You asked her. Meloco stay silent for a while then she suddenly placed her hand hand your shoulder making you jumped a little.

"In the Xsoleil council, there is Hex Haywire, your long-time crush. I mean if you don't want to go I-"

"When can I sign in?"

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ Ⓟⓡⓞⓜⓘⓢⓔⓢ ⓒⓐⓝⓣ ⓑⓔ ⓑⓡⓞⓚⓔⓝ ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸ "Come on Y/N, you've been in there for 15 min. Come out already, I wanna see you in the uniform that I gave you>:(" Meloco crossed her arm bellow her booba and she leans against the changing room door. "Are they done yet?" The magenta with black and white strip haired yell from outside off the changing room since he's too embarrassed to peek inside the girl's changing room. "Almost!" Meloco yelled back.

*click* Meloco looks up to see what she quote was a beautiful goddess from heaven since you looks so fucking hot.

"Well? How do I look?" you spin around to let her see the full outfit. Without saying anything, Meloco pulled you outside to let Doppio see. "Damn Y/N, you're gonna get all the guys attention:0" "S-shut up, Dop>:/" Meloco saw you getting emberessed by Doppio so she suggested that we should walk out to get some fresh air while chat a little.

While chatting with them, you look around the school as well to see something that catches your eyes. Then you accidentaly bumped into a guy who looks like he's in a rush making him fell down.

"OMG I'M SO SORRY;-;" you kneel down to help the guy out

"No, it's ok" the guy gave you a small smile while getting the paper work. Then your hand and his touch which makin the both of you look at each other then turn away while getting up due to being embarrassed.

"Hexxy! ...Wait are you in a rush? I thought that our deadline is next week?" Wait what? Hexxy?...Hex?

"I am just preparing some document for some client of mine." Oh fuck- It's totally him, Hex Haywire, the one that would make any girls and even boys fall for his appearance and his voice.

Without saying anything, you decided to run the bathroom to cool yourself up by a splash of water because you're not mentally prepare to see him again.

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ Ⓟⓡⓞⓜⓘⓢⓔⓢ ⓒⓐⓝⓣ ⓑⓔ ⓑⓡⓞⓚⓔⓝ ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

A/n: sorry if it took kinda longer than expecting but I hope y'all have an amazing day

#hex haywire fluff #hex haywire x reader #hex haywire #xsoleil fluff #xsoleil x reader

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lemone-as-aid · 2 months

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Memoir

Valerie Cristy Paula Espinosa

12-Bookkeeping

February 24, 2006

Some people wonder why my condition wasn’t obvious. However, there is a reason for that. When I was still in my mother’s womb, the doctor diagnosed that I would come out with a defect. And my mom said, “Pass sa halata.” That’s why it isn’t evident that I have a congenital heart disease.

When I was still young, I was very lonely and often felt excluded from my peers. While they were playing the common traditional games such as tumbang preso, chinese garter, dodge ball and more, I would often be sitting on the side watching and cheering for them. The only game I was ever included was “Bahay-Bahayan” and my role was often the sick child who had to sit and wait for the parents to do whatever. I was treated like a fragile porcelain vase that would get broken with a little impact. I hated it. However, it was my only escape from the constant fight happening in our household.

One fateful night, my mom and dad fought so hard that they were already hurting each other physically. Being a young child, all I could do was go to my Ate Jezrel’s room (who was our caretaker at the time) and cry. The next morning, my mom brought me to work and we never went home. We ran away from my always drunk and abusive father, leaving Ate Jezrel and my little brother behind. We rented a one studio apartment. It was very tight and humid. Mom promised to go back for them when things are stable.

In 3rd grade, I transferred to a new school. I had a hard time adjusting as I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t wanna trouble my mom. Once again, I often felt excluded from whatever they did. Everyone knew each other. For me– I still had to get to know them. But how could I? They were strangers to me and everything was new. Nobody invited me to parties and stuff unless my Mom asked for it which felt forced. Soon, Ate Jezrel and my little brother came to follow us. Also from there on, my dad kept trying to make amends with us.

Soon I transferred to Pajo Elementary School on sixth grade. Once again, I felt excluded. I began thinking that maybe it was my mindset that made me feel excluded from everything. Maybe something had to change, maybe it was me who had to change. So I decided to try and be better. However before I could even begin making friends, a lot of rumors followed me as my Mom bragged about me to the teachers and everyone. That I was very smart and knew how to speak english very well. Although it was true, it was still embarrassing. Everyone soon thought I was an arrogant spoiled kid. Nobody wanted to befriend me thinking I would be some snobby rich girl. Zel, who my mom introduced me to, was someone who backstabbed me. She also often incited her friends to spread rumors about me, trying to embarrass me more. She also spread some of my secrets like who my crush was (which at the time was very embarrassing) and even included names of the people that I knew but didn’t have a crush on.

I was finally in Junior High school. I met Gay, Rebecca, Celine, Jonaina and Jessa. I finally felt included. However, I also felt used. Jonaina would often come to me to ask for answers. One time, she stole my answer to an assignment in MTAP while I was buying snacks. I got so mad I ignored her. However, my other friends were very caring. We still lived in Pajo, near the school that time so they often carried my bag and we also ate lunch at my house.

As the pandemic arrived, everything became messy. We moved to Cordova but I was still studying in Pajo. My father suddenly got rich because of a successful business venture and my mom suddenly decided to get into a relationship with out neighbor. I hated my mom as I felt excluded from her life and her decisions. Although her boyfriend was a very gentle man, he was an alcoholic which also influenced my mom. As I hated confronting her, I often went to my cousin’s house and would stay there for 4 days a week. I loved my dad that time. He was very supportive to everything I wanted to do from knitting to art.

The pandemic ended and we were now on Senior High School. I thought I will feel excluded again, but luckily Johair was my classmate and I got to know Michelle who is now like my sister. We immediately hit it off as we had the same humor. I felt lucky when I met Michelle. Although I now have a lot of friends, she was different as I felt like I had someone to rely on to. She was also not bothered by the fact that I had a heart disease which often meant she carried my heavy school bag. With her, I would forget that I have a heart disease and made me feel more “normal.” I feel grateful and sometimes annoyed because she often does not take my advice.

Soon, we’re gonna graduate and be college students, I decided to take the path of being an Accountancy as I feel cool when I heard it. Although I still have to practice my analyzing skills. So far, I feel like a normal person or someone without a disease. I feel like I now have the chance to introduce myself through my capabilities and not just as someone who has a disability. I feel included, cared and appreciated for. I realized that a lot of people care about me and I should just ignore those who don’t because they don’t give me money or any value. I now feel happy being me, and I also feel stressed because of the school works.

Word Count (WPS OFFICE) : 1,039 words

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just-another-boring-bisexual · 9 months

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This is why I don't share my interests in public: a rant about my day.

TL;DR: Don't wear an Elvis shirt if you know you're going to be around older people unless you want EVERYONE'S opinion.

So, on the one Saturday off that I didn't have to specifically request off for, I decide to go to some flea markets with a guy I kinda like during the day and attend a family-friend's party at night. We decide to meet early in the morning at the first place, because everything is usually packed up by 12. He texts me and tells me that he's going to be a little later than I expected. I decide that while I'm waiting, I'll look at a few stands before he gets here.

I'm a few stands in when I get my first comment. It wasn't that bad, the guy had an Elvis necklace to show me that he was selling, and it was actually kinda cool. The next guy is where it starts. This guy's a little younger, but "extroverted," if you know what I mean. I don't know if he was just being friendly or what, but he went from asking me about Elvis and showing me some vintage shirts he had to asking me if I'm single, why I'm so quite, and other things like that. I'm honestly a little uncomfortable at this point, and I regret giving him my IG (I came home and saw he DM'ed me!) I find a chance to slip away when someone else comes to his booth.

At the booth next door, the lady there sees my shirt and comments that I'm too young to know about Elvis. Barely a second later, the guy next door comes over and talks to her about my shirt. He's standing next to me and asks if I'm wearing perfume (I was.) When I go across the way a minute later, the vendor at this one booth asks if my shirt was Elvis' mugshot (it's his army photo with the name plate.) He then starts going on about the whole "Elvis isn't dead" thing with Bob Joyce and a fake body in the casket and all that. I think he made a comment about Riley, something about "Elvis' granddaughter," but I didn't hear what he said. All the while, I'm just waiting for my friend to show up so I don't have to keep walking around alone like this.

I finally get a text saying he's here, and we start to look around at the opposite end of the flea market. I think after I started walking with him, I only got one comment, which wasn't that bad. Keep in mind, this guy I'm with is NOT intimidating at all, but I feel like his presence really made a difference!

At the second flea market we went to, I think I might've gotten a question again about whether his picture on my shirt was a mugshot, but that was about it. This second place also had a few more Elvis things that I was tempted to buy (Some 45's for 50 cents each, a metal "Kissin' Cousins" poster), but I just settled on a bottle of White Shoulders. After that, my friend and I decided to call it a day.

Now for Part 2: the family-friend gathering.

So, we usually go to these things a few times a year because the couple hosting it has a space large enough to accommodate everyone. Practically all of these people are my parents' age, so I have very few people to talk to. In all honesty, I think I mainly go just to see my one friend's family, because we've always been close (our dads have been best friends since they were kids.) I wasn't surprised that she wasn't there, even though the rest of her family was. I would be fine if it was just them, since my dad's friend LOVES Elvis (so much that he named his son Presley.) He said he liked my shirt and didn't make too big of a deal out of it, which I actually liked. It's when other people started commenting about it that I started to feel flustered again. I remember at one point feeling my cheeks get warm when asked about my shirt and if I liked Elvis (it could've been both because of my anxiety talking about my interests and the alcohol I was drinking.)

It should be noted that I don't always enjoy parties. They're loud and I feel like I have no escape. Later in the evening, people are moving between being inside and outside. For one brief moment, I'm alone inside in a nice, quiet space, and I feel like I can enjoy it. I'm in there for less than a minute before someone comes in and asks why I'm alone. Soon, a few more people come in. ruining any chance I had at recharging my social battery. In this room, there's a TV (one of my pet peeves is having the TV on while with company, regardless of whether or not I'm hosting; I just find it tacky.) I had turned it off because no one was watching it, but my mom went and turned it back on. She's scrolling through YouTube, and turns on some short Elvis documentary (I didn't see what it was, I wasn't looking at the screen.) Basically, with even more people in the room now commenting on it, I had to step outside away from everything. They didn't keep it on the whole time, but I must've spent a good 10 minutes outside just to get away from everything. By that time, the party was winding down and we soon left.

This is why I have trouble expressing even my most basic interests.

#elvis presley #rant post #I'm gonna need time to recover from this one #the one saturday I'm given for free and this is the thanks I get?#in retrospect it could've been worse #but at the same time my existing anxiety was not helping

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field4thought · 4 days

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advice for the teenager in the bathtub at two a.m.

one: tell your girlfriend what you are planning to do.

you do not want to shock her when you take off your pants and she sees scars.

you do not want her to say what is that - how long ago - tell me if you ever want -

it is easier if she is aware so she can politely avert her eyes.

two: buy neosporin, because it doesn’t burn like isopropyl alcohol but it still

helps seal the wounds and it also keeps them from getting infected

and since you are doing this after you showered, with a clean pocketknife,

you do not need to clean the stripes on your thighs.

three: invest in some gauze pads and wear your black shorts, the one that makes old men stare

because they will hold better than a shitty reusable bandage and even if

you decide to switch the stores you buy them from, eventually someone will notice

that you are buying thick heavy-duty bandages once every two months.

four: do not tell your mother or father or sister or brothers and do not tell your friends.

your family will try to help and they will tell your therapist and you will go inpatient

(again) and you know you cannot even do this while you are inpatient;

and do not tell your friends because they are all shiny and brand-new, high school

companions do not stick and it is because of who you were in high school.

five: along with that last one, do not talk about your depression or meds or anxiety or mania

unless it is in a joking way like all the other kids do because you want to go to parties

and nobody is going to invite a suicidal kid to parties with when all of the pills

say do not combine with alcohol on the sides next to the high dosage numbers.

six: when the doctor asks, tell her about your major and what you will do with it and how

you have always wanted to have a family and how you love your girlfriend and how

you enjoy spending time with your little sister. depressed people, and people who

have extra pills in their closet, do not have hopes or dreams or fun with their sisters.

seven: remember that this is probably how your biological mother started off and, even though

you have not seen her since you were four, you are still very much her child;

how you have both been affected by your grandparents’ enabling and how she wound up

with a needle in her arm and a new family because the judge said she had to leave yours.

eight: do not do a clock or a countdown on public, even on something like tumblr where

none of your online friends know who you really are because the cops can still find you

and show up with an ambulance and a brochure for your mother and polite phrases

and they can drug you for two weeks and send you home dazed and more hurt than before.

nine: wear shorts that go to your knees and keep those black shorts under them, and if

anyone asks say that the long shorts help with your gender dysphoria and tell them

the black ones are packing underwear and how it’s for your dysphoria because

nobody asks questions about that and everyone gets worried about cuts.

ten: when you finally decide to do it, at least write a letter so your mom and dad know

they could not have done anything, and write one for your sister so she knows

that you love her forever and always, and kiss your girlfriend goodbye extra-long

the morning before because she is the only one who knew but even she didn’t know.

eleven: when you die, make sure you have a note next to you that says burn me

and spread my ashes in the creek where i used to catch crayfish with nikki as kids

and make sure you have left all of your comfiest sweaters in your girlfriend’s dorm

and when all of everything is finally fixed, then you can rest in pieces.

#my poem #my writing #writing #poem #my poetry #original poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #writers and poets #tw: suicide #tw: self half #tw:sh

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paleclementine · 4 months

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Here is my diary entry for the new year. Later I want to make a post of my ten favorite songs and reasons behind them. But for now here's my year.

I started this year off strong with the 2nd worst existential crisis I've had within the past 5 years of my life. Very depressed and lonely all throughout winter, but it was somewhat okay because I was anonymous in my apartment and didn't have anyone constantly judging me (compared to now). I definitely was afflicted with the trans fever, probs as a result of new discovery, and kinda made it my thing for all those months. Anthony made me food every night and we always hung out together. I entertained the notion of going to Oregon for school but changed my mind once I found out how much it costed. then I wanted to do van life, and I still have that commitment. Tbh, I still have trans fever, but it's less about ftm than it is just hating being a girl. I got really into cosplay and watched new shows like Monster and Fullmetal Alchemist. And I also rewatched Attack on Titan and gained a new love for indian food. That winter was the coldest and snowiest yet. I finished my final draft of my book, Sharper than Silver, but decided I want to rewrite the whole thing before I decide to query it. In its stead, I started writing a long fic for Bungou Stray Dogs, which I am still continuing to this day (80,000 words so far).

Then I moved back home and was immediately not just depressed, but in despair. It was a severe adjustment to go from living on my own for two years straight to living with my parents and family. It was a really rough start with fights with my sister and arguments about getting high with emily and drinking alone.... womp womp bad decisions but i had already decided that summer would be my alcoholic arc!!!!!! it low key helped me cause now I don't super like drinking anymore unless it's worth it. anyway-- I saw taylor swift, dyed my hair ginger, cut my bangs, cosplayed Chuuya, got high with bonnie, got violently high with emily, binged markiplier fnaf and Unus Annus, hung out with emily jensen, and ummm. yeah. I did spend a lot of time outside too- specifically the forest behind our house. I visited anthony one week and that was a fr relief, esp because it was an impulse thing after a fight with Hailey. I actually thing I booked it after that crazy argument with my mom where she threatened to stop funding my college. any fucking way . summer came and went. Through it all, my hatred only grew. That summer was very bitter, I think...

Then me and mom drove back to school and thus starts that ordeal. The road trip was good but boring. i met my roommates, and at first it was fine because i was a victim of the "freshmen friendgroup." I had a brief partying phase but quickly came to realize that my roommates are shallow and easily leave people out if you don't follow them like a lost dog. Then three more girls moved in with us and I slowly drifted away from all of them. Classes were also really boring. I ghosted a girl who was low key obsessed with me. I went on a road trip to southern Utah with my dad and saw the eclipse and it was low key miserable but I'm glad he got to make those memories. Emily flew to Utah and we went to the convention together and the salt flats and logan and it was so fun :) but Sam was so cruel to her for it and I really started to hate him then. Anthony was sweet than sweet to me throughout the semester, but halfway through we decided to stop eating dinner together because we were spending an obscene amount of money of food. This was when I started my "diet," which is actually a wannabe eating disorder. I lost 7-10 pounds from it. I'm actually super proud of myself for it. But amidst these things was a growing hatred for my roommates, who I still can't stand. I tried in vain to sell my lease and move apartments, but no one offered to buy it so I got stuck there. Then I left for Christmas break and me and Anthony went to NY with the fam and then I went home home.

And that was my year. It didn't seem like I did that much, but it genuinely feels like it's been an eternity since last January. I've changed so much. I think I've gotten... not more sure of myself, but more comfortable with being uncertain. I also grew the balls to actually put in the work and lose weight. and I am more comfortable with my gender, whatever it may be, and don't burst into tears when I get drunk and think about it too hard. And this whole year was the year of Taylor Swift, Ginger Hair, Bangs, Pale Skin, and writing, writing, writing. So much more has happened and there have been so many more changes, but that is all I can think to include in this post.

#livejournal

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nvmwc · 1 year

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He gave me money yesterday to tide me over until Monday. I spent too much on my birthday to distract myself and took a week off to celebrate. My paycheck was pretty small and I ran out of money after rent . As per usual he helped without a second thought. He’s always like that ,

It’s day two since i lost my kit. I have been drowning in my thoughts since. I miss it so much, I want to do right now so madly. My skin has become adjusted. It’s ready. I didnt want to give it up.

It’s taking everything in me to not go get a new kit set up. I work right next to so many places that would sell what i need .

It’s already so wrong, I feel it would be even worse to buy something that hurts him so badly with his own money.

I understand it hurts him

But what about me. What about my hurt? He’s hurt me my dad has hurt me and my mom has hurt me and my cousin and uncle. I’ve lost so many people in the past few years. It hurt so bad. Especially my grandpa.

He raised me and i watched him take his last breath. Everyone else looked away. Not me though. I looked rightat him as he looked around with his terror written all over his face. He couldn’t breathe anymore. He was always there for me. Especially on Mother’s Day. My mom abandoned me so naturally Mother’s Day is hard for me . I told him when I was 11 how that day made me feel because i didn’t have a mom. He told me that from then on he was my mother now. And every Mother’s Day since I’ve celebrated it with him. I’m 28 now and this weekend will be my first Mother’s Day without him.

My father has yet again in my life gone off his rocker. Crack, meth, heroin and alcohol have again won. I was rooting for him he completed rehab and got into an Oxford house. I was so proud. Then one night boom he got evicted. I have been dealing with this off and on since i met him when i was 6. Ii begged i pleaded I’ve screamed and enable. But not this time. I told him during our counseling session that if he ever did this again i would never talk to him again unless he could prove he was holding a job and was sober for a year.

I have my partner but i decided based off the results of me depending on him emotionally that will never happen again.

Out of every man Ive ever loved that held me hurt me. Every single one.

Except for him. And now he’s gone. So many things have happened since then and the majority has been absolute bullshit. We got an apartment. Our relationship fell apart there for a moment. Dad relapsed again and uncle died.

I’m trying so hard to focus on the good and the positive Parts. But all i want to do is tear myself to pieces.

I want my grandpa back, i want my dad pack. I want my parents back. The three of us, grandpa dad and me. Back when my grandpa could walk and my dad was as ‘sober’ as he could get.

Every man who is not my grandpa has used abuses and cheated me. I want to go home. That’s all i want is to go home. But my home is gone now

#sh.#self destruction #feeling alone #alone with my thoughts #i want to cvt #self h@rm #tw selfhate #no parents

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actualbird · 2 years

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when and how each of the nxx team first drank alcohol

written by somebody who hates the taste of basically all alcohol except soju mixes

wc: 1.2k

luke pearce and mc: teenage shenanigans

when theyre both 16 years old and luke is but a month away from moving out to study at Central University, luke sneakily buys like 2 six packs of beer. how did he buy that when hes a minor? well, everywhere on the planet has at least one convenience store that honestly couldnt give a fuck about whos buying what. cashier probably looked at luke pearce, a very nervous gangle of a teenager, and decided not to call him out lest he spontaneously combust

so hes got beer!!! and when mc's parents are out of town for a weekend, he suggests they drink for like, cool kid creds. or maybe so that both of them know what "type" of drunk they are in the safety of home with a trusted friend. or maybe mc finds the beers and is like "luuuuuke, whats---" and luke immediately bursts into apologies he just wanted to see if he could get some so that they could have a cool fun drinking night!!!

whatever the reason, mc agrees and thus they both get sloshed.

both of them discover that theyve got a pretty regular alcohol tolerance. the main issue is that mc IMMEDIATELY verbalizes that "wow this tastes like SHIT!" and luke whos still trying to play it cool says "not really!" when in fact he also thinks it tastes like SHIT.

still, they both truck on and equally finish the beer which normally wouldnt be enough to knock a person out unless theyve got a low tolerance, but mc and luke are teenagers who did not know about Pacing or Getting Some Snacks Into Ur System While Drinking So That The Alcohol Isn't Just Having A Party With Ur Stomach Acids. so the night ends with both of them hurling into the toilet

theyre clingy tho, they dont wanna leave each other, so they like, take turns in the same toilet.

really forges a friendship like no other

vyn richter: well now he can't drink THAT exact flavor...

hes been tasting wine since 12 years old because that was the same age i hc he got into wine making because [vyn backstory/cn server spoiler] i assume thats some kind of requirement in royal lineage lessons??? i (jokingly) imagine vyn's childhood to be like the movie Princess Diaries but instead of being fun, it just Sucks Most Of The Time, but yes theres just a vague mixed bag of bougie lessons going on in his younger days like in princess diaries and one of em is winemaking

and also winetasting because thanks to new info i learned from my gf and also frantic googling; theres so much complexity and layers in wine flavors much akin to how perfumes and colognes have a core scent and then undertones.

(sidenote: vyn and marius talking about wine be like

vyn: this is a favorite of mine in particular; dry but with dessert wine undertones and just a hint of---

marius: it tastes like grapes

vyn: shut up, that is not what it---

marius: it tastes like some OLD ASS GRAPES

vyn: //stopping himself from bashing the wine bottle over marius' head.)

vyn, a lover of knowing stuff other people dont know, quite enjoys the study of winemaking and tasting even if he does find it disgusting that when hes gotta taste several wines in one go, he has to spit it out so he doesnt get drunk at the class (REAL THING THAT HAPPENS IN WINETASTING CLASSES, AMAZING). like, gross, he thinks! but he'd also not rather be a drunk tween stumbling thru the estate, he gets it.

the issue arises when his dad who is also rlly into wines tries to make a casket along with vyn as a bonding activity. vyn is NOT interested cuz wow, u decided to pay attention to me only now and only when it's something you also enjoy? he MUST roll his eyes. but still, against his wishes, vyn looks forward to it. they both try to recreate this one great vintage from years ago that they both like, they slap it into the casket to age, and theyll get back to it after like 10 years

and then they never do! cuz vyn leaves! and now in the present when ANY wine gets close to the flavor that that wine was trying to recreate, it always just leaves a bad taste in his mouth...

marius von hagen: ok just a small taste----

i dont know why---maybe it's me projecting my questionable but hilarious family happenings onto the von hagens---but austin (dad von hagen) seems like the type to see marius, like 8yrs or something, curiously staring at the glass of whiskey on his desk and hes like "would you like a taste? it's quite strong though, i must warn you." and marius is like WELL IM STRONG TOO and takes a sip

and goes BLEH BLEGH BLEEEEEEGGGHGHGHGH

for many years, even when studying abroad in italy where theres SO MUCH WINE AROUND, whenever hes offered alcohol hes like

marius does get into moderate drinking (mostly for PAX business and like, social functions etiquette and whatnot) when he returns to stellis though, and as long as it isnt whiskey, hes fine with drinking whatever alcohol

just not whiskey. he has flashbacks of the sheer BLEGH

artem wing: preps for the worst (and he is the worst)

he has his first drink when hes 21 years old. technically, drinking age in Stellis is 18 but artem was REALLY NERVOUS so he made sure to wait for the age where itd be legal anywhere in the world

and he makes it a whole Event of sorts, it's an Ordeal, it's a Serious Undertaking and please, neil, celestine, stop laughing, hes TRYIING TO EXPLAIN!!!

cuz he calls neil and celestine and tells them he needs their help on a certain day and this will all take place in his apartment and whatever happens cannot leave that premises or be told to anybody else.

neil and celestine are stupidly worried cuz he gives no further details until the day itself when artem finally explains whats actually going on

artem: in the future of my career, i can foresee that social functions involving alcohol may happen, so i need to be prepared for it but also ive never had alcohol before. if i get drunk to the point i can no longer remember things, promise you'll take note of my behavior please so i can study it later

neil: JESUS, KID, THATS IT??? I THOUGHT SOMEBODY WAS DYING. OR THAT U KILLED SOMEONE

celestine: I WAS READY TO GO GET A SHOVEL

artem: WHAT KIND OF PERSON DO YOU GUYS THINK I AM??

but yeah neil and celestine think hes overthinking this but then he starts drinking and theyre immediately glad he did call them cuz

one drink and hes gone

and they both have to wrangle him

and take notes bc they DID PROMISE

artem, sliding off of his narrow minimalist couch as he cry-rambles his insecurities: i feel like theres a small child in my mind thats also me and everyday he screams "unloveable! unloveable!"

celestine, taking a seat on the floor and giving artem a sidehug once he finally falls off of the sliver of a couch: there, there, buddy, youre plenty loveable

celestine: //whispering to neil? how many drinks did he have?

neil, in a tone that betrays how weirdly impressed he is: One.

#tears of themis #luke pearce #vyn richter #artem wing #marius von hagen

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cottonkendi · 3 years

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I don’t know if you write character!Reader but if you do can you write one with a Cher Horowitz!reader x Mitsuya Takashi and Shinichiro Sano?

MASTERLIST

Mitsuya Takashi x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff

Warning: None as far as I know~

Synopsis: Desperation clings onto Mitsuya as his feelings become too much for him to control.

a/n: sorry anon, I don’t think I managed to do justice to the Cher Horowitz part since I’m not quite familiar with her, but I hope that this will suffice 😞 also, this was the song that I was listening to that inspired some of the things here. Updates will probably be during Monday and Friday, who knows~

Huffing, you tuck your hair behind your ear, feet shuffling as you try to steady yourself, hands grasping the pole while the train keeps making you almost fall over. “Maybe I shouldn’t have worn my favourite shoes today.” You pout to yourself while staring at your baby pink babydoll heels, your white stockings already stained a bit from someone’s shoes.

Your ears perk up when you hear someone snickering behind you, but before you can even look at what’s happening, someone stands between you and the person sitting behind you. Your eyes widen a bit when you see a guy with silver hair and a pair of headphones glaring at the guy that’s sitting. The silver-haired boy rips the guy’s phones out of his hands and scrolls for a bit before glaring back at the guy.

“Dirty bastard.” You hear him hiss before turning to you.

You almost freeze up, scared that he might glare at you too even though you haven’t done anything to him. But instead, his eyes soften, lips offering a gentle smile to which you return with your own glossed lips. You almost forget that you’re supposed to be hanging onto the rails for dear life unless you want to fall over. Thankfully, Mr. Silver Hair decided to wrap his arm around your waist when you almost do fall over, your head perfectly slots in between his head and shoulders, your nose buried on his neck.

You can smell his gentle scent waft to your nose. You almost close your eyes from the fresh scent.

You like it.

You’ll have to ask your dad to help you find it so you can buy one for yourself.

“Miss, are you okay?” You almost pout when you had to pull away from his embrace, but alas, his voice entrances you. Nodding, you offer him another smile.

“Yep, I’m okay, thank you thank you~”

“That’s good... But uh, I need to show you this. I saw this bastard taking pictures of you while you were standing in front of him.” Showing you the screen of the other guy’s phone, your eyes widen in shock when you see some pictures of your skirt and legs, and some pictures even showed your inner thighs.

Once you’re done looking, you can’t help but raise your brow at the guy who’s now shamefully looking at his feet, fingers twiddly. You gently take the phone from Mr. Silver Hair and used it to raise the guy’s face so that he’d look at you.

With his eyes looking at you, you show him the phone. “I know that I look good in this outfit, sir, but you didn’t have to secretly take photos of me without my permission. I’m willing to get my picture taken if you had only asked nicely.” Huffing, you start deleting the pictures, making sure that there’s nothing left. Handing the phone back, you offer a smile before taking a spray bottle in your purse and spraying some alcohol on your hands.

Turning to Mr. Silver Hair, you offer the alcohol. The male, in disbelief as to how you handled the situation, just offered his hands and watched as you sprayed some alcohol on his hands before putting the spray bottle back in your purse. “Thank you for that, my name is L/N Y/N, by the way.”

Taken aback, the male in front of you stutters for a bit before offering his name as well. You notice how one of his eyebrows is shaved in the middle, it’s not really your style but it fits him. You also see a bit of his earring, a thick black ring with a silver cross. It’s cute.

“Mitsuya Takashi.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Mitsuya Takashi-”

The train announcement cuts you off, the speaker announcing that your stop will be in 5 minutes.

“Sorry about that, but I was going to ask, are you free today? Would you want to get coffee or some sweets as a thank you?” You offer, glittering eyes staring right at Mitsuya who can’t help but agree to your offer. Your sweet voice is a little too alluring for him to actually decline, even when he was planning on buying some groceries.

A few minutes with you won’t be so bad, right?

So, with your sweet smile easing his worries, he lets you drag him out of the train station and into the bustling mall district, weaving in and out of crowds as you finally stop in front of a fancy looking café, the elegant design makes Mitsuya gulp when the two of you sit on the plush chairs, a waiter quickly making their way to your table. “Order whatever you want, it’s my treat~” Your sweet voice rings in his ears as he watches you busy yourself with looking through the menu, cheeks puffing out when you smile at something that you must have liked.

One look at the menu and it has Mitsuya’s heart dropping. The prices have an extra zero at the end and he doesn’t think that he has even seen coffee this expensive before. He’s about to say that maybe coffee is a bit too much but when you notice his hesitation, you quickly swoop in.

“Oh? You’re not sure what to get?” Setting your own menu down, you point your perfectly manicured finger on a normal looking cup of coffee photo on the menu. “This one’s really good, it’s a rose coffee and the aroma is really enticing. It also goes well with this shortcake, we can share it if you want? I was planning to get that shortcake anyway.”

Again, your sweet smile emerges, eyes disappearing as you slightly tilt your head to the side. It almost makes Mitsuya lose his mind at how easy-going you are. It puts him in a complete tornado of confusion when he absentmindedly nods at your words.

He stays quiet when you order for the both of you. “So, Mitsuya, I hope I didn’t hinder your plans for the day?” You giggle, eyes twinkling.

Shaking his head, Mitsuya can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at the way you’re looking at him. He feels a little underdressed in the café, especially compared to your perfectly cute skirt and white puffed up blouse, but your eyes are looking at him with so much shine and interest that it feels like he’s the only one in the room right now. It’s a little overwhelming.

“Oh, no no, I was just about to get groceries.” He answers, an awkward chuckle leaving his lips as he watches your mouth form an ‘o’.

“Groceries? Mind if I tag along after? I love grocery shopping but my dad hasn’t been able to take me in a while since he’s so busy.”

The question is a little surprising, not really expecting for you to ask to tag along to his grocery shopping but he agrees. “I mean, I guess. It’s nothing too exciting, really.”

“Nonsense~”

Your drinks and cake arrive, the waiter carefully placing the treats in front of the two of you before bowing. “I really like your hair, it’s such a nice colour. And your earring is cute too.” You point out before starting to eat the cake, offering him his own fork so that he can taste the sweets.

“Your skirt is really nice too, it’s from overseas, right?” Your eyes light up when he points out your skirt, heart thumping from joy when he points out the designer that made it.

Noticing your shining eyes, he almost blushes when you gush at him. “Oh my~ I didn’t know you were into fashion. It explains why you dress better than most of the boys I encountered.” Your words fluster Mitsuya but he only waves it off as best as he can.

“It’s nothing, I just really like sewing.” Again, he watches as your eyes widen, eyes shining more, if that was even possible, as you stare at him with admiration in your eyes. The way you’re looking at him is making his heart thump even faster in his chest. It’s an unfamiliar feeling but he’s not quite bothered by it. He quite likes it.

He likes the way you look at him.

Loves the way your eyes are shining so bright with lips upturned into a smile that he’s sure he’ll remember for the rest of his days.

For a split second, Mitsuya’s eyes widen, shocked at the way his thoughts are being plagued by you and only you even if you had just literally met each other. It’s a little alarming but he forces himself out of his thoughts. He can contemplate on this later when he gets home.

Smiling at your excitement, he takes out his phone and shows you some of the clothes that he made while at school. “Here’s some of the clothes that I finished. It’s nothing much but it’s fun.”

The way you’re enthusiastically looking through the pictures of his works and designs, compliments leaving your lips a mile a minute is too much for Mitsuya. He has never felt this seen and admired before. All he knew was Toman, gang fights and motorcycles and his sisters. He barely has time for his passion but the way you’re so innocently endeared by his works is making his chest puff out in pride.

Handing his phone back, your words give him butterflies. “Do you think I can be your model?” You’re clearly joking but he can’t help but consider it.

One look at you and he knows that you’ll look beautiful in whatever you wear.

“Okay, I just need to look for this specific brand ‘cause my sisters don’t like the taste of other chocolate milk.” Mitsuya explains to you as you lean on the shopping cart. It’s been an hour since the two of you started shopping for his groceries. At first, he had been very embarrassed and had asked over and over if you were fine with accompanying him, but then you had waved off his concern and reminded him that you were the one who offered in the first place.

After that, the two of you had conversed about your lives, telling him about how your father mostly leaves you at home since he’s so busy with work and you’d have to take care of him and remind him to take breaks. You also told him stories about your failed cooking adventures.

In exchange to that, he told you stories about his time in Toman and his little sisters.

Throughout his stories, he noticed the way you always listened carefully to each of his words, humming here and there and asking questions about Toman and his sisters. “You have a bike?”

“Yeah, I got it a few years ago. You wanna try it?”

You smile at the offer, excited at the thought of riding a bike even when you have not even touched one in your life, but still, you agreed. Your mind telling you to spend more time with the gentle boy who’s lavender eyes reminds you of your perfect perfume that you use everyday.

He’s the type of person that you want to spend your every day with. It’s weird.

You don’t even know much about him. Just know that he has sisters who he loves to death and that he and his friends are in a gang together. You just know that he’s passionate about fashion and that he dreams about being a designer in the future.

In only a few hours, he has piqued your interest.

His story is already engraved in your head.

“So, let’s go?” His words bring you out of your thoughts, a gentle smile on his face as he guides you out of the store.

You’re about to agree, excited at the thought of riding his bike but then, you feel your phone vibrate in your purse. Taking it out, you pout when you see your dad’s text saying that he’ll be picking you up. “Aww, it seems we’ll have to postpone the bike ride. Dad said he’ll pick me up.”

Offering an apologetic smile, you don’t notice the way Mitsuya’s smile drops a little. “It’s fine. This, uhm, this hangout? Date? What am I supposed to call it?” Mitsuya stumbles on his words, unsure of what he’s supposed to call this when he had just met you a few hours ago, but the way the both of you had connected and learned about each other has made him want to spend more time with you.

His heart had dropped when you said that your dad was going to pick you up, unconsciously, he had wished that you’d be able to spend the rest of the day together, and hopefully, the next days as well.

You chuckle at his words, unaware of the ongoing confusion in the silver-haired male’s head. “Well, if you want, we can exchange numbers so that we can actually go on a proper date together next time.” Offering your phone, you watch as he hesitates for a bit before taking it, his other hand offering you his own phone.

You let out a smile when you see his wallpaper, a picture of two cute girls with Mitsuya in the middle.

“Your sisters look cute. You’re cute too.” You absentmindedly tell him, not noticing the way his ears had turned red from your compliment.

Handing his phone back, you almost jump when your dad pulls up in front of the two of you, a little honk to make sure that you see him. Waving goodbye, you offer one last smile before getting into the passenger seat. You kiss your dad on the cheek before putting on your seat belt, not noticing the way your dad’s eyeing Mitsuya while the silver-haired boy bows at your dad.

“Who’s that?”

“Mitsuya Takashi, a new friend.” You cheerfully answered, excited to tell your dad about your day with the lavender eyed boy.

For months, the two of you had remained in contact, going out on little ‘dates’ to which you called it friend dates. Oblivious at the fact that Mitsuya always winced whenever you said those words.

In those months, you had also met his friends and even sisters. Which is why you’re currently sitting on the couch in his apartment, playing with his sisters as they gush about your outfit of the day while playing with your hair. “Y/N-san, I really like your skirt today, it looks like the skirt of the doll you gave us.” Luna says while her sister raises the doll that you had given them a few weeks ago.

Laughing, you tuck your hair behind your ear as you start brushing their hair, the girls sitting on your lap as you do so. “Well, if you guys like it so much, you should ask your brother to make one for the two of you.” Your words confused them.

Smiling at their adorable expressions, you playfully whisper. “Your brother made this skirt for me.” You send them a wink, loving the way their eyes shone at the mention of their brother.

“Really?! You look like a princess though! Takashi-nii never makes us clothes.” Mana pouts.

Taking their hands in yours, you stand up before starting to dance around the living room. Twirling the girls a little as they giggle. Your long skirt sways, the girls playing with it as you continue to dance with them, unaware at the way Mitsuya’s looking at you from the kitchen while he prepared dinner for the four of you.

“Eh? But you’re more like princesses than I am.” Your words make the two giggle, the little girls twirling around you.

It warms his heart, seeing you so close to his sisters.

It makes the growing feelings in his chest harder to control as he imagines himself with you, he imagines himself being able to hold you close to him, being able to kiss you good morning and good night everyday.

It’s even harder to control those feelings when you always give him your sweet smiles, eyes always looking so eager to see him whenever he picks you up.

It makes him feel desperate.

He’s so desperate to love you now.

So desperate to be able to show you just how much you mean to him.

He just hopes that you’ll let him.

One look at you and he’s so sure that you’re secretly a goddess.

You’re too perfect in his eyes.

It scares him that maybe he’s not deserving of being close to you, much more, being with you.

He’s only a delinquent who managed to pique your interest. If he thought about it, there’s a dime a dozen men out there who you could choose from, but you? You're one of a kind. He doesn’t mind the times wherein you seem to be a little too oblivious when it comes to things, he’s more than willing to help you with that. Just as long he’s finally able to call you his.

Still dancing around the living room, you don’t notice the way Luna and Mana had stopped dancing and were giving each other looks when they noticed their older brother’s smitten look directed at you who had kissed them earlier on the forehead due to their compliments towards the gift that their brother gave you.

For a split second, you make eye contact with Mitsuya who has now stopped preparing dinner and was staring at you with a small smile on his face. A giggle escapes your lips as you offer him a smile as well. The split second interaction leaves Mitsuya a blushing mess, not knowing what to do at being caught staring.

Nodding at each other, Luna went to her brother, tiny hands tugging on him as she pulled him towards the terrace. As for Mana, she had decided to turn on the radio, making sure that a romantic song was playing before pulling you to the terrace as well, opting to give the two of you your alone time. Giving each other an ‘ok’ sign, Luna pushed Mitsuya towards you, your back making contact with his chest.

Looking up, your eyes make contact with him, a smile automatically making its way to your lips as soon as you see him.

“Well hello there, Takashi. Do you want to dance?” Elegantly turning around, your arms wrap around his neck while his hands make their way to your waist. The wind blows your hair to the side as you start dancing on the open terrace of their apartment.

It’s a little awkward at first, with Mitsuya’s hand sweating a little at how close the two of you are even with the night’s crisp air blowing. But then, your fingers start playing with his hair, nails trailing down his nape which makes him shudder.

He feels it, the way his heart is thumping like crazy.

He needs to confess now.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t tell you his feelings now.

He can just feel how his heart is about to jump out of his chest at the way you’re looking up at him, eyes dazzling, it looks like you had the universe in your eyes. The stars twinkling in your beautiful orbs.

“I like you.”

His eyes widened. Shocked at his own words.

He’s about to let go of you but your arms remain around his neck, his favourite smile occupying your lips. “I like you too, Takashi~”

“No, no. Like. I like you a lot. More than a friend. I like you so much.” Staring at your eyes, he can see the slight confusion in them.

Heaving in a deep breath, he slows to a stop from your little dance. His hands make their way to your face as he caresses your cheeks.

“I like you a lot. I love it whenever you look at me with those shining eyes of yours, you look so perfect to me. It looks like you have the universe trapped in your eyes and I don’t know what loving me can give you when you already have everything but I’m so desperate to love you. I want to show you just how much I love you and it hurts me everytime you call me your friend. I just want to be able to kiss you and hug you without feeling like I don’t have the right to do so. I just want to make you feel how much I love you ‘cause it feels like I have a lifetime’s worth of love for you and I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

His chest fills with warmth when your hands make contact with his cheeks, thumb caressing the skin of his cheek as you speak.

“I didn’t know you were so poetic, Takashi.” You giggle, eyeing the way he nervously looks at you. You can feel the way his fingers play with your hair. Can see the way he’s subtly glancing at your lips.

All your life, you’d been ignorant to the way the world lives around you, but today, it feels as if you can see every twitch that Mitsuya’s body produces, can see every small detail on him as sweat starts to build up on his temple.

You’re about to reply, seeing the way he’s starting to get nervous at your silence, but then, a sudden heavy pour appears, the water droplets making contact with your bodies as you gasp. The cold water makes you shiver a little but the way Mitsuya’s wrapping his arms around you makes you giggle as you thought of an idea.

“Then, will you dance with me?”

Your hair sticks to your neck as the rain continues to pour but the way Mitsuya’s worried expression melts into relief brings warmth to your chest.

Taking your hand in his, he drapes your arms over his neck while his wraps around your waist.

In an easy sway, he leads the two of you, his forehead resting against yours. Eyes closed in relief. Taking this as your chance, you press your lips against his, a smile forming on your lips when you feel the way Mitsuya melts into the kiss.

“I like you too, Takashi. I like you a lot.”

#mitsuya takashi #tokyo revengers #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #mitsuya takashi fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #mitsuya imagines #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #mitsuya scenarios #mitsuya x reader #tokyorev #tokrev #tokyorev x reader #candy: unbranded

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

🍊🍋Wen Chao and/or wen xu is a good guy and actually wants to end wen ruo jan's reign of terror (cloud recesses, lotus pier, xuanwu cave or all are elaborate ruses)

ao3

Untamed

“A-Chao,” Wen Xu said. “I think our father is insane.”

Wen Chao’s eye twitched visibly, his shoulders rising up to his ears. “You can’t say that! That’s treason!”

“I’ve already made sure there’s no one anywhere around us right now, not even people I trust.”

Down went the shoulders.

“Of course he’s insane,” Wen Chao said. “Some of his orders recently…”

He shook his head.

“Not much of an empire to rule if they’re all ghost puppets, is there?” he concluded. “I think the Yin Metal is poisoning his brain.”

“I agree,” Wen Xu said. “Now what do we do about it? He’s just ordered me to raze the Cloud Recesses.”

“…when you say raze –”

“To the ground.”

“What happened to just dominating the rest of the cultivation world?” Wen Chao complained. “I liked that plan. I was going to have a really great life. A palace. Servants. Good food. Even better wine. Enough clothing to keep Jiaojiao from complaining.”

“I…don’t know if that’s possible,” Wen Xu said. “Haven’t you given her three closets’ worth already?”

“I have no idea, and I’m too attached to my balls to ask.”

“Anyway,” Wen Xu said. “What do we do about it?”

“You’re asking me?” Wen Chao said.

“Well I’m certainly not going up against him by myself! He’ll kill me!”

“You think he would hesitate to kill both of us?”

“Ugh. Is there anyone we can ask for help? Anyone we haven’t pissed off?”

They both paused, thinking.

“…no,” Wen Chao said. “But in our defense, we never thought we’d need any of them, did we?”

“I don’t think anyone is going to buy that as an excuse,” Wen Xu said, scowling. “Fuck. Isn’t there anyone?”

“Well,” Wen Chao said. He did not continue.

“No,” Wen Xu said. “No. He literally wants to cut off our heads.”

“So does everyone else in the cultivation world,” Wen Chao said. “At least we know Sect Leader Nie hates Dad more than he hates us, which isn’t something that can be said about the rest of them.”

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “What’s our alternative plan?”

“…become ghost puppets?”

“Fuck.”

“You do remember that I want to kill you both?” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at them.

“We were betting on you wanting to kill our father more,” Wen Chao said.

“I’m not sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “You’re very obnoxious.”

Wen Chao scowled.

“He has a point, A-Chao,” Wen Xu said.

“Shut up.”

“Respect your elders!”

“If you two are going to start fighting, I’m leaving,” Nie Mingjue said.

They both squinted at him. “Does that mean you might not leave if we stop?” Wen Xu asked.

Nie Mingjue’s scowl got even worse, but eventually he begrudgingly said “…well, I really hate your father.”

They both exhaled in relief.

“What’s your plan?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“This was about as far as it went,” Wen Xu admitted, and Nie Mingjue gaped at him. “What? If we had planning skills, we’d be ruling the world.”

“Jiaojiao wants jewelry now,” Wen Chao agreed. “Lots of it. Keeping a mistress is expensive.”

“I’ll…take your word for that,” Nie Mingjue said, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“You’re always plotting against our father, right?” Wen Xu asked.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. “If I could plot, your father would already be dead.”

“Good point,” Wen Chao said, but he wasn’t the sort of person to let little details like that discourage him. “But surely you know someone who can?”

“Just keep in mind that I’m on a deadline here,” Wen Xu said. “I have to leave to go raze the Cloud Recesses by the end of the week.”

“You want me to come up with a plan to defeat your father before the end of the week?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Wen Xu said. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Wen Chao agreed.

“I’m going to go get Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue decided. “And Huaisang, too, why not, somehow he always gets his way no matter what I do. Maybe he can come up with something for this.”

“I think we’re going to need expert assistance,” Nie Huaisang declared. “I’m thinking this is Wei Wuxian levels of plotting.”

“He can plot?” Wen Chao said dubiously. “Are you sure? He took nearly a week to fight a mildly ominous bird.”

“…is that so?” Nie Huaisang said, and sighed. “Okay, fine. Meng Yao, guess it’s up to you and me.”

Meng Yao was blinking his eyes very rapidly.

“What?” Wen Chao said. “You have an awful father too, don’t look so shocked about us wanting to get rid of ours.”

“That’s just how his brain works when he’s thinking,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “He’s kicking it like it’s a sleeping donkey that doesn’t want to get to work; give him a minute and he’ll be coming up with all sorts of ideas.”

“Good ideas?”

“All sorts of ideas.”

“…any good ideas? Mediocre ideas, even?”

“Listen, we have until the end of the week,” Nie Mingjue said irritably. “You’ll take whatever ideas we give you and you’ll like it, you hear me?”

“Is it too late to get Wen Zhuliu in on this?” Wen Xu asked Wen Chao.

“He has that weird thing for Dad,” Wen Chao reminded him.

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “I’d wiped that from my memory through the application of a great deal of alcohol, but yes, you’re right. Okay. Hit me with your worst plan.”

“That’s worse than I thought it was going to be.”

“Shut up and just do it.”

“I will now, in the name of the Wen sect, attack –” Wen Xu grimaced. “– this cave.”

“It’s a very important cave, actually,” one of the Lan disciples muttered.

“Be quiet,” Lan Wangji said.

They were all pretending not to notice the main force of Lan sect disciples, led by Lan Xichen, carting their precious books and treasures out of the Cloud Recesses right behind him.

“I am attacking this very important cave,” Wen Xu clarified. “Of extreme importance to the Lan sect. So important, in fact, that it is clearly the correct target for an invasion.”

They stood around a while longer.

Someone cleared their throat. “Should we fight?”

“I can have my men beat you up if you really want,” Wen Xu said.

“…no thanks.”

“Then be quiet.”

There was a bit more standing around. Eventually Lan Qiren coughed.

“Would you like a chair or something?” Wen Xu asked, then frowned. “Never mind, I probably can’t justify that.”

“Probably not,” Lan Qiren agreed. He looked pained. Probably by the whole situation, but who knew, maybe he just had a bad back and the standing around was getting to him. “You will be taking Wangji hostage after this?”

“Along with most of the heirs of the Great Sects,” Wen Xu said. “As agreed, we’ll keep them out of the way.”

“Sometimes the most dangerous place is the safest place.”

“…yeah, that. Either way, they’ll be kept out of trouble.”

“This is not out of trouble!” Wei Wuxian shouted as they ran away from the Xuanwu.

“This stretch of river has never caused anyone any problems!” Wen Chao shouted back. “Ever! You’re the one who found the fucking cave!”

“Shut up and keep running!” Jiang Cheng howled.

“I really like your hair,” Wang Lingjiao told Madame Yu. “Also, that dress.”

Wen Chao sighed.

“Expensive tastes?” Wei Wuxian asked, pouring him some wine.

“You have no idea,” Wen Chao said glumly. “My allowance can’t cover it, so I ended up putting her as a line item in the military budget.”

“You did?” Jiang Cheng said. “Did your father, uh, object?”

“He’d have to notice.”

“I wonder how many other things he wouldn’t notice,” Wei Wuxian muttered to himself.

“You’re a young master of Yunmeng Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “What could you possibly want to fund that we won’t pay for?”

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said. “Mad science experiments?”

“Can you pay him to stop?” Wen Xu asked. “I don’t even like flute music.”

“Shut up,” Wen Chao said. “You’ve been decapitated, remember?”

“Oh yeah, ‘decapitated’. And now I’m being force-fed lots of Qinghe barbeque,” Wen Xu said. “My life is really hard.”

“Why you…!”

Wen Xu sniggered. “How’s it going with Wen Zhuliu?”

“Fine, I think?” Wen Chao said. “He hasn’t actually noticed that the ‘demons’ we’re being hunted by aren’t really demons, but that’s because he’s been mostly drinking away his weird crush on our dad. I think Wen Ning is spiking his drink with something.”

They both turned to look at Wen Ning, who shrugged.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Wen Xu decided. “Are they attacking the Nightless City soon?”

“I think so.”

“What happens then?”

“Dunno.”

“Going to be kind of awkward when we ‘come back from the dead’ to take over.”

“I’m going to blame it on Wei Wuxian and his new weirdo cultivation,” Wen Chao decided. “We’re all sentient corpses he’s resurrected and using to puppet the Wen sect. Wen Ning, you in on this?”

“…sure,” Wen Ning said. “But only if I get first rights on ‘Ghost General’ as a nickname.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

“Thanks for the patricide,” Wen Xu said.

“Think nothing of it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Also, say nothing of it. Ever. In fact, let’s never talk again.”

“Can’t do that,” Wen Chao said. “Madame Yu told Jiaojiao that she got that fancy headpiece from Qinghe, so she wants to go there on a shopping trip.”

“Our economy could use the boost, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and Nie Mingjue sighed. “It’s going to be a really big boost. Especially if she convinces Madame Jin from Lanling to come with her.”

“I still can’t believe they made friends,” Wei Wuxian marveled. “It must come from having more money than brains.”

“Brains aren’t exactly what I look for in a partner,” Wen Chao said. “Luckily for you, neither does your boyfriend.”

“Hey, I have brains!”

“You’re certainly intelligent,” Meng Yao – now named Jin Guangyao – told him.

“See?”

“That was an insult,” Nie Mingjue said.

“…hey!”

“When are you coming back to Qinghe?” Nie Huaisang asked Jin Guangyao, who blinked. “I mean, unless you want to spend all your time slaving away for a guy who thought Wen Ruohan was neat.”

“He’s right,” Wen Xu said. “Father or not, don’t do it. It’s not worth it. You’ll end up having to rebel and ask your worst enemies for help and it’s awkward.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Jin Guangyao said. “But I really can’t accept.”

“Why not?” Nie Huaisang asked.

Wen Chao pointed at him. “Seconded.”

Jin Guangyao grimaced at them both. Possibly it was meant to be a smile.

“You don’t have to go to the Unclean Realm, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said.

“Thank you, er-ge.”

“You can come to the Cloud Recesses instead.”

“Er-ge…”

“Did anyone ever tell the Jin sect that we were working with the Wen heirs?” Nie Mingjue wondered out loud, and everyone frowned. “Because if they don’t know, and Jin Guangshan thinks he’s being subtle with the whole trying to hire Xue Yang thing, things are going to get really awkward.”

“…well, shit,” Jiang Cheng said. “I call not being the one to tell him.”

“Seconded!”

“Cloud Recesses, you said?” Jin Guangyao asked Lan Xichen, who looked pleased.

“I’m leaving,” Wen Xu decided. “I want nothing to do with this disaster. You all have fun now, I’m fucking off back to the Nightless City to live the rest of my life as a very rich man with no life goals.”

“I want to do that,” Nie Huaisang said.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said.

“But –”

“No.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian said. “Unrelatedly, anyone have any ideas on what should I do with the whole resentful energy seal thing now?”

“I don’t know,” Wen Chao said. “Play a giant game of keep away with it and then fake your own death?”

#mdzs #wen xu #wen chao #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #wei wuxian #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #mutiny at the wen sect #Anonymous

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hellimagines · 4 years

Text

Collateral -- JJ Maybank (Part One)

Masterlist

Summary: JJ’s stunt with Barry bites him in the ass when the angry drug dealer kidnaps you and decides you’re JJ’s collateral for the stolen money.

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, angst, mentions of child abuse and drug use

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!Routledge!reader

Word Count: 4,800+

A/N: I started writing this after binge-watching Outer Banks, and before I knew what was happening, I had written 20 pages of this and hadn’t even gotten to the climax… So, this has clearly been broken up into parts. I have part two already finished, and I’m almost finished with part three, but I’m not uploading them tonight because I want this to see the light of day first, and gain some love before I do anything. Please let me know what you guys think of this! I know there isn’t a lot of mushy-feely stuff in this chapter, and it’s mainly angst but, I had so much fun writing this, so please give it a chance and tell me what you think. Also, it’s canon divergent because I tweaked the DCS storyline and everything after John B. finds the first gold bar.

Your shift at The Wreck had been a long and strenuous one, more so than usual, because Kie hadn’t shown up for her night shift which left you to pull a double and cover for her. In your opinion, the nighttime customers were always worse than the morning customers since they typically consisted of kooks and tourons who expected the best of the best and nothing less. You had a short fuse, similar to your boyfriend, and would often get snippy with customers who complained about trivial things: their drinks having too much ice, their salad too much dressing, or their Chef’s Board not enough cheese or the wrong kind of cheese. Kie’s dad kept you on morning and afternoon shifts as much as possible due to the locals of The Cut coming to the cafe during those times, and your ability to make them feel at home while they ate their toast and sipped their coffee. So, having to work a night shift unexpectedly without a break from your morning shift left you feeling exhausted and detached from the world.

As peeved as you were with Kie for pulling a no-call-no-show, you were more worried than anything; especially when you noticed JJ wasn’t waiting outside to walk home with you like he normally was. You hadn’t heard from any of the other pogues since yesterday, when you had to go to work and they went over to Crain Mansion in search of the gold. You would’ve gone with them, but you couldn’t risk missing another day of work and possibly being fired. After your shift yesterday (and noticing the lack of blond curls outside the cafe), you had headed home with the plan to meet up with your friends and learn of any new updates--but, when you arrived, nobody was there. You waited around for the rest of the day, but when 10 o’clock rolled around and nobody had shown, you retreated to your bedroom and fell asleep. When you had woken up around 5 a.m to get ready for your shift at work, you were relieved to find JJ curled around you fast asleep, and your brother, Sarah, Kie, and Pope passed out together on the futon in the living room. They had a pot cradled between the four of them, but you thought nothing of it as you got ready for work. You left behind a note, asking them to stop by The Wreck when they woke up to fill you in on whatever you had missed, but they had never shown up.

Now, as you locked up The Wreck at the end of your 10 o’clock shift and waved to the cooks and other wait staff as you all parted ways, your worry only increased. The Cut was warm and humid as you made your way toward the chateau, forcing you to shed your work shirt in favor of the tanktop laying beneath. Your hair was pulled into a high-pony, and while it had been sleek and put together at 6 o’clock this morning, you now had frizzed strands falling into your face and the bottom of your hair was sticky from an exploded champagne bottle earlier that night. Your feet ached and your hips felt unbalanced from the constant speed-walking and maneuvering around tables and patrons, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse against JJ in your room and sleep for a solid 12 hours straight. Before you could do that, though, you had to continue your thirty-minute walk to said paradise and make sure everyone was okay.

As you left the hustle and bustle surrounding The Wreck and the docks, and ventured further into The Cut, you felt the tension beginning to ease out of your body at the familiar surroundings. As much as you loved The Wreck, you were not a fan of the kooks and tourons that migrated there throughout the night, bothering you during and after your shifts. As expected, the night held the worst of the batch, with alcohol and other drugs filtering their systems and giving them loose tongues and firm hands. Even though you could handle yourself and those who tried making a move on you, you never felt at ease or safe while leaving The Wreck; unless JJ or your friends were with you and you didn’t have to check over your shoulder every few feet. Crossing the imaginary threshold between The Wreck and The Cut always eased your mind, allowing you to slow your steps and cease checking your shoulder. This was also primarily because on The Cut, people knew who you were--not only as a waitress, a pogue, or (Y/N) Routledge, but as ‘JJ Maybank’s girl’. It pissed you off to no-end that people referred to you as ‘JJ’s girl’ more than your own name and you’d often chew people out on it, but you couldn’t deny the protection (and love and warmth and all-things-JJ) it gave you. You and JJ had been dating for two years, and while you loved him more than life and he loved you more than surfing, you often wished you could be seen as your own person: as (Y/N). Regardless of your annoyance at being solely known as JJ’s girl, as you walked the barely-lit streets of The Cut in nothing but a tank top and shorts, you were appreciative of your unofficial title. Very few people were walking around this late at night, but those who were offered you a simple nod or kept their eyes trained on the ground as you passed by, a complete contrast to the tourons near The Wreck. You expected this to continue until you reached your house, no longer looking over your shoulder for an unwanted kook or a touron that didn’t know the rules.

You turned another corner, now only fifteen minutes away from home, and rolled your shoulders to try and release some of the built-up tension you gained from your shift as you walked. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting your muscles relax and a gentle breeze from the ocean to cloud your senses. Just as you were about to open your eyes and continue forward, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. Your eyes shot open and your body turned but before you could see who it was, you felt the barrel of a gun press against your lower back. The metal was cold against your tank top as it dug into you, the owner’s hand coming up to grab your shoulder and keep you from moving away.

“Maybank shouldn’t be leaving his things unattended, especially ones as pretty as you,” a voice muttered into your ear, jabbing the gun harshly into your spine. You froze, trying to place the voice to a face as you heard a vehicle approach and stop beside you.

“I’m not a thing, actually,” you retorted, keeping the fear out of your voice as the man behind you jerked you forward toward the black SUV. The backdoor swung open, but you couldn’t see who was driving it or if there was anyone else waiting for you inside. “What do you want? JJ isn’t his dad, whatever Luke’s done to piss you off is his own problem, not ours.”

The man laughed sharply in your ear as he shoved you forward, causing you to drop your shirt and tumble off the sidewalk, and your torso to fall into the backseat. You yelled out when the man grabbed your legs and pushed your body into the car, your body bending painfully as he slid in beside you. The door slammed shut and the man backed you into the corner of the SUV, caging your body against the door. Your hand shot down to the door handle, yanking on it to open the door and let you fall out, but it didn’t budge.

“Child lock, snowball. You’re not going anywhere.”

You looked up, finally able to see the man’s face as he grinned down at you. His grill shined each time the SUV passed under a streetlight and the black hair dangling in his face tickled your nose from how close he was. Instantly, you brought your foot up and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him away from you as you struggled to sit up.

“What the fuck do you want, Barry?” you snapped while the dealer across from you laughed loudly and held onto his stomach.

He smirked at you, “I forgot how much of a kicker you were, snowball.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been tryin’ to sell blow to fucking 8th graders,” you shot back, glaring at him. “Now tell me what the fuck you want.”

He raised his hands in surrender, the smirk never falling from his face. “I want my fucking money back. You little shits stole 25k from my goddamn house.”

“What the fuck are you on about? The last time I went to your shithole was a year ago to buy an 8ball,” you scoffed.

“And while I do miss the revenue you brought me during your time as a cokehead, I’m not talking about you, snowball. Your boy, your brother, your brother’s new whore, the ex-kook, and Heyward’s son stole from me. I know you’re too smart and levelheaded to pull a stunt like that, and the ex-kook and her boyfriend have too much going for them to fuck it up by crossing me. This means it was either your boy or your brother,” Barry explained, his jaw tight with anger as he spoke.

“First of all, Kie and Pope have names. Second of all, they’re not dating. Third of all, what makes you think it wasn’t Sarah? From what I’ve heard, the Cameron’s have a history of robbing you blind.”

“Because my sister is too much of a pansy to pull a stunt like this, and she doesn’t even know who the fuck Barry is.” Your head shot up at the new voice, and you made eye contact with Rafe in the rearview mirror. “You dirty pogues have corrupted my sister.”

“I see someone’s been bitched,” you chuckled with a roll of your eyes. Rafe’s foot slammed on the break and caused you to slam into the back of the passenger seat with an oomph. He turned around, his arm already raised to throw a punch, when Barry grabbed it first.

“Chill the fuck out, Country Club. Can’t go beaten on her just yet. Now hurry the fuck up and get us to the hanger.” Rafe’s nostrils flared at Barry’s demand, and after a moment of his fist flexing in Barry’s hold, Rafe relented. He jerked his arm back and continued driving in silence. “Don’t piss off the driver, snowball,” Barry tsked, waving his finger in your face.

“Look, why would JJ or Birdie steal 25 thousand dollars from you? You know how much JJ despises you and your business because of what it’s done to his dad and the hole I fell into last year, and my brother doesn’t even know who the hell you are. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Barry chuckled, “I see they’ve kept you in the dark. Did they tell you about the gold they found? That they tried pawning off to me this morning?” At the frown on your face and your furrowed brows, Barry laughed even harder. “Oh yeah, they brought in a seven-pound chunk of gold to the shop this morning. Offered ‘em a cashier’s check worth a couple thousand, but your boy is quite the negotiator. So, I sent them to the warehouse for the cash they wanted.”

“And let me take a wild-fucking-guess: on their way, you jumped them, stole the gold, and left them with nothing but dirt under their nails?”

Barry grinned at your words, his tongue sliding over his grill as he laughed. “See, this is why they should’ve brought you along! Would’ve saved them from all the trouble they’ve gotten themselves into.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well fuck, no wonder they stole from you. You stole from them first, Barry. An eye for a fucking eye, it’s the way of the jungle ‘round here. It’s the only damn law you follow.”

“You’re right, it is the only law I follow. Which is why you’re here, snowball. You see, before I could complete my task, they jumped me and stole my wallet and the gold. You’re smart, I bet you’re starting to see the problem now. No gold, no wallet, no 25k,” Barry seethed, the smirk falling from his face as he leaned forward, pushing you back into the corner of the seat. “JJ Maybank stole from me, plain as day. If I had seven pounds of gold in my hand it would be different, I wouldn’t be as pissed. But, you see, I don’t. So, as you said, it’s an eye for an eye. And what better to steal from JJ Maybank, than the only thing he cares about? The only thing he owns?”

“He doesn’t own me, so jot that down.”

Barry threw his head back and laughed loudly, shooting an unnerving feeling down your spine. Rafe laughed along, though anyone could tell it was forced as his eyes darted from the mirror to the road. “This entire goddamn island knows that he owns you, snowball, and you damn well know it too. Which means until I get my money back, you’re my collateral.”

The bruises decorating JJ’s torso ached with each step he took, but he had to keep moving toward the chateau: he had to prove to the others that he was good. He had to prove that he could do the right thing with the money he stole. Even if his dad couldn’t do the right thing, and wouldn’t let him back in the house without another beating, JJ could do the right thing and be good. Even if he stole the money it didn’t matter, because Barry stole his life, and Barry didn’t deserve the money, and Barry wasn’t good. The money would pay off his restitution, and you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and Pope wouldn’t have to feel guilty or worry about it anymore, either. Nobody would have to worry about him anymore, and it would all be good.

But as JJ limped up the chateau’s steps, repeating to himself that, ‘it was all good, he was good, and everything would be good,’ he wasn’t expecting for the screen door to slam open and for John B. to body slam him into the ground. The blue thermos shot from his grip as he was flung down the stairs, and JJ couldn’t bite back his scream of pain when his already-aching body slammed into the dirt. He didn’t get a second to gather his bearings before John B. was pummeling his fists into his stomach and his arms and his face and anywhere else he could land a hit. JJ couldn’t even lift his legs to fight off his best friend from beating on his twice-battered body.

“This all your fault!” John B. screamed, his face an angry red as tears and spit rained down onto JJ. “He took her because of you!” He ceased his punches only to wrap his hands around JJ’s throat, squeezing and pressing down in an attempt to strangle the life out of his best friend.

Faintly, JJ could hear Pope, Kie, and Sarah screaming, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His entire body felt cold but his head felt hot, and the buzzing in his ears was growing louder and louder until it was all he could hear. He could see John B.’s face above him, his lips moving as he screamed and sobbed, and JJ could see his own blood splattered on his best friend’s jaw and shirt. Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes, moving inward until he could only see the murderous rage filling John B.’s eyes. Just as the darkness settled over him, he felt John B.’s weight lift off of him and air came rushing back into his lungs. For a few seconds, all JJ could do was choke on the air whilst his body convulsed, and someone rolled him onto his side in a desperate hurry.

“-eathe, breathe JJ, come on.” Someone was talking to him, rubbing their hand up and down his back as he continued to shake. He still couldn’t see anything and he couldn’t tell who was talking to him and rubbing his back and all he really wanted to do was blackout for a bit. A harsh slap against the center of his back had other plans, causing the air to finally force itself into his lungs. JJ began to cough violently, continuing to choke on the air that was now entering his body. He tried pushing himself to his knees as he dry-heaved onto the ground, but his shaking arms and legs were too weak to support him.

Pope was yelling in the background, “Chill the fuck out, JB! You almost killed him!”, his voice bringing JJ’s senses back to where they belonged.

“He fucking deserves it! He’s the reason she’s gone!” John B. yelled back, his voice deeper than JJ could remember. JJ blinked a few times, trying to focus on the bloody grass in front of him while his two friends continued fighting in the distance.

“Hey, just keep breathing,” the person helping him - who JJ now recognized as Kie - soothed, pulling his sweaty hair out of his face as more blood dribbled from his lips. She was upset, JJ could tell by the way her hands were shaking and the sound of wet sniffles every few seconds. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, who John B. was talking about, but all that came out was a harsh wheeze from his burning lungs and even more blood. “Don’t- don’t say anything. Please, JJ, just… just breathe for a few minutes,” Kie whimpered before a sob slipped from her lips.

He did as she asked and allowed his eyes to close, his body sinking into the ground as he focused on regulating his breathing. After a few minutes, JJ could hear John B. storm inside the chateau, kicking JJ’s crumpled body on his way up the stairs.

“John B., stop it!” Sarah yelled as she followed him inside.

Pope came and knelt in front of JJ, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help him sit up. “You fucked up, JJ, worse than I ever thought possible,” Pope sighed as he adjusted JJ against the railing.

“What-” JJ broke off to cough into his fist, ignoring the blood that splattered across his hand, “what happened?” His voice was hoarse and barely understandable, but Kie and Pope knew what he was saying.

“You stole twenty-five-thousand dollars from a drug dealer. One of the most nefarious drug dealers on this island, that’s what happened,” Kie said, standing up and pacing in front of the blond. “What did you think was gonna happen, JJ? That he’d let it go?”

“What did he take? The HMS Pogue?” JJ rasped, looking up at his friends in confusion. “(Y/N)’ll be pissed, but we can get it back, or I’ll buy her and John B. a new one with the money.” His thoughts didn’t make sense inside of his pounding head, but he still voiced them regardless.

“How are you so stupid?” Pope yelled, causing JJ to flinch as the other to shot to his feet. “Why would John B. try to kill you over a boat? Don’t you think (Y/N) would be out here yelling at you, too?”

“My girl doesn’t yell, you know that, Pope,” JJ shook his head. “She’s got work and the boat- the boat is all they’ve got left of Big John,” JJ said, coughing a few times. His head was foggy and his vision was still blurry, so he couldn’t see the mentioned boat sitting on the dock to his left.

“No, JJ,” Kie sighed, “Barry didn’t take the HMS. He took (Y/N). He left a note on the van--he wants his money back, plus the gold, and an extra 5k in exchange for (Y/N). He’ll be back in a week to make the trade.”

“He didn’t say what he’d do to her if we don’t give him what he wants but… it’s not something that needs to be said,” Pope whispered as he carefully watched for JJ’s reaction.

A cold chill fell over JJ, causing him to shiver violently despite the warm temperature outside. “You’re lying,” he spat, forcing himself to his feet. Pope and Kie backed up, steering clear of his sudden burst of energy. “You’re fucking lying, she’s not- she’s not gone, he didn’t lay a fucking finger on her. Barry knows better. You just… you just want me to return the money, that’s it, she’s fine, she’s inside right now, she’s-”

“JJ, stop, please,” Kie cried as JJ spun around, tripping over himself in his haste to run up the stairs. Pope grabbed ahold of him before he could make it very far, pulling him away from the house and John B.’s anger. JJ flailed in his grasp, but he was too weak from the lack of oxygen and two beatings his body had just endured, to fight Pope off.

“She’s fine!” he screamed, not noticing the tears that were falling from his eyes. “I told her I would protect her, I promised nobody would ever lay a finger on her! She’s inside, and she’s fine--Barry didn’t fucking touch my girl, you’re lying,” he sobbed, straining against Pope’s hold on his biceps.

“Why would we lie about this?” Kie yelled back, suddenly overwhelmed with having to watch JJ fall apart like this in front of her. “Why would your best fucking friend try and beat you to death if it wasn’t true? Why would the gold have been included in the letter? Huh JJ? Do you think (Y/N) would have ever gone along with something like this?” she screamed, her voice hoarse from crying as well.

“We’re telling the truth, JJ. She’s gone,” Pope said, holding onto JJ even tighter as his thrashing momentarily increased.

JJ let the words wash over him, the truth of his mistake settling deep in his bones. The guilt, and the grief, and the anger weighed him down, and before he could stop himself, he let out a deep, guttural, inhumane scream of agony. Pope couldn’t hold him up anymore as JJ’s knees gave out, his entire body collapsing to the ground while he screamed. His throat burned more than it had before and he didn’t notice when his voice gave out, leaving him a mess on the floor with spit and blood dribbling from his gaping mouth. Pope cradled JJ to his chest, crying into his best friend’s shoulder while Kie fell beside the two, trying to get JJ to breathe again through her own tears.

Half an hour later, you were pulling up beside a hanger at the very back of a storage facility. You knew kooks used this area to store their boats, planes, cars, and other expensive things when they weren’t intending to be used in the near future--so you weren’t surprised when Rafe got out of the van and opened up the hanger, revealing a vintage boat and a handful of different furniture. With hurricane season already underway, and summer having begun, you knew kooks weren’t going to be visiting the storage facility very often, meaning there wasn’t a high hope that someone would stumble across you.

“Welcome to your new home, snowball,” Barry leered, before opening the backdoor and dragging you out of the SUV. He kept the gun pressed against your waist while leading you into the hanger, leaving Rafe to pull the SUV around the corner. It was cold inside, much colder than you were expecting, and you had to fight to keep a shiver from trickling down your spine. “You and I are gonna be real comfortable in here for the next week, maybe longer if your boy doesn’t come through.”

‘He’ll come through’, you thought to yourself, worry spiking inside of you at the mention of JJ. You looked over your shoulder as Rafe came into the hanger and loudly pulled the door down behind him. “So, what? You’re just going to keep me locked up in here until you get what you want? I have a fucking job, Barry. I’ve already called out enough as it is, pulling a no-call-no-show for an entire week is going to get me fired.”

Barry reeled around to stare at you, an incredulous look on his face. “I’ve just kidnapped you and held you at gunpoint, and you’re worried about your damn job?” he asked, waving the gun in front of your face for emphasis.

“Uh, yeah, no shit. My job is the only reason DCS hasn’t snatched me and my brother into the system. Mr. Carrera has agreed to help us maneuver a few technicalities with DCS--so long as I take on extra shifts when needed, and show the fuck up. Plus, a week’s worth of zero tips means bills won’t be paid and stomachs won’t be fed,” you scoffed, knocking the gun away from your face.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, snowball-”

“Ay, nuh-uh, Country Club. Get your own nickname,” Barry cut in, prompting you to raise your eyebrows.

“But you-”

“Nope. Get your own.”

Rafe paused, glaring down at you in thought, before nodding to himself. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, Maybitch-”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you groaned, pressing your fingers to your forehead in exasperation. ‘It’s got a nice ring to it, though, and JJ would eat it up… Could even get a laugh out of Pope, I bet,’ you couldn’t help but think.

Barry knocked the gun against Rafe’s shoulder, shutting him up with a look of annoyance. “Your boy has gotten himself in a lotta trouble, 25k worth of trouble. So until I get my fucking money, you’re not going anywhere,” Barry simplified.

You pouted in mock disappointment, “Could you at least write a note to my boss?” Barry groaned with a roll of his eyes before he nodded his head at Rafe and directed him toward something you couldn’t see. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, Bear. JJ and the others have probably spent the money already. JJ’s got restitution to pay, Pope has an interview he needs a suit for, Kie’s been wanting a new surfboard, and Birdie’s been wanting to fix up our boat with somethin’ pretty. There’s no way they’d let 25 thousand dollars burn a hole in their pockets.”

Barry chuckled darkly with a shake of his head and turned your body around. He forced you to face the spot he had sent Rafe to, where you saw a metal chair bolted to the ground with Rafe stood beside it. He held a boat chain, a lock, and zip ties in his hands and a wicked grin was cracked along his face. Barry moved your ponytail out of the way so he could lean his chin on your shoulder, taking satisfaction in the way your body trembled. “Trust me, snowball, after they see how well you’ve been treated at Hotel Barry, they’ll find a way to get me my money. And you,” he paused to laugh softly in your ear, “you’ll be providing me all the information I need on where to find the rest of that gold.”

‘I’m so fucked.’

All Writing Taglist (OPEN): @sophster1881 @alilcloudy

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks x reader #the pogues #the pogues imagine #the pogues imagines #the pogues x reader #outer banks netflix

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angellesword · 3 years

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MAGIC SHOP | JJK (04)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Word Count: 3k

SERIES: CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 5

Song for this chapter: I started writing right after watching Kook’s live 😭 my heart can’t handle his cuteness please 😭😭 so yeah enjoy his cover of At My Worst while reading this update. ty.

Warnings: violence, child trauma, infidelity.

"Yes," your heart cracked. "I will be happy if you date my sister."

Jungkook didn't say anything. He just scraped his tongue against his teeth, blinking dumbly at you.

You swallowed hard.

His reaction was frightening. Jungkook never looked at you using his dead eyes. His stare was normally full of adoration.

You wondered if this was how he was going to look at you when he started to date Soojin.

Could you handle it?

Your heart was barely surviving now that Jungkook turned away from you—like he couldn't tolerate your face, like it was driving him insane.

He walked away and tears fell down your cheeks.

It hurt.

You wanted to call him, to tell him you didn't mean what you said. But it wasn't necessary.

Jungkook looked back even though you didn't say anything.

He watched as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

He gasped, eyes turning wide.

He made his way towards you.

"Too fucking bad," and then he engulfed you into a very tight hug. "Because it doesn't make me happy. I don't want to date your sister..."

You bit your bottom lip, tears were still filling your eyes. Jungkook could feel it soaking his suit. He released himself from the hug just so he could cup your face and wipe your tears away.

"I can't do it," he shook his head. He couldn't do two things. First, he looked back because he realized he couldn't walk away from you. Second: "I can't date Soojin. She's not you..."

Jungkook caressed your cheeks once more.

"Did you hear me? She's not you, okay? She doesn't even have to give me time to think because I already know what I want, and it's not her. Never her..."

You didn't know what to say so you only did what you think would best express your feelings.

You kissed him on the mouth.

Everything be damned. For a moment you didn't want to think about the consequences of your action. It's just you, Jungkook, the moon, and the stars.

He moved his lips, deepening the kiss, silently telling you that he wanted this too, that just like you, he was done pretending like his heart wasn't going to burst whenever you were around.

You completed each other. Broken or whole, you knew you needed him.

He needed you too.

"Just you, baby..." He pulled away from the kiss, but he pressed his lips on your forehead. "My tiger..."

You were still dazed because of the sudden turn of events. You expected this night to end with you alone in your bed; however, life was full of surprises.

Right now, you were inside an unfamiliar car, but with a familiar body next to yours. Jungkook wrapped his arms around your shoulders as he instructed the uber driver where to go.

He didn't care if he needed to pay double if it meant he got to take you to his home.

You ended up in Jungkook's bed that night. You didn't do anything aside from cuddling. Your best friend was warm and you were cold.

You enjoyed trailing feathery kisses along his jawline.

He was ticklish though.

"Hmm," Jungkook chuckled, craning his neck so your lips landed on the base of his throat.

"Big, bad Kookie is ticklish, huh?" You teased.

He pouted his lips, defending himself.

"I'm not a bad boy!" It truly surprised you how he could always snatch your heart when he acted like a baby boy. God. He was so precious.

"You are! Don't you remember threatening your father and my parents?" You wrapped your arms around him while he tucked your head under his chin.

Both of you reminisced about what happened seventeen years ago.

You just turned nine years old that time. As usual, your mother insisted that you should have a big party. Your father agreed even though he was one hundred percent sure that he couldn't attend.

You and his legitimate daughter were born on the same year and same day. Of course Taemin would want to celebrate Soojin's natal day more. It was why he never attended yours.

You were only nine, but you were starting to understand that your father wouldn't be available on your special day so you didn't really expect much. You weren't as clingy as you were when you were seven years old.

You still didn't know that Taemin had another family. You just knew that he was busy at work. However, this belief had been shattered when your mother realized that enough is enough.

She couldn't share Taemin anymore. She was fed up. He never gave you and your mother enough attention. She didn't understand why he couldn't be at your party just this once.

It was a beautiful day. Your mother decided to celebrate your ninth year of being alive in your mansion's garden. The place was decorated to perfection. There were decors inspired by different Disney films, there were also colorful balloons, and delicious foods.

Your mother didn't invite a lot of people because she didn't have many friends. Besides, you told her that you only wanted to invite Jungkook and his father. You liked uncle Jong-in since he was kind to you. He usually drove you and Jungkook home after school. He even did things your father was supposed to do in the first place.

Uncle Taemin would buy you toys, get your report card in school, and teach you things only fathers could do.

Jong-in didn't disappoint you. He was early at your party too. He helped decorate the place with Jungkook.

Their efforts were in vain though. You didn't get to celebrate your birthday. What was the point? Your father wasn't around and your mother was intoxicated because of both drugs and alcohol.

"Fuck you, asshole! I'm going to ruin your family! My daughter doesn't deserve this shit!" Your mother screamed, eyes bloodshot.

Taemin had an impeccable timing. He arrived at your house five minutes after your mother decided that the party was over.

You waited three hours for Taemin. You and your mother were miserable while he was having the time of his life being the best dad for Soojin.

"Hey," Jong-in lightly grabbed your mother's hand, pulling her close so he could shield Taemin from her violence. "Calm down. We can fix this without hurting anyone..."

She couldn't be stopped though. Taemin's presence brought the worst out of her. Your mother started destroying everything she saw.

She ripped the paper decors Jong-in and Jungkook spent time making. She also popped the balloons and broke the plates.

All Taemin could do was avoid the flying things towards his direction.

"Stop it! You're crazy! Your daughter might hear you!" Taemin groaned, looking around in case you were here. He wasn't a savage. He knew you were too young to understand what was happening.

Taemin was trying to protect you.

But your mother couldn't care less. She voiced it out.

"I don't care! Maybe she should finally know the truth!" She squirmed against Jong-in's hold. She wanted to attack Taemin. She would never understand why Jong-in's stopping her from getting back at the asshole who hurt her deeply.

Fuck their friendship.

"She should know that you're a piece of shit!" Your mother started screaming your name.

You were inside the house with Jungkook. The latter's father told you to get inside and never come out unless he told you so.

"Maybe we should just stay here..." Jungkook cooed, holding your hand gently so he could stop you from going to the garden.

You could hear your mother's scream. She was desperately calling your name.

Fear surged through you, aware that you couldn't just ignore her. What if she was hurting? You didn't know what your father might do to her. You had heard them argue before even though you were locked up in your room. Their fight was always messy. Taemin would tell you to just cover your ears and sing.

What if he told you to do this so that he could cover whatever pain he was causing to your mother?

"No. I need to see. My mother needs me, Kook." Nine year-old you said, rushing towards the garden.

Jungkook followed you.

Your mother stopped shouting your name, but she hadn't calmed down at all. She was still struggling to get away from Jong-in's hold.

"Stay here please." Jungkook begged, holding your hand once again. The two of you were hiding in the bushes.

You did stay, too stunned to move. You weren't sure how to react. Why was Uncle Jong-in holding your mother like that? Most importantly, why did she look like a zombie? You could barely recognize your own mother. Her face was so pale, but her eyes were so red.

"Let's stop pretending like we're a happy family!" Tears cascaded down your mother's cheeks, trying to reach for a plate so she could throw it at Taemin.

She didn't have enough energy to do it. Admittedly, she wasn't aggressive anymore. In fact she looked exhausted. Too broken to function. "Because we're not your real family. I'm just your mistress and you don't treat our daughter right. She doesn't matter to you. Just go back to your real family—"

You didn't get to hear the rest of your mother's words because Jungkook was covering your ears and blocking your sight. He stood in front of you, smiling gently like his grin could fucking break you.

"Let's go..." You watched his lips dance.

You didn't argue, letting him drag you out of that suffocating place. You were numb, not dumb. You were nine but you knew what a mistress meant.

You understood now.

You understood why your father wasn't always available. You were only an option, someone he could pick up and drop whenever he wanted to.

Wait. Were you even an option? Perhaps you were not. Perhaps you were just a mistake, someone who ruined his perfect life.

"Tiger," Jungkook blurted out, halting your train of thoughts.

You blinked. He brought you to the garage.

You still didn't move. You just watched Jungkook do all things for you despite the fact that he was shaking.

He was scared. Not for himself, but for you. The screaming frightened him. The look in your mother's face made him tremble. He never saw and heard something so violent his whole life.

He couldn't even remember the last time his father got mad at him. Jong-in was the kind of father who never raised his voice.

He was always so calm.

Jungkook wondered if your mother ever hurt you. How many times did she hit you? Screamed at you? Throw things at you?

Has it always been like this for you? Was your mother always so violent? Was she only going to stop screaming and breaking things when she didn't have energy?

No! Jungkook shook his head, refusing to entertain his negative thoughts any longer. He was shuddering just by the thought of you getting hurt.

"I'm gonna to keep you safe, okay?" Jungkook was striving to stay calm. He planned to get you away from your abusive and lying parents.

Jungkook spotted your bike. He pulled you closer to it, helping you put on the bicycle helmet and then fastening its strap.

"Come," He urged you to sit on the crossbar even if there was a carrier in your bike. Jungkook wanted you to sit on his front, where he could see you, where he could cage you in his arms.

He was so scared to let you sit behind him. What if your mother took you away?

You quietly sat on the crossbar. You felt uncomfortable. Not with Jungkook, but with your current position. Sitting on the crossbar hurt your butt.

You didn't feel safe too. Jungkook's cycling with wobbly legs. You just knew you would be crashing soon.

"Kook!" You suddenly screamed, closing your eyes tightly.

Jungkook lost control. The bicycle crashed into your mother's car, causing the both of you to fall.

The car alarm was going off. You panicked. Your best friend panicked.

He felt stupid. How could he escape with you now? Your parents and his father heard the noise. They were heading towards the garage now.

"Jungkookie?" Jong-in called, unsure. He was wondering why his son was trying to hide you.

"Stay back!" Jungkook's breathing was ragged. His butt hurt, his arm hurt, seeing you hurt hurt him too. Everything hurt.

Jungkook felt like crying. You were plopped down on the ground. He wanted to help you, to make sure you were okay. Unfortunately he couldn't. He had to deal with the adults first. He had to make sure that they couldn’t hurt you.

"We're leaving! Let us go! You're gonna hurt her!" Jungkook didn't sound sweet anymore. He practically barked at your parents. "We heard you talking! You will hurt her! I know it!"

Your mother was about to say something. She was probably gonna scream at Jungkook, but your father stopped her, burying her face to his chest. After that Taemin looked at Jong-in, nodding as if he was silently asking him for a favor.

Jong-in nodded back and then he caught Jungkook off guard.

"Dad!" Jungkook's comically wide eye made his father smile. Jong-in ignored his son and just carried you in his arms.

"What are you gonna do to her!?" Jungkook’s hands balled into a fist. He was thinking of a way to save you from his father.

"You said she's not safe here so I'm taking her away from here. Wanna go with us?" Jong-in extended his left arm for Jungkook to hold.

The nine year-old boy hesitated, but after a few seconds, he decided to grab Jong-in's hand. He couldn't trust your parents, but maybe he could trust his father. Jong-in never lied to him.

Jungkook's father was true to his words, his son didn't regret trusting him.

Jong-in brought you to his house.

He had your father's permission. Taemin knew you were shocked and confused right now. You probably didn’t want to see your parents. You had to be surrounded by the people you trust. As of this moment, you would only warm up at Jungkook and Jong-in.

"Jungkookie, stop glaring at me..." Jong-in chuckled. He was amused by how protective his son got when it came to you. "Just go get some ice packs and a first aid kid. Your friend is hurt, can't you see?"

Jungkook winced as his father touched your bruised arm. You got hurt when you fell from the bicycle. Jungkook was aware that it was his fault.

"How can I make sure you're not gonna take her back to their house?" Jungkook crossed his arms, raising his brow and pouting his lips.

"Well out of everyone she knows, I am the only one who hasn't hurt her."

Jong-in knew it was insensitive to say this, especially because it was obvious that Jungkook was already feeling guilty for being the reason why you had bruises on your arms and legs.

"Fine." But in the end, Jong-in's statement was what convinced Jungkook to finally leave you alone for a short while.

It was what Jong-in wanted. He wanted to talk to you alone, to explain to you what just happened.

And he did. He made you understand your place without trying to offend you.

"I can't believe it's been seventeen years," Jungkook said, snapping back to reality. He trailed his fingers on your arm as if he could still see the bruises you got when you fell from the bike.

"You know what they say, time flies fast when you're happy..."

"Are you happy, Tiger?" Jungkook brought your arm closer to his lips, kissing it.

"Very.” You replied.

For a moment you enjoyed the silence, but Jungkook never really liked quiet so he started humming.

You immediately recognized the song. It was at my worst by Pink Sweats.

It made you smile. The sound coming out of his mouth soothed you.

He always knew how to make you feel better. For years, Jungkook did nothing but protect you.

You should start being more grateful.

"Thank you, Kook..." You said all of a sudden, a smile gracing your lips.

He stopped humming.

"Hmm?"

"For protecting me," you kissed his cheek. "Always, especially seventeen years ago."

You ran your fingers through his hair. He never changed his style: short and black.

"I never thought I'd see that side of yours. You looked like you're about to eat my parents alive," you giggled. "You're a bad boy."

It was a joke. You simply wanted to tease him.

You guessed he teased you back and also responded to your thank you by singing a certain part of Pink Sweat's song.

"For you, girl, I swear I'd do the worst..."He laughed while singing the lyrics.

You shook your head.

"No, Kook." You smiled sincerely . "You always do what's best for me..."

Did he really?

What if you were wrong? What if you thought he was doing his best, but then it was only bringing the worst in you?

Yeah. That's right.

Jungkook brought the worst out of you because when Monday came, he promised that he would tell Soojin that he didn't like her in a romantic way.

It didn't happen. Jungkook didn't talk to Soojin, at least this was what you thought.

Because if he did, then why was the ugly, green monster back? Why was it consuming you as you watched the biggest news for today:

After years of building things, two great architects of today finally decided to build a life together: Head Architect Jeon Jungkook asked Corporate Heir Kim Soojin to marry him.

A/N: I know, I know I’m not letting you guys breathe. I’m sorry I have to end this chapter like this hehe <//3

#ficswithluv #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook best friends to lovers #best friend jungkook #jungkook x yn #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #armywriterssupport

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lilbabycee · 4 years

Text

bunny // steve rogers (part one) 🐰

READ PART TWO

↳ summary: the reader finds herself in a little bit of trouble... financially. enter steve rogers.

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x brat!reader

↳ word count: 5.6k

↳ warnings: sugar baby au, eventual dark steve, daddy kink, eventual smut, mentions of substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms + relationships, the reader is rich and a little bit of a bitch

↳ author’s note: i started writing this series ages ago but i’m thinking that maybe posting it on here will give me the inspiration to continue! please enjoy! ❤️

chapter one: you expensive you know that?

—

" you expensive, you know that?

i'm high-maintenance a little but not in a, not in a negative way

i just like extremely expensive things"

- faithful, drake

—

“But Daddy-!”

“No, absolutely not,” your father shuts you down without hesitation which immediately makes your eyes water.

“Please, I promise I won’t do it again-”

“That’s what you said the last time,” he reminds you nonchalantly and you can hear the rapid clicking of a keyboard in the background of the call. He’s not even paying full attention to you, likely still working on whatever the CEO of a multi- billion dollar corporation needs to work on.

“But I’m serious this time!” you insist, cocking a hip and tapping your acrylics loudly on the top of your marble kitchen counter. “You know what I’m like - I swear I’ll do better this time-”

“Nope,” his hard tone cuts you off as you hear his office phone ring. He sighs loudly over the receiver which makes your heart fall. “Look, honey-”

You know what’s coming and you can’t even try to stop it.

“-I’ve got another call coming in. I’m not sending you another dime until you can prove to me that you have the ability to be financially independent. I didn’t pay for all of those expensive private schools so that you could sit on your ass all day and blow my money like it’s in endless supply. You have all the necessary credentials to go and get a well-paying job, so go get one, goddammit. And please call your mother - she’s been trying to call you all day. Neither of us have any time left to entertain your little addictions nor your blatant disregard for the hard work that we’ve put in to get you where you are today.

“You’ve proven to me before that you are grossly incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks, so don’t let me down with this one,” he sighs loudly. “Sometimes, I wish you were more like my colleagues’ kids - they’re doctors and lawyers but all you are is ungrateful. I’ve really gotta take this call,” he says your name sternly which makes you tap your nails even faster. “Do as you’re told for once in your damn life.”

“Daddy-!” you borderline shriek once more before the phone clicks and he’s off attending to more important business.

You don’t even realize that you’re pouting until your lips start to tremble, nor do you realize how much his words have gotten to you until you touch your cheek gently with your fingertips and they come back wet and glistening like gold in the warm light of day.

Maybe he’s right. You’ve been living in this penthouse for the past year without having to worry about anything. You loved it when you attended the first viewing, mainly because of the huge windows, three bedrooms and bathrooms (that you definitely don’t need because you live alone), the open plan, spacious kitchen and living areas, and the fact that all of your neighbors are either famous or excessively wealthy like you. You saw the acquirement of this apartment as a prime opportunity to further climb the social ladder, not that it’s really all that hard for you considering the fact that your father is one of the richest people in not only New York but the entire country. But you’d lived in Italy for a year prior to moving back to New York and upon your return to the USA, you decided that you really wanted to re-establish a name for yourself here, of course with the help of your father. He bought the penthouse almost the moment that you said you had your eye on it, and he just kind of…left you here. He’s only come to visit a handful of times since you bought it two years ago, though your mother has been over far more frequently to your utter dismay.

You inhale deeply through your nose, your eyelash extensions fluttering dramatically against your cheekbones. Grabbing your phone - the newest iPhone that you bought after you broke your other one at your friend Peter’s party - you sulk over to one of your ridiculously overpriced couches and fall dramatically - but not dramatically enough to crease the material of your latest drunk purchase, a white Gucci jumpsuit - on top of all your throw pillows, the picture of a damsel in distress. Your freshly manicured toes - painted white yesterday - curl into the softness of it as you huff, dabbing delicately at your face again to rid yourself of any traces of sadness before thinking about what the hell you’re going to do next.

Yes, you have a savings account that is far more than enough for you and your grandchildren’s grandchildren to live lavish lives and while that’s all well and good, even you know that you probably shouldn’t spend that... but it’d have to do until you found another way to get your money. With that, you shrug noncommittally and your face ID unlocks your phone so that you can start your newest endeavor - buying one of everything off of Alexander Wang.

Sure, you should be proactive and take initiative to finally take the steps to distance yourself from your parents, but you’ve only just had your twentieth birthday. After graduating from high school at fifteen - yes, fifteen: your parents really pushed you, to say the least, and it helped that you were naturally intelligent beyond the capabilities of even the nation’s best high school teachers - you started your undergraduate at Harvard in the fall and finished at eighteen. You took what you dubbed an ‘extended summer vacation’ - hence Italy - and now you’re at an impasse.

Okay, admittedly your various interests - you refuse to call them addictions because they’re really not that serious - that may or may not include a wide array of party drugs and alcohol probably don’t make you the most trustworthy person in the eyes of your parents. But you’ve done everything that they’ve told you to do for the past twenty years of your life - can they blame a girl for wanting to have a little fun? A smile spreads across your face as, while scrolling, you spy the blue dad jeans that were completely out of stock just last week and quickly add them to your cart with a sense of self-satisfaction before continuing to add almost everything else to your bag. It’s not like you’re heavily dependent on anything - substance abuse is not a good look for you: it was definitely more early 2000s than now - and you only do them recreationally in social situations, so your parents really have nothing to worry about. They’re overly paranoid about you somehow tarnishing their image when in reality, your work in and outside of an academic setting has really bolstered their reputation more than they could have ever hoped for - not to toot your own metaphorical horn, but your endless philanthropic work coupled with your eagerness to “make a change” and your work in fashion has put you on the Forbes 30 Under 30 every year since you were fifteen.

You press the checkout button and your Apple Pay seamlessly completes the purchase for you: $29,000. Shrugging noncommittally, you lock your phone and stare pensively at the picturesque view of New York City outside of your window; that is until Alexa alerts you that Natasha is calling you.

Perfect timing.

Natasha’s voice echoes over the loudspeakers in the ceiling. “Hey, bunny,” she greets you and you groan loudly at the nickname, restlessly hopping up to grab a glass of water from your kitchen.

“Hey Nat,” you reply, more of a whine than anything else, and she laughs loudly at your tone.

“What happened to you? “

“Daddy cut me off,” you huff, walking to the couches in front of the TV and settling down with your glass of water. With a press of a few buttons on the universal remote, you FaceTime your best friend instead - a flash of red hair and then a blindingly white smile. She assesses you on your couch and laughs again, a full-bodied cackle that only intensifies your pout.

“It’s not funny,” you protest, although the corners of your lips are quirking up in amusement at her ridiculous laughter.

“What did I tell you?” Natasha struggles to get the words out in between chuckles. “I knew he was gonna do this-”

“Yeah, so did I, but I didn’t think he’d do it this soon-!”

“I’m surprised he didn’t do it sooner,” Natasha moves around a little before propping her phone up against her knees so that you can see her sitting comfortably in her bed. She starts picking at her own black acrylics, “and you can’t deny, bunny-”

“Don’t say I deserve this,” you narrow your eyes at her, and Natasha only sends you her signature smirk.

“I wouldn’t say you deserve it, per se,” Natasha begins, “but you’ve gotta admit,” she says your name, clearly on the verge of laughter again, “I like a party as much as the next girl, but you do go a little overboard-”

“I wouldn’t say overboard,” you insist, suddenly taking up a very keen interest in your cuticles. “Here’s what it is: Mother doesn’t like the fact that I don’t like her and Daddy’s just flat out disappointed in me for no reason-”

“-apart from the fact that you very nearly got caught doing lines of blow off of Senator Pierce’s son-”

“Shhhh,” you interrupt her, closing your eyes and pressing a finger to your lips while shaking your head, unable to fight the growing grin on your face. “That was one time-”

“You mean the one time you got caught-?”

“Yes, Natasha, that’s what I mean. Anyway - you never call me like this unless you need something - thought you were gonna text me instead. What’s up? Is it Bru-”

“Oh, no,” Natasha quickly cuts you off, her cheeks flushing red. “Bruce and I have been over for a while now-”

“You were just talking about him last week-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she deflects, tapping her fingers on her thigh. “I was actually calling to see if you wanted to go shopping for Parker’s party that’s tonight-?”

“Yes, absolutely yes - why would you even have to ask-?”

“Okay, cool,” she interrupts you, smiling toothily. “Get Jarvis to get you there by 2:30 - I wanna go to the Louis store: the summer collection just dropped-”

“Sounds perfect-”

“But one more thing,” she says your name again but in a more concerned tone. You finish your glass of water and set it on the coffee table before leaning forward slightly.

“What’s going on, Nat?”

“I’m worried about you, bunny,” both her eyes and her tone have softened drastically, making you purse your lips. “What’re you gonna do now that your dad’s not giving you any more money?”

You sigh loudly through your nose, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Nat,” you admit, snapping a hair tie against the skin of your wrist rapidly. “I’ll just have to find a job - or do more sponsorships and ads and get back into modeling and maybe actually try acting this time?”

Her green eyes pin you to your couch, even through the screen, and she scrutinizes your face for almost a full thirty seconds before scrunching up her nose and nodding hesitantly. “Alright. As long as you’re sure that you can make it work… because if not, I have an option that I think you may like…”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline as you motion for her to continue.

“Y’know how Wanda got really into that thing a couple of years ago?”

Your brain works overtime, trying to remember exactly what it was that Wanda was doing - all you remember is that it was fairly secretive and she didn’t tell you a lot about why she kept sneaking around.

“She was seeing that older guy,” you snap your fingers when you remember, Natasha’s slow nod confirming it, and then promptly frown because-

“What does this have to do with me?” You stare directly into Natasha’s eyes as she falters, obviously wondering if it’s too late to just backtrack altogether - yes, it is - and then she sighs.

“She wasn’t just seeing him,” your best friend starts slowly, choosing her words with great care, “she was his sugar baby.”

Now, this is news to you.

“You’re fucking with me,” you scoff in disbelief. “Wanda?”

Natasha keeps nodding, blowing her bubblegum between her rouge-painted lips until it pops with a sharp snap. “I’m serious, you can go ask her. But believe me, I was just as surprised as you when she first told me-”

“She didn’t tell me,” you murmur, something akin to betrayal burning your tear ducts. Natasha only barks out a laugh and clucks her tongue at you in a decidedly motherly way.

“Of course she didn’t tell you,” the redhead snorts, shaking her head. “She didn’t want you getting any ideas,” she says your name through a laugh, “you were - what - like eighteen two years ago? That would’ve been questionable at best -”

“But you guys didn’t know that I was gonna do anything-”

“Come on, bunny,” Natasha pins you with a look that shuts you up almost immediately. “Give us some credit - we’re not dumb and we know you-”

“Fine,” you drag out the last syllable of the word childishly. “So why mention it to me now?”

“Because you’re old enough… and in a situation where your Daddy’s not paying for any of your stuff anymore.”

You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yeah, okay, but I’ve got, like, a lot of other opportunities that I don’t even need to work for,” you tell her cockily, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “Why should I take this one when I could get any other real job so easily?”

Natasha’s lips curve into that same smirk. “Because you’re a whore.”

You collapse into a fit of giggles but she’s right. Really and truly, you are - what you like to call - a self-proclaimed slut. But any woman who’s free enough in her sexuality seems to be one these days, so you own the title that’s been hurled at you like an insult for so many years. You wear it with pride... for the most part, but not too much pride because you still have parents who still - somehow - think you’re a total virgin.

(you are still a virgin but your promiscuity makes people think otherwise)

“Right,” you agree easily, tapping your nails on the arm of the couch.

“Just something for you to think about,” Natasha hums, checking the time on her watch before rubbing the sleeve of her white Balenciaga hoodie over her face “Now, leave me alone. I’ve gotta go get ready; I’ll see you in a few.”

Without any further conversation, she ends the call and leaves you laughing light-heartedly although something heavy continues to weigh on your conscience. A sugar daddy. You can’t lie to yourself and say that it’s something that you’ve never thought about before - because it most definitely is - and it’s been the shameless subject of some of your filthiest dreams. Are you going to lie and say that you don’t have an… affinity for older men? No, you aren’t. Are you gonna tell yourself that the idea of a man spoiling you doesn’t make heat burn in your core? Absolutely not. However, you’ve never thought of yourself as the submissive type. Your confidence - no, cockiness has always been a real defining trait for you and that’s always worked in your favor when it comes to romance or even sex. You take what you want, rather than waiting for it to come to you. Although, you have a feeling that an attitude like that could get you in a lot of trouble in circumstances like these.

But what’s life without a little danger?

—

You’ve put on a tight, cropped black t-shirt and on top, a brown Fendi mini dress with thin spaghetti straps that clings to your body like a second skin; your feet are clad in heeled Louboutin ankle boots. Grabbing your black Prada bag and almost comically giant black, square Burberry sunglasses, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You only put on a little bit of blush, mascara, and tinted lipgloss, accessorizing with small golden hoops, an array of rings that have been gifted to you by either your father or your ex-boyfriends and a simple gold necklace that spells out ‘bunny’ in cursive, a gift from Natasha. Satisfied, you slide your sunglasses onto your face and head to the elevator, phone in hand.

When you reach the lobby, Jarvis is waiting for you, holding the door open with a kind smile on his face.

“Miss,” he greets you, ushering you out the door. You basically jump on him, winding your arms around his neck and he chuckles as you sway back and forth in your embrace.

“Afternoon, Jarvis,” you grin at him.

The two of you walk outside to the black Range Rover with the tinted windows - black matches your outfit today - and as you climb in the back, your security detail split up into the other SUVs in front and behind you.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Jarvis asks you conversationally, stopping at a red light not even 15 seconds after you pull away from the front of your apartment. Damn New York traffic.

“Nat and I are going to Nordstrom’s,” you tell him despite the fact that he already knows, but he nods regardless. “And then Peter Parker’s hosting a party tonight.”

“And will you be needing a ride to that event?”

“No thanks, J,” you shoot him a smile before looking back down at your phone. “I’ll probably get a ride with Natasha.”

Jarvis nods and the rest of the ride passes in comfortable silence, the radio playing softly and the clicking of your nails on your phone screen the only sounds in the car.

—

“There’s absolutely no way you’re wearing that-”

“Shut up, Nat!” you squeal, grabbing the dress off the rack. “It’s kinda cute!”

Your best friend rolls her eyes at you fondly, staring at the monstrosity that you’re clutching in your hands.

“Tell me you’re kidding,” she deadpans, searching your face almost desperately for any sign of sarcasm.

You act offended: “I’m not!”

Nat just pokes you in the sides, tugs on your earlobe, and continues her hunt, which makes you burst into loud laughter and leaves the store employees looking at the two of you in what you’ve come to recognize as contained, professional amusement.

—

It’s about an hour before the party starts when you even start thinking about getting ready. In a Versace robe with your hair wrapped up in a towel, you’re scrolling through Instagram with a mud mask on. Nat comes into the room and shrieks at the sight of your face, making you flick your eyes up and grin as wide as the mask lets you. With her hand over her heart, she stares at you dryly while silent little chuckles shake your whole body.

“You’re in a good mood,” she remarks, eyeing you with an air of suspicion.

“Of course I am, Nat,” you look at her in disbelief. “I’m about to get wasted tonight-”

She interrupts you by calling your name out in a warning tone. Your only response is a dramatic roll of your eyes.

“We’re going so that we can have fun, not so you can go on a bender-”

“I won’t!” you drop your phone and throw your hands up in exasperation. “Holy shit, Mom - do you have no confidence in me?!”

Loud silence hangs in the air for a minute while Nat just blinks at you.

“...remember when you left me alone in Manhattan because you went to go trip on acid with Senator Coulson’s son-”

“Oh my God, Nat, okay, I get it - I’m a shitty friend and a drug addict, blah blah blah, whatever-”

“You’re not an addict,” she corrects you. “You just... really like doing drugs.”

You shrug, stretching your arms over your head, bringing them back down and then slapping your hands loudly on the bare skin of your thighs. The sound makes Nat flinch which amuses you mildly before you yawn loudly.

“Need me to help you with anything before I start getting ready?” you offer, knowing that once you start getting ready, you’re going to be in your own little world for about an hour and a half.

Natasha - who is significantly less high-maintenance than you - shakes her head. You nod, standing up and heading into her bathroom to wash the mud off your face.

“Did you think about what I told you earlier?” she asks, following you into the spacious room to lay on the chaise tucked against the wall behind you. You lock eyes with her in the mirror as she stretches herself out like a feline.

“Yeah,” you say nonchalantly. “Just for a little, but I don’t know if that kinda thing is for me.”

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, looking down at her nails. “Oh, okay. I was just wondering ‘cause Wanda said there would be some people that she knows are into that kinda thing at Parker’s tonight-”

Oh, now your interest is peaked. You whip around, towel still in hand from drying your face, and stare her dead in the eye.

“For real?”

“Yeah, but if you’re not really interested-”

“Shut up, Natasha, you know I’m interested.” Your heart beats fast in your chest and your teeth catch on your lower lip, gnawing on it gently. Your fingers come back up to your wrist and stretch the elastic so that it bounces back against your skin. “Like… a lot of them will be there?”

She nods, regarding you with cool interest. “At least that’s what Wanda said. She’s better versed in this whole thing than I am.”

You can only bob your head up and down, suddenly nervous about attending this party. Natasha can sense it, putting a comforting hand on your arm.

“Look, bunny, it’ll be fine,” she gives you a reassuring smile. “They’ll love you. And if you change your mind, you won’t even have to interact with them in the first place; you’ll just be like any other person attending this thing. But Wanda knows a lot of them - that should be reassuring enough: she knows all about these guys, so it’s not like she’s going to introduce us to any major creeps.”

“Okay.”

—

“Okay,” you breathe out. Okay, you can do this. You’ve met presidents and prime ministers, singers and actors, kings and queens, but you’ve never been this nervous in your entire life.

Granted, none of those people were asking you to exchange sex for money, so it’s not really the same thing.

You’re wearing Dolce & Gabbana tonight - because they asked you to - and the golden silk dress that hits your mid-thigh and hugs your body so tight that it looks as if you were poured into it makes it all worth it. It shows off all of the dips and curves of your body and paired with your Alexander Vauthier clear slingback heels and a gold Vanina pearl-embellished handbag, you feel like a million dollars (even though that’s definitely not what this outfit costs). Natasha is standing next to you in a black Dolce & Gabbana corset dress - because they asked her to - and black red bottoms.

Your long red nails come up to toy with your ‘bunny’ necklace while you scan the massive crowds for a friendly face. It’s true that between the two of you, it is very much likely that you know - or know of - everybody here. But you don’t spare them a second glance despite the fact that they’re ogling you. No, you don’t linger on the bulging muscles and impressive height nor the full lips and pretty hair like you usually do. Instead, you’re looking for-

“Wanda! ” you call out, eyes falling on her reddish-brown hair flowing down her back in loose waves.

She’s standing by the bar, speaking to someone that you don’t know when she turns around, blue eyes quickly landing on you as she gives you that charming smile. Grabbing Nat’s hand, you run over to her and envelop her in a warm embrace. She squeals loudly, stumbling back as you realize that she’s probably already had a few drinks by now.

“Hi, guys,” she greets the two of you, looking up and down at your outfits approvingly. “You look hot.”

You return the compliment and pressing a kiss to her cheek, you stroke her hair while she and Nat engage in conversation. You take the opportunity to stare at all of the different groups of people who have gathered on Peter’s rooftop. There must be at least 300 people here already - the night has barely started - and you can see not a single person who looks like an old man. You furrow your brow, squinting and pushing up on your toes to see if you can see anyone that you don’t vaguely recognize from somewhere or another.

“Lookin’ for someone?”

The voice is unmistakable.

“Peter!”

He says your name in what’s only a mildly offensive mockery of your tone. You abandon Wanda and throw yourself into the arms of the boy, ruffling his already unkempt hair and also smacking a loud kiss on his cheek. He chuckles, his arm winding around your waist as he says hello to both Wanda and Nat.

Apparently you’re in a hugging mood tonight.

“I’m glad you guys could all make it,” he smiles so sweetly that you kiss him again, his cheeks turning flaming red. Peter has always been like a little brother to you although he’s actually a year older. You both went to high school and college together, and it helps that your mother and his aunt are also really good friends.

Except you don’t know how anybody could want to be friends with your demon of a mother.

“We couldn’t miss this,” Wanda gestures around her, pinching Peter on the cheek like a child which makes him frown. “Where’s MJ, Petey?”

You all “ooh” like high schoolers and Peter’s face turns somehow even redder - your heart swells - and he takes this as his cue to leave, slipping away and mumbling something about having to greet guests like a good host. It makes you all giggle, watching the boy with fond eyes.

Wanda abruptly turns to you, downing the champagne that she picks up off of the tray of one of the passing waiters.

“So Nat told me that you’re looking for a sugar daddy-”

“Shhh!” you hiss at her, clamping your hands tightly over her mouth because oh my god, Wanda, please speak louder. This makes Natasha laugh into her own glass of champagne.“Oh my god, why are you yelling?”

“Okay,” she drags it out and rolls her eyes, leaning into your group of three and whispering exaggeratedly. “So I heard you’re looking for a sugar daddy.”

“Sure, okay,” you whisper back, looking around before standing up straight because it’s just occurred to you how sketchy you all must look huddled in a circle like this. “So like… how does this work? Do we just… go up to them? Is there like some kind of code-?”

Wanda snorts loudly, throwing her head back and laughing. Your face slips into a pout and you cross your arms over your chest.

“No, idiot,” Wanda replies, pulling a tube of lipstick and a mirror out of her clutch. She starts to apply it while speaking to you. “They’re here already, and we’ve just gotta go up to them,” she smacks her lips together with finality, “and tell them we’re interested. Or, more like you’re going up to them and we’re here for moral support.”

“What happened to your guy, Wanda?” Nat asks, signaling to the bartender for a refill.

“And how did you get into it?” you ask her, one eyebrow quirking.

She smiles conspiratorially and runs her hands carefully through her hair. “There’s an app. And Viz and I are still together-”

“Viz? ” you almost choke on your own spit because you laugh so hard. Natasha joins you in a far more respectful way, her shoulders shaking as she picks up her now-full glass. Getting literal daggers thrown at your face would’ve been less piercing than the look that Wanda’s giving you right now, so you decide to shut your mouth and listen.

“Yes,” she says your name condescendingly, which makes you roll your eyes. “His name is Vision - it’s a long, personal story that I won’t share with either of you because you both fucking suck,” she stares the two of you down, “but that’s his nickname and what everyone calls him. It’s kinda cool, you know: super contemporary. Like Madonna or Beyoncé or Cher-”

“Okay,” Natasha licks her lips, putting one of her hands on her hip. “We get it, Wanda, thanks. But you told us that you guys broke up-?”

“Yeah, we just took a break,” Wanda shrugs. “Now, we’re back together and better than ever.”

You and Nat share a look before blinking back at Wanda, nodding your heads compliantly.

“So,” you rock back on your heels and start snapping your hair tie again. “Are we gonna go do this, or?”

Wanda’s eyes drift down to your wrist before she places a hand on top of it, stilling your actions. Your eyes are wide and glossy, your teeth worrying your lip.

“What’re you nervous about?” Wanda begins quietly, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumb. “They’ll love you - they’re all super cool and really hot. I think that the only problem that you’ll have is that you’ll be spoilt for choice.”

Your laugh comes out watery but sincere nonetheless, so Wanda loops her arm through yours while Natasha grips your hand tightly.

“Maybe we should get you a drink-”

“No, Nat,” you inhale deeply. “I wanna be completely sober for this. After… after, yeah. I’m definitely gonna need a drink after.”

You all laugh while Wanda weaves you through swathes of socialites, stopping to say hello to some people. When you finally make your way all the way to the other end of the roof, you can see why you didn’t see them before. There is a set of stairs that lead down to what looks like a zen garden. Tall torches flame a collection of very comfortable-looking couches are placed around a stone firepit and on top of those couches are a group of some of the most handsome men that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The first one to make eye contact with you is astoundingly attractive, so much so that you almost trip over your own feet. You know- you can just tell that he smells incredible. His mahogany skin shines in the light of the fire, and his full lips curve over a gap-toothed smile that he shoots your way; it immediately makes a smile of your own spread on your face. His beard is lined up to perfection and there’s a mischievous sparkle in his whiskey brown eyes. A little bit of his chest hair pokes out from underneath the top of his almost halfway-unbuttoned dress shirt and your mouth waters. You almost feel sorry for the slacks that are hugging his thighs sinfully tight because his powerful legs look like they’re about to burst through the seams.

You decide that you’ve never wanted to be a pair of pants so badly in your life.

Jesus Christ. These men aren’t even close to what I expected.

All you can say is that you’re glad to see that the same caliber of attractiveness holds up for the rest of them.

The man next to him has longer brunette hair that hits his shoulders and you just want to run your hands through the silky strands. He has a bit more of a rugged look, his facial hair groomed purposely to give off that energy. He’s wearing a tight, long-sleeve black shirt and black slacks too, the monochrome outfit highlighting every inch of his well-toned body. When you look at him, he’s staring down into his glass, the sweetest smile on his face that makes you bite the inside of your cheek. But then he looks up at you, and you’re taken aback by the vibrance of his steel-blue eyes. It stops your breath momentarily, and you have time to regain it when he taps the man next to him on the knee and points towards the three of you.

The man in question raises his head, face shielded partially by a pair of yellow-tinted glasses. His blonde hair is slicked back away from his face, and you take a second to admire his prominent bone structure. But he’s looking right past you, eyes boring holes into Wanda which makes you stop your ogling.

You assume that this must be Vision.

There’s one of the men who isn’t facing you and doesn’t even turn around to do so, but you can make out his extremely broad shoulders clad in a white t-shirt even from where you stand a distance away. Even the back of his head is attractive, his thick neck and pushed-back blonde hair. Wanda tugs on your arm impatiently, evidently eager to reach her man.

The three of you linked together almost fall down the stairs before you regain your collective composures and strut over there with all the confidence that you don’t feel. Wanda lets you and Nat go when you draw closer, fixing her hair before the brightest grin that you’ve ever seen on her face shines at Vision. He opens his arms to greet her and you have to look away because of the very much x-rated kiss that she plants on him: you feel like you’re intruding on something.

“Jesus,” Nat snorts in your ear, her hand still resting in yours. This makes you giggle, high-pitched and nervously, so Nat squeezes your hand before she pulls you forwards.

Wanda has situated herself in the lap of her man, his hand resting gently on her hip. She clears her throat, cheeks red from her public display of affection, and begins to speak.

“Hi, guys,” she says, waving and smiling at all the men politely. They all greet her back warmly, raising their hands too. “These are my best friends. This is Nat,” she gestures to the girl next to you and Nat just nods her head in acknowledgment.

“And this is the friend I told you about,” Wanda introduces you by name to the four men who she points at in turn: “Bunny, this is Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Vision, and Steve Rogers.”

Giving a little awkward wave of your hand, you unglue your eyes from the floor and scan all of the men up close now.

They’re all so much prettier up close.

From this distance, you can now clearly see how pretty Sam’s eyes are, how bright Bucky’s smile is, how strong Vision’s jaw is, and-

Holy shit.

It’s obvious that you must’ve died and gone to heaven some time in these past few minutes because Adonis’ blue eyes are scorching holes into your face. His high-neck white long sleeve sweater is probably in his size but the way that his muscles flex under the material is telling you otherwise. The size of his biceps - probably as big as your head - briefly make you wonder what they would feel like wrapped around your neck-

If you stare hard enough at his pecs - which you are - you can see the hard peaks of his nipples; you decide that there’s something so sensual about that and if that alone didn’t just make you wet, you decide that you can’t be human. The sweater is tucked into grey checkered pants with a black Yves Saint Laurent belt wrapped around his surprisingly narrow waist. He’s leaning back in his seat with his huge hands on his thighs, his strong legs spread wide almost an invitation for you to crawl between them. Your eyes move past his clearly tailored pants to his huge feet clad in black Versace loafers and you can feel the liquid that pools in your cunt. Realizing that you’re shamelessly checking this poor man out, your eyes snap up to his face only to have the breath completely knocked out of you, not for the first time tonight.

Not only is his body complete perfection, but his face is also arguably even better. His defined jawline gives you the urge to run your tongue over it but that beard. Your squeeze your thighs together because you want to know how it feels between your thighs. His ears are perfectly proportional to his head - a characteristic that should never be underestimated, mind you - and his cheekbones are high. But you can’t ignore the fullness nor the rosy pigmentation of his lips - his lower lip is fuller than the top and you wanna bite it so bad and he’s smirking a little. When you finally lock eyes with him, you feel as if you’re drowning but admittedly even if you were, you wouldn’t mind doing so in the blue of his irises. They darken slightly when they train onto yours, and one of his perfect eyebrows lifts questioningly.

This whole interaction has only lasted about five seconds but it feels like you’re in a movie, everything moving in slow motion. He stands up abruptly and you do actually choke at his size, his sheer height and width alone soaking your panties. One hand in his pocket, he takes slow, measured steps until he stands directly in front of you, not even sparing a glance at Natasha.

“Bunny, huh?” you pray that your knees won’t give out at his deep baritone and you can’t take your eyes away from his, even when he sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Steve Rogers.”

tagged: @literaturefeen @donutloverxo @evnscvll @stargazingfangirl18

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #sugar daddy au #soft dark steve rogers

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dreamofmysoul-tsc · 3 years

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Elias Carstairs, Matthew Fairchild, and the Disease of Alcoholism

I’m very nervous about posting this but I think it’s important.

Now before you guys scroll past this post, I’m gonna ask that whoever may read this take some time to hear from my perspective. I would like to preface this by saying that I do not know, nor am I claiming to know, what it’s like to face racism and prejudice everyday, nor do I know what it was like to be queer in a time that was less than accepting and terribly cruel to LGBTQIA+ folks. I will not be speaking about either of those things here, as it is not my place to. However, I do know what it’s like to live with an alcoholic. I do know what it’s like to have an alcoholic parent and I have seen what addiction does to a person and their family firsthand.

Final disclaimer, I am in no way trying to attack or target anybody. All I am doing is providing my own perspective when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elias Carstairs and the differing opinions I have seen in regards to Matthew. I would also like to state that my experiences are my own, and are in no way reflective of every addicts’ experience or the experiences of their children/loved ones. Addiction affects everybody differently.

I am also not a psychologist or a doctor; everything stated below are my personal experiences as a child of an alcoholic.

Now let’s get started.

CW for alcoholism, substance abuse, abuse in general, and death

Elias

When I first started Chain of Gold I didn’t anticipate how much I was going to relate to Alastair. Honestly, I didn’t have strong opinions about him either way; I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t love him either. That was until it was revealed why Elias was sick all the time, and what really happened during his mission. I have never seen alcoholism portrayed in a novel ever. I’m sure there are novels which talk about it out there, but I have never come across one. And for the first time in my life, I felt like somebody understood. There are countless characters in The Shadowhunter Chronicles who have touched my heart, but I will forever be grateful to Alastair and Cassandra Clare for making me feel like I didn’t have to hide anymore, that I was allowed to talk about my father’s alcoholism. Because for 18 years, it had been my secret. For my mother, it had been even longer.

My father has been an alcoholic for my entire life. I’m sure this is common sense for most people, but an alcoholic cannot be a 100% good and supportive parent. Those two things do not mix. Most alcoholics are alcoholics because of shame, pain, or other mental health problems that they have not sought therapy for. I would also like to say that alcoholism is a disease. It physically alters the brain to make the addict believe that they need to drink just as much as they need to eat or sleep. When you are constantly drunk, it can increase stress or anxiety in everyday life and leaves the addict at risk of developing depression if it was not already there. Many alcoholics suffer with depression, general low self esteem, or various other mental health problems before abusing alcohol; these problems are then exacerbated with daily alcohol consumption.

My father never abused us, mentally, physically, etc, and he never has. He carries a lot of mental pain and shame with him, which he has continually refused to seek help for. He drinks because he does not like himself; he feels that he isn’t deserving of help. He feels like he messes everything up. And as a child, I used to make excuses for him. “Well, he never hurts us, so what’s the problem?” “It doesn’t affect his work, so what’s the problem?” I was naive then. No matter how “functioning” they may seem, an alcoholic cannot live a completely healthy, happy, and fulfilling life if they drink everyday, even if it seemingly doesn’t affect their work lives. Alcoholics are very good at hiding their addiction. I cried when Cordelia described finding bottles in odd places, or when Alastair described how he tried everything in his power to hide it from his sister and their community. I used to find beer cans stashed under the kitchen sink. Sometimes I’d find them in the spice cabinet. I don’t like inviting friends to my house because I can never be sure if my dad will be 100% sober. I didn’t want people to see him that way. I don’t want to see him that way.

I have seen a decent amount of posts on various platforms of people wishing Elias dead or wanting him to be completely x-ed out of Alastair and Cordelia’s lives. And while I totally understand the protectiveness many people feel toward Alastair and Cordelia whenever their father is involved (I love them to pieces, too), as somebody who is a child of an alcoholic, I do not and would never wish my father dead. The thought of it makes me sick. Thus far, we know very little about Elias and his personality. We don’t know if he has ever physically harmed Alastair or Sona. This is not to invalidate mental or emotional abuse either, which are just as terrible. And while he does seem to be biased towards Cordelia, which in and of itself isn’t fair, there has been little evidence to show that Elias is violent or abusive. Of course Chain of Iron could prove me wrong, but as of now, I don’t want to immediately assume that Elias is abusive. Alcoholism does not equal abuse, although alcohol can be an expedient to violence. I do not want to invalidate the Carstairs’ experience if that is the case, but I do not want to jump to conclusions either. Of course you can call me lucky because my father has never harmed us in any way. But personally, I find that insulting. When a parent is an addict, regardless of whether or not they harm their children or how involved they are in their child’s life, they will end up leaving their child with mental scars whether it was intentional or not. My father’s addiction and the addictions of countless others cannot be measured on a scale. Addiction hurts everybody it touches, no matter how normal the addict may seem to the rest of the world.

I know this Elias section is already so long, but I have a bit more to say before I move on to Matthew. Alcoholics make choices, many of them poor choices. They decide whether or not to seek help. They decide to drink another beer. They decide to drive drunk, even if their child is in the car with them. It is a disease which completely takes over every single part of their life. And while it negatively affects their lives and the lives of their loved ones, that does not mean that they are undeserving of help. Any addict, whether they’re addicted to alcohol or heroin or cigarettes, anything at all, needs help. And they most definitely should not be mocked or attacked for their addiction or their attempts to get help for it. Regardless of whether or not they are in recovery or in the thick of their addiction, there is absolutely no reason to mock them. There is no reason to tell them to “just quit drinking.” There is no reason to call them a “junkie” or a “drunk,” no matter what stage of their addiction or recovery process they are in.

I am in no way excusing Elias’ behavior just as I in no way excuse my father’s behavior. He [Elias] needs to be punished for showing up to a mission drunk and consequently being unable to keep those four Shadowhunters from dying. He needs to apologize to his children. He needs to apologize to his wife. And he needs to recover. Addiction is an ugly, ugly thing. It never just affects the addict. It leaves their loved ones with scars, whether they’re mental of physical. Personally, I can’t stand the sound of metal beer or soda cans being cracked open anymore. I’m terrified of getting married. I can never feel 100% comfortable or safe around drunk people. I refuse to drink. I don’t like thinking about how the only time my dad has been 100% sober was when we visited my grandparents for a week and he had no opportunity to slip away to buy alcohol. I don’t like thinking about how my mother has had to deal with this for decades. I want my mother to be happier. But I also want my dad to recover. Living with an alcoholic isn’t black and white; I don’t hate my dad. I hate his addiction. I love him. He’s my dad. I don’t like seeing him that way. I know Alastair doesn’t like seeing his father that way either. But no matter how much you scream or cry or fight with somebody, people will not change unless they themselves want to.

Matthew

This section will be much more brief because many of my thoughts surrounding Matthew are similar to my thoughts surrounding Elias. I would like to touch on two things, however.

I have seen people talking about Matthew, or more specifically Matthew’s friends, saying that they don’t understand why they [The Merry Thieves and Co] seem to be ignoring Matthew’s alcoholism or aren’t doing anything about it even if they do realize he has problems with alcohol. Part of it is because of historical context; alcoholism wasn’t considered a disease until very recently, and the beliefs that alcoholics can either a) stop drinking whenever they want or b) are abusive, useless members of society still persist to this day. But the other, bigger part of it is relatively simple: people won’t change unless they believe they can change. Addicts need to want to change in order to begin the recovery process. You can’t force them to. If their heart isn’t in it, they’ll attend therapy or AA meetings a couple times to appease you, and then they will start drinking/using again. Or they’ll lie to you even more, telling you that they did attend a meeting or a therapy session when in reality they bought another pack of beer. Matthew will not seek help unless he believes wholeheartedly that he can change. He needs to believe that he is worthy of change and he needs to truly want to get better in order to begin to make significant improvements in his life. Of course relapses will happen, but the point is that he wants to improve his life. He wants to recover. No matter how much James or Thomas or Cordelia or Lucie tell him to change, no matter how much they want him to get better, he simply will not unless he wants to. It hurts. It really does. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. You can love somebody so, so much, but your love is not going to make them better. Your love will not magically make their addiction go away. To reiterate what I said about Elias earlier, you can scream and cry and fight and give them all of the love until you’re blue in the face, but if they don’t want help, they will not seek it out. Matthew needs help, but more importantly, he needs to come to the realization that he is deserving of that help. He is deserving of a successful recovery. Every addict is.

Lastly, there is something about Matthew and Cordelia’s relationship that has never sat right with me. Children of alcoholics are statistically more likely to get into a relationship or marry an alcoholic because it’s what feels “normal” to us. And while I have always wanted Matthew and Cordelia to become friends, part of this is the reason why I don’t want them to have a romantic relationship. I don’t want Cordelia to have to continue that cycle, never able to escape the effects of addiction. I want Matthew to focus on himself. I want him to recover. I want his friends to support him. I want both Matthew and Elias to have a successful recovery, because the amount of addicts who die from their disease every year is staggering and upsetting. Of course Matthew is deserving of love, but he needs to focus on recovering, both from his addiction and his trauma, before he puts all of his energy into a romantic relationship.

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Overall, I want Alastair to have time to be himself, to not have to carry the weight of his father’s addiction on his shoulders. I want Elias to recover and to apologize for how he has hurt his family, whether it was intentional or not. I want Matthew to forgive himself and to realize that he deserves to take up space in this world just as we all do. And I ask that you, whoever may be reading this, to try to feel a little more compassion for these characters and addicts you may know or meet in your life. Or to put yourself in their shoes and the shoes of their loved ones. We should not be mocking them, or hurting them, and we certainly should not be wishing death upon them. There are far, far too many addicts who have died because of their disease and their mental pain. When dealing with addicts or the loved ones of addicts, I ask that you try to support them and encourage them to seek help, whether it’s therapy or AA or any number of support groups. The effects of alcoholism and drug addiction will stick with the addict in recovery and their loved ones for the rest of their lives. Some days will be harder than others. But the important part is that, when those hard days come, they have a support system of therapists, family, friends, even people online to remind them why they are in recovery and to encourage them and their progress, no matter how small. An addict in recovery, no matter how slow or fast their progress may seem, is better than an addict who has died because they never sought out the help they desperately needed.

If you read through this entire thing, thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to read through my personal experience. This topic is very important to me, and while I’m relatively new to tumblr, I still felt the need and the obligation to share my perspective. I’m not trying to sway your opinion of Matthew or Elias, just to maybe make some people think about this complex issue. If you aren’t a fan of either of them, that’s totally fine. If anything, what I would like you to take away from this is to be more aware of alcoholism and its effects. If something doesn’t seem right, speak up. I will be providing resources below if you or a loved one needs addiction counseling or help, or if you simply would like to learn more about this. If you have anything to add to this, would like to share your opinion, or have a question for me, feel free to reblog or message me in my ask box. Please be respectful, y’all! This is a sensitive topic and it affects everybody differently; I want this to be a civil discussion, not a witch hunt.

Thank you very much for reading and considering my point of view.

Resources:

What is Alcohol Use Disorder?

SAMHSA (a helpline)

Alcohol Rehab Guide (this website also includes educational resources and a helpline)

Substance Abuse Helplines and Treatment Programs

How Parental Alcoholism Affects Children

#tsc #tlh #matthew fairchild #elias carstairs #personal #just wanted to get my opinion out there #this has been nagging at me for a while #thanks for reading #this is as personal as im ever gonna get with yall i promise

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aggresivelyfriendly · 3 years

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Tis the Damn Season

Chapter 6- Last Christmas

Hi all! Sorry she took forever- I edited all by myself, so be gentle!

Plans change. Tickets do too, it seems. Harry's beautiful hope, his gift, it came in handy.

Not in the right way, the intended way. Not because she came to him, ran around the world or even an unfamiliar city with him. Those were dreamy ideas, when she wound up spending all of fall semester in Holmes Chapel. Those daydreams shaded the hospital walls and funeral home with sunny possibilities.

Her father had a heart attack and her mother a breakdown. It was too late, when her mother noticed he'd been out with the dog for too long and the dog was inside whining.

"I knew, in my gut. Day dawned wrong. And then never ended." She'd cried. Her mother had cried in her arms in a reversal Emma felt was way beyond her maturity level.

That hadnt been over the phone. Over the phone had only been muffled sobbing and her dad's name, "John."

Emma didn't call him John, but she could forgive her mother. It was up to her mother's good friend Di to share the news: Emma had always looked up to Di, she'd had some tragic marriage in her youth, and then decided god damned men weren't for her.

At the moment, Emma was of a similar mind.

Emma assumed she'd have a similar life to Di, had planned for it actually. Di had her own house, a thriving career as a solicitor and no children. A life like that, of her own, was Emma's dearest wish before she wished to be able to say yes to Harry.

Now she just wished her dad was still around.

There were so many plans to make, a funeral to finance and a mother to support, to put back together.

It's a wonder Emma wasn't an outright romantic, the way her parents had been, lifelong sweethearts. They still had moon eyes for each other until the very end, could be found holding hands on the couch often. Emma had come home unexpectedly early last year and found her mother sitting on the kitchen counter with her father between her legs making out like teenagers.

It was a lot to live up to.

Emma supposed it was why she kept all her heart eyes and love life in the closet and saved it all up to spend once a year. Just like an old lady's Christmas budget.

This year, she didn't think it would be happening. Harry must have had some rich person thing going on with the ticket, because the minute she decided that rather than ask her mom to buy her a ticket to get home, for the funeral, instead use the one she had from Harry, he'd called. There was clear excitement in his voice, hot on the heels of her phone call to the airlines. It was August. He was set to embark soon, she'd just got back to Amsterdam. He must have thought she was gonna sneak in a cheeky visit.

"You're coming?"

"What?" She was so disoriented. Coming where? What was going on? Her brain was muffled with plans her feelings kept stumbling over at the knees like a trip wire.

"To see me? I got a notification you used the ticket?"

Her brain was muddled, like an egg in a hot pan, what? How did he do that? "No, Harry, umm I'm not coming. I don't even know where you are right now." She barely knew where she was.

"Whose fault is that?" There was a tiny edge to his voice that would cut her if she could even notice. "You could have answered my calls."

"Harry," she sighed, she had been avoiding him a bit. Mostly because she had an evergreen memory of his disappointed face when she told him going on tour was too much, that she simply didn't have the time. She was glad she couldn't see his face when she said the next bit. His voice was buoyant with hope, she was about to pop that balloon. "I need the ticket to go somewhere else." She couldn't bear to say it, was biting her lip hard not to think it, the liquid memory brimming anyway.

"Yeah, ok. Well, Happy Christmas I guess. See you in four months, maybe." The bitterness in his voice was like an old lemon and she didn't even have time to sweeten it with truth when his phone clicked off.

That made her resentful. How could this truth be sweet in any way? It got worse over time, the resentment just nestled among her other griefs.

Then he wouldn't answer her calls. She supposed that was giving her a taste of her own medicine and it was a quick wash down her throat with no water after the other jagged pill life had just forced down her throat.

And it didn't get better. Though, she had to scoff at herself for even having a square of heart for Harry to break leftover.

Break it did though, when she heard he had a new girlfriend, a blonde, a model, a French blonde model.

Of course.

Emma couldn't help but stalk her instagram. His was useless, ill used, so when she'd finished a day of running the house she'd been a child in while taking care of her grieving mother, she'd torture herself some more and watch stories where the beautiful blonde played in a pool, or made jokes, or showed the big mirror over her bed.

That one hurt most. She'd never seen Harry's bed, nor he hers. The little devil voice inside her head whisper shouted that he much preferred the one he was in now, with the mirror and the model to the tiny inn room they'd spent all their overnights in.

She didn't hear from him, and she never called to explain herself either. What would she say? My life fell apart and I needed your ticket, but it hurt to much to say it out loud and you were to much of an asshole to let me say it.

Harry wasn't an asshole, not really, he was hurt. Emma was stunned she had that power, though she had admitted to herself there was more between them than mistletoe kisses and holiday fucks.

She'd admitted it was more to her.

He acted like it was more to him, unless this was just a bruised ego. She didn't like to think that. Harry had every reason to have a giant head, figuratively to go with the oversized cranium he actually sported, but he'd never shown it. He was cocky at times, just enough to be sexy. All of that was a veneer over a sweet vulnerability that made everybody want to be around him, protect him, love him.

Did she love him?

No, she didn't think so, but given more time, the potential was there, like a rock at the top of a hill, all it would take was a push.

Which, time on tour with him would have been. If she could have went. Which she couldn't. She wanted to explain all of this to him as soon as she has the chance- which she would in 6 hours.

Her promises to herself were that she would not cry and that she would accept his new relationship. His real relationship. Emma would not try to touch him, or kiss him, or confess her almost love to him.

He was probably in love himself, from her internet stalks, she was halfway there, with both of them. Harry edged it out by being perfect in person. Camille, that was frenchies name, could only be half as perfect as Emma made her in her head.

"Do I wear the sweater?" She asked her reflection. She'd had to become her best friend the last six months. Emma might have called her mom her best friend, just based on time spent together, if their relationship was reciprocal, but at this turn of the road, she was supporting her mom as she grieved and got back to herself. Emma could see glimmers. She had hope.

She however wasn't sure she had hope for herself. Was she really contemplating wearing the sweater Harry gave her last Christmas to his mother's Christmas party? How pathetic was that? She was rolling her eyes at herself. He'd had a big year, and he bought lots of gifts, probably for his new girl, so her thinking he'd remember felt narcissistic.

Plus, it was her favorite, which mostly had nothing to do with the fact it was from Harry.

Emma really didn't want to go, but Gemma was expecting her. And she really needed to see her, have her support. They'd been texting, a lot. Gemma had heard about her dad and reached out. It was the only emotionally connection Emma really had, those texts, and she needed to see Gemma, honestly. Even if it meant seeing Harry.

She might have wanted to see Harry.

To explain, and maybe just to see him. Make sure he was happy, feel his warmth, steal him back.

No, that was unlikely. See if he was happy and wish him well.

She wore the sweater.

The house was cozy when she arrived, like it always was and it thawed her heart enough for it to ache a bit. For something new. Her heart ached a fair bit off and on, then went numb. It was the only way she'd survived lately. Emma knew she was putting off really feeling her major loss.

It was a strange pleasure to mourn something as minor as heartbreak.

The hug from Gemma made the trip through the snow and down memory lane worth it. And the people all around her and their laughter were invigorating.

The alcohol helped as well. Their house was pretty dry but had been especially when she started to notice her mom was unconsciously developing a bottle a day habit. When it wasn't there she didn't mention it though, so Emma didn't buy it, except for special occasions.

She was merry, and felt held. Her hand was in Gemma's. She'd stayed away from the back bathroom and the kitchen, even come in the front door.

Emma felt like she was getting away with it.

Harry wasn't there, with girlfriend in tow or not. So all her pontificating about checking on him was all for naught, and she was getting all the crosses. She certainly felt like today was a plus.

Until she heard a tone of elation issue from Anne's happy voice that only motherly joy could produce.

Harry was here.

"Fuck!" Came out of her mouth, and Gemma looked at her sharply.

"What?"

"Nothing, guess I'm jumpy, your mum's shout made me spill." Emma thought she shouted an excuse me while she hurried up the stairs to hide, find a place farthest away from Harry and his happiness. He might be alone, but if he was glowing like a brand, the way he did when they holed up together only slightly dimmed by their parting, now because of it, from some other lover, Emma couldn't stand it.

Plus, she thought she'd heard another name connected to his over her own rated r exclamation.

She was coming out of the bathroom. Emma had suppressed her tears ruthlessly and her bottom lip might bruise from the brutal teeth marks she employed. She'd have given herself some words in the mirror, affirmations helped, but what was she gonna say. "You're happy for him."

She wasn't. She was happy with him.

"Fuck this." Emma decided the only course of action was a straight line to her parents house. her mother's house, she mentally corrected and gave herself a more legitimate reason to cry than over a boy. Even if that boy was Harry Styles.

Who she barely stopped herself from running into as she kept her head down and rounded the bannister to head down the stairs.

"Jesus! You gave me a fright!" She dramatized and kept a hand over her heart and her tear stained face down.

"Emma." His voice was flat, and not cold, but the warmth that snuggled around her name was absent and she shivered. "I wondered if you'd be here." Not Hoped, she noted. "What are you doing up here? Don't your usually use the back bathroom?" There was just a bit of heat in that statement, but it didn't warm, it burned. Was he being mean, that wasn't like him? "Nice sweater." Ok, definitely mean.

Her face came up with that thought, it shocked her out of the sense of control she was exercising.

He did look hard, mean, for a moment, but soft around the edges like a melting popsicle when he caught her face.

"Are you crying?" His hand came up and he stopped it mid air before it wiped away her tear.

Emma felt her body lean into him and another tear slipped out when his warm palm and always chilly finger tips touched her cheek.

God she'd missed him! While she was bolstering her mother, she'd needed support. He was supportive, or would have been. But he wasn't taking her calls, and she couldn't bring herself to text, "my dad died". Then, it was such old news, she figured he'd have heard from Gemma.

He took his hand away like she was a hot cooktop.

He pushed his hair back off his forehead with the hand probably damp with her tears and bravely changed the subject. "How long you in town for this time? Jetting off to some climate refuge hotspot soon?"

Emma flinched. Oh- he didn't know.

"Un, no, I'm living here." She didn't elaborate, maybe saying it out loud was as hard as texting it. "I was actually just about to head home to check on my mum. The back bathroom was in use, and the cold makes me need to pee." What the fuck was she talking about, he didn't need that information.

His dimple pressed in just a bit and he went to say something, but Emma just couldn't. She couldn't look at him anymore, or tell him about why she lived there, or about the ticket he seemed to have been hurt enough to move on over. She definitely didn't want to see evidence of his movement, especially not his upgrade. "Anyway, nice to see you," the words shot out of her mouth, impresonal and true. "Bye Harry."

"Wait Emma!" She thought she heard, but she just kept going. She'd tell Gemma she was sick.

She nearly was when she saw Harry's girlfriend hugging her closest friend in the living room.

"Oh god."

Luckily, when she got home, her mum was awake and feeling chatty, not blue. Emma focused on her and the special she was watching. Let the warm sound of her mother's once common laughter wrap around her as a blanket. It was more comforting than a cup of tea.

She waited until later to cry herself to sleep.

The next day was Christmas- the first without her father. She dried her rightful tears before she saw her mom, though she would have had all the standing in the world for them and she felt better about them than those she's shed the night before. She knew though that her wet face would cause a cascade event, the first drop in a waterfall, so she dried them up.

They had traditions to get through.

And get through they did. They each wrapped a gift for her father that they left under the tree and held each other right before tucking into a late brunch and preparing a boozy and sweet laden Christmas dinner, Emma contributed the puddings.

They were very much her mother's favorite, and she broke out a scandi recipe she'd enjoyed the last several years.

She Skyped her university friends, they exchanged the small gifts she'd mailed them and them her. She missed them something awful. She missed school horribly, so much she even emailed her advisor. All of her heart hoped to return after the winter break.

Emma thought the feeling of missing something was a bit like a paper cut and losing your keys combined.

Harry called late Christmas Day, just a few minutes shy of Boxing Day. That more than stung, it was a gut punch, or a knife plunge, though she'd never had either.

Emma ignored the call from Harry. What was there to say?

Boxing Day, well, Emma wasn't much of a drinker, but it was basically a tenet of British culture to get obliterated while watching the queen.

For the last several years, Emma had been off her face on Harry. This year she chose savingnon blanc with her mum. Two days, then they'd go back to a dry house. Tradition was tradition, and she couldn't think about the one she'd started and ached all over for.

What a pale imitation of ecstasy drunkenness was, though she supposed they both left a hangover, a residue.

Her bed, when she begged off to it early was warm and fragrant, but it smelled all wrong. No sandalwood or black coffee, not even the mint she'd come to associated with the comfort of love, or something like it.

It was worse, because when she closed her eyes, having seen Harry's someone in person, she could see him snugged up to her, so cozy. It was in their place, their room at the Boat's Head.

It was over, Boxing Day, when she puked.

She had another missed call from Harry. 11:59 Her personal witching hour.

The next day was a little bit better, either because she had her literal hangover to tend, or because she'd ripped the bandaid off her hurt and let the wound air.

"Hiya!" Gemma's voice and face were bright, unlike the gray day.

"Hello." Emma smiled and her voice held it, she held onto it. "You're merry!"

"Yeah, I'm at the pub. Everybody is at the pub," she flashed the phone around so Emma could see the waving swaying people, "we wanted to get you outta the house, you made such an effective Irish exit the other day you've let your people down, we need to see your smile. You feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you." Emma thought about it, there was a pull to the pub. "Um, maybe I can swing over."

It only took a few minutes to throw on jeans and a jumper, not her former favorite. The walk was a little longer.

When she found them, her first comment was "Im not drinking!" Over a grimace.

"Too much wine with old Elizabeth, huh? " Gemma Laughed

"Yes! Did you know my mum has a long pour?" Emma shared with a laugh.

"No, but mine's gotten more heavy on the booze with me lately, they must like the new stages. Daughters as actual friends and drinking partners. Mum is thrilled!" Gemma grinned. "So am I! Harry's a little jealous."

Emma tried to catch her grimace before it stomped across her face. Gemma kept talking and she thought she'd got away with it.

"He wants to be one of the girl's! He came down last night and mum, Camille and I were sharing wine and mum was showing her atrocious pictures. You'd think he'd be mad or embarrassed! He was like, 'Where's my glass?'" Gemma was staring at her while she chuckled.

Emma had less success not responding. Her face was a picture she was sure, a jealous one. And then she heard herself asking, "what's she like?" She gulped down the g word she almost voiced. "Camille?"

Gemma made a funny face, then looked at her again. "Um, she's silly and kinda quiet and I think she's worried my mom will care she's posed nude."

She wouldn't. That wasn't Anne's style. And if she did have an issue, she'd never voice it. She was really big on respecting her kids choices. Even some of the stupider ones Harry had made.

Was she ranked among those now?

"Why do you ask?" The gentleness in a Gemma's voice told Emma she knew more than she was saying.

Emma couldn't explain, she was still in such a tender state, like a fissured piece of glass, she knew she couldn't go over it. "I just hope Harry's happy." It was the only true thing she could say.

And Gemma, bless her just looped her arm through Emma's and said like she was holding a cracked egg. "He is." She left it at that, before she stood, pulling Emma after her. "And we need another drink." Apparently Emma was drinking, she needed it.

They spent another couple hours at the pub and Emma walked home through the soft snow. Her nose was stuffy, and her eyes were leaking, and she was drunk. Least she realized she must be, cuz she was crying. She really hated crying.

She was still weeping under her breath when she got home and found Harry on her doorstoop.

"You're still here?" She boggled. She assumed he'd taken his girlfriend to his big London home Emma had never been to, since she wasn't ever his g word.

"Yeah." He rubbed his hands over his corduroy flares. She'd consider what that might mean, but the pants distracted her. Those were new, must be getting fashion influences from new places, mew people. Those pants were roomy for him. He looked good in them. He looked good, happy.

"Did you need something?" Seeing himwas ripping her guts out and she could barely keep more tears at bay. Her insides were dangerously close to the skin now, tender and exposed. She hoped the distance between them and the weather and, well, maybe his rose colored glasses brought on by loving some other girl, he wouldn't notice her crying.

Over him. At the moment.

"No, I, um," he swallowed. "I thought we might talk." He made those green eyes at her and she hated it. Cuz they were soft and for someone else these days.

"I think we've said it all."

"We haven't said anything, not really, in a year."

"Yeah, well actions over words mate." Good, she was angry. She tried to go around him, into her door. Out of the cold and this situation.

"Emma, wait." He caught her shoulders and her blood froze in her veins but her tears were hot on her cheeks. "I'mso sorry about your dad." He choked up too.

She looked at him and let hurt run down her face, didn't even bother trying to stiffen her upper lip. When he opened his arms, she went to him and cried in a way she really hadn't let herself, into the comfort of his scent, the hurt of his presence.

Emma wasn't sure how long she cried, they wound up siting on the cold stone bench when their knocking knees froze.

"S that why you used the ticket?" He whispered against her hair sometime later.

She nodded. Sniffed up her tears and his pain laced smell.

"Why didn't you call me?"

She shrugged.

"I would have understood. And I would have come, to be with you."

Her tears apparently hadn't run out. She knew that, but she was hurt, by his hurt and his expectation.

She looked up at him. Her lips were so close to his, the outer edge that felt so plush and lovely.

That was a Liberty she didn't have. Maybe never a right she had, like him just expecting her to drop her goals to go to him.

"Where's your girlfriend?" She said the word like the four letters it felt like it was to her.

"Um," he stumbled over the subject change . "She was tired."

"You tell her you were coming to see a girl you used to fuck?"

"What?" He looked at her with a frown and Emma supposed she was being mean, mean but honest. "Don't say it like that. That's not what we were about."

Emma quirked a brow at him. "No?"

"Listen, why are you being like this?" He swallowed and looked like the wronged party when he was the one who assumed the worst of her, then abandoned her, moved on, and showed up, she could only assume, to rub it in her face.

The last year had been the worst of her life, and he'd been part of that. Mostly his absence.

Whoever's fault that was.

"Look, I don't need your pity or your condolences. Or your forgiveness. You just assumed I was taking advantage of you like you didn't know me at all. Which I realized is true apart from knowing what I look like naked, right? Let's be honest Harry? Huh, I'm just the girl you used to fuck over break. Your Christmas bit of fun. Til you found your next model. Who you couldn't wait to come home and show off, right in my face. So if we were more, you're a heartless asshole." She was crying over him now, but half the tears at least were angry and her face must be bright red.

The kicked puppy look on his face was so genuine and felt so false to her she could scream. "Why would I even think you would care if I had a girlfriend or not? If anybody was just the person the other thought of as a holiday fling, it was you about me, Emma." He huffed, took down the finger he'd stood up to point at her. "I tried for more, asked for more?"

"When?" He'd asked for more, how'd she miss that?

"What'd you think the ticket was for? That was me asking you for more, at least more time?"

"I don't have extra time." She countered. Emma supposed that was some mealy mouthed passive way of saying you wanted to spend time with a person at least.

"And I do?" He yelled that before taking a big breath and muttering sorry. "Listen, I know what you're about, and that you are very serious saving the world, but I'm just as busy as you, more, and I would have made time for you."

"Why?" She stood up into his space. "So I could just miss you more, fall more for you and not get to have you in any real way? To torture myself?" And there is was. Emma knew the ache of the first weeks without him, and she'd always counted their brief time together as worth it. Subjecting herself to more just seemed masochistic. "Have more time with you so I have to get over you all over again multiple times a year."

"Who says you would have had to get over me? We could have been together!" Both of their voices had escalated past the bounds of polite disagreement.

"Together in every way except literally?" She threw her hands out at her sides. "What's the point of that?"

"The point?" He huffed. "The point is that I wanted you and you wanted me, and we could have had each other, but you're too busy," he sneered, "and couldn't talk to me."

"I couldn't talk to anyone!" She screamed. "I was supposed to text you that my dad died and I needed to use the ticket that was supposed to be a gift but was more like a curse, to take care of my mom. That my dream was at best on hold while I made sure my mum could get out of bed?" He looked a little slapped. "While you were off what? Being a rockstar? Having a record breaking year? Moving on? Out of spite?!" She didn't want to think that, but she'd wondered. She knew she was giving herself to much credit. "Why you made sure to bring her to Holmes Chapel? You take her to the Boar's Head too? Or just fuck her in your mum's powder room?" The words were explosive, the cadence like charges lighting off each other. Emma felt like a powder keg.

He was shaking his head. "Stop it. No, no, I didn't move on, not until I thought you were done with me."

"Oh, when I needed you and you wouldn't answer my calls?"

He looked at the ground then. When his eyes came up , the lovely green of them was even more vibrant, due to the tears crowding around their ages. "Emma, I'm so sorry about that. I'll never forgive myself."

His sincerity softened her, though the anger she'd wrapped around herself like a coat was all that was keeping her ribs together.

"I'm so sorry, I know the last year has been more than anybody should have to bear, especially alone." He took a big breath. "But Camille, I didn't, it's not," he stumbled over the words like they were glass edges, but Emma had a feeling she was the one who was about to get cut. "Um, she and I just met and, well, we, we get on." That was a kind way to put it. "I wasn't looking for somebody else. But I was lonely and she's," the changes on his face ripped through Emma. "She's lovely. I brought her home, because I wanted mum to meet her." That told Emma everything.

"You love her?" She already knew the answer.

He ran his hand through his locks, avoided eye contact until the last second, "yeah, yeah, I think I might."

Emma was nodding, biting her lip to gatekeep the fresh round of tears threatening. "That's good Harry, I'm," she breathed, "I'm happy for you."

He looked at her then. "Really?"

"Course, I care about you, your happiness." That brought on the tears and he reached for her and she had to throw up her hands to keep him away. "No, no, please don't touch me."

His phone rang, he was the only person she knew who actually kept their ringer on. Well the only person under 50, it made her smile. Then cringe, the weird personal knowledge she had because of how much of an almost they were. From his face, Emma knew it was his actual calling.

"Um," he shady buttoned the call. "I have to go."

"Yeah," was all she could respond with, she already knew that. "Well, have a happy nee year Harry. You sticking around?" God she hoped not. May have to convince her mum to go to London if so.

He shook his head, "Um no, we're going to Paris." Ouch. Emma tried for subtle when she wrapped an arm around herself. "Sorry, I'd like," he always looked so genuine lately, in every interview she'd watched to hurt herself, his heart on his sleeve, in his eyes now. "I'd like to hug you, think you could stomach it?"

Emma nodded and went to him for the barest second and then concentrated on the pressure behind her eyes while he kept her close. "I'm so sorry Emma, for everything. I'd really like to be friends," he'd pulled back to hold her eye line at that.

She nodded, she wasn't sure how she'd handle that, but at best it was a couple phone calls, and no weekends away, they hadn't mentioned that in their middle state, she didn't think it would be to hard to keep him at arms length when they had continents between them most times. "Yeah, ok, friends. You take care of yourself, Harry." Emma was a strong girl, woman now, she could handle some texts and a phone call or so.

He kissed her cheek, a continental affectation she closed her eyes over and turned to go. He was almost out of the gate when he turned back. "I'd never take her to the Boar's Head, by the way, that's our place. I'd never take anybody else there." Before she could even think of a response he looked away quick and started to go. "Take care of yourself, Emma. Happy New Year." That came back to her on the wind.

Blew away like the hold she had on the heart she'd given him last Christmas. At least he was someone special.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #ttds #chapter 6 #last Christmas

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