#i spent too much time wrting it to over think it so

[jonesdada]

"HAIL TO THE KING!” || 2x08: FP’s Speech & Jughead

All day. All day I’ve been trying to figure out how the hell I was going to properly convey my emotions, my thoughts on the matter. This episode gave me more FP than I have had all season, and my mental state, in all honesty, was not ready for it. I waited with baited breath from the second I saw the promo, and I could not have been prepared. I wasn’t. So here it goes. The only way I could imagine to express my thoughts? By analyzing the speech, picking a part every moment and everything he meant in each line.

It’s a wild ride.

“I’ve been in and out of the serpents since I was younger than my son, and it’s been a wild ride. Good times, bad times. Through it all, the serpents stuck by my side while most other people turned their backs on me — “ 

It comes clear to our attention that FP did not have the best home life, regardless of the fact that his school life was somewhat of a breeze. While he was being a star football player, he was also being a serpent at the young age of 16. While he was among the most popular, in a band, he was also homeless and living where ever he could. Despite this, he says in 1x07 that it was the best days of his life. He was top of the food chain when it came to school, regardless of how it was outside. And the serpents, you can presume, has never once made FP feel the way he did when he was at home. When he was with Fred. Hell, you can presume that they’ve never made him feel the way other’s did with their hatred. Not just his family and other loved ones, but himself included. 

It’s also important to make note of how the camera panned, who it seemed to move to as he says it. It moves to Betty and Alice, but most importantly the latter. While we have, quite frankly, no fucking idea what it was the two of them went through, it’d be impossible to write off Alice’s importance to FP. So much of how FP deals with the things he cannot handle is with anger. He’s a man who feels everything, feels far too much, and doesn’t want to. He’s always combated that with anger, with turning many emotions into one. I’ve always mentioned how important it is when he has his outbursts, and how so many of them come after the mentioning of Gladys. He’s never matched that anger, never matched that emotional outburst. The closest, however, is Alice. We may not know what the hell happened, but we do know that whatever it is? It was catastrophic for Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Second.

It’s also important to remember Fred Andrews in a situation like this. I didn’t know on if I should have put him here or in the family section, but God. I can only talk about the Fred and FP situation so many times. In the end of the day? There’s no one in this world who FP feels more turned against than Fred Andrews. Possibly not even Gladys.

“My own family included.” 

Ah, yes. Here it comes. The classic FP Jones motif. And, it’s even better this time around because what’s the “betrayal”  pulling at each and every heart string at this moment? His son. His pride, his joy, his entire world. But while this is true, let’s talk about the other family for the moment. Jughead will have his time at the end of this, and it will take up far more than anything else, presumably. 

We can assume FP lost his mother before he was kicked out of his house by his father, being told to go straight to Hell. It’s very possible that this was the first thing for him to go through to really shift his viewpoint, to make him see the world as black and white. A father is never supposed to be on the outside, never supposed to be the one that damns you straight to Hell. In FP’s case, he was. In FP’s case, he was only the first.

Then you come full circle. You come to where FP had his back turned on by the love of his life and their daughter. Is this logical? Absolutely not. Is this fair? Not even slightly. But FP has never been anything near logical nor fair. He’s always been a man who sees the world as those with you or against you, and once you turn your back once? It’s done until proven otherwise. In FP’s eyes, he gave his family every last thing he had. He drowned himself to keep them treading, to try and keep them afloat. In the end, it didn’t even matter.

Except for Jughead. But that’s something for later.

“The letter of the law says that I can’t be here in the Serpent Den. That I can’t associate with my friends, my real family. My blood! But I’ve been thinking about that. And it’ll be a cold day in Hell before a Snake lets a Pig tell him what to do!” 

It’s something I’ve mentioned time and time again. FP’s a leader. He’s a father. He’s a king. The Serpents have always, and will always be an image of the family that he cannot taint. They will always be the family that he was meant for, the family that he can only bring up, not down. He knows they need him, he knows they need him as much as he needs them. Because FP was born for something far greater than to be a foreman for a construction company. He was born to be something greater than a waiter at Pop’s. When it comes to the Serpents? FP is law. He is the glue that keeps everyone together, that keeps everything working. He keeps them in line, he keeps them straight, he keeps them tidy. His domain, his law, his kingdom. 

The serpents have been the family he could never have from day one. 

With that being said, he was ready to leave it all. The way that his head cocks when he says the part of, “I’ve been thinking about that,” it’s the same way he does when he lies to Keller in 1x12 about the planning up the ransom for Jason Blossom. FP was ready to be on the straight and narrow, the legal side of it all. For his son, he was about to turn his back on the only people who’s always had his. Which is what makes it all the more heartbreaking. 

“North Side wants me out of this gang? Well, they better bring a coffin, cause FP Jones isn’t retiring! I am NOT going gently into that good night! I am here to STAY! So bring the fire!”

It’s important to note what the meaning of this reference is, and what it has always been used for. It’s used for a battle cry, it’s used for a call for action. The symbolism, the meaning behind it? Fighting death. And that’s exactly what FP is proving cannot happen. The death of the serpents, the death of the king, the death of the prodigal son. The death of innocence. FP is at a crossroads, and he’s needing to go down many of the options. He needs to protect and lead the serpents, he needs to protect and lead his own son in the road of his life. He needs to protect himself, fix the wrongs he’s done in his own life. And FP knows better than anyone: he can’t do that on the outside. 

When he’s not wearing his leather jacket, when he’s outside of the Wyrm? He’s nothing, he’s powerless. And at this moment? He has spent months this way. He has spent months having the least amount of rights, the least amount of power possible. He’s not a good man, he’s not an innocent man, but he’s also not a man meant to be powerless. His reputation, his influence is far too great. And while he was gone? Signs of crumbling already began to be present in the infrastructure of his kingdom. He can’t do that to them again. Especially with his son being involved.

Which brings us to the end of the speech, and to the hardest part of the episode. 

“I know about the snake charmer, and the delivery you did, and the debt you owe her. It was the one thing, son, the one thing I asked you not to do. I’m in, you’re out. Penny’s my problem now. You broke my heart, Jughead.”

This is a FP we have never seen. 

This is a FP that he never thought he would be. This is a man who’s heart has been broken by the most important person in his life. This? Is the hardest thing that FP has ever gone through, and the agony is written all over his face. It was never Jughead’s job to do the disky things to save him, that was the job of a father. He was in jail, partially for confessing to a crime he didn’t completely commit, for one reason  — to protect his son. That’s the only reason that has ever mattered for any and everything FP does. Regardless of where the serpents lie, regardless of where the rest of his family lies? Jughead comes first, and he always has, and he always will. 

And for the first time in FP’s life, he has no idea how he’s going to get his son out of this. He has no idea how he’s going to get his son out of trouble. For the first time in his life, he looks at his son and he feels absolute fear. For his future, for his safety, for his present. For the first time in his life, he’s felt as if he’s truly damned his son to hell, just like his old man did to him. 

But despite all of this. Despite the pain, despite the heartbreak, despite the agony... His son still shines the brightest of any star he’s ever seen. His son still has every important heart string, still calls all the shots when it comes to his loyalty and love. So he holds him as close as he can, he kisses his forehead, he reminds him of that, regardless of how awful it feels. 

And then he takes a drink. Because the show must go on. Because he has people to catch up with, and he has a role to play. And he can’t do that while breaking down, while struggling to pick up all the pieces that his absence left. That’s for the next day, and then the next, and then the next. But hail to the king, tonight. 

[gardenflowerswriting]

The Girl Below II (Bucky barnes x reader)

a/n: I have written the majority of this entire series and have only posted one thing for it. I know my audince is not majorly in the marvel universe, but I want to begin writing for more people. I have started my wrting for alread again, so let’s hope to see that soon. Thank you for the countless support <3 gif: game-of-gays Part One warnings: none, maybe a cuss word and a little tiny small smut "Steve you gotta help me."

Steve sat watching as Bucky paced back and forth in the room, "I don't know buck, I don't really want to get in the middle of you and Y/N." "But she hasn't talked to me in like a week! I leave tomorrow." "Buck, you should talk to her yourself, I'm sure she'll listen." Bucky glared over to him, "you know her. She's the most stubborn person I have ever met." Bucky's mind drifted to when he first realized he even liked you. He was a year and a half older and at that time had girls running in and out of his house. That was until he started to notice the tightness of your dresses and the smile you tried to hide when he tripped up the stairs. He loved you, but when you reached puberty like he did, he found his love more than just popsicles and swing rides at the park with Steve. He already loved your personality, and it helped that your looks grew into a person he wished he could have in his bed everyday. 

As you walked into the hall and noticed him sitting on the steps, you froze at the sight of him, Bucky had a beer in his hand as his fingers ran through his hair. You leaned on the door frame, crossing your arms, making your breasts pop ever so much, "are you old enough to be drinking that?" He was only seventeen, but he laughed, "no, but Steve got himself into another fight, and I don't think people care around here." You hummed, lowering yourself in your heels and picking up the paper. He got a view down your chest, and saw the way your eyes looked up at him from that low. God he had to admit he was hard. You walked towards him, taking a seat next to him. You stared at him for a moment, then smiled, "well are you gonna offer a girl some? Steve's troubles are mine as well, not just yours, little chaperone." He smiled, handing you a bottle from the case hidden under his feet. But you frowned, "we-I have school tomorrow. I don't need to be getting drunk. That's for Friday." You reached into his hand for his bottle, he liked the feeling of your skin touching his. He watched your lips wrap around the glass, and that was the moment playboy Bucky Barnes fell in love with the girl a floor below him. "You're beautiful," He didn't even realize he said it before it came out. You cheeks got red and you looked to the ground, "you're not too bad yourself James." He loves it. Loved the way you said it. It made him gushy. He admired your features for a moment, taking the bottle back and putting his lips where yours had been not even a minute ago. "Wanna go somewhere Friday?" You looked at him with crooked eyes, "like where? Cause I know Steve wanted to go see the new movies playing at the-" "No, no Steve," he took another swig, "me and you." Your brows rose, "like a date?" "Yeah," he leaned back against the steps, "like a date." You smiled, "well Barnes. I'm afraid I have plans." You rose from your seat and he watched dumb founded, "doing what." You shook a bottle he hadn't realized you had taken from him, "me, myself, and I are gonna have some fun. Alone." He stood, which he did regret being his pants were too tight around his crotch, "what does a guy gotta do to get invited to this 'me, myself, and I' fun?" You smiled, reaching to step into the doorway of your apartment, "I'll think about it." Closing the door, Bucky fell back into the harsh wood. God. He fell for the girl below him. "Steve I'll be quick, I just need you to talk to her, ask her if I can see her? Please." Steve let out a reluctant sigh, "Okay, but I can't promise she'll listen to me." Bucky smiled, reaching down to place a hand in his shoulder, "god I love you Stevie." A knock on your door forced you to step away from your rhubarb pie. Your mother wasn't gonna be home till 8, and you liked the way the windows opened as the breeze and sounds of the city filled your ears, though she would discourage it. You shifted towards the door, reaching to open it, your eyes fell on Steve. His smile was sweet, and you knew why he was there. "Y/N-" "Go." You didn't let him speak. "Please, just talk to me. I'm your friend." You rolled your eyes. Of course he was 'your friend' but that didn't change the fact that the person above you was Bucky. You huffed, "fine. Come in." His little body shuffled to your apartment, taking a seat at the table he watched you return to the counter, "you making pie?" You smiled at the thought of him smelling the sweet air and recognizing one of the many things you baked/cooked for him. "Yes, rhubarb." "The smell is strong, I bet the people down the block could know what it was." You smiled, placing the final garnishing on top of the pie, and setting it into the window seal to cool. You turned to Steve, "want anything to drink?" He shook his head and you sat down across from him. "Y/N. It's been six days." "I know." Your tone was bleak, "I can count Steve." "Okay, but he didn't want to tell you because he knew you would say no." "Because it is stupid for him to do so." He sighed, "Y/N will you just talk to him before he goes to camp? It's two months and he wants to be able to know he can write to you. That's all I ask, as your friend. talk." You rolled your eyes, "have him come by tonight. But that's it. It just talking." He smiled, "okay! It'll be great! I know you won't regret this!" He hopped from his seat. "I hope I don't." You muttered to yourself as you returned to your spot in the kitchen. The rest of the night you spent pampering yourself. You had the best lotion in your collection smeared on your skin, only cause Bucky told you of the many times it smelled like roses. A small dash of makeup, but not too much, making sure your curls were still put in. You lit a candle in your bed, not for Bucky, but to make him think it was for him. And slipped into a green night gown, one that hit just below your knees. Now, you waited. It wasn't long till you heard him knocking on your window, that you saw a handful of flowers with him as he smiled, his hair slicked back. You moved from the bed to the window in a sultry way, trying to get your point across. Unlatching the hinge, his eyes stared at you. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen, but he could still feel his mouth water. "James." He smiled, "I have these for you," he handed you flowers that looked to be hand picked, but they smelled yummy. "Can I come in." You stepped away from the window and moved to set the flowers on your dresser. "what do you wanna talk about?" You leaned against the wooden frame, watching as he sat on your bed. "Y/N," he sighed, "you know what I want to talk about." You crossed your arms, "yeah, how you made a stupid decision?" He ran his fingers through his hair, "it's not like that." "Then what is it like Bucky?" You could feel tears welding their way in your eyes, "because I don't need you dying like all the other men that have." He laughed, "I'm not gonna die-" "Bucky half the girls I'm friends with have gotten letters from over seas that their boyfriends had passed!" You tried not yelling, but you couldn't stop. Your tears falling down your cheeks. "Come here," he reached for you. "No!" You tried to get out of his grasp, but he held your arms tight, pulling you into his lap, "no." Your hands threw helpless punches. "Come here doll," he pushed your hair down, reaching his arms around you, "I'm not gonna die." You could feel him chuckle against you, grabbing your face to look in his eyes, "I'm not even gonna think about that. I'm gonna come home to you." "You promise?" He smiled, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb, "I promise," he placed a soft kiss in your lips, "I love you." You looked in his eyes. It felt true. What he said felt so true to you, you smiled. "I love you bucky." "Come here," he leaned against your bed and you placed your head in his shoulder. You held his hand as it laid in his chest, listening to his endless heartbeat. "Will you stay with me? And sleep here tonight?" He smiled, "I wouldn't want anything else." The next morning, your rolled over to feel the coldness if your bed. You frowned as you saw a hand written piece of paper on your desk. "I had to run doll, but remember I love you. I'll come back soon. Once I know where I'm at, I'll write to you. - Love Bucky" You smiled, but felt the overwhelming fear build in your head. It's okay, he promised

[hecohansen31]

Just Ride (Chapter 1)

A/N: Hello there, friends!

I have started too many series for my own good (and right when I am having finals, so bear with me my lack of presence her; also again not in the best mood, but I honestly wanted to write this so so much so here I come!

I want to start with thanking @sojournmichael with whom I have been talking about this concept and she is absolutely the sweetest person ever (and most caring and she is a truly angel and I can’t believe that people like her exist because she is everything you need during a bad day, completed with wonderful wrting skills!). So if you liked this, please give her account a check out, since there are a few more headcanons about this concept here (and they are better written than the ones here!).

This concept starts from the fact that my family is very into  MOTO GP (not me), but I was forced to watch a race once and I immediately saw all this very young bikers and my heart immediately went to Jim and I had to write something about him!

Also I am not a professional about this so ignore all the technical mistakes (I will try for the next chapter to do better, thanks to my sister knowledge, the true MOTO GP stan, so if you find something that doesn’t match, let me know and I will do better) (Also Eva: sister said that they have teams, but as in the bikers have like maximum two other bikers in their stable).

Also (P/N) stands professor name!

SUMMARY: Your life as a mechanic of an excellent MOTO GP stable is hard enough, but what you didn’t know is that having Jim Mason as your professional biker makes it all much more difficult... but isn’t the challenge what makes everything better?

WORDS: 3,1 K.

WARNING: None (except Jim being a little asshole, but I love you all the same, babe) (also bad MOTO GP knowledge should be counted as a warning?).

She had stumbled into professional biking thank to what looked like a quick way to make money right after she had finished her engineering degree, with the highest of grades and the congratulations of all her professors.

Which made her believe that would be out and aloud in some secret astronautic project, somehow, thinking about how that was the only name to make her name known.

Instead she found herself in a male only setting, not only extremely competitive, but also eternally looking down at her.

She had had somehow made a name for herself at her university, with her high grades and her tough exterior, avoiding any kind of exterior expression of her own inner state.

She had been the bitchy girl who knew every answer, and she had upheld to that reputation, but when she walked in the first stable, she had ever been in, she felt a strange feeling of uneasiness, probably from being out of the academic habitat.

She had tried her best to avoid being tripped over in the sudden rush of people running around with piece of engine or of tires.

She was thankful that the previous leader engineer had caught her, looking like a fish out of water and smiling as a loving grandpa.

He had taught her anything he knew about professional bikes and the home and family of the stables, and slowly she had warmed over the possibility of staying there and take over the role od lead engineer in the future, which had happened that year actually.

There had been so many parties because both the lead engineer and the professional biker of MOTO GP of her stables were moving out, the first one retiring and the second moving to superbike, which was just a tiny step before retirement in the professional biker career.

She honestly would miss the biker, a nice kind of the old ones, who knew that his mechanics were right, no matter what happened on the road and didn’t get mad at them, except when they teased him and it was a nice workplace for her to work with.

But she would miss even more dearly the previous lead engineer, her old teacher and to say she was full of tears at the party in his honor was an understatement, since she spent half of the time in his chest, hugging him tightly and asking him to stay, just for another season, for her to get used to missing him, and the fact that he was leaving.

“… oh little girl, I am going to miss you too, but I am old and terribly behind with times, this team need a young man, a strong one, someone who isn’t afraid to try something provocative, and I am sure you are that person” he had kissed her forehead before moving away “… also I believe you can’t be growing with me always over your shoulder, like a damned raven!”.

And he had made her giggle, but now she was back to her old self, the self-conscious engineer in a room full of people, outside the stables, in the yearly reunion, where they talked about how the year would go, and would give them some news, alongside the name (finally!) of the new biker for their time.

They already knew that her professor had actually asked her to stay as the leader engineer for the following year, and although she had expected some protests there had been none; everybody knew she deserved the job, having made a name for herself and not just simply the professor’s legacy.

She was also a very headstrong woman, who had gotten in a few fights with the other mechanics (mostly because apparently they had an hard time accepting a woman as a colleague, which they had quickly got over with her glaring and besting them at getting a bike engine), quickly having developed the nickname of “general (L/N).

She was sitting on the left of the CEO of their biggest brand (so he was the one who made most of the decisions), meanwhile on her left there was her new assistant, an old friend and a trusted mechanic, although she wore normal clothes (a pair of black pants and a white blouse with a simple leather jacket, formal enough for the important meeting) so nobody could truly understand her role and this made her nervous.

She was used to appear almost invisible with greasy hands and a tight polyester tracksuit, also covered in dirt and grease, so to be that “feminine” it made her feel vulnerable and exposed.

She rubbed her arms and hid her hands inside the arm of the leather jacket, shrinking herself.

She had been perfecting her mimetic skills till the door, swung open and their new biker’s manager, walked in, almost waltzing, meanwhile a figure set down on the other end of the door, partially covered and hidden by it.

But she knew immediately who he was, something that happened when you worked as a mechanic for so much: you learned that details were what made everything perfect, and if you watched everything long enough to capture them you would immediately knew what was wrong.

And what was wrong with this one was that his name was Jim Mason and he had officially almost dropped out of the professional biking system because of drug abuse, after he had been caught high before a race, which had prompted the ���light” suspension of one year, and the constant testing of his blood and urine in order to prove he wasn’t under the effect of drugs anymore.

He had been lucky because no other evidence had been found on him and no other similar events had happened, plus it was a light drug they had found with him, so the big guys of the MOTO GP circuit had agreed for his license not to be revoked if he proved to be sober and if the drugs were out of his system for at least six months.

But to make him move onto the MOTO GP stage was a crazy move.

Because, not only Jim Mason was an addict, he was also one of those bikers she liked to call “stuntmen”, those crazy assholes who thought it was fine to drag the poor soul of an engine to hell and back and leave the bike destroyed by the end of the race (and most of the time even before the end of the race…) and to get on each mechanics’ nerve.

She honestly thought it was such a bad idea that she immediately wanted to jump up and say how wrong of an idea it was, but then the manager introduced Jim in great fashion, who walked in as fiercely as a victorious conquistador, with a smirk on his face, not even a little surprised by the smile of shock everyone seemed to have for him.

He was a stuntman, but he was a damn well popular stuntman; he knew how to talk his way out of everything alongside generally being described as a “lovable dork” by many of his fellow riders and friends (she wanted to know what the hell his mechanics thought of him, but…) and the fact he was easy on the eyes, helped… a lot…

There was this half legend about how he had gotten out of the original punishment, thank to a smirk and a good word.

And now that she had him in front of her she got exactly why those rumors were being spread: he was gorgeous with what she liked calling ocean eyes, clearly blue, but so deep and tortured, hiding a lot of horrible creatures behind them, regrets and passions.

And she wanted to dive into those troubled waters.

She immediately pushed herself back, immediately turning to Russel, her assistant, who smirked at her giving his approval of the new biker.

But was she seriously the only one who thought he was trouble?

He didn’t approach her, probably her pissed off aura not being the ideal environment to actually start a conversation, but just as she thought of having managed to avoid him for the entire evening, Jack, the manager, approached her, getting Jim by an arm, meanwhile he was talking with the CEO, eyeing her swiftly as if to say “YOU TWO NEED TO MEET”.

-Jimmy, let me present you, our new leader engineer, (Y/N) (L/N), the best pupil of (P/N), I hope you will have your best time together- he clearly wanted them to have a nice memory of their first meeting, but (Y/N), as Elizabeth Bennet, already knew what she thought of “Jimmy”.

He was an arrogant cocky boy, a dangerous bet for their stable, but she had no actions on her part or other properties for her to have some decisional power; no matter the fact that she fixed their engines.

She still held out her hand, and Jim held it back, but he made the mistake to just move his eyes down her body, clearly examining her as if she was just a body and not a mind; the first strike to her humor.

-(P/N)? Are you sure he isn’t already in senile state? I didn’t think that he would choose somebody like her…- and not only had he thought she was inferior for reasons which were unknown to her (she thought it was better not to investigate) and he had spoken about her as if she wasn’t there.

-You do realize that after what you just said I could very easily unscrew a few nails of your bike on your first race, right? – she knew she was being straight up petty and lowering herself to his level, which was highly unprofessional, but…

She got his attention and now he looked at her shocked, as if to say: “she can’t do that, right?”.

Oh, she could, instead.

Jack, laughed it all off, as soon as he understood that the climate was a bit tougher than what he had expected, clearly wanting to dissipate the tension:

-…oh, (Y/N) is so funny! The funniest! – he even slapped his leg to accentuate the entire act, clearly trying too hard, which prompted her to just smirk harshly at Jim, one last time, before moving past him.

-See you on the circuit, Jimmy Boy-.

It was the first race of the year and it was an hour before the MOTO GP race started, which meant she was checking out the bike one last time before everything started, all alone, only with the bike in an holy ritual she found herself to have comfort and peace, no matter the anxiety and the high expectation which happened outside of that room.

She touched the bike, remembering the biggest and best suggestion she had gotten from her professor, feeling it reeve up under her hands, in a loving way, caressing each part of the engine, the nails, the gaskets and the brakes.

It was a wonderful feeling almost as much as having a human baby in her hand, but a bike didn’t break, it if you made it fall, which made her feel a lot better.

Something was knocked over and she almost lost the grip on the bike, before turning around to glare at whoever interrupted the ritual, knowing it couldn’t be no one from her team since everybody seemed to know about her ritual, and nobody dared to interrupt it.

But it was Jim, which explained so much and made her immediately turn around to the bike, not giving him an ounce of attention, the exact same behavior she had had for his entire staying, only listening to his opinions on the bike, and most of the time ignoring them just because it was what she considered “annoying adjusting whines of a primadonna biker”.

He seemed, instead, to look out for her, a lot, probably because he had understood how the entire situation worked, realizing he had chosen the wrong person to mess with.

But the more he searched for her, the more she avoided him.

-Is something troubling you? – she made the first move, without facing him, instead reaching for a tire iron, to set down some loose bolts.

-Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be making good faith to that old promise about loosening my bolts- he tried to make it seem like it didn’t bother him, clearly opting for a warm approach in order for them to bury the hatchet.

-I am a professional- “unlike you” she wanted to add, but if he was trying to make an attempt at doing this, she might as well as try to sound better for him -… and I wouldn’t kill anybody-.

-And here goes my plan to get my trusted mechanic to eliminate my enemies- he laughed, heartedly something she immediately found loving, alongside those ocean eyes and she dared turning around, although she didn’t meet his gaze.

-… I am sure you will kill them on the race- she replied -… I mean metaphorically, not literally, please don’t do anything reckless-.

She didn’t know where the last part of that discourse came from, knowing perfectly “reckless” was Jim’s second nature, but still… she might have slowly started caring a tiny bit for him, although he was still a pain in her ass.

-I will try my best- he promised, holding out a hand, clearly asking for her to trust him.

-… sorry I have my hands still dirty- she didn’t trust him still, at least not before his first race as a MOTO GP champion, but he didn’t seem disappointed by her shooting him down, which prompted just a shake of head.

-Don’t worry, you can hold it after I won this-.

-Which part of “don’t be reckless” didn’t you get? – but she was smiling although the harsh tone of her voice, and he just turned, holding up his hands as if to say “I am done here”.

And she went back to her bike.

He had won.

Not a clean won, but a spectacular one since he managed to rise from his sixth place, at the start, which prompted him to reach for the third place and when the riders in front of him, the favorite ones, ended up battling for the first place and crashing with a thrilling move, he had become the first one, keeping a swift pace till the end of the race.

But she had also seen the tense way he tried to keep hold of the bike, uneasy on it and terribly insecure, but thankfully he had been generously helped by the hands of the Fortune, so she waited till the end of the game, after he had been on the podium and the press conference, to talk with him, catching him just before moving to his trailer.

He immediately beamed at her, but she just shot him down with a harsh glare.

-I did…-

-You were lucky on the circuit- she replied instead, a harsh glare on her face: she would have to work on her bike for at least a day after what he had done to it, terribly ruined by his reckless behavior, pushing it to its limits, and moving over to them -…Rossi and Lorenzo let you pass because they underestimated you, but it won’t happen in any other days, meanwhile about Marquez and Dovizioso… you were very lucky; what happened was that nobody was expecting you, so they didn’t come prepared, but now they will count your presence and analyze you for every flaw, so from now on… no reckless behavior, you listen to me-.

-You are just a mechanic- he muttered, a bit taken aback from her discourse.

Clearly, he had become used to all those people smiling at him and telling him how great he did, that he didn’t understand a harsh critique of his style.

-Yeah, that means I work on your bike, and right now the suspensions are broken, I will have to work on the engine because it overheats too quickly and don’t let me talk about your tires…- she had never had any kind of things like this with her previous biker, not because he didn’t race like it mattered, but because he knew perfectly the difference between reckless driving and careful racing style -… and I know what this means: you need to develop a tactic and understand the bike…-

-Are you offering help with all those critiques or…? – he was clearly not on his best mood and annoyed by her thoughts but at the same time he was making an effort to understand her point of view, which was… nice.

It made her blush.

-I … - she wasn’t in the mental state to be anything else than critical -… meet me in the stable in five minutes-.

She was wearing a looser version of her tracksuit (a t-shirt, already full of grease and other things and a pair of loose pants), meanwhile Jimmy had changed into his usual appearance, a jeans jacket instead of the leather one.

He seemed surprised when he saw his bike, open in different pieces, only recognizable by the number on top of it, and the colors around it.

-What does this mean? – he asked, confused.

-Want to crash your bike? Well, then you are going to help me put it back together- she replied, smirking, before passing him an iron tire, prompting an even more confused face -… the more you know about these things, the more you will understand the telltale signs of overworking a bike-.

He immediately nodded, still a bit surprised by her approach and sitting down himself next to her and the “bike”.

-… is that a Miyagi way of teaching me not to mess with your precious bike? – he asked, although smiling, lightly meanwhile she instructed him on how to use the iron tire, he held so tightly in his hand.

-It’s a (L/N) way to teach you to be a better rider, Jimmy Boy, now move your ass, we need to be finished before dinner, you have a party to attend-.

He seemed even more shocked by this admission, but then moved to do what he was expected to be done, tightening bolts and nails.

-… are you coming to the party? – he asked, meanwhile keeping his eyes on the work, meanwhile she overviewed his work.

-Do I look like the kind of person who goes to parties? – she replied, meanwhile adjusting his grip on her hand, much larger than hers, but also clumsier than hers -… also after you are done here, I will keep on working here, you have another race in two weeks-.

-Two weeks, (Y/N)! - he uttered, calling her for her first name since they had met, making it sound so jovial, as if they were two best friends, just working on a bike, meanwhile his hands weren’t in hers.

-… and you have two weeks to learn how to drive, so this needs to be ready by tomorrow-.

---

And that is all for today!

Let mw know what you thought about it (I really hope you will like it, because I had tons of fun writing it and now I will go back to watch “Dumpling, write two reviews and then maybe start a new seris about Duncan (set before “A Relief For The Stress)!

Any feedback is welcome!

Love you, lovelies!

See you soon!

Heco Hansen

[writtenwordsoffic]

The Inquisitve Snake - Part 3 - Jughead x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

@idle-lanes @sgarrett49 @murderyoursoul @moonlight53

Music while writing: Red Hot Chili Peppers “Give It Away”, ELO “Don’t Bring Me Down”, Talking Heads “Take Me to the River”

Anonymous said: hi i love the inquisitive snake please write more ps: i’m demi so thx for wrting somthing i dont have to transform while reading

Thank you all for the response of this series so far. I hope you all keep reading. I really appreciate it. 

It had been a few days since I had last talked to Y/N - some gentle waves in the hallway occurred but that was about it.

I did however give Ricky some pictures of the gang and me. Veronica was fine for covering for her, Archie and Kevin. Even if there was a discount. And while a club in Midvale wasn’t exactly up my alley, I knew a night out with my friends was needed. That didn’t however stop my curiosity and thoughts of Y/N.

I decided to once again ditch class - I had an idea where she’d be at least. I lead my feet to the art room that was once again mostly empty - and then I knocked on the door. She looked to the window opening and unlocked the door. Her music, albeit a little quieter than last time, once again playing. 

“Hey Jughead”, she went back to her stool, going back to her painting. I dragged a stool and brought it closer to her. 

“New painting?”, I stared at the canvas in front of me. 

“Yeah. Not sure where I’m going with it exactly but this part was in my head for a bit…did you want to draw again?”, she turned giving a slight smile. 

“Sure”. I took my jacket off and set it by my bag. She got out my paper and such, setting the bottles back up according to my drawing. 

She gave a smile. “I’m going to keep going on my painting but feel free to talk or whatever. I don’t mind”. She handed me some pencils and I leaned into the table - drawing what was in front of me. “So I saw you gave Ricky some pictures…”, it seemed for once she was questioning me. 

“Yeah. I figured Betty would want a night out of Riverdale and my friends want to tag along”. 

“Well they should be done tomorrow hopefully…”, I could tell her focus was first on the painting, her words second. 

“How do you do get that done by the way?”, my curiosity once again getting the better of me. 

She gave a small chuckle. “Well I transferred here at the start of freshmen year. And I surpassed ‘Southside Highs expectations’ of the typical student. So I just need to take some basic history class and math every year. I can technically graduate early but I honestly have nowhere to go after this. Anyway…”, she could tell she was getting off track. “Two of my periods are spent here but I’m also the office aid for the school. And well, I have certain accessibility to things to make Id’s. I have a template for the state and I just make them here. I never know when I can get in there alone though”. 

“Wow. So you’re like a genius huh?”. 

She laughed. “Maybe just for this school but I wouldn’t go THAT far”. 

I gave a small cackle. After that, a small amount of pause lasted over the room. She was focused on her painting while I maintained my eyes to the drawing and bottles in front of me. Although, I wouldn’t care to admit that my focus wasn’t solely on my drawing. 

After a little while, I decided to finally focus on a thought that had brought me to the room initially. “You should come”. My voice was trying to remain steady.

���Hmm? Come to what?”, she peered out of the side of her canvas as it had been evident that she didn’t have any thoughts on me. 

“To Midvale. We’re going to a club”. Honestly, I wasn’t all that excited about going to a club. 

“Um…I wouldn’t want to impose. That and going to a club isn’t really my thing. Drinking is fine and all, I’m just not big on dancing”. 

I chuckled. “You think it’s my thing?” She gave a soft giggle - and genuinely I was getting enamored by her laugh. 

“Hey now. I’ve been told not to judge a Serpent by his jacket. For all I know, you are quite the dancing queen”. She gave a smirk to me, knowing I was turning back to face her. 

I laughed to follow the jest. “Not a dancer. But in all sincerity you should come, new friends and all that”. 

She gave a soft sigh. “I don’t exactly make friends easily…”. A nervous tone came from her voice. 

“You’d be helping me not being dragged out to the dance floor as much”, I was guilting her now. 

She gave a small huff, “okay okay, I’ll come”. 

“Will you need a ride?”, I looked back behind me and noticed that she was approaching the sink - once again washing out a brush. 

She set her brush down, now wiping her hands with a towel. “I can take care of myself Jughead”. She gave thought. “You may not want to wear that in Midvale”, she pointed to my jacket. “Might give too much hint that you’re from out of town”. 

I pondered for a moment. “Thanks for the tip. So…Saturday?” 

She smiled. A face I was noticing lit up a little more each time I encountered her. “Yeah okay, you’ve convinced me. I really should get out more anyway”. 

I set my pencil down and handed her my phone. She arched an eyebrow - “to tell you where and when we’ll be there”. She took the phone and put her number in, coming closer to hand it back. 

She walked up behind me and looked at my progress. “This is getting to be great. I like how you fragmented the glass. Fairly surreal”. 

I arched my head back and gave a smile. “Thanks. I think I like drawing”. 

“Here. Hold on”. She went to a cabinet and rifled through some shelves. Then she went to a bookshelf and grabbed something. She handed me both a book and a small blank sketchbook. “You can keep the pencils. I have a ton anyway. When you see something you like, draw it the way you see it. And this is a book on surrealist artists. I think you’ll like it - give you some inspiration”. She gave a smile. 

“Thanks”, I felt as if I was surely smiling too hard but she really was genuine in her words. 

Something was too different about her to not find alluring. Just as last time - we both began to put everything in their rightful place and began to leave the room. She once again gave a soft wave as she walked to her next class. A sense of guilt once again washed over me - as I felt that I was to excited for Saturday night. 

*roaring music* 

“What?!?!?”. 

“I said I’m going to sit at the bar!”. I shouted to Archie. He gave a slight nod as he, Veronica and Kevin made their way to the dance floor. Betty accompanied me to a stool. “You really do look great”, I gave a kiss to Betty’s neck while she gave a smile in appreciation. She was wearing something a little out of place for her - Veronica’s clothing if I had ever had to guess. A tight black dress with a shoulder detail and an opened back. I held her close. “You want to go dance with them?” 

She gave a gentle nod. “You good here? I know this isn’t your thing…”. She bit her lip slightly. I definitely could never handle how gorgeous the beautiful blonde was. 

“Don’t worry about me”. I gave a small smile and she gave a peck to my cheek. She was off to find the rest of our friends. I sat there for a little bit, playing with my rum and coke. I still wasn’t a big drinker but something was better than nothing to partake in. 

“Come here often?”, I heard a familiar laugh and turned. There stood Y/N. Wearing some tight black jeans and a rather loose fitting top. Nothing all too different than the typical t-shirt and jeans I would usually see her in. 

She took the seat next to me at the bar. “White Russian please”. She caught the attention of the bartender quite quickly, flashing her ID. She looked at me gently, “didn’t take you for a button up type of guy”. 

 I laughed and took a sip. “It’s my friends Archie’s”. 

She nodded. “They all on the dance floor?” She somewhat peered up as if she was looking for Betty herself. 

“Yep. Told you I wasn’t a dancer”. The bartender set her drink in front of her. “So what is that?”. 

“Not a cocktail drinker eh? It’s vodka, Kahlua and cream. Sweet tasting but still packs a punch”. She reached over the bar and grabbed another small straw. She handed it to me as well as her drink. 

I took a sip. “Huh. I actually kind of like that”. 

“Stick around and I’ll share my knowledge”. She took the drink back - our fingers slightly touching and I couldn’t help but feel a soft tingle during the touch. She took the glass and began to take a drink. 

“I went through all of that art book you gave me”. A shy smile upon my face. 

“Oh yeah?”, her voice went up a little as the newest song was louder than the last. “What did you think?” 

“Honestly you were right. I very much like the whole surrealist movement. There’s something a little broken about it - a different view on everyday things”.

“Exactly! It’s how the artist sees something and surrealism really displays the unconsciousness with a dream like mold between ‘typical and abnormal’. She lit up - this was definitely a subject that she held dear. 

“So what’s the next movement you’d introduce me too?”, my question came out more coy than part of me intended. Another part of me just felt it as a natural response. 

She laughed. “Well while I would love to introduce you to Dadism - I don’t know if you’re ready for that just yet”. I gave a smile - one that was soon interrupted.

“Juggie! You should get out there man!”, Archie quickly put his arm over my shoulder and then looked at me oddly when he realized I was talking to a girl. I felt a little embarrassed. “Who’s your friend?”, Archie’s focus went to Y/N. 

“Y/N. I know Jughead from school”, without any fear, Y/N pushed her hand forward to Archie. “I’m how you got in here”, her voice came out quieter. 

“Ah. You a serpent?” 

She shook her head. “I just have business with them”, she set her drink down and once again caught the attention of the bartender. 

“Ronnie sent me to get drinks, go dance with Betty!”. I looked to Y/N and gave a reluctant smile. “I’ll be back”. 

She nodded with a new drink in hand, “tell her I say hi”. 

Y/N’s POV 

I felt Archie’s eyes look at me with a little bit of a glare. As if he was protecting Jughead. 

He hadn’t even told his friends that he had invited me. Maybe he was embarrassed by who I was as a person. 

I sat there drink in hand thinking how to start a conversation with the red haired ginger in front of me. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that this night wasn’t what I thought it was going to be.