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malfoys-demigod · 2 years ago

Text

What If

Johnny Lawrence x Larusso Sister Reader

Requested by @sammarvel123

Summary: After thirty years, Y/N comes back to Reseda for a job offer, and to reconnect with her "what if", Johnny Lawrence.

A/N: My gosh, it's been a while since I wrote! Hope you enjoy it. If anyone wants more fluffs of Johnny Lawrence, I could try to whip up something good again if I can.

It's been three decades since you left Reseda.

You went south, all the way to Orange County, to take up advertising at the University of California Irvine and landed a job at an impressive advertising firm.

You spent three decades devoting yourself as a workaholic, which on the bright side got you to become an advertising executive, earning big money annually.

But work-life aside? You weren't able to settle down the way your twin brother did. You were emotionally attached still to Johnny Lawrence, the boy who you were secretly in love with. It wasn't best to have sparked a relationship with him during the time as he was a pain in the ass to your brother, but it was just interesting to see a different side of him, a side that he only showed to you since you interested him from the very beginning.

While Daniel and he had picked fights constantly before, you were different towards Johnny, he was surprisingly nice and gentle with you. He'd say hi to you around the hallways, somehow slightly but significantly tone down his violence towards Daniel when you were around, and give you no harm. When you once asked him why he treated you differently, all he could muster up with his bad boy reputation was, "You're different, Y/N Larusso." and gave you a small smile, which he hid from everyone else.

Although you knew he always had the hots for Alli at the time, it felt as if... he also had something deep in his heart for you, but never did anything about it. That's why you felt the need to run away, assuming that he'd never do anything about it ever again.

After thirty years, you were promoted by your advertising firm to become the executive of the Reseda branch. You were somehow excited because this was a huge career opportunity for you and you were as successful as your brother in terms of handling a business. As coming back home to Reseda excited you, it also came to be something that made you nervous.

What had Johnny Lawrence been up to these days?

After just arriving from Orange County, you entered the Copper Bucket Bar, still wearing your ritzy, corporate suit, with your designer shades still on as it was scorching hot outside.

"Hi, one cold beer please," you say to the bartender.

"Hm, that's a surprise coming from a corporate lady." said a voice from your left.

You turned, looking to see Johnny Lawrence, a childhood crush of yours, who seemed to be looking the same as ever but even more attractive with age, and who seemed to not have realized he was talking to YOU as you still had your shades on.

"And what does that mean?" you asked, walking towards the seat beside his.

He shrugged, giving a small smile at you, "I don't know, man. I just assumed from the movies that corporate assholes would be drinking martinis or whatever sophisticated cocktails you guys can come up with."

You chuckled, as you got your beer, "You're right. I'm usually sipping cosmopolitans or daiquiris but, I'm back home in Reseda. I think I'd like to celebrate with beer, the Johnny Lawrence way," you winked.

He narrowed his eyes in confusion momentarily after you used his name. "Have you seen my flyers?"

"Unfortunately, but I've seen you in your iconic black gi about thirty years ago, looking sharp as ever," you smirked. As he was still giving a confused yet intrigued to look at you, you finally removed your sunglasses, flashing a cheeky smile at Johnny.

"Hey, Lawrence." you greet him.

Johnny's face went from confused to astonished, as his eyes grew larger. He couldn't believe the woman in front of him was Y/N Larusso, his greatest "what if" and high school crush, who he couldn't do anything with because he was the worst enemy of her brother.

"Y/N Larusso." was all he could muster up at first, which made you giggle again, as you opened your arms for a hug. As he hugged you, he remembered all the sweet times he'd been gentle and nice at school, especially when he came up to you during the All-Valley Tournament and said that your brother was alright.

As the hug started to end, Johnny gained the confidence to speak up first. "Thirty damn years and you look the same as ever, but more attractive and powerful-looking." He said, looking up and down at you.

"Aw, thanks, Johnny," you shyly say, "I could honestly say the same thing to you. You aged like fine wine, Lawrence. From the flyers I've been seeing all over town, you started your own dojo?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I've only got one student right now, cause the flyers don't seem to be working on anybody. Assholes just throw the flyers I hand out or not even take them."

You gave a pitiful laugh, placing your hand on Johnny's shoulder, which may have developed pink spots on his cheek, "Johnny! Are you mentally still in the 80s? Nowadays, people also spread the word online through social media! You should post some on your Facebook!"

Johnny rolled his eyes with a shy look, knowing that Miguel may have embarrassed him with the fact that he didn't know a thing or two about Facebook. "Uh, yeah," he replied, "I kinda only knew about Facebook a few days ago. Never really understood the whole concept of the internet so I just went along with the flyers still."

A confident grin grew on your face, causing you to grab a calling card from your bag.

"You're in luck, Johnny," you said, showing him your card, "You can be handled by the best of Reseda!"

Johnny took the card, analyzing every detail on it. "You know, Y/N," he said, "I've always wondered what you were up to all these thirty years away from me." still looking at the card, not knowing you were blushing over the phrase 'away from me'.

"Advertising, huh?" he said, acknowledging your career, "Your old card from when you were living in Orange County?" he asked, now looking back up at you.

"Mhm, I'll be getting my new card once I start work next week."

Johnny nodded to your reply, "So Y/N Larusso was a fancy-pants corporate from The OC," he teased you, "Did ya come here with a fancy-pants husband from there too?" he asked, with a slight note of seriousness as his eyes seemed to be wanting to know this answer.

You looked down, shaking your head with a guilty smile, "Um, no, never had a boyfriend or husband while I was there. I was pretty much a workaholic," you say. You now looked up, seeing a somehow relieved and happy Johnny.

"Everyone was a dick and asshole from that snooty place?" he joked.

You didn't giggle this time, as you wanted to give a serious and honest answer. "Yeah, nobody was as nice and lovely to me as you were, Lawrence."

Johnny looked at you with his deep blue eyes, but you now felt so nervous to continue the conversation now that you dropped that sentence. What if he was dating or married to someone already? Fuck! That would be embarrassing for you. You broke eye contact with him and took a last sip from your beer. "But I have to go, and maybe you need to go back home to your wife, whoever she is," you say, getting out of your seat in a hurry, "Okay, bye, Johnny," you quickly say as you turned around and dashed for the door.

"Wait, hold on a sec, Larusso!" Johnny yelled as he tipped the bartender. He ran outside to see you driving your car away from the bar.

"And you did, WHAT?" Daniel asked in disbelief.

You were staying the night at Daniel's because you were getting the keys to your new house at Encino the next day. When you arrived at his house, you rushed to find Daniel and you started spilling everything.

"I know, Dani, but I didn't know what to do, okay? I just," you sigh, "It's been forever since I've seen him, and, he just looks great, and maybe I was stupid to have said that," which you were referring to when you told him the reason why you stayed single all your life.

Daniel just rolled his eyes with a smile on his face afterward, "You know, sis," he said, placing his hands on your shoulders, "You still like and he still likes you. Trust me."

You huffed, realizing Daniel knew about your not-so-secret pining about Johnny. "He doesn't have a wife?"

Daniel shook his head, "No, no, no," he said, "He has a son around Sam's age, but he was never on the best terms with the mother. He never really had a stable or serious relationship ever since thirty years ago." "I believe the same with you on that note," he then said, grinning at you.

"Yeah, well that'll never change since I fucked it up earlier," you groaned.

"Nah, I'm sure he'll come around soon. Now that you're back home for good, I'm sure something will happen."

"And you'd be okay with that if ever?" you curiously asked your brother.

He gave a small smile of support, "I think he and I are okay. I actually bumped into him a few days ago and paid for his car repairs. Times have changed, but I don't think his secret love for you has."

You roll your eyes, turning around to hide your blush, "Okay, Daniel, I'm gonna go dip my feet by your pool now."

It was only ten to fifteen minutes after your conversation with your twin brother.

You were by the pool, dipping your feet in the water when a doorbell was heard. "DANIEL," you shout, "Someone's at the door!"

You continued to be with your thoughts, wondering what you could have done differently earlier at the bar. Muster up the courage to keep the conversation going? Ask first if he was single? What?

You wanted to ask yourself more questions when a voice caught your attention.

"Hey," Johnny said.

Oh no. The feeling of great guilt and embarrassment swam all over your body.

"Hey," you copied Johnny's greeting, looking at him as he sat beside you.

There was a short moment of silence after, the both of you, just staring at the water. God, were you supposed to start and explain everything? Was that what he was waiting for?

"I don't have a wife or a girlfriend," Johnny spoke up.

You slowly nodded to his statement, pursing your lips together. "Yeah, Daniel just told me."

"Hey, Johnny," you continue, now making eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for storming off like that. I guess I just didn't have the courage to see your genuine reaction when I told you why I was single my whole life. I know we barely talked all the time before, but your niceness and sweetness to me were different and maybe I just always saw you as my 'what if' if we ever had something with you. But I just didn't know if you felt the same since you never really asked me out or have any romantic interactions with me."

Johnny placed his hand over yours, rubbing his thumb in circles, "Y/N, you were my biggest 'what if'. I was such a dick for not choosing to do anything about it, you know, with the bad boy reputation and the fact that you were your brother's twin sister and all. The best I could do was not throw harm on you, but now, I realize how that was the worst and only thing I did. A simple gesture of asking you out on a date would've changed everything, wouldn't it?"

"It sure would have," you agreed, putting your other hand on top of his, "Would you like to try this again with me, Johnny?"

Johnny was not only smiling with his lips, but with his eyes now. He took your hand and gently kissed the back of it. "I'd love nothing more than that, Y/N."

"Perfect." You embraced him, giving him a more, genuine and loving hug to which he hugged you back tighter in exchange.

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grandhotelabyss · 8 months ago

Note

Irish literature has a special place as part of the British/English-Language canon, thanks largely to Wilde-Yeats-Joyce-Beckett, but which would you say are the best works and writers of Scotland and Wales?

I will unfortunately have to pass on Wales. I don't think I've read any Welsh literature except for the Mabinogion (selections) and Dylan Thomas (anthology pieces). And Raymond Williams, I suppose: not, however, my favorite critic. Surely Dylan Thomas is the most celebrated of Welsh writers, though. And Roald Dahl, but he's a blank to me.

I'm no expert on Scotland, either, but I appear to have read a reasonable amount of Scottish literature by accident. I have nothing non-obvious to say, however. There's their celebrated Enlightenment, first of all, with David Hume's urbane and skeptical review of the limits to our knowledge and Adam Smith's humane interest in the emotional origin and economic extension of what we're morally capable of. And Charlotte Lenox, looking forward to Austen's disenchantments with her Female Quixote. Then comes the counter-Enlightenment: Robert Burns's earthy testaments in dialect that presage Romantic verse and its lyrical ballads, Walter Scott's recreation of the vanquished clan-life that invents the historical novel, and perhaps above all Thomas Carlyle's thundering proto-fascist denunciations of modernity in a prose that destroys forever all rhetorical decorum and prepares the ways for everyone from Emerson to Melville to Lawrence. Modern myths at the fin de siècle: Robert Louis Stevenson giving us Long John Silver and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Arthur Conan Doyle coming through with Sherlock Holmes. And Peter Pan, too, though I've never actually read that, either play or novel—just caught its later refractions. Who in the 20th century? David Lindsay with his cult fantasy novel A Voyage to Arcturus, favorite of Frank Lloyd Wright and Harold Bloom and Alan Moore, which bored and horrified me so much. Muriel Spark, skeptical as Hume, inventive as Stevenson: I must read more of her. I must read more of Alasdair Gray, too, but I just recently enjoyed his enviably inventive Poor Things on account of the film. (And I must read more of Scott. And something of Smollett. And Scottish Boswell's life of English Johnson. I've read as much Adam Smith as I ever want to read, however.) Finally, I was a teen in the mid-to-late '90s, so, too old for Harry Potter and his semi-Scottish creator—that was kids' stuff, I thought, and still think—I spent my adolescent time instead poring over (as I have exhaustively mentioned) Grant Morrison and (as I may not have mentioned at all) Irvine Welsh. That's all this provincial American has to tell you about Scottish literature for now.

#welsh literature #scottish literature

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