#fic: everything comes out teenage petulance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nickfowlerrr · 1 month

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everything comes out teenage petulance

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, talk of insecurities, talk of rejection, virgin!reader but no smut - just mentioned, mutual pining - requited love - leaning toward idiots in love, hurt/comfort, pet names (sweetheart, doll), happing ending per usual. if i’m missing something important, pls lmk!

words: 4.3k

aspen!!! it’s crazy you sent this bc i was just about to start writing a little bucky fic and what better gif to use than this 😌 lol seriously perfect timing! tysm 🥰🫶🏻

and another huge thank you to you, ray for helping me out with the final edit!! @whatever-lmaoo i appreciate you sm! 🫶🏻

notes: had an idea, saw this gif, and then bam! here we are. yes i was clearly listening to down bad while working on this, but i promise it is not as sad as the song! also this fic is insanely self indulgent and i’m not even a little bit sorry lol. i do hope you enjoy this, and thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so so appreciated! let me know your thoughts 🩵

You’re holding in the emotions threatening to spill out of you as you step off the elevator to the living quarters of the tower. You know no one else is here, everyone out on missions or gone for some downtime out of the city, but still, there are cameras everywhere and you don’t need your impending breakdown to be recorded.

You pull your slipping bra strap up your shoulder and mindlessly pull at the hem of your dress as you walk further into the darkened living room, your heels clicking on the floor as you go.

Your head is down as you near the kitchen so you don’t see the light radiating from the open fridge, but you hear it as the door closes loudly. You startle and whip your head to the kitchen, finding the one person you really don’t need seeing you in your current state staring over at you.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you breathe as you have a hand over your heart. His mouth is open as his eyes scan your body, roving up and down and making you feel even more self conscious than you were before. “What are you doing, I thought I was the only one here for the weekend?”

“Little early for Halloween, isn’t it?” He asks, ignoring your question.

Your brows furrow in confusion, “What?”

“You’re dressed like a clown, aren’t you?”

You’re essentially frozen as you take in his words. The fear that came over you at his surprise appearance had your self pity and consciousness forgotten for a moment but now it was back. And it was worse. You don’t do anything but stare at him for a second, you’re afraid if you speak or even try to move you will break down in tears and - fuck - you can feel your eyes welling as they begin to sting. You take a sharp breath and swallow hard, nodding once as your lips purse and you blink. You turn stiffly and walk away without a response.

He’s right behind you, though and you don’t make it two steps before Bucky grabs your arm.

“Wow, hey, come on, I was joking,” he breathes a disbelieving laugh as he tries to turn you toward him.

You fight him and pull your arm away, “okay,” you huff, just wanting to get away from him before the dam really breaks.

He lets you go but trails behind you as you walk faster down to your room.

You push your door open and don’t turn around as the tears finally begin to fall, trying to shut the door behind you without having to look at him.

He sticks his foot in front of the door as you try shutting it and keeps it open.

“Go away,” you nearly growl through tears, your voice sounding tight and if he hadn’t already caught on to your crying, there was really no way to deny it now.

He doesn’t say anything but he does push your door open enough to slip through it. It falls shut as you stand with your back to him, sniffling and trying desperately to stop the flow of tears that are drowning you, arms crossed over your chest as you work to control your breathing. You just want him to leave you alone so you can cry in peace.

“Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, I really didn’t mean it, I was just kidding,” he begins softly, “but you and I both know I’ve said worse to you before, so,” he hedges, “maybe it wasn’t what I said that made you cry…”

“I dont wanna talk about it, Bucky. Why are you even here? Just leave me alone,” your voice trembles despite yourself.

He sighs heavily and you see him from your mirror as he runs a hand through his hair and takes a cautious step closer to you, “Yeah,” he breathes, “I dont think I’m gonna be able to do that, sweetheart.”

You bristle at the petname and can’t help the sob that leaves you as the reminder of how your date went tonight plays in your head.

“Go away,” you whine as more tears fall and you try to turn further from him - as if that were possible. Your eyes squeeze shut in a futile attempt to stop crying, a pathetic pout on your lips as you try to stifle your sobs.

A gentle pull on your arms has you turning around, you don’t have it in you to stop him as Bucky gingerly pulls you closer. You’re too embarrassed to open your eyes as you cry harder and when you feel his strong arms around you, holding you to him, the tears only come faster. You feel yourself lean into him as you mindlessly bury your face in his chest, hugging him tight like he’s the only thing keeping you upright.

His warm hand is rubbing up and down your back as your walls continue to crumble around him.

“It’s not fair,” you blubber like a child into his shirt.

He doesn’t respond, waiting for you to continue as he keeps rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you, his brows furrowing as he wonders what could’ve happened tonight to cause this.

He’s never seen you this way and he hates it - hates that you’re upset and crying, anyway. The way you feel in his arms, holding onto him like this, well that’s a different story…

He’s keeping his anger at bay until he knows exactly what went down, but he knows you had a date tonight, and the only reason he’s here when he had plans to be out of town this weekend is because you were going to have the place to yourself, and he couldn’t get the idea of you bringing your date back here alone out of his head. Immature, sure, but he didn’t know what else to do but wait around to scare whoever it was you were out with away before they had a chance to so much as see you out of your shoes.

He’s even more grateful now that he decided to change his plans last minute. He was surprised to see you coming in alone, and if he wasn’t so caught up in how damn good you looked tonight, he probably would’ve noticed your mood before he decided to open his stupid mouth. But that’s your thing; the teasing, the bickering, the tit for tats. He was expecting a jab right back, but when he saw your eyes watering at his words, he felt sick. He couldn’t let you walk away crying, he couldn’t stand to see you so upset. Especially because of him. But now, as you stand here in his arms, so uninhabited and vulnerable, he knows it wasn’t because of him. And when he finds out exactly what or who it was that made you so upset… god help them.

“It’s not fair,” you mumble your cry again, “I just,” you hiccup, “why can’t I be pretty,” you sob.

It’s takes a second for the words to register before Bucky can react. “What?” he questions harshly, pulling you away from him, his hands on your arms as your tear streaked face and bleary eyes peer up at him.

Your eyes squeeze shut again as your crying continues and you fall into him again, not wanting to look at him as you make your confession. “I just want,” you cry, “to be pretty. I want someone to like me. To love me,” you eke out, your heartbreak evident in your voice. “No one loves me,” you mutter defeatedly. “No one’s ever loved me and no one is ever gonna love me,” you sob, grabbing his shirt as you cry into his chest harder.

“What exactly did this asshole say to you?” Bucky knows he needs to calm down but what he’s hearing from you right now is going to drive him insane. Why in the world would you ever say or think this about yourself? Your date had to have done or said something, he’s sure of it.

“Nothing,” you dismiss, “I mean, nothing wrong or mean. They were nice about it, I just,” you can’t help but cry more. “I’m not their type. Which is fine,” you try to shake your head and rationalize yourself into stopping crying, “that’s fine, I know I’m not everyone’s type,” you gesture vaguely down your body, “and I wasn’t super into them, either, I was just trying to put myself out there for once and I just, ugh,” you bemoan. “I dont know why I was expecting anything different. It’s never been different, won’t ever be different. I’m just, me. And they said what everyone always thinks, I’m a sweetheart, I’m just not their type,” you shrug before your tears bubble up once more and you let your face fall back into Bucky’s chest.

“If I was skinny, or pretty, or nicer,” you babble before Bucky cuts you off.

“Doll, stop it,” he orders firmly, surprising you as he suddenly lifts you effortlessly off your feet and has you clinging to him as he walks the short distance to sit you on your bed.

You’re stunned silent as tears continue to roll down your cheeks and even more surprised as Bucky kneels before you, making sure you’re looking him in his clear blue eyes. His gaze is intent and penetrating and you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. He’s so close…he’s never been this close to you before and you feel your breath trapped in your chest as you watch him.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says seriously, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and you’re an idiot for ever thinking otherwise.

His sincerity has your stomach twisting and your shame and disbelief has your tears falling again.

Your lips quiver as your pout remains, and you shake your head.

“Don’t do that,” he admonishes, hand gently grabbing your chin and making you look at him again. You swallow hard at the soft touch and the tenderness in his eyes. “Hear me when I say this, doll. You are absolutely beautiful. Exactly the way you are. Fuck ‘type’.”

You wince at his words, and you can’t help but look away again. It’s easy for him to say, he’s goddamn gorgeous and everyone knows it.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but you really just don’t get it,” you shake your head. “You could walk down the street and get anybody you wanted with one look,” you smirk softly. “You’re everybody’s type.”

“You don’t need to be anyone’s ‘type’, sweetheart,” he says.

“Yeah, and I’m not,” you reiterate harshly before taking a breath, not wanting to work yourself up again. This is stupid and you know it and it feels even more mortifying to be talking about this with not only the most attractive man you’ve ever known, but also the man you’ve been down bad for for so long. Deep down you know you don’t really care what most anyone else thinks, there’s really only one person you care about not finding you attractive, and you’ve worked to get over that sting of unrequital for a long while now, but fuck, everything just feels so heavy tonight. It’s not even that it’s just not him, which still gets to you every time you’re reminded of it, it’s that it’s not anyone.

And it’s not that you even want anyone else… you don’t, but knowing there’s really no one interested in you, the very real prospect of being alone forever, it got to you tonight…

“You don’t know that,” he says lowly.

“Bucky,” you roll your eyes, not only in annoyance, but also to keep the threatening renewal of tears at bay.

“So what you’re not some random person you don’t even like’s type,” he dismisses, placing his hands on your thick thighs as he stays kneeled before you, and you aren’t sure if he even realizes he’s doing it as his thumbs rub there softly, “you’re my type,” he defends.

You could curl up into a ball right now and die, there is no way you’re this fucking pathetic you have Bucky Barnes on his knees trying to convince you he thinks you’re pretty. As if this night couldn’t get any worse or more embarrassing.

You’ve seen the people Bucky has brought back here before. He certainly had a type, and you are certainly not it.

“You don’t have to say that, Bucky,” you blink away from his gaze. “It’s nice that you feel bad for me,” you sniffle, wiping at your tears with the sleeves of your dress, “but you really don’t have to.”

“Why do you think I feel bad for you?” He questions, moving to look you in the eyes once more, his confusion clear on his face.

You shrug, turning your head to again avoid eye contact, “I’m pathetic,” you laugh sardonically, wiping at the tears still slipping, slower now but still evident.

“You’re pathetic?,” Bucky chuckles, his soft touches on your thighs ceaseless. He bites his lip as he glances down to his hands, spreading his fingers wide before he squeezes you a bit, and if you aren’t reading into it, you’d say he seems the slightest bit nervous, his hold on you as much to try to comfort you as it is to comfort him, “I’m the one who bailed on guys weekend just to make sure you didn’t bring anyone home tonight,” he admits, causing you to finally look him in the eye again. What did he just say? You’re baffled and it’s evident as your brows furrow and you frown. He continues, “Or if you did, to make sure they wouldn’t stay long,” he half smirks, half grimaces.

“What?” you breathe out.

“Not the most mature move, I know, but,” he says, running a hand through his hair before he rubs the back of his neck, having the decency to at least be a little embarrassed by his plan. “The thought of you with someone else…anyone else,” he shakes his head. “I can’t stand it.”

You can’t possibly be hearing what you’re hearing, right? You don’t move or speak for a long moment as you try to make sense of what Bucky’s saying to you because clearly you’re not hearing correctly.

“You can’t stand…” you process aloud, “the idea of me being with someone?”

He breathes a laugh as you stare at him dumbly, his nervous habit of pushing his long hair back from his face shines again while he chuckles. “Doll, I can’t stand the idea of you being with anybody who isn’t me,” he clarifies.

“What are you-?” you shake your head, “What do you mean?”

His big hands return to your thighs as he gently squeezes you. “I mean that if you had come home with someone tonight, I would’ve made sure they didn’t stay more than a minute to say goodbye.”

You snort a laugh, wiping another tear from your cheek. That’s crazy.

“Please. ‘M not that kinda girl anyway, Buck,” you say. “I uhm,” you clear your throat, clearly a little uncomfortable with what you’re about to say, but fuck, you’ve already embarrassed yourself this much tonight, what’s a little more confessing gonna hurt, “I’ve never…done, anything. With anyone.” You admit, looking down at your hands in your lap.

It’s a moment before Bucky speaks again.

“Never?”

You shake your head slowly side to side, lips pursed, “No,” you murmur.

“That’s impressive,” he breathes.

You quirk a brow at his response.

“Mean, you gotta be batting people off like crazy,” he says, his warm hand once resting on your thigh now thoughtlessly trailing down the soft skin of your leg.

“No,” you state slightly annoyed and ever embarrassed. “Not like anyone’s ever been interested,” you trail off.

Bucky laughs again, not so nervous now, more in disbelief, “You’re so blind,” he muses, “I feel so bad for everyone who has ever been interested in you.”

Your face shows your taken offense but Bucky keeps talking before you can say a word about it.

“If you really think no one’s ever been attracted to you, you’re fucking crazy, sweetheart.”

You gape like a fish for a millisecond, opening and closing your mouth as you blink down at your thighs, his metal hand holding your right thigh softly and the fingers of his right hand dancing along the exposed skin of your left.

“I’m not crazy,” you mutter as his hand slips higher up your leg.

“You are,” he argues lightly, “and you make me crazy,” he says softer, blue eyes gleaming up at you. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said tonight?” He pauses, debating on whether or not he wants to say what he’s about to say before he decides to throw caution to the wind and finally admit his true feelings to you, as clearly as he possibly can this time. “You’re all I ever think about. Not just because of how pretty you are, either,” he smirks, growing more confident now and loving the way you react to his touch as his hands smooth along your soft thighs, goosebumps rising in his wake as he hears your breathing stutter. “It’s so much more than that,” he breaths in, “it’s every single thing about you. Your snark,” he smiles, “your strength. Your bravery, your stubbornness. Your lame jokes,” he pauses to admire the slant of your lips as you fight a soft smile, “your laugh. Your kindness, your friendship. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. The whole damn package, doll. And that’s without even bringing looks into it, because fuck,” he scoffs, “it’s a real shame you don’t see what everyone else sees.”

You dare a glance back at his penetrative gaze, “…And what, exactly, is that?” you reply timidly, but desperately wanting to hear his answer.

“A real life goddess,” he admires as he leans closer to you, his hands now well under the hem of your dress as they inch further and further up your thighs.

Your stomach is in a flurry as a tingle sparks inbetween your legs at his touch.

He leans up to you slowly, testing your waters as he gets closer and closer to your lips. You’re barely breathing when his nose brushes yours and you take a shaky breath when his hands leave your thighs and come to gently hold your face.

“You’re insanely pretty, and likable, and lovable, and you don’t need to be skinny for anyone to find you attractive. You’re gorgeous, inside and out. And I don’t wanna hear you talking about yourself like you were ever again, you hear me?” He questions quietly, intent but caring as he holds your glistening gaze in his.

You nod lightly, knowing tonight you weren’t your typical self. You had a hard night, and you let those old mean, destructive and intrusive thoughts get to you. You really do know better, but you’re human. And everybody has those days. You’re suddenly feeling even more grateful for Bucky’s unexpected presence tonight. If he wasn’t here, you’re sure you’d have spent the night in a spiral of self hatred and pity and would’ve probably cried yourself to sleep.

Your tears are dry now, though. And Bucky is still so close, his touch so gentle as his brilliant blue eyes swim with his care for you. You’ve seen it before, but it’s never felt so real and intimate as it does now, knowing what you know now.

He’s here tonight because of you. For you.

He’s not expecting anything, and you’re not sure how much you’re ready to give, but as he smiles that lopsided smile at you, you can’t help yourself as you lean into him, too. It’s slow and cautious as your lips brush his, and then you let your eyes flutter closed as you finally kiss him. It’s almost embarrassing how many times you’ve dreamed of kissing Bucky, but none of them played out like this, none of them ever came close. His lips are soft, his hands firm as he holds your face and you readily let him lead you as he kisses you back.

It ends all too quickly as he pulls away slightly, his tongue slipping past his lips as he savors the taste of you, his forehead touching yours as he maintains your closeness.

“And just for the record, I don’t think you look like a clown,” he shakes his head while you let out a quiet laugh. “I think your makeup looks great, and this dress,” he sighs with a near groan, moving his hands to settle on your wide hips, squeezing ever so slightly, sending more sparks to light in your core as you almost mewl at his touching, “I know you know you look good,” he smirks. “I was just being stupid wanting your attention.”

“Well,” you start with a slight eye roll, “I mean, who could really blame you?”

He smiles brightly at that, his laugh warming you as he leans in to kiss you again. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Your girl?” You ask, a near whisper as his words have your heart skipping a beat, eyes still closed from the kiss before you slowly blink them open. He nods.

“If you wanna be,” he breathes, blue eyes bearing into yours. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to finally admit how crazy I am for you without making myself look like a complete idiot,” he simpers, his signature smirk on display, “obviously didn’t avoid that, but, now you know. I’m crazy about you, doll.” His thumb rubs your cheek softly as he keeps you close, “I wanna be with you,” he breathes, “in any way you’ll have me. So, if you wanna be my girl,”

You smile softly, nodding as you cut him off, “I wanna be.”

You see his toothy smile before Bucky kisses you hotly as he surges up without warning, hoisting you up with him as you squeak into his mouth, arms clinging around his neck as his own hold you under your bottom. His strength is so effortless it surprises you for a second, but in an instant you get more comfortable in his hold as he continues kissing you. His smile grows on his lips as you kiss him back in kind until you’re forced to break away for a breath.

“I’m not happy you were so upset earlier,” he says as he catches his breath, forehead pressing to yours as you tuck his falling hair behind his ears while he holds you, “but I’m so fucking glad you came back here alone.”

“Well, I’m not happy you were trying to ambush me,” you joke, “but I’m really glad you were here tonight,” you whisper the words as your hands play in his hair, noses brushing, you’re still so close.

You’re staring into each other’s eyes until your gaze falls to his lips. Bucky kisses you again, so much softer than he did before.

“Me too,” he whispers softly. You smile and then pat his shoulders. He gets your message and gently lets you go as your heels touch the floor.

“I know it’s late,” he starts, closing the small distance between you as he takes a step closer, not wanting to be too far from you, already missing your proximity, “but you were expecting a nice date tonight, and you didn’t get one,” he sighs, “I just don’t think that’s right,” he exhales with that ‘hear me out’ purse of his lips. You eye him expectantly, fighting a smile as you wait for him to get it out.

“What do you think about catching a movie and grabbing food at that place you like? With me,” he adds as if it wasn’t obvious, earning a bright laugh from you for the first time tonight. “It’s a Saturday, so you know they’re open late anyway,” he rambles.

You lean into him with your shoulder as you stand so close to each other, getting his attention back on your face as you smile. “I would really like that, Bucky,” you nod. “I’m just gonna,” you wave a hand around your face, “fix this up a bit.”

He laughs as he rubs a streak of black from under your eye, “still beautiful,” he simpers.

Your entire body warms at his touch and his admiration as you grab his hand gently in yours and pull him closer. He seems to read your mind as his arms circle you and he leans in to take your lips in his.

It’s sweet and so natural it’s hard to believe you guys hadn’t done this sooner. The friendship was always there, but you never knew the feelings were too. All this time you convinced yourself your harbored feelings for Bucky were unreciprocated, and all the while, he was trying to figure out how to confess his own to you.

You laugh quietly into the kiss, amusement playing on your lips as you think back on every encounter you’ve had with Bucky that had you falling harder and harder for him.

“What’s funny?” He asks as you part with a grin.

“It’s just, all so obvious now,” you giggle. “I always thought I was reading into things with you, that you were just being nice, just wanted to be friends,” you trail off, swaying closer to him in your heels. “But, this whole time,” you blink up at him, lips parted gently as he keeps your body to his, holding you close.

“This whole time,” he simpers, a soft smile on his lips. “What the hell took us so long?”

“Uhm,” you muse aloud, “probably our combined stupidity,” you joke as he chuckles, his smile never wavering as he keeps his eyes on you, “but, let’s just call it fate,” you shrug on a soft exhale. You lean closer to Bucky even more, letting your lips brush his again, the feeling one you don’t think you’ll ever tire of, “no better time than the present, right?”

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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lcvclywon · 4 months

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teaser 𓍯𓂃 SO HIGHSCHOOL | ot7 series

back to masterlist

taglist ── open! until 29/5/2924 send an ask or comment to be added! | @floweryang @cupidhoons @ak-aaa-li @yvjw @xiaoderrrr @jlheon @junislqve @roastandtoast @un06 @lilyuwon @bywons @venn-ie @yongbokified @jwsdoll @tobiosbbyghorl @laurradoesloveu @chaehyunloveeee @shawnyle @en-gelic @hwangism143 @bbinwrld @deffnotnia @belovedsthings @honeywonuu @k1ttylvr @dimplewonie @llvrhee @fateenthisast @sasfransisco @tokkisann @jaklvbub @nazwrites-2002 @sseishiross @nshmrarki

DISCLAIMERS! i'm not trying to sexualize enhypen nor any other idols, this is a work of fiction. I do not actually view them like this in real life. Please do not copy nor plagarise.

thoughts frm yuya 💭 ack !!! blurb + announcement post finally out hehe >< each fic will be realllyyyy long so please do be patient with the posts TT Jay one will prob release first! I'll be releasing them throughout June + July so make sure to stay tuned for each post !! I will not be making separate taglists for each story unfortunately. Also huge huge HUGE thanks to my pookies @cupidhoons @bywons and @wonfilms for all the help on this, they legit helped me develop so many of the stories so i'm so grateful for that ^^ anw hope u guys are excited as I am about this !! (also apologies the header pics look so ass....all my design ideas were gone)

You know how to ball I know Aristotle | LEE HEESEUNG

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where...

You hate heeseung. You hate his toothy grin, you hate his obnoxiously loud laugh, you hate his roaring athleticism, and you've hated his guts ever since he dropped you in grade 7 for those stupid basketballers. Ever since then Lee Heeseung has never held a place in your heart, every waking moment you spent in the same building with him you were filled with sheer pettiness. But when your broadcasting club leader hands you an offer you can't refuse, can you put aside your differences for once and work with him?

pairing ── heeseung x female reader

genre ── forced proximity, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, popular basketball player x broadcasting club

wc ── est 12k or more

warnings ── cursing, heeseung lwk a dickhead, kissing, alcohol, underage drinking, fighting, they're both kinda evil

release date ── tba

So tell me, who else is gonna know me? | PARK JONGSEONG

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where...

Park Jongseong and Baek Y/N: the two biggest names in Decelis and two richest. Jay knew he would be bringing a date to his brothers wedding at the end of the school year, but he didn't expect that partner to be you of all people. After a small white lie Jay finds himself entangled in a rouse to fool his parents that you and him are now dating. This however seems to be a bigger blessing than you realise. While both using each other as pawns you find yourself "dating" Jay until the wedding; but as a four day trip ensues feelings change, lines get crossed, and walls come down.

pairing ── Jay x female reader

genre ── fake dating, childhood connection, rich kid au, one bed trope, slight angst

wc ── est 17k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, slight suggestiveness if you squint?, both of them are lwk nepo babies, slight familial issues, mentions of food, mentions of weddings, pet names

release date ── tba - maybe sometime this month ?

Everything comes out of teenage petulance | SIM JAEYUN

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where...

Sixth grade, that was when you first laid eyes on Jake Sim and you swore in that moment were what the poets called: lovestruck. Ever since that day you've been harbouring a massive crush on your older brothers best friend, a crush that would never be reciprocated unfortunately. However this was a fact you've learned to come to terms with. But in the midst of Junior year, when your physics grades are at the cusp of failure, your parents suggest Jake to help tutor you. When your repressed crush seems to resurface, you may not be as hopeless as you seem.

pairing ── Jake x female reader

genre ── brothers best friend x reader, forbidden romance, tutor x tutee, obvious x oblivious

wc ── est 11k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, age gap of like 1 year (jake is a senior and YN is a junior I SWEAR ITS NOT WEIRD), taesan as the older brother and hes protective as shit please bear with that, inspired by hidden love obv

release date ── tba

I died on the altar waiting for the proof | PARK SUNGHOON

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where...

Following your parents death you abruptly are forced to move to Jinhae to live with your aunt. You love your life in Jinhae working in your aunts cafe, your life was quiet. However that was all until Park Sunghoon showed up one day, out of the blue, completely unannounced. To make matters worse he ends up having to work with you at your aunts cafe. Everything resurfaces: both the fond memories and nasty ones. Can you manage to work peacefully with each other both at work and school, or will your unresolved feelings threaten to strain your already troubled relationship.

pairing ── Sunghoon x female reader

genre ── exes to lovers, enemies to lovers, workplace romance (? kinda), forced proximity, misunderstandings, angst, small town romance

wc ── est 16k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, sunghoon and yn being at each others throats, they're both kinda evil to each other, a lot of misunderstandings, pet names, parents death, mentions of grief

release date ── tba - maybe early next month or late this month

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh | KIM SUNOO

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where...

Sunoo and YN. Everyone knew both your names went hand in hand with each other since preschool. Sunoo always made it clear how much he liked you, that perhaps might've been the downfall of your relationship in highschool. After his incessant confessions you learned to grow indifferent to his quick pickup lines between lessons. You don't like Sunoo like that, you'll never be able to see him like that. But when he suddenly starts dating Seol Yoona, you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy strike your heart. However with the help of Jungwon you hope to solve the conflicts straining your relationship.

pairing ── Sunoo x female reader

genre ── soulmates au, grumpy x sunshine, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, second lead syndrome

wc ── est 11k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, yn is kinda evil and sunoo is way better than me fr i would have dropped her, sunoo also kinda desperate tho, kinda ? using jungwon as a pawn, fighting, slight angst, pet names

release date ── tba

You gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? | YANG JUNGWON

READ HERE

where...

1st rank: Choi YN. You could always trust that your name would be top of the list all. the. time. That was until highschool at least when you transferred to Decelis for higher academic challenge. However what you didn't expect was for said higher academic challenge to come in a teenage boy with annoyingly deep dimples. Yang Jungwon. Student council president and your sworn rival since the moment you stepped into Decelis. With you two being top students, president and vice president, and not to mention the two top debaters in school, it was safe to say almost every aspect of your highschool life revolved around beating Jungwon. But when you are forced to work with him in debate for nationals, you find yourself truly questioning why you hated him to begin with.

pairing ── Jungwon x female reader

genre ── academic rivals to lovers, forced proximity, top student x student council president

wc ── est 16k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, loosely based off of Ann Liangs 'If you could see the sun', some fighting, yn and jungwon at each others throats all the time, theyre kinda hella mean to each other, mentions of anxiety, academic pressure

release date ── tba - mid of june maybe?

Fuck it if I can't have him | NISHIMURA RIKI

READ HERE

where...

Riki Nishimura had a reputation: an all round bad influence, bottom of his class, and had more absences than presences flooding his attendance card; everyone believed he was a lost cause. So imagine your surprise when you and and him were sitting side by side at the principals office while he explained the new tutoring program that would be set in place for him. Well now there was another thing to add to his reputation: YN's student. Reluctantly accepting the proposal you find yourself entangled in RIki's complicated life. While getting to know each other more and more, you realise there's more to Riki than meets the eye.

pairing ── Niki x female reader

genre ── trouble maker x goody two shoes, tutor x tutee, obvious x oblivious, student council president x bad boy, he falls first you fall harder

wc ── est 16k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, smoking, drinking, fighting, mentions of injury and cuts, riki lwk being a little shit at the start, teacher involvement/meddling, YN under a LOT of pressure

release date ── tba

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maybxlle · 5 months

Text

✧˖°. 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

masterlist | home | rules

contains: a daughter of aphrodite panicking over our favorite white boy. and vise versa (jason grace x daughter of aphrodite!reader)

warnings: shitty ass writing, language, use of yn, and CRINGE. it's pretty bad, read at your own risk ⚠️

author's note: first fic! also, its probably gonna be bad (because i'm a shit writer 😃) im SO sorry about all the cuts! i cannot write. [send in requests y'all!] ALSO if you see any incorrections, no you didn't.

special mentions: thank you so much @canonfeminine for helping me come up with the joke percy says and @hopelesslyromanticshark because i kinda stole her formatting and her amazing advice (love ya coves!)

final word count: 2,098 words

now playing 𓏧 down bad by taylor swift

jason grace was walking outside cabin 13 when he heard you tweaking.

it was only 11am and it sounded like you had been up all night.

"y'all, you know that one song from taylor's new album? down bad? that's so me about superman." you sighed, "i don't even think he cares about me. not even a little."

"now i'm down bad, crying at the gym. everything comes out teenage petulance. fuck it if i can't have him. i might just die, it'd make no difference." you sang under your breath.

jason peeked in the cabin. he saw you hanging off hazel's bed upside down, piper was on the floor painting her nails, while annabeth was sitting in an armchair, reading, and hazel was at her desk, writing a letter to chiron about why they should have state of the art, gold-plated horse feed. they were only in the hades cabin because nico was with will in the infirmary. (awww <3)

"ma'am, we know all of this before. you never shut about hi-" piper began.

"SHUT THE ACTUAL FUCK UP BEFORE I SHOVE A FOOT DOWN YOUR THROAT."

annabeth made a condescending mom face. "yn," she said gently. "maybe you should go to sleep."

you just glared at her until she looked back at her book (rolling her eyes).

"maybe he does like me! he just doesn't know it yet." you triumphantly said.

piper snorted. you got up, and whacked her with your pillow until she fell over.

"ok, geez, i get it. cough cough bitch." piper um-coughed out.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME? SAYS THE WHORE!"

hazel finally looked up, innocently, from her crazy letter, "ok, girls, let's calm down?"

you and piper obliged, scowling at each other.

"anyway, bACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING. maybe he is in love with me, he just doesn't fucking know it yet!"

"wait, isn't superman jaso-"

"BITCH SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I GO TO THE DAMNED CABIN AND GET THE FUCKING DUCT TAPE. you don't know who the fuck is lurking."

jason took that as his cue to get the fuck out of there.

our favorite white boy RAN to his boys.

he gathered them in percy's cabin. "guys, i just overheard something."

"what? that the superman theme song plays wherever you go?” percy snickered.

while percy and leo... snort-laughed, frank actually asked what happened.

"basically, i was walking past cabin 13 and the girls were in there, right? so i overhear yn saying something about 'superman' and how this song -down bad i think?- relates to them or something."

suddenly all the boys had their thinking faces on.

"what if she's in love with the actor of superman?" frank suggested.

leo had this eerie look on his face. "grow a couple of brain-cells chinese canadian baby man. she's in love with jason."

everyone just looked at leo. "ok, think about it. who the fuck else flies here? only jason. who else flies? superman."

jason thought about it. "that would make sense since piper was about to say my name when yn cut her off-"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAD WITH THAT???"

"i didn't think that yn would ever like me back." he said matter-of-factly.

to be fair, jason had a crush on you since he arrived at camp. you were so pretty but you were so lively too. your personality was bright and radiant and maybe a bit crazy. just a bit though. but in a good way!

you just radiated positivity as if you were the sun. to him you could've been.

jason didn't realize he zoned out until leo was about to shove a shoe in his mouth.

"LEO?! WHAT THE FLIP ARE YOU DOING?!"

"oh i got him back guys! you like... died." leo said.

"so you were going to resuscitate me by shoving a shoe in my mouth?"

"yeah, basically!"

jason didn't know what to say to that so he didn't say anything!

"can we get back on track?"

"yes," percy answered. "we shall."

"first things first, we already know that you love yn so much from the bottom of your heart. but how are you going to tell her?" frank asked.

jason was at a loss.

"don't worry, i'll sleep on it."

"hey sparky!" you exclaim.

"oh h-hey yn." you side-eyed him, wondering if he heard your gods-awful conversation yesterday.

then you slapped yourself. (mentally?) of course he wouldn't do that! he's your sweet little superman who you are hopelessly in love with!

"do you wanna race to the top of the lava wall with me? don't be shy, you always lose!" you asked.

"um, i don't think i can today yn, sorry."

you were a little lot disappointed. you just really liked him and he fucking rejects you??? what if you tell him how you feel and he doesn't feel the same way? what if you become the laughing-stalk of camp? “k, bye jase.”

after he left you sprinted to your girls.

"BITCHES, CODE RED. WHO HAS AN EMPTY CABIN?"

hazel slowly raised her hand. "just don't mess it up again. if piper doesn't want your foot in her face, don't put it in her goddamn face. ok?"

you scowled at her before sprinting to hazel’s cabin.

you guys took your seats from yesterday.

“JASON WAS ACTING FUCKING WEIIIIRD THIS MORNING.” you glared at piper.

“what the- wHY ARE YOU GUYS LOOKING AT ME?!” piper screeched.

annabeth spoke up, “you were the one who practically said jason’s name.”

“annie. you just said it. SUPERMAN ONLY BITCHES.” you said.

“what if that did happen?” hazel asked. “he’s not a pretty, perfect, goody-two-shoes princess? like you think he is. ”

“YES HE IS SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH HAZEL.”

annabeth, piper, and hazel all just looked at each other, tired with your shit.

“I CAME HERE FOR HELP, NOT THE BITCHY JUDGING COUNCIL!”

"i think she's onto me." jason said to his little boy band.

percy looked up from his game of chess with frank and stroked his chin, "why may that be?"

jason scratched his neck sheepishly, "um, she, like side-eyed me?”

“this is yn we’re talking about. she side-eyes everybody.” leo said.

“BUT NOT ME!” jason panicked.

frank tsked at percy, “what move you gonna make?”

“oh, shut it frank. i’m invested. what else did yn say?”

“i… don’t remember.”

all the boys collectively looked at him.

“I WAS NERVOUS! WHAT IF-”

“SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH!” leo exclaimed. “we need a fucking plan.”

“do you have a plan leo?” frank asked.

“i actually do, frank. gather round children.”

after some meticulous planning, and a couple phone calls, a plan was set.

a prom dress, a boom box, and taylor swift.

exciting right?

it was two days after that stupid conversation (that jason totally didn't overhear).

annabeth, piper and hazel came to drag you from your seat at the docks where you were reading an angsty romance (like the sad emo girl you were after being rejected by the love of your life).

"what the fuck do you whores want?"

"ok rude," annabeth replied, "but you have to come with us."

"we have something exciting for you!" hazel said enthusiastically.

you looked at hazel, "haze, 'excitement', does not exist for me anymore. ever since the love of my goddamned life rejected me- "

piper cut you off, "ok shut up yn. first of all, he didn't even reject you. he just said he can't climb the lava wall with you. just come with us. please don't make a big deal about it."

you looked at the girls suspiciously, "what's in it for me?"

the girls shared a look, "that's a secret. but believe me, everything's in it for you."

"i look like a fucking bratz doll!" you screeched.

"ok, so?" piper replied. "I DON'T WANNA LOOK LIKE A DOLL THAT GOT BOTCHED PLASTIC SURGERY!"

piper was doing and messing up your makeup while annabeth and hazel were looking for a good outfit.

"also miss bitchy," you said, "why am i wearing this much makeup? and why is annabeth and hazel trying so hard to find an outfit?"

piper could see that you were clearly becoming suspicious. she just gave you a small (knowing) smile, "oh don't worry about it sweet."

you were about to jump her when hazel and annabeth came holding ... a prom dress and two inch heels?

“are you shitting me? what the fuck is this?” you asked.

“yn, just put it the fuck on! no. arguments. ” piper said.

you weren’t someone to refuse looking good. (even if piper messed up your makeup.) “fine, but i’m watching y’all.”

they nodded while you went to the bathroom to change.

you came out and hazel to do the back. “ok, how do i look?” you asked, deadpan.

“yn! you look stunning!” hazel exclaimed.

you looked decent. you had an old prom dress that the aphrodite cabin just happened to have and slightly crusty heels.

“this will definitely work. he’ll be drooling all over her.” piper said to annabeth.

you were so confused, what the fuck is happening?

"excuse me? what's going on? cause i am about to shit my pants." you said.

annabeth, hazel, and piper just looked at each other and said, "don't worry about it dear." and burst out laughing. (about what? that wasn't even funny???)

suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"oh my fucking gods, who is it?!" you shout.

piper looked at you. "chill," she opened the door, "hey leo."

"why is leo here?!" she ignored you! leo pulled her outside, when she came back she nodded to annabeth and hazel.

"ok yn! time for your surprise!" hazel said, knowingly.

then, hazel blindfolded you, annabeth and piper grabbed your legs, while leo grabbed your arms. while you were screaming to satan.

next, y'all went on your merry way going gods-know-where!

suddenly you were dropped straight on the fucking ground so hard your ass hurt and all your bindings slipped off.

you were in the middle of the fucking woods. and you could distantaly hear hazel, piper, leo and annabeth running away.

really where you were dropped was gorgeous. you were at a clearing in the middle of the woods. it was around sunset so everything was lit up with the golden sunlight streaming through the leaves. you could hear the faint sound of a creek in the distance.

all of sudden you heard footsteps. you got up of your ass and cursed under your breath when you realized you have no knifes because somebody took them from you.

you turned toward the sound when you saw him.

jason, all dressed up in a matching suit.

"oh, h-hi jason. whatcha doing here?"

"oh, just waiting for a pretty girl so i can give her a dance."

you looked around confusedly. "jase, i think you went the wrong way. all the pretty girls are back at camp."

he chuckled, then pulled a boombox from his ass. "would you give me this dance milady?"

you were so so so baffled. what was happening? but your heart belonged to him. "um, sure?"

he clicked play on the boombox and 'you belong with me' by taylor swift started playing. he grabbed your hands and placed them on his shoulders. (TRUST ok? they're waltzing to "you belong with me", but its fine.

you felt like your heart was going a million miles a second but in slow motion at the same time. you were panicking but you felt so content.

the bridge was playing and you realized how much the song relates to you and jason.

you guys were best friends before you something happened two days ago.

y'all knew each other better than the back of your hand.

he would bring you ice cream when you were on your period and when you weren't.

anytime he had to go on a quest without you he brought you souvenirs.

you told each other about your crazy dreams. like when elmo was chasing you down rodeo drive.

the song ended.

"i-" you looked up.

"um-" jason cut you off.

"you go first." you were terrified, your heart pounding in your chest.

"well, i've had the biggest crush on you, yn. since i arrived, really-"

you cut him off, pulling his mouth to your own.

you were in euphoria for a minute until you both pulled away.

"soooo?" you were giddy, "what now?"

jason looked thoroughly confused, you were too. "i don't know but we'll get through it together."

your cold heart melted a little at that.

"i have a question," you asked, walking away. "did you have a crush only because of my fat ass?"

"oh my gods, yn!"

author's note: so yeah um... there it is. it sucks, i kinda hate it but i thought it was a good idea and i wanted to start writing.

#dividers by bunnysrph #⊹₊ ⋆ may’s creations #jason grace x reader #jason grace x aphrodite!reader #daughter of aphrodite

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jenniejjun · 4 months

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pairing.: art donaldson x leitora!fem x tashi duncan x patrick zweig

sinopse.: olivia miller era tudo o que tashi duncan não era. e tudo o que ela era ao mesmo tempo. uma força a ser reconhecida. não foi uma surpresa quando elas se tornaram parceiras de tênis. elas eram lendas. nada nem ninguém poderia mexer com elas. exceto art donaldson e patrick zweig.

warnings.: esta história foi avaliada como +18. incluirá uso de cigarro, consumo de álcool, temas sexuais e linguagem forte. aconselha-se a opinião do autor, caso você se sinta desconfortável com alguma das citações anteriores priorize sua saúde evitando a leitura. não possuo nenhum desses personagens, exceto os millers e justine bonsoir. todos os direitos vão para MGM e Guadagnino. fora isso, isso aqui é apenas eu cedendo à minha necessidade bissexual de ter os três, não sei o que dizer.

notas da autora.: olha só ela continuando uma sérieeeee! iai galera, acharam que eu não ia mais atualizar né? ganharam até banner novo, coisa que o site ao lado não ganhou! brinks kkkkkkkkkkkkk (anyways, vocês acharam que eu ia fazer um ctrl+c ctrl+v do filme é? nananinanão, rapaziada. a história se passa post-challengers, no canon daqui o trisal maravilha se comeu horrores depois do final do filme. o que não significa final conto de fadas e que eles se amam incondicionalmente, obv. esses malucos precisam de uns três anos de terapia pra, de fato, engatar numa relação saudável mas digamos que o casamento do art e da tashi esteja aberto caso o patrick e a olivia queiram entrar hihihi. btw, sei que meu blog foca em conteúdo erótico e adulto e prometo que esse tá vindo mas eu já deixei claro nas minhas regrinhas do blog o quanto gosto de escrever histórias e dar profundidade pra elas que, de vez em quando, fica difícil numa fic de um capítulo só. espero que vocês tenham paciência, mas é isso! um beijo e um cheiro!

elenco.: jennie kim como olivia miller, kim see-hun como aira choi, jeremy strong como oliver miller, zendaya como tashi duncan, josh o'connor como patrick zweig, mike faist como art donaldson, swann arlaud como justine bonsoir.

ESCUTE A TRILHA SONORA AQUI.

LEIA A PARTE UM AQUI.

II. EVERYTHING COMES OUT OF TEENAGE PETULANCE

2024

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎O AR DE PARIS acertou-a bem na cara enquanto o som do Eurosport tocava ao fundo. Canal de esportes, é claro. Como ela não poderia? Olivia Miller precisava estar em dia com tudo relacionado ao tênis ou pelo menos era o que sua mãe diria. Mas ao olhar diretamente para a TV do hotel, Olivia ponderou o quanto essas meninas realmente treinaram para isso. Suas posturas estavam todas erradas, os saques eram, na melhor das hipóteses, medíocres e não havia nada mais lamentável do que uma falta. E elas tinham muitas faltas.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Para ela era um mistério como essas meninas competiam nos Jogos Olímpicos de Verão. Contra ela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Não.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Isso não era típico dela. Ela não deveria pensar nessas coisas. Olivia Miller foi simples e educada. Ela era o tipo de garota que dava autógrafos para meninas que diziam ser seu modelo, ela era o tipo de pessoa que sorria para elas e bagunçava seus cabelos. Olivia Miller nunca zombou dos colegas de equipe e foi perfeitamente educada quando eles perderam, parabenizando pela participação. Sua bravura. Essa era ela agora.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Um molde perfeito para sua família. Uma embarcação para a filha de Oliver Miller, o maior tenista do mundo. Que era ela agora. O orgulho que assumiu o legado do pai, tudo o que sempre sonharam e esperaram. Ela era tudo isso.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Pensamentos como esse eram egocêntricos e cruéis. Não é a imagem que os Millers venderam. Pensamentos como esse a lembravam do passado. Dela. Cabelo e pele castanhos logo inundaram sua mente como uma onda, atingindo seus pulmões e quase tornando-a incapaz de respirar.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia Miller não pensava mais nela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ou neles.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Ela golpeia e depois match!” O locutor do jogo soa pela sala, trazendo Olivia de volta à vida. O suco verde ainda está na frente dela, intocado. A fisioterapeuta dela, preparando alguns aquecimentos na lateral da sala. “Anna Muller, senhoras e senhores!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A menção desse nome faz Olivia suspirar, desligando o aparelho eletrônico. Isso chama a atenção dos olhos cansados da mãe. Ela decide ignorar isso por enquanto.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Seria possível que seu passado a assombrasse tanto? Ela deve controlar seus sentimentos todas as vezes? Olivia Miller não acreditava em superstições, mas em momentos como esse ela só pensava na coincidência de acontecimentos. Memórias a assombrando a ponto de se materializarem e tropeçarem diante de seus olhos para lembrá-la de que não estava tudo em sua cabeça. Ela viveu tudo isso.

“É bom para você assistir outras partidas. Isso aumenta suas habilidades”, diz Aira Choi de sua cadeira. Olivia fica inexpressiva enquanto bebe seu suco, obedientemente. É claro que seria ingênuo da parte dela pensar que sua mãe teria ficado quieta. “Isso ajuda você a vencer.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Eu não perco”, ela responde.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Você não perde porque assiste a outras partidas de tênis”, sua mãe tenta novamente, levantando-se. Aproximando-se da filha, a mulher liga novamente a TV. Olivia suspirou ao ver Anna Muller gritar na quadra após vencer um set. “Você conhece o processo. Isto é o que seu pai lhe ensinou."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ah, ela sabia bem.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Seu pai era obsessivo quando se tratava de tênis. Quando ele se tornou seu treinador? Ela entendeu por que as pessoas o chamavam de o maior tenista do mundo. Ela também achou que ele estava maluco. Só um louco seguiria sua rotina. Como sua própria filha.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia não conseguia se lembrar da última vez em que relaxou genuinamente. Ela não teve tempo para relaxar na rotina do pai. Não era nada parecido com a rotina que ela seguia quando era adolescente. Esta foi muito mais desgastante.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Incluía muitas coisas, como assistir repetidamente às partidas de tênis de seus rivais para que ela pudesse aprender suas fraquezas e usá-las contra eles na quadra de tênis. Às vezes, durava a manhã inteira.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia não estava preparada para isso hoje.

“Só estou dizendo que isso não afetará minhas habilidades no tênis se eu não assistir a uma partida só porque quero tomar meu café da manhã em paz”, protestou Miller. A garota estava se sentindo bastante cansada, sem vontade de brigar com a matriarca. Ela não venceria de qualquer maneira.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Honestamente, Olivia, eu não entendo você. Você estava sendo desleixada antes de se classificar para as Olimpíadas e agora quer perder o treino do dia a dia”, zombou Aira, olhando para a filha enquanto ela arrumava o cabelo. Olivia desviou de sua mão. “É como se você quisesse perder.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Talvez ela quisesse.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Talvez ela estivesse com medo de seguir em frente e testemunhar algo que pensava ter esquecido. Mas ela não podia contar isso à mãe.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Território proibido.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Enquanto ela pensava em inventar uma desculpa, a porta do quarto do hotel se abriu revelando ninguém menos que sua noivo. Justine Bonsoir movia-se elegantemente entre os tapetes e pesos em seu caminho, ignorando o cheiro fedorento de seu suco verde e o estado deplorável de sua cama. Da cama deles.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ele trazia consigo a loção hidratante para os pés dela. Eles estavam doendo sem parar ultimamente, por pularem e pousarem com muita força. Olivia quase se sentiu mal por estar tão acabada com ele por perto.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Quando ele se inclinou para beijá-la, Aira mudou completamente seu comportamento. Típico.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Eles só tinham Eucerin, espero que você não se importe,” ele sussurrou contra seus lábios, sentando-se ao lado dela enquanto ela sorria.

“Sem problemas,” Olivia forçou uma risada. Aira levantou-se de repente, tão suavemente que Olivia não teria suspeitado do porquê, se não fosse por ela ser sua mãe. Aira tinha essa obsessão para que o relacionamento deles desse certo. Nunca era sutil ao deixá-los em paz.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Vou deixar vocês dois pombinhos sozinhos!” Ela riu, caminhando até a porta. “Cuide da nossa garota, Justine.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Pode deixar, Aira.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ele sempre fazia isso, não? Assim como os que vieram antes dele, que sempre ouviam exatamente a mesma coisa dela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ O restaurante do hotel estava vazio. O que significava privacidade para Justine e Olivia, exatamente como eles gostavam. Olivia não era muito fã de exibições públicas agora, isso a irritava profundamente. Então foi um conforto sentar-se em silêncio com o noivo e saborear uma boa lagosta sem ter que dar autógrafos para todos os lados com um sorriso falso no rosto.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Existiam milhares de prós por se estar ali. Mas apenas um contra. O que devia ser o pior de tudo, certamente. Porque Olivia Miller não conseguia paz, aparentemente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Justine Bonsoir era um homem curioso e sábio. Os homens sábios geralmente gostavam de dar conselhos gratuitos.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ele não era diferente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Do que sua mãe estava falando antes de eu chegar lá? Vocês duas pareciam bastante exaltadas”, disse ele, tomando um gole de vinho. Em tempos como estes, Olivia sabia por que o escolheu. A luz que iluminava seus cabelos grisalhos fazia sobressair suas linhas de expressão… Ele era lindo assim.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela poderia facilmente dizer a si mesma que o amava daquele jeito.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Você ouviu?” Ela disse envergonhada, não tão boa quanto ele para manter o álcool sob controle. Depois de revirar os olhos afetuosamente para o sorriso conhecedor de Justine, ela suspirou. “Ela estava me incomodando por não querer ver os jogos hoje.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “E por que você não quis ver os jogos?”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Eu só não estava com vontade.” A resposta dela foi definitiva, mas Olivia nunca foi muito boa em impor sua assertividade. O olhar de Justine a fez olhar para sua taça de vinho.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Anna Muller jogou hoje”, disse o francês, pegando a mão dela. Brincando com os nós dos dedos.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia fechou os olhos, respirando fundo. Ela sabia onde isso estava indo, infelizmente. Da mesma forma que Justine Bonsoir podia ser uma presença calma e monotonamente indiferente, o homem também era capaz de ser irritantemente observador. Desde a forma como Olivia mordeu o lábio até a forma como estalou os dedos de vez em quando ao olhar para ele, ficou claro para ele que a jovem estava escondendo alguma coisa. Será que isso contava como disfarce se ele a conhecia bem o suficiente para saber o que a incomodava?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ O vinho não pareceu atrapalhar seu julgamento, então Olivia largou sua taça. Não querendo revelar mais do que já estava sobre a mesa. A questão é que ela nunca tinha feito isso, revelado nada, claro. Mas Justine conseguiu juntar as peças do quebra-cabeça quebrado nas poucas vezes em que seus pais a repreenderam por sequer mencionar os nomes deles. No entanto, não era sua vontade relembrar isso.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Essa história estava enterrada há muito tempo, Olivia não queria revivê-la. Portanto, ela preferiu fazer o que fazia de melhor quando se tratava de Justine e seus comentários espertinhos. Fazer-se de boba. Mudar o rumo da conversa.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “E daí?” Ela disse, erguendo as sobrancelhas como se não se importasse com a pergunta que acabara de ser feita.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Você não acha um pouco suspeito você perder o interesse em assistir às partidas no mesmo dia em que Anna Muller está jogando?” Justine inclinou a cabeça.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “É apenas um jogo, Justine. Nada muito grande nisso,” Olivia revirou os olhos. Foda-se isso de não beber vinho, ela precisava disso para suportar essa conversa. Seu estômago estava revirando dentro dela, em antecipação às implicações que ali estavam.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Exatamente.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia bateu o copo na mesa, irritada. Isso chamou a atenção de um dos garçons de lá, ela deu-lhes um breve sorriso como pedido de desculpas antes de se virar novamente para o homem à sua frente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Que diabos? Ele estava realmente tentando irritá-la? Miller não conseguiu entender.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Não tenho certeza do que você está tentando insinuar aqui,” ela zombou, encostando-se na cadeira.

"Tudo o que estou dizendo é que talvez você se sentiu desconfortável assistindo Anna hoje porque ela te lembra do passado", Justine encolheu os ombros, suspirando ao ver Olivia revirar os olhos novamente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia debocha. Obviamente, ela sabia onde Justine Bonsoir estava tentando mirar com essas idas e vindas. Tinha que ser em um dia como hoje? Quem diria que o francês poderia ser tão insuportável.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ De qualquer forma, ela não desistiria tão cedo. Então bufou, irritada.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “E como Anna Muller e meu passado se conectam, exatamente?” Ela brincou.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Um momento de silêncio caiu sobre eles. Para quem estivesse de fora, pareceriam um casal almoçando normalmente, mas o que aconteceu ali foi muito mais do que isso. Foi a sua convivência com Justine na sua forma mais pura. A batalha pelo domínio nas discussões, mesmo que fossem pequenas discussões como esta.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Justine sempre gostou de agir de forma inteligente porque era mais velho, e na maioria das vezes ele poderia ser, mas se houvesse uma pessoa em sua nova vida que ainda trouxesse a velha Olivia Miller , era Justine Bonsoir. A necessidade de ter a última palavra era incessantemente dela quando se tratava de suas discussões.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ E Justine odiava quando Olivia bancava a teimosa.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Assim como ela odiava quando ele bancava o espertinho.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Com um sorriso irônico e um arqueamento de sobrancelhas, Bonsoir cruzou os braços encarando sua futura noiva. “Ela jogou nos Challengers.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Isso não tem nada a ver com os Challangers”, Olivia respondeu secamente, exausta pela insistência do homem. Ela olhou para o lado, pensando se poderia ignorar até que aquele assunto deixasse de existir.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Olivia, ouvi sua mãe. Eles estão começando a perceber que alguma coisa nesse lugar está te incomodando”, falou, pontualmente. Como sempre, Justine Bonsoir tinha razão e Olivia teve vontade de gritar. “E quando eles descobrirem o quê, eles vão tornar sua vida um inferno. Estou tentando te ajudar”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Ah, então você está tentando me ajudar a esquecer meus ex?” A resposta foi imediata, a falta de paciência evidente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Foi a vez de Justine bufar.

"Você sabe que não é isso que quero dizer, mas se quiser colocar dessa forma", respondeu o homem, desinteressado no joguinho de culpa que Olivia havia armado para ele. Inclinando a cabeça de um lado para o outro, o francês sorriu para ela. Olivia não retribuiu. “Escute, vou ser honesto com você.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Por favor, faça isso. Estamos chegando a um lugar maravilhoso com sua honestidade!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Justine optou por ignorar a zombaria. “Você vai competir contra Art Donaldson e Patrick Zweig e vai ver Tashi Duncan. Quanto mais cedo você arrancar o band-aid, mais cedo você superará isso. Aí você se aposenta e seguimos em frente com nossas vidas.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ E nos casamos. Ele esqueceu de acrescentar, mas estava na atmosfera. Olivia podia sentir isso porque era verdade. Ela jogaria nos Jogos Olímpicos de Verão, se aposentaria aos trinta e quatro anos e se casaria. Esse foi o plano assim que ele propôs.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela respirou fundo. Inferno, ela precisava de mais vinho. Como se pudesse sentir isso, Justine pediu outra garrafa com um pequeno sorriso. Ela sorriu de volta em gratidão.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Sim, eu sei.” Silenciosamente, Olivia respondeu de volta.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Aliviado, era assim que ele parecia. Olivia olhou para ele vendo o jeito que ele balançou a cabeça tentando esconder o riso. Ela revirou os olhos permitindo que um sorriso preguiçoso tomasse conta de suas feições.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Bom. Então assista a porra da partida e não dê motivos para seus pais meterem o nariz na gente”, brincou, servindo vinho nas taças. Olivia jogou o guardanapo nele, ouvindo sua risada. “Deus, você é difícil.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Zombando em estado de choque, Olivia revidou. “E você é mandão.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Mas vale a pena.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “É, até que dá pro gasto.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Roupas. Roupas por toda parte. Foi tudo o que Olivia Miller pôde ver do sofá da loja Adidas. Aparentemente, ela não tinha roupas suficientes para as Olimpíadas de Verão. Mesmo sendo patrocinada por inúmeras marcas, a mãe da mulher fez questão de lembrá-la que era hora de fazer compras.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Talvez esse não fosse exatamente o dia dela, mas ela sempre poderia contar com sua própria mãe para encontrar uma maneira de piorar a situação. Depois da manhã turbulenta que teve e do almoço desagradável partilhado com Justine, tudo o que Olivia queria era deitar-se na cama e apodrecer ali. Ou pelo menos descansar até criar vergonha na cara para abrir Cincinnati para assistir aos jogos que ela estava tão desesperada para evitar.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ No entanto, lá estava ela sentada entre tantas caixas de sapatos e roupas descartadas. Uma das atendentes ficou ao lado dela no grande sofá branco da loja, inquieta e até um pouco incomodada com as exigências incessantes de Aira Choi quando o assunto era a aparição da filha na quadra de tênis.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Louca, isso é o que a mãe dela era. Olivia deslizou entediada pelo estofamento de couro branco, olhando para os pés e se perdendo nos detalhes dos pequenos saltos que usava. Ela sorriu se desculpando para a atendente ao ver a mãe voltando com mais seis pares de saias e tops, todos juntos para combinar com os demais pares de tênis já escolhidos.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Vamos, você tem que experimentar isso”, disse a matriarca, aproximando-se. Em sua expressão não havia espaço para discordância, o que enviou uma onda de derrota pelo corpo de Olivia Miller. A jovem apenas suspirou, olhando para a atendente, que naquele exato momento segurava nas prateleiras mais próximas as roupas novas que sua mãe havia trazido.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Tenho certeza que não vou precisar de todas essas roupas, mãe. Não há nem tantos jogos assim," Ela tentou argumentar, jogando a cabeça para trás contra o estofamento do sofá.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Claro que vai. Você é a estrela deste evento, você sabe disso. Você tem ideia de quantas fotos terá que tirar?" A mulher jogou as roupas no colo, libertando novamente o atendente. "De quantas sessões de fotos você terá que participar? Muitas, Olivia. Muitas."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Achei que era apenas uma questão de ganhar jogos, e não dar muita importância a isso", respondeu Olivia, levantando-se. Assim, ela era um pouco mais alta que a mãe. Mas Aira Choi era tão intimidante que a sua altura não importava.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Que parte de 'você é a estrela deste evento' você não entende? Tudo que você fizer será maior do que deveria ser," A mulher continuou, aproximando-se. "Seu pai está aqui. As pessoas pararam para ver o que vai acontecer naquela quadra. Você realmente não acha que vai entrar lá e jogar seu jogo e depois ir embora, não é? Lembre-se de quem você é , Olivia. E o que você queria pra chegar aqui."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia engoliu em seco, movendo-se. Ela não queria que a atendente da loja soubesse de mais nada e muito menos que isso acabasse na mídia. Bastavam as especulações sobre seu relacionamento com Justine Bonsoir. Olivia não tinha mentalidade para isso agora.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Portanto, ela continuou seu caminho para os vestiários. E colocando as roupas em um balcão em frente ao provador ela achou que eram peças lindas. Isso ela tinha que admitir. Ela poderia imaginar usá-los mais tarde. Em conferências, em sessões de fotos, em treinamentos. Sua mãe realmente teria pensado em tudo.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ou talvez o crédito devesse ir para o pai dela, provavelmente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela teria se perdido na onda de pensamentos que passavam por ela, mas foi então que sentiu pequenas mãos agarrando o tecido de seda de seu vestido. Olivia estava acostumada com esse tipo de contato, não precisou se virar para ver que era um ser humano três vezes menor que ela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Miller sorriu educadamente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Você é Olivia Miller?" A criança perguntou, ela tinha traços lindos. O cabelo castanho encaracolado mais exuberante que ela já tinha visto, suas feições tão delicadas que Olivia lembrava uma princesa. Havia algo semelhante nela que Olivia não conseguia identificar. ‎"Você joga igual ao meu pai!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Olivia Miller deu mais uma olhada naquela criança. Obviamente, filha de algum tenista que ela teria conhecido. Mas quem?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A mulher teria respondido pela jovem que a encarava com adoração se não fosse a voz extremamente familiar que se aproximava, ganhando um rosto barbudo e cachos castanhos tão escuros que poderiam ser confundido com preto.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Olivia conhecia aquele sorriso presunçoso em qualquer lugar, não importa quanto tempo tivesse passado.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Patrick Zweig estava bem na frente dela, usando shorts de linóleo macios o suficiente para mostrar suas coxas, moldadas por anos de tênis. Ele parecia muito mais limpo do que há seis anos, considerando a mudança de vida que sofreu depois daquele jogo. A postura parecia a mesma de anos antes, uma reminiscência dos primeiros anos de juventude que compartilharam.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ O pensamento a deixou com uma sensação calorosa. Ela não podia fazer isso.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Lily, sua mãe já lhe disse para não abordar pessoas assim. Por que você não vai escolher seus sapatos?" Ele pergunta, sem desviar o olhar dela. Se a criança, Lily, percebe alguma coisa, ela não diz.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Mas eu quero um autógrafo!" Ela bateu o pé.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Vou pegar para você."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A resposta parece definitiva e Patrick não mostra disposição para discussão ao ver a garota saltando em direção a outro dos atendentes, voltando imediatamente os olhos para a figura de Olivia Miller.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Há quanto tempo, hein?" Zweig pergunta com uma pitada de diversão nos olhos, mas algo nele diz que está tão sem palavras quanto ela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Era estranho pensar que a pessoa bem na frente dela já havia sido outra coisa senão um estranho. Que eles teriam compartilhado segredos juntos, antes de tudo virar uma grande bola de merda.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ela passou tanto tempo andando pelo mundo com o coração partido que mal se lembrava de como se sentia quando Patrick estava por perto. A sensação em seu peito era insuportável. Quase fez parecer que ela não conseguia respirar.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Reagir assim era como um hábito difícil de quebrar para ela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Não importava quanto tempo ela passasse livre deles, ao vê-lo ali, Olivia queria se intoxicar com a fumaça dele novamente. Rir com ele. Mesmo que isso terminasse com seu coração partido mais uma vez.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Você parece bem", ela apontou educadamente, já que tinha ouvido rumores sobre a vida que Patrick Zweig levava antes de retornar aos holofotes. Honestamente? Ela esperava que ele continuasse na merda se isso o mantivesse longe dela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Maldoso, ela sabia. Mas Olivia não conseguia viver de acordo com o fato de que Patrick tinha uma vida feliz sem ela. Que qualquer um deles o fazia. Ela até se recusou a reconhecer a existência disso em sua mente. De preferência, referindo-se aos outros dois apenas como ‘eles’.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎O que não existia não poderia machucá-la. Exceto que o garoto bem na frente dela existia.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Vamos competir um contra o outro, você sabia disso?" O sorriso de Patrick só cresceu ao notar a mudança na linguagem corporal de Olivia. Ele olhou descaradamente para a mulher brincando com o tecido da saia do seu vestido lilás. Olivia sentia calor por dentro, sua nuca suava.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Seu sorriso era puro pecado.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Se você não for eliminado, claro."

"Você costumava ter mais fé em mim." O homem de aparência jovial se aproximou, Olivia deu dois passos para trás. "E no Art."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Miller decidiu ignorar a menção por enquanto.

“Estou sendo realista”, informou ela, encerrando a conversa. Como se Patrick realmente fosse deixá-la ir embora daquele jeito. Ela deveria saber. Olivia olhou para a mão que segurava seu pulso quando ela tentou sair dali. "O que você pensa que está fazendo?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Por que você está fugindo?"

"Não estou fugindo de nada, Patrick. Estou experimentando roupas, minha mãe está me esperando", Olivia forçou os dois a se afastarem. Olhando para seus orbes magnificamente azuis. "E meu noivo."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Patrick riu, como se houvesse humor no que acabara de ouvir.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Ah, é? Aquele vovô que você arranjou? Corta essa, Liv."

"Não me chame assim," ela rosnou, olhando em volta rapidamente para ter certeza de que não havia olhos curiosos nela. Ou os furiosos da mãe se a visse ali com o menino Zweig.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Uma risada baixa chamou sua atenção novamente, quando ela virou a cabeça seus narizes se tocaram devido à extrema proximidade. Ele sorriu, mordendo o lábio.

"Você adorava quando eu te chamava de Liv", ele sugeriu, com pura zombaria em sua voz.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Já se passaram anos, Patrick. Cresça."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Qual é, não seja tão rude. Nós temos história."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Olivia o ignorou novamente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Vamos lá, você vai me dizer que não está nada feliz em me ver? Que você não vai ficar feliz em ver todos nós?" Ele tentou.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Farta de tudo isso, Olivia Miller pegou um conjunto no balcão de vidro que continha as peças escolhidas por sua mãe. Se ele entrasse no camarim com ela, Olivia poderia gritar.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Mesmo que fosse patético.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Você não sente falta? Você acha que não pensamos sobre isso?" Sua voz sussurrou em seu ouvido, Olivia engoliu em seco. "Jogar juntos? Como nos velhos tempos."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Para ser honesta, ela pensou sobre isso. Muito.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Na calada da noite, quando ninguém poderia questioná-la sobre as doces façanhas de suas expressões ou seu sorriso bobo e apaixonado, Olivia Miller relembrou os momentos de adolescência que ela compartilhou com os três.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ As lembranças que ela mais guardava eram as tardes passadas na quadra de tênis, duplas formadas e horas perdidas com gritos entusiasmados e tensão incomum.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela se lembrava muito bem.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A tal ponto que a dor era terrivelmente evasiva em seu coração, tanto que fez Olivia preferir sucumbir à falsa segurança de fingir que nunca havia experimentado tais coisas.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Exatamente como ela estava fazendo agora.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Lembrar era doloroso, não só pelo tênis, como dizia o pai, mas porque era uma distração que ela sempre desfrutaria se não se podasse. As memórias também pinicavam seu núcleo. Olivia preferiu fingir que isso não a afetava. Porque não poderia.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia Miller estava determinada quando pensou no que responder, sua postura sendo fixada perfeitamente enquanto ela olhava para o garoto de olhos azuis à sua frente. Patrick Zweig parecia uma visão na casa dos trinta, mas Olivia não se deixava enganar por isso. De novo não.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Você sabe o que eu penso, Patrick?” Sua voz sensual respondeu, a expressão em seu rosto, estóica. “Penso sobre ganhar os jogos. Receber medalhas só porque respiro. Ter uma legião de fãs que estão dispostos a fazer qualquer coisa por mim. Você sabe no que eu não penso? Você. Ou eles, aliás. Esses dias não passam de pontos insignificantes na história da minha vida e não me importo se você está jogando contra mim. Ou se ele está jogando contra mim. Vou vencer porque é isso que eu faço. E depois vou me aposentar e me casar, vou seguir em frente com minha vida e hoje também se tornará um ponto insignificante no futuro.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela desejou poder esquecer a forma como a expressão dele caiu enquanto continuava ouvindo, mas logo Olivia Miller aprenderia que era impossível esquecer qualquer coisa que os envolvesse.

©️ jenniejjun. todos os trabalhos postados aqui pertencem a mim e não devem ser repostados sem meu consentimento de maneira alguma.

#₊‧ ˖ ࣪ ་ 🐇 works by vivi #challengers #challengers movie #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers smut #mike faist smut #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan smut #zendaya x reader

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 1 month

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"(Everything Comes Out) Teenage Petulance" (14.3k)

I have – finally – succumbed to the alluring pull of a Taylor Swift-inspired fic title.

A decades-old rivalry, a miserable game of Monopoly, the saddest meal in recent memory, and the band practice session from Hell. Three months after losing his Linda, Paul is still wallowing in grief, all the while running low on ways to distract himself – especially with the memorial now behind him and at the weekends, which he can’t fill with work. Fortunately or not, he opens the door one Saturday morning to two of the last people he wants to be helped by: John Lennon accompanied by his ex-bandmate-turned-boyfriend Stuart Sutcliffe.

READ HERE

#go read!!! it's funny and sad and (intentionally) cringe and heartfelt!! :)#fic #fiona.docx

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littlest-w01f · 5 months

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Down Bad

Feyre x Tamlin

For @feylinweek

Music fic Masterlist

MAIN MASTERLIST

Day 7: Free Day

Summary: Feyre and Tamlin fell for each other faster than they wanted to

Cw: Amarantha (Also I forgot how to add Cws... is that a Cw...?)

A/N: Trying to get back into writing but exams are close so will probably not post much anytime soon, really wanted to do something for Feylin week since I couldn't for Tamlin and Nesta ones. Also trying out this new thing I'm gonna name "Music fic" so do let me know if you like this :)

Tell me I was the chosen one

Feyre sighed, pressing her hands in her face as the carriage moved, she was fighting tears when he yelled his love for her. Her heart racing faster than the horses pulling the carriage. She wanted to yell back she loved him, that she'd never felt love quite like she had with him, that she'd never felt loved before him. But the words got caught in her throat, eyes getting teary.

Tamlin watched her go, put her above him, she would be safe in the mortal realm, he'd never thought he could feel so strongly for a human, that it was strong enough to abandon his mission to save his people. Tamlin put the life of the mortal he loved before his entire court, before the entirety of Prythian.

Showed me that this world is bigger than us

Then sent me back where I came from

Feyre passed out from her tears, waking up while the carriage crossed the wall, she kept looking back, hoping Tamlin had changed his mind and was behind her. She called out his name, but he didn't show. He'd let her go.

A new place that she would now call her house came into view, because she had left her home back in Spring.

For a moment, I knew cosmic love

Tamlin would've laughed at himself, had he known he would be in his mother's garden, crying over a human girl, shoulders shaking as his tears nourished the soil where the roses blossomed brighter. The Tamlin that cursed and berated Amarantha would've laughed at him for falling for a girl who killed his friend. He was meant to make her fall in love with him, not fall for her himself.

But he had fallen, and fallen hard, more than he'd ever loved any female, he had loved this one human girl. He didn't hear Lucien approach him carefully till he was in his friend's arms, fist tightening around a rose hard enough to make him bleed from the thorns and for the stem to break.

Feyre was numb as Elain hugged her tight, asking her all kinds of questions about their aunt, a lie Tamlin had them all believing, she gave her quick answers, eyes unfocused. Though she didn't miss the look that Nesta was giving her, it wasn't the usual look she had seen many times, she was sure this was the first time she had seen concern from her eldest sister.

She was numb as she asked to be excused and made her way to her new room, way less grand than it had been in the Spring manor, her face unable to even crack a smile at the canvases and paints that were set on the corner of her room.

Everything comes out teenage petulance

"Feyre, you need to eat something." Nesta sighed from the doorway to her room as she walked in, eyes on the plate of food that one of the maids had left for Feyre, the food completely untouched.

Feyre was lying on her side, her back away from Nesta, "I'm not hungry..." She barely whispered.

"You haven't been hungry for almost 12 hours." Nesta pointed out, sitting on the bed beside her sister.

The sisters sat in silence, for the first time in their lives the silence between them was comforting. But Feyre didn't reply, didn't talk.

"I might just die, it would make no difference"

Tamlin groaned, forced to kneel before Amarantha, head bowed, cringing at the way she felt his hair, trying to not show it.

"Rhysand told me you found a human..." Amarantha tutted, nails scratching his shoulder, "What a dumb girl you must have found, which one of your males did she kill...?" She mocked him with her questions.

"Where is she?" Tamlin gasped as in a second, Amarantha gripped his throat tight, anger in her eyes, "Where is Clare Beddor?"

Tamlin didn't let himself seem relaxed, Feyre hadn't told Rhysand her real name, he wouldn't tell her a thing, not speak, or make a sound.

"Beat him till he talks." Amarantha threw him to her guards, and walked out of the dungeon she kept him in.

Down bad, wakin' up in blood

Starin' at the sky, come back and pick me up

Tamlin woke up covered in bruises, broken bones healing slow, he was on his back, his body in pain. He hadn't broken, hadn't given her the satisfaction of seeing him broken.

He wouldn't, for Feyre, he would be strong. He could find a way to still keep her safe, knowing Amarantha's forces were out in the mortal lands searching for a girl named Clare Beddor. He'd never tell them a thing. They'd have to kill him for it.

Fuck it if I can't have us

I might just not get up, I might stay

Feyre lay in Elain's gardens, every flower seemed to remind her of Tamlin, feeling closer to him near the fauna. She couldn't help but wonder what might happen to her Tamlin under the blight, how he might be suffering. Her hand trailed one of Elain's roses, "I love you, thorns and all." Tamlin's voice echoed in her head.

A tear fell from her eye, she missed him too much, and her heart ached for him. She had to go back to Spring, go back in his arms.

They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about

The existence of you

Feyre kept the life she lived with Tamlin to herself, there was no one she could tell who might understand. She was meant to hate Faeries, but she fell in love with one. Her human heart had loved Tamlin with every inch of it.

Who could she tell? That her heart belonged to a Fae, that even if she was back in with her family she missed the two Fae she had lived with for the past months terribly.

She hadn't said a word till Nesta had revealed she knew of what actually happened to her. Feyre had unveiled everything to her in an instant. Every feeling she had in her heart, she had spilled.

For a moment, I was heavenstruck

Tamlin held his breath as Feyre stood before him, before Amarantha, in front of everyone Under the Mountian, declaring her love for him. Feyre had come to save the male she loved.

Their eyes met and Tamlin hid every emotion that came across his face, he wanted to beg her to run away, to not fall into Amarantha's trap and save herself.

But Feyre was adamant about saving Tamlin, like he had her. She would take on anything that was in store for her.

How dare you think it's romantic

Leaving me safe and stranded

They were finally alone after months, just the two of them, holding their breath, there was so much they wanted to ask each other, 'Why did you try to save me?' 'Why are you here to save me?'.

But neither asked a thing as they melted in a kiss, if this was their only moment, they would spend it close, in each other's warmth, in love.

'Cause fuck it, I was in love

{General taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

#feylinweek2024 #feylin #pro feylin #acotar #acotar series #acosf #acomaf #acowar #feyre x tamlin #feyre archeron #feyre cursebreaker #feyre acotar #pro feyre #tamlin acotar #tamlin #high lord of spring #Spotify

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petalsthefish · 5 months

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1. Fortnight - functioning alcoholic 🥲 YOUR QUIET TREASON. All my mornings are Monday stuck in an endless February. POSTIC GENIUS. Magical move on drug YIKES. I love you you tis ruining my life. I touched you for only a fortnight but I touched you. “My husband is cheating I want to kill him.” MOOD. I love you it’s ruining my life. I’m calling ya but you won’t pick up. Went to Florida?!?! 🫡🫡🫡 thank you post Malone for your service.

2. The tortured poets department: “I’ve seen this episode but still loved the show.” Aka I THINK IVE SEEN THIS FILM BEFORE AND I DIDNT LIKE THE ENDING. “Who’s gonna love you if not me.” Lol “We’re modern idiots!!!!” JUSTICE FOR CHARLIE PUTH!!!! “A tattooed golden retriever” made me laugh out loud. “I chose this cyclone with you.” Is so Jily plz. “You’re not Dillion Thomas and I’m not patting smith.” Okay Tay. NO FUCKING BODY: 👍🏼 “Sometimes I wonder if you’ll screw this up with me.” Spoiler ‼️ he did. “Everyone we know understands why it’s meant to be.” I didn’t thanks. “Because we’re crazy.” Okay mood. HE PUT THE RING IN HER RING FINGER?!?! “CLOSEST IVE COME TO MY HEART EXPLODING?!?!” PLEASE?!?! “You left your typewriter at my apartment straight from the tortured poets department.” Five stars!!

3. My boy only breaks his favorite toys: ‘I’m queen of sandcastles he destroys.’ Jumps out at me. “Cause I knew too much.” WHAT DO YIU KNOW TAYLOR. “Should have known it was a matter of time.” Taylor is the queen of ignoring red flags. 🚩 This is a fun beat though besties. “Once I fix me, he’s gonna miss me.” YEAH. TELL EM BESTIE. “Stole my tortured heart and left all these broken parts. Told me I’m better off.” Sorry Taylor you were better off babes.

4. Down bad: NICER BEAT OKAY. “Dawn bad crying at the gym.” Mood. “Fuck it if I can’t have him I might just die.” No why is this so FUNNY. Like this is Matty we’re talking about for sure. “Everything forms out teenage petulance.” I mean yeah cause you were still developing a prefrontal cortex when you met him. “So fuck you if I can’t have us.” HAHAHAHAHAHA I LOVE THIS PART. Honestly I feel you Taylor, I’ve been dumb for a dumb boy before too. It’s okay.

5. So long London: EXCISE ME OPENING WITH A CHORAl. THESE KYRICS WHATLFHAKRHS FUCKKKKK. How much sad did you think I had??? Oh the tragedy?! So long London, you’ll find some one???? “You left me at the house by the heath.” “I stopped CPR”?!?! 😿😿 “YOU LET Me give all that you for free?!?!” SHE GAVE YOU A FUCKING GRAMMY YOGURT BOY AND YOU DIDNT EVEN WANT IT. “too graves, one gun?!” Good for you baby girl. “I’ll find someone” SHUT THE FUCK UP. I’m gonna throw up. Fuck fuck fuck. Taylor 😿😿😿😿 “I DIED ON THE ALTER” ALDBSKAHDBSJSKS NOOOOO. I’m crying. My Shakespeare queen. You’ll find someone RIPS at my heart.

6. But daddy I love him: “bedroom eyes like a remedy.” Fuck how many matty songs are we getting. This reminds me so much of a faith hill song. No I will not elaborate right now. Very country narrative. This one will be fun to scream in concert just for the “I’m having his baby…no I’m not!!!” Very chaotic. 4/5 stars.

7. Fresh out of the slammer: daily disappearing just to see him smile?!?! Girlie pop you really do lie to yourself don’t you??? “He was with her in dreams” I mean it’s really joeover. This song is fun, I like it, very chaotic as well. 5/5 stars.

8. Florida!!!: Florence my queen you make this song beautiful, I need more listens to deconstruct it though:

9. Guilty as skin: girl just write self insert fanfic if you want to fuck someone this badly (can’t wait to write and read fics based off this one hahahaha) 5/5 stars 🌟

10. Who’s afraid of little old me?: shit I’m crying. Fuck fuck fuck. She truly hates most of the new fans huh. Lmaooo SHE SINGS THIS IN ALL HER REGISTERS OMGGGG. It’s all her past selves screaming at us!!! Aldhaksjdka she’s so fucking clever

11. I can fix him no really I can: AHAHA THE ENDING KF THE SONG ALDBSKAHDKAJDHAKDHW SHE REALLY SAID “OH SHIT DAMN I FUCKED UP DIDNT I” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

12. Loml: Joe Alwyn you need witness protection

13. I can do it with a broken heart: oh god this was hurts me more than so long London because it hits home for every damn time I had to preform on stage and then go cry in the shower between shows 🥲

14. The smallest man who ever lived: 🚨🚨🚨 found at the scene of the crime: Joe Alwyn's Small Dick

15. The alchemy: AHHHHHHH!!! HOLY FUCK WE GOT A TRAVIS SONG ALDBSLAHDBSKSJDBWKEHDBAKWJD HE GOT A SONG FUCK YESSSSS

16. CLARA BOW: the outro. The OUTRO. THE FUCKING OUTRO. I’m dead. 😵

Overall: I love it. I love it. I love it SO DAMN MICH. you can tell how much time and effort she put into production and story telling. FUCK. I love this album as much as I loved Folklore the first time I heard it!!

#petals talks #taylor swift #petals liveblogs ttpd #ttpd era #ttpd spoilers

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ao3feediwaoi · 5 days

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Everything Comes Out Teenage Petulance

by foodandfandoms "Jose Blanco is moving back to Argentina next month." Iwaizumi glanced over at Oikawa, whose eyes were fixed determinedly on the road ahead. While it wasn't yet completely dark, the light had diminished enough that a street lamp would click on every so often. It was still strange to Iwaizumi to be leaving school so early every day – they used to head home so late that even on summer days, it was already almost dark. He wasn't sure he liked it. "What are you gonna do about it?" He asked, though he already knew the answer. This could be read as a standalone, but does reference the first part to this series in places. Words: 4858, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of I Might Stay Down Bad Fandoms: Haikyuu!! Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Song fic, Iwaizumi is a little dramatic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff, Canon Compliant via https://ift.tt/aqVJXdD

#haikyuu #iwaoi #ao3 #ao3feed

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chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky · 2 years

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So, just for schedule-wise, I'm hoping to have lightning!fic ready by Saturday, in preparation for Monday. It's been really fun to write and I gave myself an excuse to write a scene I've been REALLY wanting to for the Drama of It All, but had no reason to. Here's a clipboard snippet, after the lighthearted scene with socks and clipboards, it gets dramatic real fast 💖

“—I’m just saying, I’m starting to not be able to feel my feet.” Buck is saying. “Maybe we should start packing extra socks in the rig for moments like this. We would all benefit.”

“Yeah, why don’t you just write that on your clipboard I know you always have hidden under your seat.” Hen offers, clearly unimpressed but more than amused. “I don’t know why you bother to hide it, we all know it’s there.”

Buck glowers at her, eyes narrowing. Hen returns the gaze and after five seconds of unrelenting eye contact, Buck crumbles in the way they all expect. He lets out a dramatic sigh and reaches underneath his seat, unearthing a clipboard. Eddie was certain he got rid of them all, so it’s unnerving that Hen knew before he did, but that really was the way things were these days. He tells himself he isn’t jealous, but it’s been a while since Eddie wasn’t able to immediately read everything from a single expression from Buck, and he decidedly does not care for that shit at all.

“We all benefit from dry socks.” Buck mumbles just on the funny side of petulance, Eddie leaning over to see him quickly write ‘extra socks in rig’ in his chicken scrawl that typically requires a symbologist to decipher. He smirks at other notes, which include ‘snack box 4 chim’ and ‘book 4 kids’ among other things. Eddie knows his face is twisted into something almost painfully fond – something Chris has ceremoniously decided to call his ‘lame dad heart eyes,’ oh how Eddie loves this transition to teenage behavior – but it’s the quiet moments like this where Eddie lets himself feel things that he doesn’t want to put a name to.

It isn’t until he notices Hen sitting across from him in the rig, a knowing smirk growing on her face in a way that feels like one of those lesbian goddess of knowledge things that she always jokes about, but Eddie isn’t sure it’s even a joke anymore. There’s something about the way that it’s coming from Hen, a private moment that she’s allowing him to feel safe when he isn’t sure his own head is, like she is saying I get it without mortifyingly saying the words out loud. Eddie guesses if anyone would get it, it would be her, but it still doesn’t mean that he’s quite ready for that realization.

“I thought I took all your clipboards away.” Eddie chides when he can’t bare to keep eye contact with Hen any longer. “You’re a menace to society with them.”

“He’s a menace to society when he steps out of his apartment.” Chimney snorts. “The greater city of L.A. is actively in danger when you get a clipboard.”

Buck gives them all an unimpressed look. “You may have taken the clipboards you know about, but I am a man of means, as Hen puts it. I can buy socks and clipboards.”

“Wow, socks and clipboards, you’re really ballin’ out of control.”

#lindsey writes #911 #911 fanfic #6b spec #lightning fic #buddie #buddie fanfiction #fire fam #pre-lightning rig convos

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dangerpronebuddie · 3 months

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Hiiii Maggie 💕💕💕

😭😭😭😭😭 and 🚁🚁🚁🚁🚁

Happy writing!

-❤️🪐

Hiiii Saturn 💕💕💕

Verbal Abuse:

“You can't just barge in and expect us to immediately-” “Can't I?” Eddie scoffs. “You didn't hesitate to do the same to me.” “He's our grandson,” Helena says. “He needed us.” “And I'm your son,” Eddie hisses. “I needed you, too.” And that seems to be the story of his life. He's never been their priority. Never been someone they worry about. At this point, he doesn't even know if he wants them to worry about him. He's never been anyone's baby. Why start now?

Everything Comes Out Teenage Petulance:

He realizes what he's done as soon as he collides with Eddie. A stone settles in his stomach as Eddie lands hard with a yip. A faint crack reaches Buck's ears. That deja vu sense slams into him again as Eddie curls in on himself with a groan. Chim, Tommy, and the others they'd been playing with immediately rush to Eddie's aid. Buck can't move. He can't make his legs work, let alone his mouth to even say sorry. Eddie rolls on his back and looks up at Buck, his face contorted in pain… and hurt. Buck's stomach lurches. He's seen that look before. Too vivid to be a dream. He's lived this week before. The awkward flirting at the hangar, the nausea at the call with Ravi, the stupid and embarrassing attempts to get Eddie away from Tommy. Even this horrible game. Right down to that expression. He's lived all of this before. And, like the last time, he's rooted to the spot. He should move, he wants to move, he needs to move. He just hurt his best friend, and for what? He doesn't even know why he hit him.

Make me write! 🩷

Also using this as my Several Sentences Sunday!!

Tagged by @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley who both shared AMAZING stuff y'all should show some love!! 💚💜

Absolutely no pressure tagging:

@13shadesofanni @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @tizniz @loveyouanyway

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @daffi-990 @kitteneddiediaz

@inell @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @thekristen999

@actuallyitsellie @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life

@rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6 @slowlyfoggydestiny

@misshiss727 @lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92

@thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter

@nonspeakingkiku @eddiedisasterdiaz @drunkandsupportiveeddie @traumabuddies @epicbuddieficrecs @elvensorceress @disasterbuck

@tofanasmuse @gnoeltop and anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

#Saturn 💕🪐#Maggie answers #Maggie writes #911 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc #fanfic #buddie wip #verbal abuse fic #time loop fic #fic: everything comes out teenage petulance #several sentence sunday

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lumen-tellus · 2 months

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thinking about those old longfics that i rambled about in the tags that ive dropped but still really, really want to write.......................... yknow, i honest to god dont know when ill ever actually write them so maybe i Should just drop some notes on what was supposed to happen in them lmao lmao

(and it will help if i do end up coming back to them to fully write out some day. lol. maybe. probably. i hope loooool)

a room by the ocean

-> endgoal is for Yumeno and Ouma to say "sayonara biches!!" to the town they're staying in currently and move to some other place. a titular room by the ocean.

how do we get there tho? god i wish i knew man beats me

-> also along the way, Friendship(TM) happens!!!!!!!!

-> and some backstory stuff; how both of their "past selves" aka pre-show attitudes and circumstances still linger and affect them:

Yumeno coping with her history as being the child of two former show participants, essentially repeating history with herself and both sympathizing and rejecting her mother.

Ouma having to deal with the semi-clashing personality he has now and deciding who exactly he wants to be, and by extension, what he wants his life to be now in light of everything past and present.

-> ofc some conflict in the form of asshole reporters and fans finding out and following after them like creeps + both yumeno and ouma were still fans of the show once upon a time even if they both really detest it now, so trying to deal with that in perhaps each other is going to be a whole rip fiasco in some sense (also theyre like, living reminders of the show just by being next to each other so lmao for them).

-> i WILL get my saiouma happening here too. also just in general friendshippy with the trio will happen somewhere!!!!!!

genometrics

-> oh yeah i also had a platonic shirogane-ouma spaceship au fic that i forgot about too. whoops

-> i have even less of an idea how i was supposed to make them friends but that was the endgoal of the fic lmaooooo

-> fic would be loosely structured like its source inspiration - a genometrics/cosmosphere dive, except without the whack brain surrealism lol. it's real life, and each chapter would "progress" their friendship much like progressing a level.

-> probably another place where i would slip in worldbuilding for the au lmao lmao

home, riding home

-> i said time travel mystery fic ft. zhongli and tartaglia but its not time travel and tartie isnt childe either

-> anyway im just going to drop the reveal lmao: the tartie is tonitoni

wow gasp shock woooooowww who couldve eveeeeeer guessed that The tonitoni writer is actually writing the suspiciously teenaged girl tartaglia to actually be tonitoni!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /sarcasm

-> also zhongli didnt time travel, he timelined traveled - he wakes up in a timeline/alternate history teyvat thats lagging behind just a bit temporally, where the tartie is tonitoni and where the rite of descension has yet to take place.

to specific, he wakes up in the body of his other self there

he doesnt realise this bc well it's his exact same body + he mistakes the potent geo energies within him - which is actually the soul of his other self, forced into slumber bc of the timeline jumping antics - for his gnosis

-> the other funny mystery beat i was going for - tonitoni has the gnosis. she just grabbed it right out of her zhongli in a petulant, violently arguing fit by accident and the sheer, sudden force of taking it from him rendered him briefly unconscious.

she panicked tho and thought she killed him tho lmao rip tonitoni is such a funny little silly meowmeow <3

anyway bc of this, she basically yelled at the leylines to grab his soul before it disappears into the ether - and bc she wasnt thinking straight, she didnt notice that he isnt really dead and his soul hasnt moved on from the material plane

the leylines also meanly did not correct her on this, mostly bc thats not really their job, and simply dutifully complied with her garbled command to go grab a zhongli from the leylines. hey, conveniently, theres a zhongli in a domain close to the leylines in another timeline, that should do!

so yeah this technically means she also knows zhongli is rex lapis and not just a regular consultant at this point, which goes halfway unnoticed bc half the time theyre in public anyway so she cant actually go around addressing him as an archon lol

-> besides all this plot, there was gonna be a fair bit of chara rumination!!

it would heavily feature zhongli debating his future post-archonhood, what he wants to do in life and what he wants from life both. primarily the grappling of moving on from centuries of duty to a more self-centered, human existence.

on tonitoni's side, it would be the exploration of a friendly, almost mentor-like, almost parental relationship between her and zhongli.

-> childe will show up eventually and oh boy hes going to look at tonitoni and it will immediately become a disaster im tellinggggg you

also there will be chili endgame. there will be. that is the point of retirement u old noodle!!!!!!!!!!

-> fic ending is that tonitoni uses her free tree privileges to send zhongli and childe back after all the mysteries are sorted out (and just in time for the rite and the farce of a plan to proceed) ft. some emotional moments bc tonitoni is going to be super intensely staring at her brother in the head the whole time otherwise lol

sun in retrograde

-> aka noah "celestia" ebalon gets a field trip in retrospection at how much his childhood sucked ASS!!!!!! ft. worldbuilding

celestia gets to happily hate on his shitty parents, encourage his younger self to be more confident, and feel both appreciative and sad with more mature nuance over his brother

he will also ruminate a fair bit on how the past is like and what it will become from here on, knowing what he does from the future and the secret things going on (like the machinations of the cult of henir and such)

the worldbuilding will focus on magic systems, family dynamics, and elrianode nobility and customs

-> as for the actual plot-to-plot beats: good question!!!!!!!!!

well i know he'll stick around in the manor as a supposed expert magic tutor for harque, probably - celestia thinks this is both incredibly funny and also kinda whack honest to god

harque is also probs just going to wave him off like "i can tell you're not that interested like sure i'll take some tips but please do as you like ^^"

which celestia btw happily accepts so he can research how to go back to his own time and also maybe not worry too much about fucking up the timelines with his own meddling. epitome of "whatever happens will happen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in his head as he psyches himself through his research

he takes breaks in between of course though, accompanying harque or his younger self - who he definitely imparts more actual magical teaching to - and bonding with them, while internally musing about the outsider pov of seeing his own childhood self and brother with fresh eyes.

clamor btw is going to take one look at younger noah and be like "i understand so much about why you were like That now. also im going to squish his cheeks even more"

also at some point younger noah falls sick and misty shows up to care for him and celestia is simultaneously "idc my revenge plot was a whole life/timeline ago" and "you canNot be standing in front of me and pretend that you dont know whats up heLLO?!?!?!?!?!??" inside his head, which is otherwise politely smiling at her.

also "misty is an ebalon cousin" hc in full force here; shes from a branch family of the ebalons, i swear if the game canon itself doesnt prove me right i KNOW im right anyway SOMEWHERE

the final plot-plot beat is that harque figures out what celestia's magic research is really about (time travel) and while he doesnt press for anything from him (probably), he does comment about how such magic might help him actually win the nominations for moon master - this gets celestia thinking about the pendant trinket, and how he doesnt know where harque actually got the thing nor figured out how to supposedly use its magic anyway.

which leads to celestia being the one to craft the pendant and hand it over to harque, along with potentially cryptic words hinting at the future to come. maybe idk itd funny tho. (it'd also be funny if harque lowkey figures out who celestia actually is after this but lmao dont look at me)

ofc the ending has celestia eventually use his reversed time travel spell to go back to his own time, where hes like "well that sure was something!" sits there for a while just staring at the ceiling, then is like "hey, clamor, do you want to investigate henir's order? im suddenly realising that theres some loose ends i never figured out" and heading to elrianode for their delayed meetup with the ESP in the demon world lol maybeeee

#harmonics.txt #rp stuff #literally giant spoiler dump for my own unwritten fics that i will likely never continue lmaooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Xue Yang went to the Burial Mounds to learn from the Yiling Laozu when he was young and he grew up decent and with a baby brother (Lan Sizhui) but then everything happens and he and Sizhui end up with Lan Wangji anyway. And he doesn't usually go for help when he's in trouble, but Lan Wangji manages to gain his trust enough that he starts to go after him for help, in a shy and maybe even petulant way and Lan Wangji starts to smile like the snow is melting to him and Yue Yang it's kinda thrown off by that smile because the only other person who would smile like that to him was Wei Wuxian and he misses his gege so much. And they start to really really bond, and when he's like 18 he's glued to Lan Wangji and whenever Lan Wangji has to go out, he goes with him, unless he has classes because then Lan Wangji is not that cool to let him skip classes.

[OoOoO. This made a little scene pop into my head, so here's part of the first meeting. No promises to continue but this has intrigued me as an idea, so who's to say! I've obviously played with the ages since in either canon, Xue Yang is at the very least a late teenager when Wei Wuxian is known as the Yiling Patriarch. You know me, I look canon in the eye and backflip out the window, that’s just how it is. Xue Yang doesn’t know exactly how old he is and he looks younger because he’s all malnourished and stuff, so he’s anywhere from 8 to 13, here.]

"Gongzi. There's someone watching us."

Wei Wuxian cracked an eye, wincing at the stab of sunlight that had apparently peaked above the roof behind them since he had closed his eyes. Raising his arm against it, he rolled his head to follow Wen Ning's gaze.

Down the street, a boy stood at the mouth of an alley, feet planted, openly staring. He looked somewhere around...ugh, Wuxian was horrible with kids ages. 9? 11? He was skinny and short, as many street kids were--which he unquestionably was. His clothes were several inches too short and of that indeterminate color that meant years of dirt and grime that would never completely wash out. His hair was unkempt and half balled up on the top of his head in a ratty topknot. And it was something in the eyes. Too old and too sharp for such a young face. You could always tell by the eyes.

"Hey. What?" Wuxian called without sitting up.

The boy said nothing, unmoving.

"I see you just standing over there like a weird little goblin. Are you trying to hide? You're doing a terrible job, you're literally out in the open. What? Do you want a radish? We're selling them. Do you have money?"

The boy was still silent.

"Do you...we have lots of them, do you want one?" Wen Ning called hesitantly, holding out the vegetable he had been waggling hopefully at passerby's.

Wei Wuxian tapped Wen Ning's wrist with the ChenQing. "Don't give him the huge one, he'll make himself sick trying to eat it all at once. Give him a smaller one." As Wen Ning turned and fumbled in their sack, Wuxian sat up. "Hey. Come here, you can have a radish, if you want. Just don't tell your friends, we're trying to make a living, here."

The strange kid tilted his head, eyes narrowing, focused on Wuxian.

"You're a creepy little thing, aren't you? Fine. No radishes for you. If you learn some manners and come over here to talk properly, then you'll get one." With that, he turned so most of his back faced the kid and bellowed, “RADISHES! FRESH, AMAZING RADISHES!”

When he glanced back over his shoulder, the mouth of the alleyway was empty.

“You know, if we grew potatoes, we would have sold so much more. Why does your sister undermine my economic prowess? Why--what?” He stopped, catching ChenQing mid-spin between his fingers as he felt Wen Ning stop behind him, the squeaky wagon wheel going silent.

“I think he’s back, gongzi.”

“Who?”

“That boy. I think he’s followed us.”

Wuxian turned and peered around, but couldn’t see anyone in the gloom under the trees. “Why?”

“I keep--I keep hearing footsteps behind us, but...but they’re very light.”

Shrugging, Wuxian leaned down and scooped up an apple off of the pile of offerings people kept leaving on the giant stone that marked the beginning of the wards to the Burial Mounds. “He’s probably just seeing if he can catch us alone to rob us or something. Whatever. He’ll probably just take the food here and leave,” he raised his voice so it echoed off the trees. “‘Cause he won’t be able to get past the wards and I don’t suggest he try. Though it would be hilarious, so what do I care.” Crunching into the apple definitively, he set off again, trusting that Wen Ning would follow him up.

“What the fuck,” Wuxian growled groggily, swaying upright.

The scroll he had fallen asleep reading slid down his chest and clattered to the floor beside his nest of blankets. It was dark, the candle he’d lit on his bedside rock burned down to a cold stub. And someone was trying to mess with the wards on the mountain. They weren’t very good at it and they were absolutely nowhere near successful. But it was like a mosquito buzzing in his ear, a little zing in his spiritual awareness that had him scratching at his scalp like a louse-ridden mutt. It was probably that damn waif from town.

Wei Wuxian had sympathy for him, as a former street rat from that city himself. It was a fucking horrible and hard life he wouldn’t wish on anyone, let alone a kid. But he was definitely less sympathetic at--he squinted out the little sky light for a clue, but it was cloudy, obscuring the moon and stars. He grumbled again, scrubbing his face--at stupid-middle-of-the-night-o’clock. He was the fucking Yiling Laozu, dammit, and that should at least gain him enough terror-induced respect to not have to deal with rude little punks in the wee hours of the morning.

If he was still there in the morning, Wuxian would go down and give him what for. But right now, he could fuck right off. Turning over, he yanked the blanket over his head and grumpily clawed after sleep.

“Whoever he is, I’m going to drop kick him back down the mountain,” Wei Wuxian groused over breakfast, pinching A-Yuan’s cheeks as he sat in his lap and clumsily fed them both congee.

Both Wen siblings traded an annoyingly knowing look with each other and ignored him, Wen Ning turning away with the empty congee bowls and Wen Qing sipping her water.

“What?”

Wen Qing pulled an innocent face and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You think I won’t? That little asshole was there all night--”

“What asshole?” A-Yuan repeated curiously in his lap.

“Hey, never you mind, potty mouth, don’t say that, who do you think you are?” Wuxian demanded, as if appalled, covering the whole of the child’s face with his hand.

A-Yuan squirmed and pawed at it, giggling. Wen Qing rolled her eyes and sighed. When A-Yuan managed to peel his palm away, Wei Wuxian curled his lip at the boy as if disgusted until he offered up another spoonful of congee, which he faux-reluctantly stooped down to eat. “I’m ‘onna ‘o ‘own vere an’ deach ‘im a resson,” he warned Wen Qing around his mouthful.

“Then go,” she put her chin in her hand, watching him with bored eyes. “Tell me how it goes.”

“I will!”

“Mmhmm.”

“Hey!”

There was no one, his voice echoing impotently off the spindly, bare trees. Except there fucking wasn’t, the little pest, and they both knew it. “Hey, get out here.”

Nothing.

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms and glared down at the pile of offering food--it was definitely about half gone, the buns and fruit and even some of the spices gone. “You little twerp, I know you’re out there. You either come here right now, get lost, or get cursed. I have powers beyond your mortal comprehension and I’ll turn every one of your bloodline into a newt.”

Nothing but the wind whistling through the trees. Until, “Yeah?”

The tone wasn’t scared or pitiably thin or even cowed. It was one of interest and it came from above his head. Wuxian left his arms crossed and looked up to see the boy squatting on a thick tree branch, peering down at him with bird-bright eyes and the ghost of an insolent smirk. Stepping back so he didn’t have to crane his neck, Wuxian scowled up at him. “Yeah. What do you want?”

“Can you really?”

“Can I what, you impertinent little shit--I asked you a question! Respect your elders!”

“Turn people into things.”

“I can turn them into corpses just fine, so don’t test me. What is your deal?”

“So. You’re the Yiling Laozu.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Are you?”

Wuxian snorted. “You don’t get an answer until I do, little man, I don’t just give away information.”

Those eyes slowly scanned down the length of him, that smirk widening. “You don’t look like much. But I guess you must be.”

“And why is that?”

He raised the hand that wasn’t steadying himself on the trunk and pointed to Wuxian’s waist. “Flute.”

Despite himself, he automatically gripped ChenQing, then snorted, twirling the end of her tassel. “Lots of people have flutes. Ever seen a Lan? They’re practically bristling with instruments.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“I’ve never seen a Lan. What’s a Lan?”

“It’s a cultivation sect. Don’t you know anything? Who raised you?”

Slowly, the kid tilted his head. “No one.”

Aha. They were getting somewhere. Wuxian kept up his aggrieved frown. “Well then you’ve never heard of Hanguang-jun, which is a shame, because he’d probably have a lot more patience for a little delinquent like you. Why are you looking for the Yiling Laozu?”

He blinked slowly, like a lizard, that little smirk still on his lips. “To teach me.”

“You really don’t know anything--everyone knows he doesn’t take disciples.”

The kid rested his chin on the heel of his palm, his elbow on his knee, hooding his eyes as if bored. “If you’re really half as dumb as you’re pretending to be, maybe I don’t want you to be. There’s a banner people put here, all fancy and black and red. Offerings everywhere. Wards on the mountain he lives on. Who else would you be?”

“Maybe I just live here, you punk. You can’t even read.”

He shrugged. “Don’t have to. Pretty obvious. Teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

“Demonic Cultivation.”

Wuxian threw back his head and laughed derisively for far too long. When he petered off, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, the brazen smugness was gone from the kid’s smile, leaving it cold and more of a sneer. But his eyes were narrowed and burning. Aha. A little shit with pride and spice. “Like I said, little brat--I don’t take disciples. And you have a lot of audacity to think that you could handle it.”

At this, his eyes lit, the sullen danger bleeding from his face into intent and he leaned so far forward on the branch, Wei Wuxian’s arms immediately unfolded and began to raise to catch him before he stopped himself. “I knew it! It is you! Teach me. I’ll do anything you ask--I’ll dig up corpses, I’ll kill your enemies--”

“Good gods, you just jump straight to murder! Do you think that’s all I do? You saw me selling radishes on the side of the road and think that my top priority is hiring a 5 year old assassin? What do you want to learn this for, anyway?”

The boy eagerly swung down, dropping to the ground before him with a thunk that made Wei Wuxian wince in sympathy for his ankles. “Destroy my enemies. Make them wish they had never met me--like you.”

“That’s hilarious. What kind of enemies would a toddler even have, anyway?”

That flash of anger came into the kids eyes again and he bared his teeth. “I’m not a toddler.”

“How old are you, then?”

He shrugged--and Wei Wuxian could see he was missing the pinky finger on his left hand, leaving a gnarled scar. In fact, all the fingers on his left hand were slightly misshapen, some joints overlarge, some digits crooked at the end. Wuxian’s stomach twisted slightly. It was old. It happened when he was a much younger child. “Dunno. Does it matter?”

Kneading his temple, Wei Wuxian let out an annoyed sigh. “What is your name, twerp?”

This time, his face split into a wide grin, eyes burning and intent. “Does that mean you will?”

Wuxian glared down at him, hands on his hips. “It means I want to know who the hell kept me up all last night so I can spell your name correctly in my curses.”

Not looking in the least bit worried, the kid mirrored him, hands on his hips. “Xue Yang.”

“Xue Yang, you are nosey and obnoxious.”

With a grin, Xue Yang came forward and grabbed the cuff of Wuxian’s sleeve, tugging. “Yiling Laozu, shifu, gongzi, teach me to make them die screaming. I’ll do all your dirty work. I’ll never complain. Teach me, make me your disciple.”

Wuxian pursed his lips down at him, wrinkling his nose. “No.”

That smile widened, sharpened, and he tugged hard, once. Then, his hand darted out and before Wei Wuxian could stop him, Xue Yang yelped and reeled back a few steps, cradling it to his gut, his sharp little face hard and set.

Snatching ChenQing from his belt, Wuxian brandished it at the kid and bellowed, “You little idiot! What did you think was going to happen?! ChenQing is a first class spiritual tool, of course she’s going to fucking bite you if you try to steal her! Why would I take on a thief who doesn’t know the first thing about cultivation in the first place?!”

Xue Yang’s nostrils flared and he stayed where he was, still holding his chastened hand. “I’ll learn. Teach me.”

“No!”

“I’ll do anything you ask.”

Wei Wuxian threw his hands in the air and turned his back on him. “Anything like steal my flute? Get lost.”

He hadn’t taken 2 steps when the kid yelled at the top of his lungs, “Teach me! I’ll do anything! Anything at all!” His voice was raw and strained with the edge of a crazed laugh. “I’m not leaving! I’ll test your wards all night, every night! I’ll spoil all the food offerings! I’ll--I’ll shoot anyone who leaves this mountain! You’ll have to kill me!”

Geez, this kid was obnoxious! Scowling, Wei Wuxian whirled around. “You think I won’t?”

Breathing hard, his eyes alight, Xue Yang grinned with all his teeth. “Then do it. You’ll never get rid of me, otherwise. I’ll make your life a nightmare. I’ll find a way to get in and steal your secrets and kill you.”

Wuxian rolled his eyes. “Wow, that’s a super compelling argument to make me want to live with you. I’m sure you have many friends.”

Xue Yang’s jaw worked as he panted, his hands both fists. Then, he said in a tightly controlled, trembling voice, “I’ll do anything. I’ll listen to your every order. I’ll follow every rule. I’ll never question you.”

Coolly, Wuxian raised an eyebrow. “Anything? Dig latrine holes and grind my ink for hours? Stoke the kitchen fires and launder clothes? Babysit A-Yuan and sell radishes with Wen Ning?” he demanded dryly. “You have a really specific and grandiose view of my life, kid. I live in a cave on a mountain of corpses with 50 disgraced cultivators the world wants dead. It’s not a luxurious castle of malevolence. It’s all chores, up there. I don’t have work for you to do because I work alone. You’ll be my servant.”

“I don’t care,” he said, immediately. “I’ll do it. I’ll prove it to you.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Wuxian tilted his head back, fist on his hip. It was silent for a long while, just the moan of the wind up the mountain and Xue Yang’s harsh, slowing breath. There was a scuff and Wuxian tensed, ready for this kid to try stabbing him or something equally as “convincing” but he had simply dropped to his knees, looking up at him with a falsely beatific smile, all teeth and shining youth. “Please. Shifu. Gongzi.” He thought a second, then his smile widened and he tilted his head, all cutesy. “Gege.”

Wei Wuxian snorted, twirling ChenQing expertly between his fingers. “You’re way too old for that to work properly. You have to be A-Yuan’s age.” There was something when all that cunning and watchful tension was gone from his face, though, however insincerely. He really wasn’t very old. He was just a kid with nowhere to go, if his desperation was to be believed.

Ugh.

“Ugh. Get over here.”

Xue Yang scrambled to his feet, face eager. Wei Wuxian pulled out a talisman, bit his thumb to bleeding, sketched out a rough entry pass and shoved it into the kid’s dirty lapel. “You’re on probation. You step out of line, you’re out. You do something to endanger us, you’re out. You annoy me too much, you’re out. If I’m in a really bad mood, I’ll plant you in ground so you can feed our radishes. I’m not teaching you.” He added, forcefully as Xue Yang’s grin came back in full, triumphant force. “A kid your age has no business learning things like that. But you can have a roof over your head at night.”

“Sure, gege,” he answered, slyly. “Whatever you say.”

With a noise of aggravated disgust, Wei Wuxian spun on his heel and stalked back up the mountain, trusting him to follow. This little shit was going to try to steal his notes and spy on him for sure. What a hassle.

#[sighs heavily] this is going to be a 'verse isn't it?#my fic #my stuff #xy #wwx #au party #ask #I haven't written much of Xue Yang this was interesting #Wei Wuxian is a softie and everyone but him knows it

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avocado-writing · 2 years

Text

Cut You A Piece Of Me

Part 2, Winter

| Beetlejuice x GN!Reader

| 5k

| Rated: E. MINORS DNI

| Summary:

A college student finds a cheap room in an old house, and soon finds out why the rent is so low.

Part 1 here

a/n: i believe beetlejuice is jewish in the original show, so there’s mention of that in the end as this fic takes place around the holidays - however people mostly say ‘happy holidays’ to keep everything inclusive! Also, reader is gn but afab, so they have vagina for the smut

The cold begins to trickle even further past autumn. Nights get longer and earlier, you have to wear more layers to even brave going outside. Uni drudges on.

Things stay about the same in the house. About the same. You and Lydia and the Maitlands all get on well, but there’s something weird happening between you and Beetlejuice. He’s being… nice. In that he’s not stealing entire boxes of cigarettes and flushing them down the toilet in front of you.

He is still stealing your cigarettes but, hey, at least he isn’t showing off about it.

You hate it. You preferred when he was an asshole. At least you knew how to deal with that, you could give it as good as you got it. This is just… weird.

You were going to say something. You were. But every time you turned to talk to him when he was, fucking, holding a door open for you or some shit, he got this look of just absolute innocence on his face. As if he didn’t think what he was doing was out of the ordinary at all.

Things are going to come to a head. Something will click and this whole thing will shatter, like ice over a frozen pond. And someone will be the skater who caused it, who ends up drowned in the freezing water.

Is this a good metaphor? You don’t know. Probably not. You’re a photography student after all, not an English student.

All you know is something has to give.

It’s November and you come down to Lydia disagreeing with her father in the kitchen.

It’s happened a couple of times so usually you just skirt around it, sticking to a wall while you grab some toast and get out of there as soon as possible.

“Come on! It’s once a year and you’re gonna make me miss it! Don’t you want me to have friends?! Who aren’t dead!?” she asks. It’s the most petulant you’ve ever heard her sound. She’s almost speaking like… an average teenager.

“I know it’s once a year. But Delia and I are busy and we can’t take you, and you’re too young to stay out that late without a chaperone.”

“Too young? I’m almost seventeen!”

“Almost seventeen is still sixteen, Lydia,” Charles says. He’s being incredibly stern. Even you are a little bit scared.

Lydia desperately looks around and her eyes fall on you. You have the feeling you’re about to be dragged into something.

“They can chaperone!” she says, pointing towards you. Charles looks surprised, as if he didn’t even realise you were in the room.

“Oh, good morning,” he says with a smile, “I didn’t hear you come down. Did you sleep well?”

Before you can answer Lydia storms across the kitchen and grabs your hands, pleading.

“Please take me! The fireworks are only once a year and my friends from school are going.”

You stifle a sigh. You don’t really want to get into the middle of a family argument, but at the same time you were a teenager once too. You have to have some compassion.

“When is it?”

“Friday.”

You turn to Charles.

“I’ll be happy to do it, if you’re happy to let me,” you tell him.

Lydia fucking beams. It’s disconcerting.

“Are you sure? It’s a big ask…” Charles begins but you wave it away.

“It’s fine. I’d kinda like to see the fireworks anyway.”

Charles forces a smile. At least he’s happy there’s a compromise, you suppose.

“Well, count yourself lucky, Lydia,” he tells his daughter before heading out for the day.

“Thanks,” she tells you when he’s left.

“It’s okay. I was young once too you know,” you tell her.

“Hard to believe,” a voice says, cutting through the happy atmosphere in the kitchen. Beetlejuice is sitting on the counter, tying your Marlboros into knots and flicking them at Lydia. The insult makes you smile and you hope there’s about to be some semblance of normalcy between you again. “What are you nerds talking about?”

“The fireworks on Friday. You coming?” Lydia asks.

“Fireworks? Fuck yeah, I fucking love shit that explodes!”

Oh god. Things are going to come to a head.

The week hurtles towards Friday before you really have a plan.

You want to say something to him, anything, but every time the words get stuck in your throat whenever you try to speak to him seriously. So, like an adult, you spend most of the week hiding from him until Friday rears its head.

It’s evening and you’ve just gotten in from uni. You’re tired and really you don’t want to go out again, but you’re met at the kitchen with Lydia’s eager face, all bundled up in her winter coat. You haven’t got the heart to tell her that you’ve been dreading this evening. So you send Delia a text to let her know you’ll be back by 11pm latest and head back towards your car.

For a moment, it looks like he might not follow you. Maybe you can get out before he realises, slip away and not have to deal with this -

“I call shotgun!”

He manifests by your car door. Your heart sinks.

“No fair,” Lydia pouts, but relents and sits in the back anyway. You climb into the driver’s seat and he grins at you.

“Can I pick the music?” he asks.

“No, you can sit there and be quiet,” you reply. He huffs and sits back in the seat, making you crack a smile. Maybe this can be okay after all.

The ride there is fine, the three of you talking and mostly letting Lydia share her excitement, but you still have an uneasy feeling. It’s only amplified when you park up and Lydia sees her friends and starts rushing over to them. (They’re the gang of teens all also dressed entirely in black. You aren’t surprised.)

“Hey!” you call after her, “meet me back at the car at ten forty okay?”

“Okay!” she calls back, the most gleeful you’ve seen her since… well, ever.

And just like that you’re left alone.

With Beetlejuice.

Fuck.

Luckily, if the waves of tension are as palpable as you think they are, he seems to ignore them.

“So when do these fuckin’ fireworks start?” he asks, looking up at the sky and squinting.

“Uh, in a while I think. There’s like a bonfire and food and stuff too.”

“You wanna eat?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The whole thing’s been set up in a park. There’s a pretty tall bonfire going, at least three metres tall, and it chugs smoke up into the inky night sky. A few little stalls are set up around where people are getting warm drinks and snacks. You pick up a hot chocolate to share. It has little marshmallows in it.

“So can people like, see you?” you ask as you step away from the crowd, taking a swig of the cocoa.

“Nah, not unless you say my name three times…?” he says it hopefully, like a question, but you fix him a stare that suggests that will never happen. He blows a raspberry.

“Worth a try,” he says with a shrug. At some point you’ve handed him the hot chocolate and he’s taken a glug too. He goes to hand it back to you, but then you decide maybe it’s best not to actually share a drink with him because you don’t know where he’s been. You wave off the offer and he shrugs and downs some more.

“So do people just like… see a floating cup right now?”

“Breathers see what they wanna see. Which is probably you talking to yourself,” he tells you. He’s taken the lid off the cocoa and fished out one of the little marshmallows, throwing it up in the air and trying to catch it in his mouth. It misses and bounces off his nose. You laugh and for the first time all night he looks at you properly with a huge smile on his face.

“Oh, you got something right there,” he says, reaching out his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth. It’s as if neither of you quite realise he was doing it and you both freeze when it sinks in.

Something’s giving.

And just like that you’re on the lake.

The ice splinters out from under you in beautiful fractals.

“Beetlejuice, do you think we’re on a date?”

He’s thrown another marshmallow. When the words leave your mouth his gaze snaps towards you and it hits him on the head.

He makes an ‘I don’t know’ noise. “Are we?”

“I’m not… sure,” you answer honestly. Because you aren’t. If you are on a date it’s the weirdest one you’ve been on for a while. Then you consider that guy you dated back during undergrad whose idea of a date was making you watch his band perform in a shit bar all night and not even buying you a drink and you think hey, maybe fireworks with a demon isn’t so bad.

He has some whipped cream on his nose. Quite without thinking, in a mirror of his action earlier, you wipe your thumb over it to clean the spot.

Unlike earlier, though, he grabs your hand and licks it off your thumb.

There’s… something in the air. He doesn’t let go of your hand, instead looking up into your eyes. It’s the most intense moment you’ve had together. God, in the low light, he really is fucking handsome. Plus points for the bold move. He’s probably fifty-fifty if you’d be into it or slap him.

You’re into it.

You open your mouth to say something when there’s a loud bang and you’re both shocked out of the moment. Colour lights up the sky and you both look up to see the extinguishing remains of the sky’s first firework.

He stands next to you. Close. Your arms are touching. You don’t mind.

You watch the fireworks together.

You get another hot chocolate at some point, making sure to drink at least half before you give the rest for him to finish off. It’s really fucking nice.

His hand reaches out and entwines with yours. You think your heart might explode.

The fireworks slow to a stop. It was actually a pretty good show. You wish you could have dwelt in the moment longer, standing next to each other and just... being there. But that’s not how the world works.

“We should go find Lydia,” you say, with a heavy heart.

“Yeah,” he mutters. You go to walk off.

“Babes-”

“Hmm?”

You turn, watching him struggle with what he’s trying to say. His hair changes colour in the low light. You can’t quite make out what hue it is.

“...Nothing.”

He follows you to the car where Lydia is dutifully waiting.

“Thank you so much,” she tells you again, face full of glee. It’s a bit unsettling. But you’re happy to see it nonetheless.

“It’s fine, kiddo.”

“Hope you didn’t have too much of an awful time stuck with this one,” she says, cocking her thumb at the demon who flips her the bird. Before you can answer she shouts “shotgun!” and scoots inside.

“Beej you coming?” you ask.

“I uh, I’ll catch up,” he tells you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I gotta, you know. Think and stuff.”

You furrow your brow, shrug, and get into the car.

You drive away and watch him disappear in the rearview mirror. He watches you leave.

It’s a long couple of days after. Beetlejuice doesn’t come back on the first night, nor on the next. You’re kind of worried. You ask the Maitlands if this is normal behaviour, if anything by him can be classified as ‘normal’, but they’re just as lost as you are.

“He’ll be back,” Barbara tells you, going to put a comforting hand on your shoulder but instead passing through you. A chill goes down your spine.

“Thanks,” you say, quickly disappearing before they read too much into your concern.

But life goes on. You have uni, you have to work. And then there are...

Other things. Things you’d shoved into the corner of your mind for the time you’ve been here. You’re so fucking horny. You figured it was probably impolite to jerk off in a stranger’s house but everyone alive is out and you have to do something about it.

You bring your wand out of your suitcase you’ve stashed under the bed and pull your jeans down. You turn it on and lie back.

God it feels good. That familiar vibration between your legs. Your body reacts immediately and you keen into it, muttering a moan. You can feel the wetness pooling at your sex-thirsty cunt.

And then you feel… something. A change in the air. Like someone’s watching you. You furrow your brow. But you don’t stop.

“Beetlejuice?”

The tension gets thicker, palpable.

“Are you watching me?” you call out. No reply, but the taste of ozone in the air.

“Look, if you don’t come out, I’m gonna stop. And that’ll suck for both of us.”

He manifests at the end of the bed. He’s obviously been watching you. His pupils are blown wide and rather than that smirk you’re used to, his face has a strange intensity etched on it. His eyes rake over your body, pause on where you’ve thrown your pants down to your knees, then up to meet your gaze.

There’s something between the two of you. Saturating the air. Something that’s been dwelling. You want to ask him where he disappeared to but you don’t. Instead what leaves your mouth is:

“You know how to use one of these?”

You hold the wand out to him. He reaches out, tentatively, and takes it from you.

“Yeah. I have an idea.” His voice is lower than usual, more gravelly. It goes through your spine and straight to your already wet cunt.

“Then use it.”

He shucks off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves on his shirt. It’s fucking hot. Slowly he kneels on the bed and comes over to you, planting himself between your spread legs, cracking his knuckles as he goes. You furrow your brow.

“Are your nails painted black or rotting?” you ask, snapping you out of the moment somewhat and back into the usual banter you have.

“Which answer will let me put my fingers inside of you?” he asks, deadpan. You roll your eyes and kick him playfully but he catches your foot in a surprisingly strong hand. He gives you this look like he’s going to fucking devour you. You can’t bring yourself to make some snide comment about it. In fact you find it pretty fucking sexy.

The mood is now back to something… heavier. He switches on the wand and watches it vibrate in his hand. He touches the tip of it to his tongue. You’re not thrilled by that, you’d really rather he used some mouthwash first, but then you realise it’s so he can taste you and fuck. You let out a little noise and there’s that smile.

It’s annoying. You don’t want him to think he has any power over you but if he doesn’t touch your pussy in the next half minute you’re going to fucking explode.

Luckily you don’t have to wait long. He doesn’t tease you with it. He just brings it straight down and presses it into your clit.

Ah man it’s good. It’s kind of better than when you were using it yourself even though he isn’t actually doing anything different. He moves it down further into that most sensitive area of you and you let out a little sound. He clearly likes what he hears because he presses it harder, rubbing the head up and down your lips as if he was using his own cock. You grind up against it and, as you do, his leg.

His breathing is heavy. You don’t know if he needs to breathe but he’s certainly panting now. He rearranges how he’s kneeling so he can push his dick up against the wand too, get some of the feeling from it. Your eyes dart down and you see he’s fully hard in his pants, bulge straining against the fabric. You smile. You like knowing you’re the one causing it.

He presses in further, shoving the vibrator as hard as it will go against you while still moving. Your head lolls back as you feel him grind on it trying to get as much stimulation as he can. You can feel the pressure building at your core, curling up like a spring ready to be snapped —

You moan as you come, reaching up to grab him by the lapels and hang on for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. From the look on his face he isn’t far after, his hips involuntarily jutting forwards as he releases in his pants.

He falls down next to you. You’re both breathing heavily, coming down from the high and to terms with the fact your relationship won’t ever be the same again.

There's silence for a moment. You break it.

“If we’re gonna do this again, you have to take a shower,” you say, turning to look at him. You don’t miss the way his eyebrows raise.

“Again?” he asks.

“Shower,” you double down on, “especially because you just jizzed in your pants like a teenager.”

He makes a flourish with his hand and suddenly his suit is clean. Well, cleaner. Well. Doesn’t have jizz on it.

You hitch your pants up, reach over the side of your bed for your backpack and fish around for your cigarettes. He glares at you as you light up.

“Come on. It’s after sex, let me have this,” you beg.

“That was barely sex. That wasn’t even second base,” he tells you, harrumphing.

“Why are you so up at me about smoking anyway? What’s the big deal?”

“Because,” he says, “every time you smoke one of those things you make your life a little bit shorter. That much closer to being dead. And speaking as someone who has first hand experience you do not want to be dead sooner than you gotta, babes.”

You consider this. You don’t like to admit it but he might actually be coming from a place of… reason. With a sigh you hand over the cigarette. He puts it out on his tongue again.

“And you’re definitely brushing your teeth,” you say with a grimace. A beat. “Would it be better if I got a vape?”

“I will eat a vape. And that is not something you want to see,” he deadpans. It’s quite a surprise but you find yourself laughing out loud. He grins at the reaction.

“So that happened,” you sigh, eventually.

“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he boasts.

“Dude, you were the one spying on me.”

“Hmm, not how I recall events,” he tells you, feigning innocence. You roll your eyes. Of course his pillowtalk is cocky. It’s how he always is, huh.

“You wanna go again?”

“No, I’m taking a shower. Something which, as discussed, you also need to do,” you snatch the wand from his hand (where it’s still been vibrating quietly) and poke it at him like an interrogation tool. He stifles his laugh with a huff.

“Fine, be a buzzkill,” he says, then waits with an open-mouthed smile for you to cotton onto the vibrator joke he just made. You roll your eyes again and bop him on the head with it.

“Get a job,” you call over your shoulder as you walk into the bathroom.

“A BLOWJO-”

You slam the door shut before he can finish.

And that’s how it starts.

It… doesn’t stop.

You’re happy it doesn’t change the relationship the two of you have. The banter is still there but now it just also includes mentions of his dick. (And he likes to talk about his dick). The two of you aren’t fucking, not really - nothing ever goes further than a handjob. Well, apart from the time you do get out of the shower and find him perched on the toilet cistern with his feet up on the seat, grinning at you naked and dripping with water.

“What do you want?” you’d snapped.

“Eh, I think you can guess, doll.”

He’d held you against the bathroom wall and eaten you out like his life depended on it. Well, death depended on it. You didn’t want to admit it but the things he could do with his tongue were… well.

You’d buried your hands in his hair and hung on for dear life, feeling him smiling in smugness against your cunt.

Lydia cottons on pretty quickly. Well, then again, it can’t really be called ‘cottoning on’ if when she asked you and him if you were having sex you’d shouted “I’m not answering that” while he grinned “fuck yeah!”

Everyone else seems oblivious. Well the Deetz parents do, maybe the Maitlands know but they respectfully choose not to ask. Probably just as well. You really don’t want Beetlejuice to boast about all of your sexcapades.

The end of the year hurtles towards you before you really have any idea what’s coming. Suddenly all the shops have their Christmas decorations up and the nights have become longer than days. You can’t leave the house for even five minutes without bundling yourself up like you’re going to the arctic. That’s not what you’re worried about though. You’re sort of worried about presents.

You hand make stuff, it’s a good way to make presents and it also shows you actually thought about the person you’ve gifted to. But you’re not sure what to make Beetlejuice. You’re not sure how to handle the holiday season with him at all, actually. Because you’re not sure what the two of you are. Just fucking? More than that? Will giving him a gift make it more than that? It’s something you can’t get out of your head and more to the point he’s beginning to notice.

He gets up off of you one night, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as you come down from the third orgasm he’s given you with his tongue. God he’s good at that. You try not to let him know too much because he’s already cocky enough as it is but in the height of passion sometimes you can get a bit… out of control.

“What’s up babes? You didn’t look like you were as into it as usual,” he tells you, making an extravagance of picking a pube out his mouth. You fake-retch and kick him.

“It’s nothing, Beej,” you tell him because you know he’ll rip the shit out of you if you tell him you don’t know what to get him for fucking holidays. He’d probably just be happy with you sucking his cock. Something you still refuse to do until he showers. He’s not particularly amenable to bathing. But you want to do more than that.

“Come on, talk to me. I want to know what’s up.” He rolls over onto his front and puts his head in his hands, swinging his legs upwards, like a teen girl on the phone.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my -”

You look at him as you wait for him to finish that sentence. His mouth clicks shut. He doesn’t know what to say next either. He’s sort of dug himself into a hole where whatever he says has the potential to be very bad.

So he disappears into thin air. Just like that you’re left alone with soaked sheets and no more answers than you’d started this whole thing with.

He hides from you for the next couple of days. Which is fine. You’re sort of hiding from him too. Because while the Deetzes have kindly offered for you to stay at theirs over Christmas, you’re going home for the holidays. Another thing you don’t really want to breach with Beetlejuice. Your next term doesn’t start until the beginning of February, so you won’t be back for a couple of months. You’re not quite sure what it’ll mean for your… arrangement, so you simply don’t address it.

The day you’re leaving is looming. You’re still sort of hiding from each other. It’s a mirror of after Halloween all over again. You’re so fucking pathetic.

At least the Deetzes are thrilled with the bespoke modern art tree ornament you made them, as are the Maitlands with their ‘attic sweet attic’ embroidery. It’s nice to see your gifts are appreciated.

“I think Christmas is over-commercialised,” Lydia sniffs as she looks at the ten-foot tree Delia erected in the living room. It did have live candles on it but after about five minutes she realised it was a bad idea and replaced them with plastic ones. There’s still a burn mark on one of the branches.

“Oh really? Then you probably won’t want this…” you say, flourishing a present from out under your jumper. Her eyes light up and she lets out a laugh when she sees the spider-web scarf you’ve knitted her. She puts it on, thinks about it, and hugs you before running off.

You like Lydia, you think with a smile. You like everyone in this house.

It’s December 22nd. You say a quiet goodbye to Lydia and the Maitlands and try to sneak out the front door into the cold night. You haven’t seen Beetlejuice really since he disappeared after he ate you out. Maybe you’ll get away scott free.

“You thought you were gonna slip away without saying goodbye?”

He’s waiting by your car, one eyebrow cocked. He has an overcoat on. You’re not sure why. You’re not sure if he can even feel the cold. Maybe it’s just for the aesthetic.

You sigh and a little puff of frost escapes you.

“Uh yeah. Sort of, actually.”

“Too bad, sugar.”

“You were hiding too!”

“Yeah,” he mutters, looking at the ground sheepishly. At least you’re both in the same boat.

You put your suitcase down and breathe into your hands to warm your face up. You want to look at him but at the same time you feel a bit awkward. You really don’t have an idea of how to interact with him. You feel a bit shitty that you tried to just run away.

“If it helps, I did make you this,” you say.

You hold out a little present towards him. His eyebrows skyrocket. He takes it from you with uncertain hands, as if he thinks it might be some sort of trick, shakes it against his ear, and tears it open.

“You made these?” he asks, tugging on the pair of black and white striped gloves he finds there. He seems to be in awe. Any irritation of you trying to slip away before has gone completely from him.

“Yeah. They’re not great.”

“Nobody’s ever given me anything before,” he says. There’s a note of pure honesty in his voice you aren’t used to.

“I figured I should get you something. It’s the holidays, after all. You don’t have to get me anything, it’s chill.”

“Hey, remember how you haven’t touched a cigarette in months? Happy Holidays, babes.”

You open your mouth to object but then you realise… fuck, you haven’t. Not only haven’t you had a cigarette for ages you haven’t felt like you needed one.

The demon helped you fucking quit smoking. You let out a little ‘hah’ of surprise and he grins.

“And you say you don’t need me.”

“I never said that.”

The conversation lulls as the two of you meet eyes. There’s something you can’t quite make out about the way he’s looking at you. A way you’ve never seen him look at anyone before.

He breaks the silence, walking over to you and taking your hands in his, warming them up. You make a little noise.

“You made gloves for me but not yourself?” he asks, a hint of mockery in his voice. You roll your eyes.

“It slipped my mind, okay? I’ve been busy.”

“Mm-hm, sure,” he chuckles. It’s a nice sound, you think. It’s grown on you. Like moss grows on him. But saying that, his face looks remarkably… clean today, actually.

“Sorry,” you say. Because you are. It was kind of petty to try and run away. Whatever this thing is, it's gonna have to be addressed sometime.

“Me too. I get it. I’m not great with the personal stuff either.”

He hasn’t let go of your hands. He looks up. You follow his gaze. There’s mistletoe hanging above you.

“Good grief…” you mutter and he grins.

“Come on. It’s the holidays.”

“Do demons celebrate those?”

“Well, I’m specifically a Hanukkah guy myself. But the celebrating part is about to be down to you, babes.”

You kick yourself for not knowing that - next year, you promise, next year you’ll make it up to him (don’t think too hard about the fact your lease is for a year only) - and you move your hands out of his and up to his collar, smoothing it out and then pressing gently into his chest.

“Close your eyes then.”

He does. You hesitate for just a moment, then do the same.

Come on. The worst thing he can taste of is dirt.

And, because you actually want to, you reach over and kiss him.

It’s… okay. Soft. You can tell he wants to kiss you a lot harder than you’re kissing him, but he holds back. A hand on each of your arms. Slipping round to your back to hold you closer. The press of his lips into yours, moving gently. A small clack of teeth together. A tiny brush of tongues.

He doesn’t taste as bad as you worried.

You pull back after a moment. He opens his eyes, slowly, heavy-lidded. He’s got a little smile on his face.

“Well, that’s going in the spank bank until you get back.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. He grins at you as you pick your things back up and head to your car.

“Babes?”

“Yeah?” you pause, opening your car door.

“Happy Holidays.”

“Happy Holidays, Beej.”

He watches you as you drive away, standing at the end of the drive, hands tucked into his pockets. He looks a bit sad but it’s hard to tell in the darkness.

You feel a bit sad.

#beetlejuice x reader #Beetlejuice x you

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 2 years

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▶︎▷▶︎▷ idontwanttospoiltheparty's blog intro ◀︎◁◀︎◁

I love talking about Beatles history, their songs, and music in general!

Tags:

❡ my analysis tag; where I give my more nuanced takes on the band in general. ❡ music talk tag; where I just ramble about music for its own sake ❡ music live blogging tag; where you can watch me as I descend into Beatles solo career madness in real time

Also I tag a bunch of other things! Individual people (first name only usually), relationships (first initials; eg. jp for John/Paul), year (last two digits), ref (for general sources), and some other things I'm trying to keep track of. Feel free to explore :)

I also newly have a sideblog for Beatles-related music polls!

Fics:

✥ I'm Looking Through You ✥ Diarchy ✥ Under Both His Thumbs ✥ Thinking Of Speaking My Mind ✥ (Everything Comes Out) Teenage Petulance

Also…

#updated my pinned post everybody clap for my lil banners #also spotify keeps unliking songs ive liked #jsyk :-(

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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Dick Grayson x Mercenary Reader HCs Part 1

a/n: This is basically a Dick Grayson/ Reader thingy that has been stuck in my head for months but I haven’t plotted out an actual fic for. Basically, I have the relationship mapped out in my head but I have no scenarios. I was hoping someone could suggest a plot I can play with. This part is mostly platonic with hints of a future relationship. This is pretty much in a weird version of canon running around in my head.

masterlist

You’re Deathstroke’s apprentice. (This version is the version from the Knights and Dragons movie so he isn't a complete and utter asshole. Look, I just really like that version.) Let's just say you had more moxie than self preservation. It also helps that you’re a meta with a pretty unique power. Anything drawn on your skin turns into a physical object. (You basically have a bunch of permanent markers on you in addition to your usual equipment.)

Dick doesn't like you because of your profession but has a grudging respect for your skill. You think Dick is annoying for getting in the way but you understand that he's just trying to do his best to help the city in his own useless way.

YOU LORDING YOUR HEIGHT OVER DICK WHEN YOU'RE KIDS AND YOU QUIETLY CURSING WHEN YOU STOP GROWING.

You and Dick never set out to be friends. You honestly had no clue when this even started. Maybe it was because you keep accidentally saving each other or maybe because you two have a lot to bond over such as murdered parents and emotionally inept mentors.

When it actually started: You, in full costume, recognize your least favourite bird and see that he's crying and that he not only has an ugly bruise in his face but also a bunch of other injuries. you simply sit with him and throw your arms around him letting your muscles relax as if to tell him ‘it's ok and that you’ve got him’. You let him cry into your shoulder. You understand that you have a little more in common than he's willing to admit. You use one of your motion tattoo wings as a cover from the rain and the other to keep Dick warm. When Dick finally calms down enough to think, he's jarred by how nice you are acting. your general demeanor loosened at this point you let your offense show and the very petulant look on your face draws a tired laugh out of Dick. your angry look melts to give way to something resembling relief. You stay there for a while not speaking before Dick decides he needs to leave. Without a fuss you let him go.

After that, instead of fighting each other during encounters, you two kind of just sit together and start talking about what happened since your last encounter. Or you two play rock, paper, scissors to see who ‘won’.

Dick realizes that your personality is hilariously incompatible with your chosen profession. You rant about how Slade lectures you about learning how to lie better and when they tested how bad you were at it Dick was sure Alfred would politely word it as wooden. you had good control over your body language but you had a look caught between pain and annoyance etched on your face.

Mini scenario:

Dick is really stressed out with school and vigilanteing and with Bruce that he just starts wandering around Gotham.

It was a bad idea. Wandering around Gotham is generally a bad idea especially if your head isn't on straight but there is something relaxing about just wandering around.

Dick ends up at one of Gotham's old movie theatres. One of those businesses that you're pretty sure is a front for something because you can't wrap your head around how they could possibly still be in business.

Then there you were a foot from the ticketing windows. His mind instantly recognizes you. You, in turn, recognize him instantly.

When neither of you launch into an attack, you decide to watch a movie together. After bickering for 15 minutes about what movie you should watch, you decide on a coin toss. Because you won, Dick was subjected to your love of terrible movies.

You go out for burgers afterwards and joke about the movie. You complain about the bad acting and the ridiculous story line. You even come up with how they should have done it.

Your lunch was spent outside in the parking lot of the burger joint.

You walk around some more after you explain that you haven't been to this part of Gotham and Dick gives you a mini tour.

You talk about a mix of mundane teenager things and some complaints about their occupations.

You check your watch and explain that you need to go to the grocery store for ingredients.

Dick goes with you just because. He won't admit that he's having a lot of fun.

Being teenagers they fuck around. Being exceptionally athletic and intelligent teenagers you fuck around entertainingly.

At first, you play 'the price is right' because Dick wants to prove he isn't a spoiled rich kid. He doesn't prove jack. You don't do much better but it's on the opposite end.

You get bored and frustrated so you start a scavenger hunt much to the terror of the other customers. How would you feel about 2 terrors zooming around screaming about butter and backflipping over you?

Dick is busy gloating about his victory when the store gets robbed. Dick can't do anything because right now he is a rich boy extraordinaire and should not be capable of fighting. you on the other hand is sore from losing and just yeets a can into one of the robbers faces.

Everyone's attention pans to your as you ready to lob another can at them. The robbers run leaving their unconscious friend on the floor bleeding.

You still pay for the can but ask Dick to get another one.

Walking down the street, Dick notices how many take out places are on the way and asks why you don't just eat from there. you simply tell him you like home cooking more. He notes that for next time.

You exchange phone numbers so you can plan a next time.

The next time they hang out you both bring homemade snacks to sneak into the theater.

They start hanging out in civvies and do really mundane civilian stuff you want to try and that Dick doesn't get to do enough.

You become a sort of hub of normality for Dick. He can talk to you about all the weird stuff without worrying about your not getting it or your judging him while also doing the most mind numbingly human things.

What do they usually talk about:

Casual nerdy stuff

Weird history shit you reads about

Vigilante stuff

Funny henchman stories from the perspective of a vigilante and a higher level henchman

Sometimes they talk about trauma but they only vaguely mention it

They debate over dumb things like whether there's too much variety in cereal. Guess who's on which side.

Sometimes they discuss fighting techniques.

Dick teaches you Romani and about the Romani culture

You sometimes explains various myths and superstitions from your own culture

Dick sometimes talks about school and galas and you end up making fun of weird rich people. They also end up making fun of the various rich people who hire you.

You'll talk about almost everything with each other

You bring him to one of your safe houses for a home cooked meal after he tells you how he lives off of cereal. You were horrified.

The Titans, Batman, and Alfred get really suspicious about Dick's new civilian friend.

Slade gets suspicious of you frequently visiting certain cities.

Somehow they figure out that you are the wraith.

They all lecture Dick about it.

Slade just finds the whole thing amusing and debates on whether he can actually convince you to give up some of Grayson's secrets.

I just love the image of them casually hanging out in civvies with Batman questioning Dick's life decisions and what your has been influenced by his relationship with Catwoman while Deathstroke and Wintergreen are just quietly amused by the situation at some point they were worried about you discussing merc stuff but neither talk about current business unless it's safe to.

Wintergreen isn't particularly worried since Grayson is a good kid. Wintergreen once joked that you should convince him to join their side. You said that Dick didn't have the right personality to be a merc. The irony of this was completely lost on your.

You spending a ton of your hard earned mercenary money to win a stuffed toy that you think little Rose would want. Dick making fun of you for not getting it then he ends up spending too much money but he eventually gets it. You and Dick pass by a shop and you see the exact same stuffed toy in the shop window for a sixteenth of the fortune you spent at the arcade. Good news though, Rose still has the stuffed toy.

Both of you being petty at dance dance revolution.

When you rant to each other in less than private areas, you rapidly switch languages.

Unbeknownst to Slade, Dick actually knows a bunch of his safe houses and unbeknownst to Dick, those are Deathstroke's safe houses. You are technically not lying when you say it's yours.

You have a silent pact not to blow each other's covers unless they deem it completely necessary (when people's lives are at stake). The only person who knows this pact is Jason and they have bought his silence.

You will both go out of their way to help each other out of a bind.

Sometimes when Bruce and Alfred are out of town and the stars align to have you visiting for a job, you end up helping Dick babysit. Jason gets confused and defensive at first. You have dealt with distrustful youngins. Neither Rose nor Joey wanted anything to do with you at first. You, however, grew up wanting siblings so you tried your darndest to look after them and it is really fucking hard to not let this munchkin grown on you.

When you're old enough to hit the club they often go drinking together. You once tried to have you wingman for Dick. Using the ‘fantastic’ negotiating skills you got from mercenary work, you ended up getting the number for yourself. You once told Rose and Joey about it and both of them made lighthearted jokes about it.

Dick gets confronted by Slade at sword point and asks what his intentions are with his kid (He honestly isn't at all serious but he likes how scared Dick got because the man is terrifying.)

Dick also gets interrogated by Joey and Rose because, you know, this is their big sister.

You often insist on family dinners at least once every 2 weeks with your siblings, sometimes with their mom (Adeline is kind of not ok with you and Rose being present but is trying her best for Joey's sake), sometimes with their dad, occasionally with their uncle Wintergreen.

You usually just casually call Slade 'pops' and you drawls 'dad' when you’re pissed and 'papa' when you’re emotional. You try your damndest to only call him Slade or Deathstroke on the field but sometimes you slip up and calls him pops in the field

You have batnapped each batkid at least once. Batnapping meaning seeing a baby bat and throwing them over your shoulder when you’re pretty sure they’re going to get killed. This isn’t limited to kids. You still do this when they’re adults. The image of you throwing Dick over your shoulder when you two were tiny gives me life but you throwing Dick and/or Jason over your shoulder when they’re huge has me cackling.

You basically accidentally become a de facto big sister/ mom friend to the batkids purely through your friendship with Dick.

Images from this scenario I can’t get out of my head:

Stargazing

Teaching Dick how to cook. He just ends up going to your place for a meal though.

Running around during a rain storm huddled under a jacket with Dick because neither of you checked the weather

Casual affection you two share because you’re both tactile people. Casual affection as in just sitting on the couch in each other’s space, bumping shoulders to communicate, leaning on each other, hugging each other when greeting each other, and all that good stuff.

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Thanks for reading! I’m really sorry for the grammar and disorganization.

If you guys are interested in the more bickering dialogue heavy part 2 either comment here or send an ask or pm me. *shrugs* This is just really self indulgent on my part.

taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish

@birdy-bat-writes (I will stop tagging you when you run out of good ideas for me.)

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #Deathstroke #parental #Slade Wilson #BatFam #batfamily headcanon #rant #my writing #merc!reader #batboys #batkids

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