#Mr. Angsty Eloquent Loving Boi

[fanfic-the-wish-your-heart-makes]

Chapter 3 of Revenge Can Hurt More Than the Person It's Aimed at (An Angsty Nygmobblepot x Reader Hurt/Comfort Fix-it Fic)

Chapter 3: The Interview

<-previous chapter

Very important new warnings: the (wrong) suspicion that Oswald wants to die & that he self-harmed/was close to killing himself), blood (only what was in this episode: a trophy covered in it & some on skin), canon betrayal (including gaslighting & intimidation) & poor mental state (self-doubt)

Word count: 2764

Wow, I'm really committing to this cover-for-each-chapter thing so far.

________________________________________

Oswald looked as if he had seen a ghost. His face was even paler than before, his eyes wide, and his back appeared crooked, not to mention how much more he was leaning on his cane. What the hell happened?

He nearly skidded over the floor, and raised his hands. "Sorry I'm late. Mayor stuff." He chuckled artifically, and limped to his seat, throwing you a nervous look with all pretense gone. When an assistant tried to attach a cable to him, Oswald snatched it away and adjusted it himself.

Trying to make him feel a little at ease, you began, "I got you a fresh gl-" but Margaret Hearst interrupted you, "I hope you're ready, Mr. Mayor." Oswald smiled and huffed a little.

"The world is watching."

Why did she have to stress the word that way? He scowled and you did the same.

Her lips were pursed smugly. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"And we're live in three..." What? That's way too soon!

"Good luck, Oswald!"

He put his hands into a less cramped position.

"Two..."

"You've got this!"

The cameras started rolling and Ms. Hearst put on a wide smile.

"Mayor Cobblepot, as Gotham is enjoying an historic spike in job growth and prosperity, it is also going through one of the safest periods of its history."

Oswald smiled but Looked at the floor momentarily. At least one thing to make you proud.

"And I'm sure everyone is wondering: how did you did you do it?" The interviewer raised the corners of her lips but her head was inclined to show that she distrusted him.

"Uh", Oswald closed his mouth and picked up the water of glass, letting a bit spill onto the table.

Oh no. That was an easy question, he shouldn't start using drinking water to buy himself time yet. Maybe I should get a new glass just in case.

You peered at the table to check how much was still in it when Oswald paused his movement and then quickly covered his right wrist.

What was going on?

He stared at Margaret Hearst with an open mouth and she looked back more puzzled.

You went to a monitor to possibly get a better look but his hand wasn't in the frame. Good. Whatever it was didn't need to concern the public.

Oswald closed his eyes, thinking about your encouragement from before and smiled for a moment, then managed to start, "Well..."

While he was fidgeting a little with his hands - though not as much as Ed sometimes did: he was still clutching his right wrist - he actually did quite well, responding eloquently and mentioning a few of his successes along the way.

"So from humble errand boy to kitchen worker to the so-called "King of Gotham", Oswald pressed his lips together, sensing something else than a compliment coming, "it is said that many died so you could rise."

The King of Gotham mustered up a smile, "Oh. An exaggeration. People love to invent scandal." He was putting in quite a lot of energy for how he was feeling today.

The notorious journalist wasn't impressed, "But it was murder that sent you to Arkham. A prison for the criminally insane."

"I," he dragged the word out for a second to find the right words, "rescued this city from the madman Theo Galavan. Some call it murder," he looked down to the side, "others a public favor." He smiled charmingly. At least he won you over with it.

Ms. Hearst continued confidently, "And after your...controversial release from prison," Oswald was tempted to look to you for support, "you met your father, Elijah van Dahl."

Oswald's gaze drifted across the room and landed on-no!

"A man whose identity your mother kept from you."

Oswald opened his mouth. His father! Walking through the room unseen by the security guards. He let out a breath of air and followed the ghost with his eyes, whispering, "Oh my god."

You looked at him alarmed, about to follow his gaze when someone from the camera team made a sudden movement that distracted you.

"Guess it must have been very upsetting."

"What?" Oswald turned his head to Ms. Hearst, "Yes." He looked away again.

The mayor was very distracted but it wasn't as if anyone from the team had noticed anything.

"He also died under suspicuous circumstances, his wife and step children disappearing soon after."

Elijah was holding the trophy Oswald had used to kill his chief of staff, still bloody, raised for Oswald to remember what he had done, not just today but to avenge his father's death.

What did he want him to know? That he was a failure? No, he had been so kind when he'd heard about his past. Advice perhaps? Advice on how to prevent losing you as well?

"I...I-I have to go." Oswald was looking back and forth between Ms. Hearst and something behing you but you were frozen in place, only looking at him.

No one seemed to see what he was looking at anyways. Is he hallucinating?Ed might be able to help with that. Maybe Os had that little sleep. The poor man looked ready to leave.

But Margaret Hearst wasn't done with him yet, "Why? Is it because there's substance to the rumor that you had them killed to inherit your father's wealth?"

Oswald stopped clutching his chair and stood up, "F-father, father, wait!" His voice was frail. With his movement he dragged the chair along audibly, knocking off the glass in the process.

"Oh!" Ms. Hearst exclaimed, "Are you feeling well, Mr. Mayor?"

Oswald began removing the microphone on his suit. "Uh, I'm fine. I-I'm great." He bowed down to her a little, still trying to leave, "Why would I not be fine?" He was still fumbling with the microphone.

"Well, the people of Gotham and America want to know the truth."

Oswald couldn't take it anymore: he ripped off the cord and snarled, "To hell with the people!"

This was it. Margaret Hearst had gotten her story. She looked into the camera and raised her eyebrows. Oswald wasn't needed anymore.

"Father, wait!"

He needed to follow him. He had to. You gave him wonderful support but only his father could give him counsel concerning love: what to do with his feelings for you, how to live with Ed's rejection, whether to deal with the heartbreak in silence or tell you as well as confess to you...and risk losing you too.

"Oswald!"

He turned around.

"Wait!"

"What's wrong?"

He held up a shaky hand. His left one, you noticed. "I can't tell you. Not yet."

"What do you mean "not yet"?"

He looked down, then behind you again, as if there was someone.

"Later. N-not now, at least." He tried to move past you but you stopped his wobbly walk with a hand to his chest.

"Where are you going?"

He gently cupped your hand and moved it down, giving it a small squeeze, then wincing slightly and putting the hand on the other one...his right one.

You needed to ask. Something strange was going on.

Oswald stopped near a mirror and realized horrified that there was a little blood on his face. He wiped it away frantically. "T-to the...bathroom."

You eyed him suspiciously, worried about his well-being.

He pocketed the tissue, his lips twitching from nervosity, his tense legs urging him to follow his father already.

If you discovered his hallucinating, what would you think? You'd think of him as a madman. You knew that his sanity certificate was fake. Who even was he to have one?! Moreover: who was he if he was really sane? In the eye of the public he was a disgraced mayor. A hypocrite. A criminal. A liar. Not even an honest criminal as he sometimes liked to call himself.

After the embarrassment seconds ago he couldn't see clearly, didn't realize how blind he was, that you still liked Ed, who had a fake sanity certificate as well, that you were right there, taking in his state concerned for someone you loved dearly.

He only saw the negative. He was a disappointment. To the citizens of Gotham, to Ed, to you, to his mother, his father...

He had publically made a fool of himself despite your presence, you, his savior, his everything recently.

Not his everything...father!

His face grew less grim. "Now if you'd excuse me."

Again he made a move and would have let him if there wasn't a very important thing you had to ask first, "Just a second!"

Oswald halted.

You reached out to him, attempting to speak calmly, "Your hand. What do you have there?"

You gave it a light touch, meaning to bring it into yours to inspect it.

He flinched, then stood frozen.

"N-nothing!"

"Let me have a look."

"No!" He held a hand in front of his mouth. That reaction was too strong. "I-I mean, it's nothing!"

Very unconvincing.

"Oswald, you can trust me with anything. Please tell me what's wrong."

He evaded your concerned look and you took your chance, looking down at the hand he hadn't raised. The white fabric bore a a red stain. You took in a sharp breath.

Oswald called your name. "What is it?" He looked at you again, a flicker of caution in his panic-stricken eyes.

"The...the blood, Oswald." You gestured to his hand that he was now covering again. "Why is there blood?"

He stared at your pleading eyes.

"Tell me what's bothering you and I can...I can help arrange some downtime for you. I'll look for an open space i-in your schedule and talk to your new Chief of Staff. He seems nice, I'm sure-hey, did I say something wrong?"

"N-no." He couldn't tell you that he'd killed said Chief of Staff. You just said that you liked him, and to be honest, Oswald would've never expected betrayal from him either. What if he was actually innocent?

You went on, "It's his birthday today, did you know that? I'm sure he's in a good mood. Plus, a lot of people like him, so..."

No, no, no, no! Oswald cursed his murder.

You noticed, "But please do continue telling me what's up with your arm or wrist."

Don't say anything about killing him to y/n. "I...I, uh, hurt myself", he tried to explain.

"What?" Stay calm, don't make him feel bad, you told yourself.

"Yes. I-it can happen." Oswald meant to make it reassuring, but to you, who knew how bad he was currently doing, it sounded like a possible confession to self-harm.

"Let me see."

Oswald's eyes widened and he turned to walk away, "I'd rather not."

"Oswald, let me have a look. I-I can help you."

"No!"

You shrank back.

What have I done? "You don't need to look at it, is what I meant. You already help me so much, dear-dear y/n." Ahh, I messed up! Why did that have to happen today?!

You didn't seem to care about his slip-up, "Whether it looks bad or not, I better inspect it so I can make sure that you have the right bandages ready."

He couldn't let you! You'd see that he had no injury at all! "It's nothing."

"Oh," you didn't believe him, "Good."

He was already walking away, "I'll pick up something from the office." Now he had an excuse for going there.

"Wait!"

He only walked slower, which made his explanation all the more suspicious.

"If it's nothing, then please let me see it anyway so I don't have to worry anymore."

This was a smart strategy. While Oswald may have been doleful and weak these last weeks, he had never stopped caring about your well-being.

Instead of assuring you however, he now continued walking, "Please, y/n, I need to be alone!"

"And I'm worried tha..." You couldn't tell him of your suspicions. What if he hadn't done anything in that direction and felt misjudged by you? Or worse: what if you'd somehow inspire him to do something similar?

Oswald saw your distressed concern and stopped, stabilizing himself on a wall, "Worried about what, y/n?" If something was bothering his dear friend so much, his father could could wait for a few seconds.

"Worried that you hurt yourself on purpose."

"Oh." What should he say now?

Usually, if you found out that he'd killed an innocent person, you'd be mad or "merely" disappointed. Either would sadden him immensly at present.

"I didn't. But thank you for your concern."

You peered at his right hand. He still wasn't showing you show you the wound.

The dumpish mayor followed your eyes and let his shoulders sink more. "Please believe me." He made a choked noise in the back of his throat. "It's all so-" he started to cry, "so much a-and-" He waved his left hand around in search for words, his eyes filling with more tears, "I-I...Ijustcan'ttalkrightnow." He looked away and put his left hand to cover his face.

"That's okay. I'm sorry that I stressed you out even more." You stepped closer carefully, not knowing what else to say. Returning your hug, Oswald weakly put one arm to your side.

You stroked over his shaking back. "It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be alright." You teared up.

Oswald nodded despite his extreme doubts. He'd need a miracle to- father!

He jerkily tore away from you. "I have to go."

"What?" You were suprised at this sudden change.

"One more minute here and I'll-I'll have a panic attack. Please don't...don't follow me. I'm just barely managing to...to talk." Will you wait for me?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. But what-"

"Go ahead and wait outside."

"Wh-" What was going on? 'I have to go' sounded...terrible to you! And why wait outside?

"Good." Oswald turned around-

"Wait!" You had to do something, say something, just in case. "Oswald, please wait."

God, hearing that tone in your voice hurt him! He turned his head back towards you.

"You...we...we need to talk about something very important."

"Yes, what is it?"

No no no no, he was supposed to say "Yes of course, we'll talk about that later"!

"I'll tell you later!" You sounded hopelessly dispaired by now. "Can you promise me that we'll do that?" You blinked some tear fluid out of your eyes, "Today?"

Oswald stood still still woth his jittery legs and hands. It must be important. You were hurting and he hadn't helped you yet. He wanted to sob again. "Yes." He took a deep breath. "Of course, y/n. Everything for you."

If not everything for Edward and you, than at least everything for just you.

"I promise."

You breathed out in relief. "Th-thank you."

He was still miserable though. He probably really needed space, whether he had lied to you or not. "I'll wait outside. And Oswald?"

He gazed at you full of hope.

"Don't think that interview ruined everything. You still control the crime world. And they know who you are. But even if you lost everything...you'd still have me."

Hopefully that would take some of the fear from his shoulders.

Oswald's breath hitched.

Those were big words. Words like "I love you", which you had already said today. Words like "I would do anything for you." Words like "more than friends"...and he'd eventually found out what all of those had really meant.

He immediately felt bad for playing his sadness and distress up.

He didn't want to and wouldn't try to find out the exact meaning of what you'd said. Not unless he wanted his heart to be broken a second time.

This time all of his emotional expressions were completely authentic. A new wave of tears threatened to overcome him and so he could only choke out, "Thank you."

Then he walked away.

You stood there, suddenly doubting your little try at ensuring he'd come back. Maybe you could go after him and make sure...no. He'd asked you not to. If you did, it might be his final tipping point to having a panic attack...or worse.

You slowly forced yourself to move, almost reflexively pulling out your telephone and dialling a familiar number.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep... It rang until you were almost outside.

"Ed", you said as soon as he picked up, "you have to tell me what happened between you and Oswald."

Author's note: The updates might take longer from now on, as I haven't begun writing the next ones yet or seen the episodes after season three episode 14 😂. This fic will probably go up to season 3 episode 16, so it's totally okay.

Things are so sad currently though 😭 So please let me know anything you like/think about this. It can be short, medium, long, whatever you want :)

Next chapter (4)->

[saltpepperbeard]

Not Her ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Hello everyone! *hUNGER GAMES INTENSIFIES* am I right? I’m so happy for the Re-Read that’s taking place, because not only is it getting me furiously posting about THG again, but it brought back my quite dead writing motivation! I was reading chapter two, had a, “Okay but what must have this person been experiencing” kind of thought, followed by the instant urge to write it. So here we thankfully are lol!

I’m probably a tad rusty, but I really did want to write a different take on the Reaping Day. I’ve always wondered what things would be like from a certain someone’s point of view after all! So with that being said, I hope you all like it!

And with further adoooooooo...

Not Her

It’s the day everyone in this District dreads again.

The one where families are torn apart for a sick spectator sport. The one where children are torn crying from their mothers, knowing what horrible fate awaits them. The one where loved ones are officially lost to the Capitol.

Reaping Day.

I clench and unclench my jaw, silently filing in after all the other boys my age. The tension in the air is high, as usual. We’re not a District to valiantly offer volunteers, or boast our Tributes’ strengths. We’re a group of reluctant individuals, with many being fearful, silently praying that their name, or their loved one’s name, isn’t the one to be called.

I’m in the latter half of that group. My name being plucked from the large, glass bowl wouldn’t trigger any tears, from me or my family for that matter. There’s a slight sinking in my stomach as I imagine it, yes, but ultimately it wouldn’t hurt as much as others. My family would get on. The District would get on. And maybe it’d be a sick way to spare me from my current way of life.

I’m more concerned about my brother, concerned about Rye. I wouldn’t want to see him on that stage, awaiting pain, awaiting death. I wouldn’t want to see anyone I love subjected to that. Having to helplessly watch as someone close to me suffers has to be one of my worst fears.

A heavy breath rolls out of my mouth, my attention zoning out as the typical string of events unfolds. The mayor talks about the past of Panem, the history of the Games, and the reasons we should be thankful for them. It makes me sick to my stomach, the notion of being appreciative of murder, appreciative of suffering, appreciative of torture. So naturally, my attention goes elsewhere.

It doesn’t really come back until our District’s sole-surviving Victor, or our District’s Infamous Drunk rather, makes his grand entrance on stage. I let out a sigh as he leaves a path of chaos in his wake, but I cannot deny the slight ache in my chest. That insanity could be someone’s fate today. Or worse, far worse.

Another interesting character, Effie Trinket, attempts to hurry things along, continuing to try and make this some kind of grand spectacle. It’s ladies first as usual, and despite not really having anyone close to me per say, I find that I’m holding my breath.

When the name is uttered, I’m relieved for a split second, and then utterly devastated in the next.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

My throat locks up, with my entire body to follow. I almost feel a bit woozy, my head spinning at the image of a small, frail, blonde girl reluctantly emerging from the crowd.

I know her. Almost too well for never really formally meeting her. I can see her passing by our Bakery in the morning, completely carefree and casting light as she goes. I can see the way her gaze sparkles as she eyes the displays in the window, eagerly running up to get a better look. And I can see her turning around, excitedly pointing at the various cookies and cakes to the person who’s always with her...

“Prim!”

As unfortunate as it is to say, I should be familiar with that shrill, desperate cry. The sound of a person getting their family member torn away from them at the Reaping, a haunting, eerie noise that’s something of normalcy every year.

But it’s from her. She’s in pain. Her sister is going to the Arena. And I can’t protect them, can’t comfort her.

I can feel myself shaking, small beads of sweat forming atop my skin. I don’t even know her. I don’t know either of them. But at the same time, I feel like I do. I’ve seen them both for so long. My heart has followed the one for as long as I know, which means I’m naturally protective of the other as well.

It’s almost like I can feel her anguish, like my little sister is up there.

Mentally, I wrap my arms around her, holding her as tightly and warmly as I can manage. Even if I really could, I know there wouldn’t be enough love in the world to comfort her in this. But God, would I try. I’d want nothing more than to try and keep her lifted out of the darkness the Capitol tries so desperately to inflict upon us.

“Prim!”

Tears spring into my eyes, my heart clenching something terrible. I watch as she emerges from the crowd as well, darting after her sister. I wish I could be there alongside of her too, offering all the support and help I could possibly muster. But I can’t. I’m always doomed to watch from the sidelines, doomed to watch as things unfold.

And unfold they do.

“I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!”

Everything stops. My world completely stops. 

My heart stutters to a grinding halt. A noise of anguish poised on my tongue gets jammed in my throat. The tears I had been fighting against have no choice but to fall.

No. Not her.

It’s my nightmare. My absolute worst nightmare come to life. I always knew there was a very small possibility of this happening, a very grim chance of this unfurling before my very eyes. But nothing could have actually prepared me for it happening. No matter how many times I see them per night, the bad dreams are nothing compared to reality.

The light goes dark, and sounds go muffled. I can see some slight, desperate movement near the stage, and hear a scuffle of activity, but I can hardly pay attention. I can hardly focus on anything other than trying not to collapse right here and now, to collapse completely in on myself.

I don’t know her. I never got to know her. I didn’t get to tell her how beautiful I think she is, how her eyes remind me of a strong, captivating summer storm. I didn’t get to tell her how I want to protect her and her family for the rest of my days, to ensure they never have to go hungry ever again.

I never got to tell her how much I utterly adore her, how much I love her to the ends of the Earth.

And when she goes on stage, when she utters her name, the reminder makes a shaky, sobbing-like breath croak from my lungs.

Katniss Everdeen.

Not her. Not her. Not her.

Somewhere in the middle of my woes, I can faintly hear Effie Trinket trying to get our solemn District excited, trying to get our District to roar with thunderous applause.

But in true fashion, much to my utmost relief and yet utter dread, they don’t. Everyone remains ghostly silent, before kissing three fingers and raising them high into the sky. It’s a gesture of complete admiration, but also a way of saying goodbye.

I can’t bring myself to do it. Because no matter how much I utterly adore her, I cannot bring myself to say goodbye. Especially without giving the slightest “hello.”

I simply hang my head, fiercely wiping the tears away, clenching both my eyes and jaw. I wish I could reveal my gaze and be free from this, be in a completely different world where I’m waking up to light, waking up to her.

But I’m not. The awful world I’m in continues on.

I can hear the loud clicking of Effie’s heels as she walks from one side of the stage to the other. I wipe the last of my tears away, sighing harshly and attempting to get myself under some semblance of control. I just hope whoever gets reaped can work together with Katniss, and protect her with his life.

The odds must be somewhat in my favor, albeit in a messed up, twisted kind of way.

Because the name that’s called, the paper that’s raised into the air, sends me through a torrent of feeling.

My first emotion, by complete instinct, is shock, my head jolting upwards and my mouth hanging agape. I can feel everyone who’s in close proximity staring at me, their faces either wearing sorrow or some kind of weird relief. And after I’ve recovered from the initial blow, the initial realization that I’m going to the Hunger Games, the thoughts that follow are what give me the strength to walk towards the stage.

Katniss.

I’m going to be with Katniss in the arena.

Not getting to know her doesn’t seem as devastating anymore. Because now I’ll get to die knowing I protected her, knowing I gave absolutely everything to keep her alive. And that’s all I could possibly want. To make sure I gave my all in ensuring her safety.

Maybe she doesn’t need me. Maybe she can get by just fine on her own. I’ve heard about the way she shoots, heard her way of fighting is silent and elegant. It’d be just one other person who wouldn’t be affected by my presence or lack of thereof; my family certainly isn’t.

But that won’t stop me from trying. That won’t stop me from giving myself to her like I’ve tried to all these years. I am hers and no one else’s. My life is insignificant next to hers.

I finally mount the stage, and in seeing her so close, in getting to properly look at her, it locks my sole purpose in these Games completely into place.

I move to stand parallel to her. Before I do though, I give myself a brief opportunity to look at her. To really look at her. To look at her how I would every day if I was blessed enough to actually be with her.

Her beauty absolutely takes my breath away. It always has. Though her face is hard, completely taut with emotion, she’s gorgeous. Her hair looks softer than the dandelion puffs dotting the District. Her eyes look shinier than the sun dancing off the lake’s surface. Her lips look plumper than the strawberries growing in the forest.

I don’t think I could ever capture such beauty in one of my paintings, or ever truly put it into words. She’s utterly exquisite.

I don’t stare, being quick to tear my gaze away and look straight ahead, out into the crowd. Now really is not the time to dote on her anyway. I can’t afford to get anymore attached than I am now. Now is the time to start planning how I’m going to keep her alive.

As the mayor talks more about the Games, my mind is aflame with possibilities, with different scenarios. I think of how I can keep others away from her, how I can potentially side with her, how I can guard her from anyone who might come near...

My thoughts are cut short by Effie yet again, though this time she actually says something significant to me for once.

“Alright you two, shake hands!”

My head turns towards Katniss as hers turns towards mine, our eyes meeting and locking for the first time in...years. Her gaze is just as mesmerizing as it was the first time I held it, just as captivating. And just like last time, I silently tell her I’m going to protect her. I silently tell her that I will take a beating for her. I silently tell her that I love her.

And to prove it, to seal the deal, I put all the warmth I can manage into our handshake, squeezing her hand tenderly with the figurative promise of never letting go.

The odds may not be fully in my favor during the Games, but hopefully now the opposite can be said for her.

And once we turn to be beckoned into the building behind us, away from our District, my life is hers.

[venus-haze]

Elvis Ask Tag

I know multiple people tagged me to do this, and I want to say thank you so much! I appreciate y’all🖤

When and what was your first exposure to Elvis Presley? My family (especially my mom) have always been huge Elvis fans so pretty much since I was born

And what was your first impression? Annoyed😅 Some days all my mom would play was Elvis and I’d be like god can we listen to something else. To be fair I was in elementary school and was more concerned with like Backstreet Boys. Oddly enough she doesn’t listen to him much anymore

Lace shirts or jumpsuits? Both!

You can steal one of Elvis/Austin’s outfits, what’s it going to be? Pink suit from the Trouble scene, it’s iconic and I want to see a drag king’s take on it so bad

C’mon, we know you’ve been watching/reading old interviews and random footage of the man, so what’s your favorite random Elvis quote? “I’ll be so horny I could die” Beautiful. Moving. Eloquent. 

Did you find Austin Butler’s lips distracting despite them being in a movie about the King of plush upper lips? (Be honest now) Yes, that’s why I mention them in my fics so often!

What’s an aspect of Elvis’s character you wish people appreciated more? I think how religious and also charitable he was, but his faith meant a lot to him, like it was something that gave him hope when he needed it. As someone raised in a religious household I would have loved to pick his brain and talk with him about Christianity and his beliefs

You meet Col. Tom Parker for the first time, forewarned with the knowledge of what a scumbag he is, what do you do?: A. nothing, you’re a coward who doesn’t care about abused golden-hearted men B. you give the Colonel a stern telling off C. you encourage Elvis to leave him and break the contract E. you slap a legal document against that fat suit and declare "Mrs. Claus is bringing you a lawsuit" F. you waste no time with formalities, it’s a letter opener to the jugular for that piece of trash: I would go full Andrew Garfield in The Social Network “lawyer up asshole” scene. Prada at the cleaners, fuck you flip flops, the works

What was your favorite aspect/scene from the Elvis 2022 movie? The Vegas Rehearsal scene was magical, seeing everything come together for the opening night. Amazing work on Baz’s part!

You can choose only one song or piece of media to convince someone to become an Elvis fan, what is it going to be? I would honestly say Elvis (2022)

How many children would you give Elvis Presley from your own -or theoretical- womb? (listen to the beast in ya, your feminism won’t serve you here) None because he was apparently weird about having sex with women who’d given birth? Not setting myself up for that but also this is why we need accessible and comprehensive sex ed

Where are you hanging out with EP, his bedroom with the teddy bears, Club Handy, his private jet or Graceland? Graceland would be so fun🖤

What is the peak Elvis era? warning, this says an awful lot about you… Comeback Era to when he did (what he assumed would be) his first Vegas residency, he was on top of the world then

How long have you been an Austin Butler fan (be honest now, God is watching) Since the movie came out. Before then I only knew him as Vanessa’s boyfriend, sorry Austin

What kind of Elvis chick are you? -a 1950’s prospective wife material that he’s already sampled, a 1960’s filmset fling or a Vegas torrid backstage affair? Vegas torrid backstage affair if I have to choose from the provided options, but I really would have liked to be there for him, even as a friend, toward the end of the career and try to seriously get him help and make him know he wasn’t alone and he mattered

Is Austin Butler an honorary southerner now? Answer options: A. hell no, California can keep his sweet cheeks. B. hell yes, he’s practically been possessed by the soul of the King of the South: He’s a Cali boy and there’s nothing wrong with that

Pick your poison in the fan-fiction realm: angst, fluff, smut, fluffy smut, angsty fluff, angsty smut?…or is reading about Elvis Presley an acknowledged health hazard? Y’all already know how I deal🫠

Spit or swallow for this man? (And if you don’t understand this question move right along) Swallow but shotgun once in a while to keep him on his toes🤭

Would Gladys approve of you? Take your above answer into consideration. I think we’d clash at first, and have a mutual tolerance for each other at best. I’m not the type to baby people so I think she’d take the most issue with that in regards to if I were in a long-term relationship with Elvis lol

Which of Elvis’s cars is your favorite? Pink Cadillac of course!

What are your odds of beating him at karate? Absolutely none

If you could meet Elvis and have enough composure to tell him something, what would it be? That his career was lasting and meaningful, and so many people still love and are impacted by him to this day. Also to hire a good lawyer and a forensic accountant

What’s a hobby or pastime of yours you wish you could share with Elvis/Austin!Elvis? Travel! It seems like he went to so many places, but was so overworked he never got to be a tourist anywhere which is a shame

What’s the Elvis 2022 quote you’ve been mumbling to yourself ever since you heard it? Any time one of Elvis’ songs comes on inevitably one of my friends goes “he’s hwhite!?” because of that absolutely insane scene at the very beginning of the movie so probably that

What are your top three go-to Elvis songs? Angel, Surrender, It’s Now or Never

If you could spare him one tragedy, what would it be? His mother’s death, I think that really opened him up to being taken advantage of in his career because it seemed like she was the only one willing to be blunt with him who he’d actually listen to

Is there a modern artist that sorta scratches for you the itch that Elvis’ absence leaves? Bruce Springsteen! He’s cited Elvis as a huge influence on his own music which you can definitely hear, and I mean his stage presence is incredible (especially all the moments with Clarence Clemmons🥲 I wish Elvis had someone the way Bruce had Clarence, ya know?) There’s a reason his concerts are still selling out stadiums all over the world. Also during the Born to Run tour in 1975, Bruce and Stevie Van Zandt got drunk as hell in Memphis and hopped the fence at Graceland because they saw the lights on and thought Elvis was home so they could meet him…he wasn’t.

How did you react at the end of the movie when In the Ghetto started to play: A. I got up and fixed a snack because I have no soul, B. I left feeling alarmingly horny, C. I was impressed but didn’t realize how affected I was until days later when it was still with me D. I cried buckets they had to bring in a mop E. I may have appeared emotionless but in fact my soul was leaving my body and I don’t think it’s returned quite yet: B obviously!

I tag @munano-theprophet @mpmarypoppins @positivitylane112 @holy-minseok @emmymaehereeeeee @ninebluehearts @crash-and-cure and whoever else wants to do this!

[tolyasword]

3x04 madwife analysis (aka freakout)

So when I started watching s3, I decided to only watch Laura’s scenes for many reasons. I didn’t exactly like any Madwife references beyond the first episode and I wasn’t expecting anything big.

But boy was I wrong as fuck!

I realized, before I started writing this, that we’ve gotten a lot of Madwife in s1 and s2, but almost all of it was from Sweeney’s PoV right? His feelings, his yearnings, his puppy-dog eyes. And now, we’re seeing Madwife from Laura’s point of view and the angst is overwhelming.

Let’s begin.

First off, it seems like Laura gave up the coin and went to purgatory/hell to try to find Sweeney right? At least, once she realized in 3x03 what was going on, she changed her tune. She talked to that old lady about Sweeney. She hilariously brushed off any sort of “relationship” between the two of them in a laughable, memeable way. 

And then my friends.....

the old lady says “You were just talking like maybe he’s someone special.”

And what happens? We see Laura, looking mournful and guilty even, and then...AND THEN! 

A MOTHER FUCKING MADWIFE MONTAGE OVER A ROMANTIC/ANGSTY SONG!!

I’m not even joking, I almost died. I was like “Am I really seeing this?! Is this really happening?!” And lord when I rewatched that part and listened to the lyrics, it hurt my god damn soul.

And then, Laura quickly changes her tune and tells the lady that no, he’s just the guy who killed her, but her face says otherwise.

Okay, BREATHE. Take a moment if you need to.

Second off, a small moment. Laura’s humming this tune that we heard in 3x03. Laura figures out the title is “Requiem of Balder”. !!! For those who don’t remember, Baldr is Odin’s son and briefly was mentioned in connection with Sweeney when he was doing his big battle as Lugh near the end of his life where he killed Baldr (or Odin), when he was talking to Mr. Ibis. This is cool because it not only links Laura with Odin and her destiny to kill him, but also Laura and Sweeney in a roundabout way.

Third, let’s just say, the moment I screamed and paused the show: the blood. Laura’s dust on the ground and some guys find Sweeney’s mutilated :( corpse. They take him away and the tomb he was laying on was covered in blood. His blood. One dude stays to clean it up and starts hosing it off which makes the blood start to slide down the sides of the tomb and what happens? The guy steps on the grigri potion that Samedi gave her to give her life.

And my friends, we watch with held breath as MAD SWEENEY’S BLOOD mixes with LAURA’S POTION and starts to glow with golden veins. And wouldn’t you know it, Laura gets yeeted out of purgatory and winds up, naked and alive, lying on the floor where the mixture had...mixed.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!

I know most of the fandom had this idea from s2 onward. Sweeney’s blood was the key to Laura’s potion. But the implications is that Sweeney had LOVE IN HIS VEINS because, remember Samedi said the final potion ingredient was two drops of blood infused with love. *SCREAMS* I can’t even eloquently say how much this destroyed me in a good and bad way. The fact that it meant Sweeney kept up his bargain: he was paramount in making Laura live again. T___T His love (whether it be specifically for her, or just his ability to love in general) was paramount in making her potion work.

The poetry of it is just unparalleled.

Okay so Laura wakes up and asks where Sweeney is (she uses his GOD DAMN NAME and let me tell you I just about ascended to the pearly gates myself) and is told he’s gone. Like...gone gone. The subtle emotions on her face are indescribable. She’s guilty and sad, there is grief and confusion there. She says it’s “her fault” that he’s dead and that she should have been able to bring him back, but couldn’t. She’s so damn sad, you can’t help but feel for her. I don’t know if “her fault” was because she ran him away after they had magic~sex~ with the Lao or because she couldn’t save him...maybe it was both. 

In any case, Laura facing her feelings and dealing with consequences of her actions and decisions is a big step for her. (Also can we celebrate that she’s alive again?! I hope she doesn’t squander this second chance, but I doubt she will. She has a plan and it’s to kill Wednesday so thank god.)

Also, we have Laura picking up Sweeney’s coin, which is, for once, covered in his blood rather than tucked away in her chest. That moment was sort of sweet and understated and I think will have something to do with Doyle finding her, but we’re not here to talk about that. The fact is, she didn’t leave it. She still has Sweeney’s coin, even after she willingly gave it to him.

Lastly, we find Laura eating, sitting in a cemetery. I feel like she’s at home in places of the dead now, even though she’s alive. I love the motif and the implications of what that means. Anyway, the guy brings over a box and in it is Sweeney’s ashes. Laura takes it almost delicately and we get some gorgeously  heartbreaking shots of her hands stroking the sides and we get the line “Somehow all of him fits in here.” RIP MY HEART OUT WHY DON’T YOU. And then, as if I’m not in enough pain, they show another snippet of a flashback with that same ghostly romantic song, a shot of Sweeney sitting in that field. I think that’s important to note...THAT is the moment she thought of. When she was at her lowest and Sweeney told her to suck it up and keep fucking fighting, no matter what.

I think that says a lot in that moment. Now that Laura’s alive, she could easily return to a normal life, but that moment spoke a lot into her future. She’s going to keep on with her mission to kill Wednesday. Sweeney died trying to do the same and since she couldn’t save him, she’s going to kill the god instead.

And of course, there’s the symbolism of Laura being dropped off in the dark near a glowing hill. We know Laura always saw Shadow as a glow in her B&W dead vision right? So she’s standing there, glow in the distance....HUGGING THE BOX TO HER CHEST. She’s hugging Mad Sweeney to her chest, looking a little lost, just one sad girl trying to kill the Allfather, and she’s walking toward the light. OOF. It hurt big time, y’all. I can’t even.

Anyway, I feel like there may be a moment where Laura buries the box and officially says goodbye to Sweeney, but I also can’t help but think of all the emotional connection there is with the simple fact of her holding onto it. She could have dumped it into a river after she left the cemetery, but no she took it with her, her sole possession besides a golden god-coin, a box of ashes.

There’s a lot to unpack, and I haven’t even scratched the surface. I’m still digesting and I need time to process! Feel free to add your thoughts, let me know how y’all are doing. 

[simsadventures]

Duties: Chapter 5: In the Dark

Medieval Alpha Thor x Medieval Omega Reader

Summary: There is only one thing left to do to protect Thor from your past. Run. And neither Tony nor Thor are too happy about your decision.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Word Count: 1710

A/N: Things are getting angsty you guys, hope you’re ready. If you like this story, please let me know. I know that not that many people are into it, but I hope those of you who read it at least enjoy it :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

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Waking up the next morning, a warmth surrounded you. You knew that the warmth came from the sun shining outside of the castle’s walls, but you had the feeling as if it came from inside of you. Just from the warmth, your heart has been basking in ever since Thor said goodbye to you the night before. You stayed up talking for the better part of the night, sharing little information about each other, enjoying the other’s company.

Thor left with a huge smile on his face, and you loved how his cheeks reddened when you complimented him on something he wasn’t used to. Thor was a beautiful man, you were aware of that, and you were pretty sure he also knew about this quality. He was used to people complimenting him on his golden hair, on his strength, on his body, all of it. But when you told him you admired his intelligence, he couldn’t help himself but feel like a schoolgirl.

When you noticed this little trait of his, you tried to highlight the things you were sure some people didn’t care to see. His strength was admirable, sure, but it was the strength of character that you elevated when talking to him. However bad he thought himself as a prince, you assured him that he was still acting like the heir of Asgard’s throne, not giving his father the chance to doubt him. You were sure all kings when talking to Odin would tell him that Thor was the example of eloquence and royalty, that he wasn’t just the bratty child they expected.

It was thanks to encouragements like these Thor knew you would make the best of queens. Especially for him. He tended to be rash, sometimes, in his decision-making process, his hot head getting the best of him. But with you by his side, Thor knew you would tell him when he was being irrational, and also tell him when it was enough of the childishness.

Thor also knew that there wouldn’t ever be any other woman for him other than you. You were perfect in every possible way, from the way your giggles turned into adorable snorts when there was something you found especially funny, to the way you scrunched your nose when you were thinking, Thor couldn’t stop looking and smiling at you.

The whole day was perfect for both of you, and both you and Thor went to sleep feeling like you were on top of the world.

But when the morning glow diminished, and you suddenly realised that no matter how meant to be the two of you were, you couldn’t be with him. In your eyes, Thor deserved somebody better, or at the very least, somebody with a clean slate. Someone whom he could present as the rightful queen without feeling guilty or as if though he should be hiding something.

When you finally realised that you cared about him enough not to let him undergo all of this, you finally rolled out of bed and went straight to your little closet.

You needed to get out of there.

Clothes were sent flying through the room as you tried to pack as lightly as you could, only taking the utmost necessities and the things that were left to you by your mother, like the pendant she gifted you when you reached 18. It was one of the best days of your life, and one of the last good days you had with your parents. From that point onwards, everything went to hell, and eventually, your whole existence became your own personal hell.

Until you met Thor and you had the glimmer of hope that things could be better. But you knew that they couldn’t. That as long as there were parties still searching for you, trying to deliver your head to the king, you didn’t stand a chance for happiness. And only because your life was damned, you were willing to condemn Thor to the same fate.

With that thought you got up from the floor, scribbled a quick letter to the king, thanking him for all he’s done for you in the past few years, and set on the journey. And it would be a long one.

Thor woke up with a smile on his lips. He hasn’t felt this elated in a long time. Usually, he woke up hungover, with multiple women weaved into his own limbs, and he still felt empty and sad, trying to fill a hole he didn’t even know he had.

But with you in his life, he suddenly knew what he missed. The connection, however short it has been, was unconquerable for Thor. He saw a few women ever since he met you, smiling at him, obviously flirting him and if he were his old self, he was positive he would have enjoyed the company of at least two of those women.

But he didn’t need to anymore. He went to sleep alone and woke up the happiest man in the world. I all seven of them, he was sure of it.

Thor had time to spare because you told him that there was work to do in the morning to prepare baked goods for Tony’s lunch, and so he went and roamed the castle, his head high up in the skies, thinking of you. The way you smelled, the way your velvety skin felt against his finger, the way your lips would feel when he finally got enough courage to kiss you properly.

He didn’t even realise it, but while he roamed, Thor got to Tony’s quarters. He wouldn’t be so bold as to knock on anybody’s door, hasn’t it been his old friend. He waited a while before Tony smiled at Thor from the door.

“Your majesty, what can I do for you?” Tony mocked and stepped aside for Thor to come in.

Thor rolled his eyes at Tony and walked to the couch in the middle of the room, before he slumped down like a sack of potatoes, stretching his limbs, lazy smile on his face.

Tony eyed him up and down, smirking to himself.

“I assume you had a good night from the look on your face, huh? How many was it this time, two, three, ten?” Tony laughed at his friend, and Thor scoffed. He would’ve been offended if it hadn’t been true just a few weeks ago.

“No, my friend. I had nobody in my chambers for your information. But I spent the best of days with a beautiful girl, yesterday,” Thor said proudly, reminiscing about the way your hips swayed ever so little as you walked through the market yesterday.

“Oh, do tell! You know how hungry for gossip I am,” Tony sat down next to Thor, evidently eager for more information about Thor’s rendezvous.

“I found my true mate, pal! Would you believe it? And to think I wasted days roaming other kingdoms when I could’ve come straight here and been with her for all this time? Preposterous!”

Tony just gaped at Thor with his mouth open, before he recollected himself and patted Thor’s shoulder.

“Who is she? How did you find her? Is she some court lady? Somebody else altogether? When is the wedding?” Tony rambled on until Thor stopped him by bursting into laughter. But before he could say anything more, a servant almost ran into Tony’s chamber, and wasn’t it for the slightly alarmed look on his face, Tony would most probably pester him for coming in without as much as knocking.

“Your majesties, I’m awfully sorry for barging in so suddenly, but I was instructed that I should deliver this letter to you as soon as possible. I was told that it is the most pressing matter,” the servant breathed out.

“And who told you so?” Tony eyed him up and down before taking the letter from his hand.

“Your queen, my king. I was looking for you in the throne room but found only her, and as the letter was addressed to both of you, I thought I would give it to the queen, but upon reading she sent me rushing to you, my king,” the servant finished.

Tony scanned through the letter, and his stomach turned. Thor could see the change in Tony’s face, glancing back at the servant, trying to connect the dots, but there weren’t many.

“This can’t be true! Why would she do this! She is in such grave danger, and now she runs away from here? It doesn’t make any sense, whatsoever. Tell me, boy, when did you find this letter?” Tony barked, standing from the chair and pacing around the room.

“She didn’t come to the kitchen on the appointed time, and because she was always on time, Mr Thornes, the main baker, sent me looking for her. He was scared that something might have happened to her, but when I came to her chambers, all that was left was this letter,” the servant said obediently, trying not to be intimidated by Tony’s harsh looks.

“Somebody must stop her. I understand she says that this is her decision, but I’ve protected her long enough that she feels like a sister to me. I must find her and bring her here before anybody else does,” Tony snarled and tried to walk out of the room before Thor stopped him by laying his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“What is going on, Tony? You look like the whole kingdom should fall tonight,” Thor said jokingly, but his face remained like a stone.

“It’s just a girl I’ve been protecting by hiding her here as one of the helping hands in the kitchen. She is now gone, and I worry about her safety,” Tony said, and for a second, Thor felt as if a cold breeze swooshed over him. It couldn’t be you, could it?

“And what is her name, if I may ask?” Thor almost whispered, fearing Tony’s answer.

“Well, I don’t know what good that information is to you, but if you must know, her name is Y/N.”

Thor’s world crumbled in that very moment. What felt like the best day in his whole life, suddenly turned out to be possibly the worst one.

/ Next Chapter >

Duties:

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[serpent-jugheadjones]

It’s The End Of Riverdale As We Know It - Phone Calls - Part 7

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

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Gladys Jones / Jughead Jones x Jellybean Jones / Jughead Jones x Reader

Description: Jughead’s phone call to his mom doesn't go as expected.

Warnings: Angsty af. IT WILL BREAK YOUR HEART.

Word Count: 1632

A/N: Before anything. I dedicate this whole series to my twin @southsidejuggie. I know how much she loves Jellybean (same as I) and that has kept me interested and happy through writing a not so popular series. She has been giving me priceless feedback that I can never fully express how much it means to me. Thank you so much Zoe! - I broke my own heart writing this. Changed a few things from the show to add something of my own. It saddens me to say, but this is the final part for this series. It was a pleasure writing this. I hope you guys enjoyed this journey!  Happy 2nd episode.

Jughead lives his most fragile moment ever, feeling unable to take any other disappointments. First, he was betrayed by his closest only friends, then his dad’s trailer was trashed by the police when they arrested him for Jason Blossom’s murder. He can see nowhere else to turn to in Riverdale, so the apprehensive boy has one last glimpse of hope.

He stands in the phone booth outside the bus station, holding the piece of paper containing his mother’s number and a ticket. Before calling, he memorizes the number and slips the two sheets inside his travel backpack containing all his stuff. The line rings for a while before being answered. 

“Yeah.” That’s barely audible as loud conversation and plates clanking mix with her voice. 

“Hi, Mom.” This is the first time Jughead speaks to his mom since she left. He wishes it had been on better terms, but the boy had to learn the hard way early on to take what life gives you.

“Jughead! It’s been ages, so great to hear from you.” Gladys walks out of the diner lobby into the employees room to muffle the noise from the customers.

“Hey, guess what?”, Juggie asks in a somewhat cheerful way. Seeing his family again is the one light shining on the darkness that’s taking over his life.

“Did you win a writing award?”, the woman speaks through biting her fingernails, nervous she may say the wrong thing. “What?”

“I got a bus ticket to Toledo.”, Jug reveals excitedly, already anticipating how hugging his sister would feel like, finally able to see her play live.

“When? Why? Did something happen to your father?” That’s not really the news she was expecting nor the response he was hoping for.

“Yeah. I thought I'd come see you and Jellybean for a while.” Jughead feels weird at the need to have a reason for seeing them. In fact, something did happen to his father, but the beanie-clad boy doesn't think it’s wise to share that. 

“Oh, son... You know we are already crowded in here.”, she explains hardheartedly. 

“I could crash on the couch.” He’s been sleeping in thin mattresses on the floor at the Drive-in/School/Archie’s house, therefore a sofa would be an improvement, to be honest.

“I’m already sleeping on the couch so JB can have the spare room... There’s just no space. You get it?” Gladys opens her locker to look at a picture of the four of them under the tree house. She brushes her red fingertips over Juggie’s face. 

“Yeah.” His heart tightens, barely allowing blood to pump through.

“You know it’s not that we don’t want to see you. I work all the time and JB has school and she’s always at her friend’s house. You’d end up wasting your time.” 

“Mmm-hmm.” The eloquent writer can barely string two sentences together now. 

“And you don’t want to miss school, right?” At her every word, the light he was moving towards diminishes more and more.

“No.” He’s dumbfounded that’s one of her arguments, like that ever mattered before.

“Maybe when I save enough for an apartment of my own. You can even have your own room. It’s just not the right time, you understand?” In a different time maybe the prospect of that would've brought him joy.

“No, I understand.” Juggie is used to being let down by his father, but this is a new feeling for him as for when his mom left, the last thing she said was “I’m always here for you, Jughead.”. 

“Expenses aren't really that great. Your grandparents are already throwing at my face that they’re supporting JB.” Money, the one constant ruining his family. FP not earning any was the reason she left, not having any is the reason she doesn't want her own son.

“Look, forget I said anything, okay?” The freckled boy has to use all the strength left in him to not fall apart then and there.

“I’m sorry, Jughead.” Her words don’t mean a thing at this point.

“All right. Bye.” Jughead bites his bottom lip vigorously, trying to hold his tears in.

“Bye. I lov...” She’s cut off by Jug hanging up the phone. 

If he could crawl into a dark hole right now, he would. They boy changes his ticket to Toledo for one to the next bus leaving, but there’s still a long wait ahead. Before anything, Jughead wants to rid himself of the clothes that reminds him of the epic fail of the school dance. The closest place he can go is his dad’s trailer. Getting there, Jug finds two helmets on the ground, his and JB’s, dropped by unattentive police officers searching the place earlier. He thinks his sister has the right to know what’s happening. Before even realizing, her voice is echoing through the small trailer as he puts her on speaker. 

“Jug? Are you there?” Jellybean can hear his breathing.

“Yeah. I got something to tell you.” Jughead puts his beanie back on, for he needs all the comfort possible.

“Mom said you called and sounded weird. Does it have to do with that?”, the raven-haired girl asks. “Got worried something bad happened.”

“No... Everything is fine. Just wanted to see you guys.” In that moment, Juggie can’t burden his sister and the lie just fell from his lips.

“Are you sure?” She doesn't really believe him. “Before I’m incriminated, I yelled at mom for telling you to stay in Riverdale.” JB wanted nothing more than seeing her brother but her mother stopped that from happening. 

“Well, I’m not staying, anyways.”, he confesses unintentionally, speaking his thoughts out loud.

“What? You’re coming regardless?”, the confused girl begs for information.

“No... Nevermind that.” Her brother denies her wish.

“I can’t just let it go, Juggie.”, she insists.

“Look, I gotta go, talk to you soon, JB.” His heart is shattered into a million pieces now..

“NO! Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third! Don’t you dare hang up on me.”, she shouts desperately.

“I love you, Forsthia.” He hangs up in tears.

His phone rings immediately. Ignore. Again. 1 Voicemail. Let it ring. 3 Text messages from JB Jones. Deep sadness.Turn off. He wishes the world had an on/off button. 

He seeks mental refuge, turning to his only safe place in Riverdale. Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe. Deserted at this hour. Surprisingly, not too long after his hit of cafeine arrives at his table, the bell rings. Jug doesn't even make an effort to see who it is until the person is standing in front of his booth. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” He drinks his coffee and she sits next to him, still in her Homecoming dress. “I've looked for you everywhere. You just left me there. I had to find out what happened by Reggie gossiping.”, the hurt girl criticizes. “They went behind my back.”, he explains. “THEM, Jughead. Not me.”, she emphasizes by pointing at herself, but he just stares out the window, trying to keep himself together. “I know you are trying to leave. Do you know how much it would've hurt me if I found out you were gone?”, the girl confesses, her voice breaking from keeping tears in. He doesn't have the strength to reply. “He was set up. You’d know if you had stuck around.” That is the only thing that brings him back to reality, his eyes begging her for more information. “Alice confessed. She waited until he left to drop us off at the dance and set the gun in his closet, then called in an anonymous tip.” He can’t believe her words. “It was Grundy who killed Jason. They were having an affair, but then he wanted to be with Polly and she freaked out. Alice got the gun from Betty when she broke into Miss Grundy’s car...” He kisses Y/N into silence, for all he needed was to know FP’s innocent. 

Pop brings the girl an extra cup of coffee. “I’m sorry. I freaked out.”, Jughead explains, holding her hand firmly, scared of losing her, just as she was not too long ago. “I know. Just figured if you were going to run away you’d know I’d go with you.” she rests her head on his shoulder. “Can we put this night behind us?”, Jug requests. “Done.”, she agrees. “Ok. Now explain to me what happened.”, the inquisitive boy requests. “Sit back and relax, because things are about to get crazy. Even I can’t fully understand it yet.” Y/N instructs. “Alice found out Hal had stolen the files from the Sheriff. She flipped, thinking her daughters would be orphans if both their parents went to jail. So she confessed to both planting the gun and stealing the files.” That is indeed a lot to take in, but the boy listens intently. Even Pop is eavesdropping. “She told Keller from whom she got the gun and he brought Grundy in for questioning. She broke easily, for she’s very unstable.” That concludes the mystery they've been trying to solve for the past months. “My brain has frozen. That’s fucked up. Who would tell?”, Jug comments shockingly, taking all that in. “Now let’s get you unpacked, Mr.. You’re staying with me.”, Y/N instructs. The couple leaves the diner, feeling the weight of the world dropping from their shoulders. They leave everything that went wrong behind, as if it was just a nightmare.

[sebastainstantrash]

Kiss me (1940s!BuckyxReader)

Kiss me. (1940s!BuckyxReader)

Word Count: 1,609.

Date written: 3/4/17

Warnings: Death, Angst (sorry), Fluff towards the end.

A/N: I found this in my drafts and decided to finish it. Sorry its angsty-ish. I hope you like it! Remember, requests are open! Also, i’m really sorry if this is inaccurate to the 40s. I do not have a beta reader so ignore my mistakes please! 

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Reader’s POV

The dead of summer was not (Y/N)’s favorite time of the year. It was way too hot to be out in the Brooklyn weather in long, hot pants and dark colored jackets and ties. Not to mention the tall boots she was forced to walk around in for the large part of the day.

She sighed as she entered the metal barn, the smell of horse finding her nose immediately. She dumped the scoops of cheap feed into each stall and leaned against the wall watching them all eat happily. She was startled out of her dazed state at the sound of footsteps.

“Mrs Rogers, i wasn’t expecting you this morning!” (Y/N) said, surprised at the presence of the barn’s owner. Sarah was also one of her best friend’s mother, but (Y/N) was raised to always be proper when she was working in the presence of her superior.

“Just a bit stressed dear, came to clear this old head of mine.” Steve’s mother said sweetly, gesturing to her head full of now graying blonde hair. Her kind demeanor always made (Y/N) feel welcome and warm.

“It is quite a calming place, isn’t it?” she said, staring around the barn. It was obviously taken as a rhetorical question, as the older woman didn’t reply and headed towards the green pastures of the 30 acre farm.

(Y/N) started her work quickly after the encounter, taking horses to a small fenced pen and cleaning each stall with ease. After doing this since she was a small 10 year old, things were completed quickly and with eloquence. She wiped the beading sweat from her brow, her white button up shirt become increasingly hot with the labor.

“Looks like you’re  working hard, (Y/N).” Her closest friend Bucky stated, causing her to jump and cover her racing heart with her hand. Her other best friend, and Mrs Rogers’ son stood behind him, watching the interaction with a smirk.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” She scolded. “You scared me half to death!” (Y/N) all but shouted, glaring at the two of them, who both grinned innocently. “And if you must know, yes i am working hard.” She said, picking up the fallen pitchfork.

“Sorry doll, didn’t mean to startle you so badly. Just wanted to see if you needed any help around here.” Bucky said in the tone, the word doll making her swoon. She would never admit it, but she had the largest crush on the boy, who was only a year older than her at 17.

“I was actually just finishing up in here, trying to get a ride in before the heat gets to be to much.” (Y/N) stated, sweeping the last of the sawdust back into the stall and placing the broom in the now full bucket.

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Bucky’s POV

Watching her ride that horse was his favorite thing, or watching her in general really. She focused on every little thing she did, putting her hardest into it. He liked that more than he cared to admit. He also liked seeing the blush creep to her cheeks when he called her doll.

Bucky loved (Y/N), and as much as he hated to admit it, it was not a ‘friendly’ love.  He’d been in a trance since they met, and he was positive she didn’t like him back. He’d never given her much of a reason to, always flirting with other girls around her, teasing and taunting her. When he really thought about it, there was not one reason why anyone in their right mind would continue this type of friendship. But she did.

He watched her carefully as she navigated the horse through the old wooden jumps. Pushing herself off of its back every time it leaped over the colorful poles. (Y/N) slowed the horse to a walk, patting its neck and letting it know what a good job he had done.

“Well, what do you think?” (Y/N) asked, eyes wide, hoping she had impressed him.

“That looked really good, (Y/N), you are always improving.” Steve provided, after a long silence. She mumbled a quiet “thanks” before leaving the ring.

“Really Buck?” Steve asked shaking his head,  more than angry at his best friend for disappointing the girl.

“I’m sorry! I just get so jumbled when I’m around her. I don’t get it, it’s so simple with other gals” Bucky replied in a defensive tone. He had meant to clap for her, and tell her she had done amazing. But that’s not how it worked out, and now (Y/N) was in the downward spiral of a non-mutual crush, or so she thought.

(Y/N) had avoided Bucky for the past week, making up mediocre excuses as to why she couldn’t hang out and picking up more work hours at the barn. She was trying so hard to push the crush to the side, constantly telling herself; “It’s not going to happen,” and “he doesn’t care for you that way.” The only time the poor girl could escape the want for Bucky to fall in love with her was when she was taking care of her sickly mother. (y/m/n) had spent the last three weeks insisting that nothing was wrong, or that it was just the common cold. (Y/N) knew otherwise, and kept the illness her mother had to herself, even lying about it to Steve and Buck. She knew her mom needed a doctor, but there was no way (Y/N)  could afford to fund the treatment, even with her long work hours. The toll of that knowledge left her wallowing in self doubt and guilt. Influenza was a cold, terrible thing, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

After a long day at the stables, (Y/N) walked, more like dragged, herself through the kitchen and into the single bedroom of their apartment, where she had left her mother. She called out “(Y/M/N)” and got no reply. She must be sleeping. Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached the door, before pushing it open gently. She stood there for a moment, and slowly walked in, finding her mom laying there. ‘Sleeping, She’s fine, You’re taking fine care of her Y/N.’ She called (Y/M/N) again, trying to wake her up, but again no reply followed. In a burst of adrenaline, she moved from the doorway to the bed in an instant and shook her mom, finding the skin cold beneath her fingertips.

“Oh god, no, Ma wake up!” She all but screamed, her voice cracking. She sat there begging for what seemed like hours, it was five minutes at most. A neighbor alerted by the scream burst through the door of their apartment and gently pulled her away from the body of her mother. ‘Mama please wake up’ was all she could think about as the neighbor led her out the door. “You’re gonna walk right down the road to the general store and ask them to use the phone, say you’re mama is real bad and we need the phone immediately.”

She did as she was told, standing up without a word and walking down several flights of stairs to get to level ground. It was as if she was in a trance, a nightmare, she continuously played the last five minutes in her head as she walked towards the store. She opened the door, the bell ringing, and asked the clerk to use the phone, reciting the lines her neighbor had told her like a robot. This isn’t happening.

As much as she wanted to have ran to that store, begged for the phone, she knew it was pointless, her mama was gone, and even the best doctors in the country couldn’t fix that.

After the paramedics had come and removed the body, giving their condolences on the way out, (Y/N) just cried, her body heaving as she laid on the couch curled in on herself. She remained in that position until the early morning hours, when she had finally cried herself out and fallen asleep.

The next morning, she woke to someone pounding on the door and calling her name. She stood up and moved towards the door, catching her appearance in the mirror. Red nose and puffy eyes. (Y/N) sighed, and opened the door, finding the blue eyed boy she loved so much staring back at her. She thought she had cried herself dry, but as soon as she saw Bucky (Y/N) was in his arms sobbing. He held her tightly to his chest, murmuring comforts and condolences.

“What can i do to make you happy again?” he asked, tears pooling in his eyes. Her mother had taken him in when he ran away from home for a weekend, always fussing over him and giving him the few extra dollars he had to buy a candy bar at the corner store. He didn’t even know she was sick, yet here he is, holding his best friend while she cries her eyes out over the loss of her mother.

She didn’t know how to reply to that. Nothing, don’t be selfish y/n. She really just wanted to ask him to stay, that was enough. But I am selfish.

“Kiss me.” Was all (y/n) said, and he was happy to oblige.