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cazimagines · 3 years ago

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Born to be wild - Chapter 7

Synopsis: Joining F1 as one of the first female drivers you knew was going to be a challenge but you weren’t prepared to deal with one particular asshole on the tracks. With the urge to win so strong within each racer, will romance pave the way? Or will it destroy everything?

Word count: 3.4k

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“How many of the racers will be there?”

“Not too many; most of them already had plans prepared for today. Only you and a few others were available for the children’s illness fundraiser.”

You nodded and looked down at the information leaflet you had been handed. You were planning on working on your car again today, but quickly your boss came in with this pamphlet about a local fundraiser which had asked if the drivers wanted to participate. Of course, you had agreed to join in; the car wasn’t as important as this.

Your boss had informed you that you would be partnered up with another one of the drivers, and you two would run one of the stalls for an hour or two, and then after that, people and children could come and get your autograph. It was simple, but people knowing they could get a chance to meet F1 drivers would swarm in, and therefore the fundraiser would earn lots of money.

And so you drove down to the park where it was being held and started to look around, trying to see if you could recognise anyone but alas no luck. As you walked around, you noticed lots of smiles and people’s eyes trailing on you. You weren’t used to people recognising you, to being famous and all the attention and staring that came with it. Before F1, you had been a nobody, someone people would bump into on the street and not think anything of it, and now people would pay to get your autograph. At least you hoped they would this afternoon.

You were still looking around, worry starting to grow on you because you still hadn’t seen anyone you knew and were suddenly concerned that you might be the only F1 driver to agree to such a thing. But then your eyes landed on that red racing suit, those brown curls, and a part of you felt a sour tang in your mouth, which had instantly curled down at the sight of him.

You spun on your heel, quickly to change course and try to find one other, any driver, yet fate had cast its scorn upon you today as you didn’t get further than a few feet when you heard that vexatious voice call out to you.

“Still acting like a child and avoiding me now, hmm?”

You sighed inwardly, knowing you couldn’t escape it, and so with reluctance, you turned back around to face those dark brown eyes. Plastering on a smile, you tilted your head, and with the fakest sounding voice of sensitivity, you said,

“I already have to put up with you on the track; I don’t want to deal with you in my own free time.”

Niki’s lips clasped together as his eyebrow raised, clearly finding amusement from your behaviour, which only made you poke the side of your cheek with your tongue and inhale a long breath.

“Your irritation towards me is amusing. Am I really that much of an asshole that you run away the second you see me?”

“Last time I saw you, you accused me of cheating, the time before that you accused me of sleeping with James, the time before that you patronised me, and now you have to gaol to fane surprise that I hate you and see you as an asshole?”

“I am in every right to believe you of cheating, after all, your rise to success after being stuck past the 10th spot is suspicious, and I was merely voicing the rumours that had been circulating around the track, as for patronising, well I can’t help the way you choose to interpret what I say.”

Your mouth slackened, and your posture slumped as your previous crossed arms fell to your side.

“I can’t believe this…” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head as you looked away from Niki but then swiftly turned back,

“Your head is so far up your ass to say bullshit like that and actually believe it,”

Niki’s eyebrows knitted, and he opened his mouth to refute you once again when a woman in a pink visibility vest approached the two of you, holding two clipboards.

“Ah, there you two are; we have you down to work the hook a duck stand. You better hurry down there now as you are already late.”

She handed the two of you the clipboards, and in your confused state, you both took them without a second thought. It’s only when she turned her back and started to walk away did the common sense return to both of you.

“Wait, no, I’m not- I’m not working with him.”

“There must be some misunderstanding; we’re not working together.”

You both speak simultaneously, and it just causes the jumble of words to spill out of both of you. The lady looks back, frowning as her gaze flickered between the two of you.

“You two are the only F1 drivers who have turned up, so you have to work together whether you want to or not”

You and Niki stood there in sullen silence as you watched her walk away. The air billowed through your hair, making the whisps hit your face as you gritted your teeth. Looking at Niki and seeing how his cheeks were sucked in like he had eaten a sour lemon made it clear he wasn’t any happier about the situation than you were.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he glanced down at this clipboard in his hand, and his eyes rolled.

“Come on,” he growled, “We better get this over with,”

With heavy hearts, the two of you storm off to where the stall was marked out on the map you had been provided. It was a circular stool with a giant tub of water in the middle with toy ducks with hooks floating in it. There were fishing rods at the side for the kids to hook a duck, and hunched up on the top of the stall were lots of different soft toys.

“This is ridiculous”, Niki muttered under his breath as he walked up to the stall and climbed in. He raised his hand to grasp one of the soft toys. He pulled it down, and with a frown, he examined it. He sneered and rolled his eyes as he put it back up to where it belonged.

His eyes then landed back on you, who had stopped walking to observe him.

“Well, are you helping me or not?”

You joined Niki in the tiny stall and slowly set up as the kids began to arrive and want a turn to play. Soon you and Niki were busy attending all the people who wanted to win a toy by hooking a duck. They got three turns trying to catch one, and then depending on the size of the toy, it determined what size toy they won.

At one point, one of the kids won a toy from the biggest section, and unfortunately, the toy was just out of your grasp by an inch. Niki wasn’t that much taller than you, and yet when he saw you struggling to grasp the toy from its spot, he chuckled.

Strutting over, he stood less than an inch away from you and, with ease, reached up and grasped the toy. As he stretched up before you, the first thing that came into your mind was how good he smelt. You had never wanted to get so close to Niki before, but now that he was, you were overwhelmed by the pleasant smell of pine needles and bergamot. Then your eyes were drawn to his arm. He had rolled his sleeves up at some point, and now as he stretched it up, you could see a vein that ran up the side and how defined his forearm was. Your mind was also screaming at how close you were to his chest, to the point where either of you moved any further you would brush up against each other, and that thought had your ears burning.

As he pulled the toy back down, his eyes joined back with yours, realising you had been staring at him. You had expected a smug smirk, a sarcastic remark as he notices your attention on him, but instead, his face remained passive, though his lips parted slightly and his eyebrows furrowed, then released as he stared down at you. As you felt your cheeks heat up from his intense gaze, you had to look away, instead just holding out your hand for him to place the toy in.

Niki looked down at your hand, the side of his lips curling into a slight frown, but then his realisation struck him, and as if his common sense came back, he stood a step away from you, and he placed the toy in your stretched out palm. Briefly, just briefly, his finger brushed against yours, but then you both jolted back from it as if you were electrocuted.

Swifty, you turned away and handed the child to the giddy child, exchanging a few words with the parents. By the time you were done, you had dared to sneak a glance back at Niki, but he had since moved to the furthest side of the stall, attending to other customers. You considered it was for the best. You weren’t sure what to make of what had previously happened, and you doubted Niki wanted to talk about it any more than you did.

Yet as the two of you continued to work on the stall together, you couldn’t help how your eyes kept going to linger back to him, watching how charismatic he was being with the people who came over. It was like a different Niki than the stuck up one you were so used to knowing. You watched as he smiled down at a child, his top lip curling around his overbite. Had you ever seen him smile before? You doubted it. Yet you were captivated by it. It made him look almost gentle as if he was a sweet-smelling flower when in reality, he was the stinging nettle ready to hurt you if you got too close.

Yet as soon as he caught your gaze again, you were reminded of the Niki you had come to know and hate.

“It’s considered rude to stare, plus it doesn’t suit your face to look so dimwitted,”

Your face contorted into the usual pissed off look as if you smelled something terrible, the look you had whenever you had to spend time around Niki.

“It’s strange to see you so friendly, so unlike your usual image. But I suppose we all have to put on a fake smile at some times.”

Niki huffs as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his lips turning up into that all-knowing smug smile as he looks at you. “You doubt I can be genuinely nice; you seem obsessed with how much of an asshole I am.”

“Oh, I’m the one obsessed? You are the one always being a dick to everyone else; it’s like you get off on it.”

His eyes narrow at your words, and with a tense jaw, he starts to take a few steps towards you, “Say that again.”

“Can I have a go!”

The shrill voice broke through both of your concentration, causing you to look down at the kid who had unknowingly approached the two of you during an argument. His cheerful face showed how oblivious he was to the current situation, and with an exchanging glance at Niki, both of you sighed and turned to the kid.

“Of course, it’s €1 a turn, the little ducks by the front will earn you these small soft toys, the ones in the middle mean you can get the averaged size toys and the big ducks in the middle mean you get one of the large toys that are hanging off the ceiling,” Niki tells the kid as he moves to grab a fishing rod and hand it to him.

“You only get three go’s to try and hook one of the ducks, so make sure to take your time!” you add in, leaning against the stall to watch the kid take the shot.

Niki leant against the stall on the other side of the kid, tilting his head as he watched the kid lean forward, aiming for the big ducks in the middle. The kid swung the hook, trying to catch the loop on top of one duck but unfortunately missed.

“You still have two more go’s left!” you say, attempting to motivate the kid while Niki waved his hands about as he started to explain to the kid how he should be aiming.

The kid tried to hook the duck again but unfortunately failed again. You could feel your heart droop at the sight of how the kid’s chin tumbled, and he let out a sniff as he looked at the ducks then up to the soft toy. Niki let out a sigh, unfolding his arms as he stood up from what he had been leaning against and then said, “Here, let me help you,”

You watched in amazement as Niki held the rod in his hand and guided the boy to keep it steady. You watched as they both push it down to loop the hook at just the right time. The kid let out a yelp of happiness as he pulled up the large duck, and you watched as the corner of Niki’s lip twitched up into a brief smile.

“Thank you so much!” the kid beamed to Niki, and he chuckled lightly.

“You still need to get the toy first. Y/n here can’t even reach them”, he teased, his gaze turning back to you.

When usually Niki would tease you, you were filled with the overwhelming feeling of anger and irritation; instead, at this moment, you found yourself giggling along with the kid as Niki smiled at you with his eyebrow raised.

“That’s not fair! I am close to grabbing them,” you exclaim, feeling how your lips twitch up into a smile as the three of you laugh at your exclamation.

“Ah, but not close enough,” he replies, stretching up to grasp the toy the kid had pointed to. He raised his eyebrows at you again; he held the toy up to show off, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“You are not that much taller than me,” you muttered as you shook your head at him.

Niki handed the toy to the kid, who could hardly hold it from how big it was, but excitedly ran off to show his parents what he had won. You and Niki watched the child run away as your chuckles died out, but your mind couldn’t help but think back to the moment Niki helped the kid. It was so, so kind of him to do. And so unlike the Niki you knew. A twinge of doubt towards the way you perceived Niki crossed your mind, but you shook it away. So what was one good deed compared to all the times you two had been arguing. It was only moments before you two were about to jump each other in anger, and yet now you had been laughing together. These mixtures of emotions bubbled inside of you as you tried and failed to focus on the customers again for the next hour.

Finally, the lady in the pink vest came over to where you and Niki were as you were waving goodbye to one of your last customers.

“There, look at the two of you! You can work together after all.”

Both you and Niki exchanged a glance as you frowned, taking a few steps back from where you two had been closely standing, not even realising the proximity of the two of you had been in.

“You’re almost done now, just half an hour of autographs to be done!”

She beckons you two with her hand as she quickly turns around and starts walking off, leaving the two of you to fast run after her as not to get lost with where you were going.

It was clear, though, where the two of you were expected to be when you noticed the long line of people holding pictures and pen’s awaiting you two to sit down at the table in front of the crowd and start to sign.

Niki must have done these things before, but this was all a new experience to you. But you didn’t want to tell Niki this, feeling he might tease you, so instead, you just followed his lead and sat down at the table and started smiling as the people began to step up to the table.

Right off the bat, one thing became abundantly clear to you. Most of them were there for Niki. Sure, you still got quite a few people asking for your autograph, even a few women who came running up, telling you how happy they were that you were out there driving and proving women could do it too. But frequently, there were awkward moments when you were sitting there with nothing to do while everyone kept coming up to Niki and asking for his autograph and then leaving without acknowledging you. You were trying your best not to let it get to you, knowing that at the moment, Niki was the more well-known driver out of the two of you. Still, you could feel it weighing heavily on your chest.

At some point, Niki must have sensed this as well as when the next person who asked for an autograph from him was about to leave, Niki instead pushed the piece of paper and pen over to you.

“You should ask for her autograph as well, a first female driver and already getting good positions; it will be worth something in the future.”

Instantly you felt your face flush, and you shocked your head at the person, “Oh, you don’t… you don’t need to if you don’t want to.”

“Do it,” Niki’s stern voice said to the man as soon as you had finished your embarrassed spiel.

The man himself looked flustered at the conflicting instructions but politely turned to you and asked for your autograph. Niki gave you a pointed stare, and you knew he would only escalate the situation if you tried to refuse again, so you took the pen and quickly wrote your name down on the paper as well. And thus, for the next half an hour, you and Niki both started writing your names down on the paper, so you were both equally signing everything.

There was one moment that caught you off by surprise, however. A man had come over asked you to sign, and as you finished, you push the piece of paper back over to him, thanking him and ready to sign the next thing Niki pushed to you when the man pushed the paper back to you.

“Could you also put the date down, please?”

Your eyebrows knotted as you looked up at him, “Why do you want the date?”

“Well, you never know when the next race might be your last,”

You froze in shock, hardly believing the audacity of the man. You knew with every race there came the risk of death, but to so openly acknowledge it and want an autograph so they could earn money after you potentially die was sickening.

You were so shocked that before you could come up with a good enough retort, the paper you had signed was snatched out of your hand. Niki overhearing the conversation, quickly grasped the paper and tore it up in front of the man while glaring at him.

“Fuck off,” was what he harshly said, his eyes burning into the man’s soul. The man looked like he might have retorted but instead sulkily left, knowing it was better than to argue back against Niki. In your startled state, you turned to Niki, trying to think of something to say, a way to, god forbid it, say thank you to him. But he had already taken the paper and pen from the next person.

“Don’t mention it. Just next time, don’t cheat at the race, aye?”

You gave him a light slap on the arm, delighting in the low chuckle you heard come from him.

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#born to be wild #niki lauda rush #niki lauda x you #niki lauda fic #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda fanfiction #niki x reader #niki lauda #niki lauda imagines #niki lauda rush 2013 #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl

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can-u-like-stop · 3 years ago

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Secretly, I want you close to me

Bucky Barnes x Sam Wilson

5 times Bucky touches/thinks about touching Sam and the 1 time he realises what it means

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31958725

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The day Sam told Bucky that he shouldn’t hold back when they were sparring was a day Bucky would surely remember. Well, the exact words were: “If you think just ‘cause you got steroids on steroids running through your blood that that means I’m too easy for you then I hope you’re ready for a reminder once I beat your ass”. Nevertheless, sparring sessions with Sam always have Bucky in a good mood.

On account of the serum, Bucky ends up winning a fair amount of the fights. On those days, Sam taps out and Bucky extricates himself from the hold with care and gives him a pat on the back, suggesting they go again.

“Don’t gimme that tone,” He gripes,

Bucky laughs, “what tone? I asked if you wanted to go again.”

“I know you think you’re hot shit, just wait ‘till we get in the sky then we’ll see who's the reigning champ.” Sam says, taking a swig of water before getting set up again.

It’s a reliable pattern that they follow until they have something else to do or they get bored.

But every now and then Sam would get Bucky in a hold of some sort or maybe throw him down, making the wind knock right out of his chest. And Bucky would have to reach out and tap Sam’s shoulder or thigh or any available part, the release brings both relief and disappointment. He then has to deal with Sam gloating for the next few minutes, until he manages to convince Sam to have another go.

“I stepped on a leaf, it wasn’t fair.” Bucky says, smirking as Sam takes his baited argument.

“Uhm, okay tinman, get up and we’ll see if you can blame this,” he gestures to himself, “on a leaf.”

As the rounds go on and on they get more tired, Bucky’s attempted punches pull back covered in sweat that he can’t identify as his or Sam’s. Eventually after another round has them laying panting next to each other, Sam gets up.

“Alright, that’s it for me. I gotta contact Joaquin, he told me he might have something for us.”

“Sure,” Bucky gets up, “it’s been too quiet lately anyway.” He throws a smile at Sam and puts a hand on his back with a wet slap. He quickly retracts in disgust.

“Ugh, gross.” He whines, earning him a laugh from Sam.

“Yeah, I’m also heading in to shower.”

“I got dibs.” Bucky rushes out, starting a jog to the house.

“C’mon man!” He hears behind him but he just throws a smirk over his shoulder as he heads into the house. He feels light and there’s a warm smile stuck on his face, as there usually is after he and Sam’s sparring sessions. Bucky pays it no mind, however, and heads to the shower.

The ride back from their mission was filled with somber silence. The plan was to apprehend people involved in the development of a chemical weapon. They had information from a person on the inside but they got caught right before Sam and Bucky had arrived.

Bucky found them first and the scientist was threatening to blow the whole building. Sam wasn’t able to get there in time and Bucky couldn’t talk them out of it. The building went down and Bucky managed to make it out but the informant had been killed.

Joaquin was looking into the scientist to see if he could find who now had the plans for the weapons, Sam and Bucky were sitting beside each other on the helicopter back to the USAF base. Both of them were staring at the floor, struggling to find anything to say.

“You okay?” Sam eventually asks, causing Bucky to glance over at him.

“Yeah, why?” Bucky says, even though ‘okay’ is debatable.

“You just watched two people get crushed in a building that you barely escaped from. A normal person might be a bit shook up from that.”

“Well I’m not normal,” Bucky mutters, looking back at his hands. “I’m just sorry that I couldn’t get him to put the detonator down.”

Sam scoffs, “Buck, you couldn’t even get close to him there was nothing you could do,” he reassures.

There are a few moments of silence.

“I wish I could’ve gotten there in time, I could’ve taken him out.” Sam sighs,

“What?” Bucky asks incredulously, “that’s bullshit. You were on the wrong side of the building, you couldn’t have got there in time.”

“I could’ve gone faster.” Sam argues,

“I could’ve stalled for longer, so it’s my fault that you didn’t get there.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky.”

“Well, it’s not yours.” Bucky says, lifting his face to stare at Sam’s defiantly. Sam cracks a smile first and it breaks Bucky’s stern look as well.

Bucky reaches out and puts his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Sometimes missions go south,” he says, rubbing Sam’s shoulder, “it sucks but I’ve been told by therapists to not think too much about what I can’t control.”

That gets a chuckle out of Sam and Bucky’s chest warms, thank god he’s cheering up.

“It does suck…” Sam says absent-mindedly, bringing his own arm up to pat Bucky’s back.

The tense, suffocating silence gives way to a comforting peace between the two of them, until the phone in the helicopter rings and Joaquin answers it. He pokes his head out a few seconds later,

“Sam? They want to talk with you.”

Bucky shoots Sam a reassuring smile as he gets up to walk over there. Joaquin walks away from the phone and over to Bucky.

“That was a tough mission today.” He remarks.

Bucky offers him a grunt and a nod.

Joaquin gives a nod back and reaches out to give Bucky a reassuring pat, Bucky reacts on instinct and backs up. Joaquin’s hand jerks back in surprise, confusion and apology written on his face.

“Sorry, I just-” Bucky tries to explain, “I’m just not really comfortable with… like touching.”

“Oh shit, sorry man,” Joaquin says, “I just assumed ‘cause of you and Sam, but I shouldn’t have, sorry.”

Bucky offers a tense smile and Joaquin seems to accept it and he turns around to head back to doing whatever it is he does after missions. Bucky relaxes back in his seat, thinking.

‘I just assumed ‘cause of you and Sam’ Joaquin had said, Bucky frowns to himself. I guess I’m a little bit more touchy with Sam, he thinks. He considers doing what he just did with any other person and comes up blank. Maybe Steve, if he were still there, but that’s because Bucky’s known him his whole life. Sam is… different.

Touching people usually ends with Bucky feeling like his skin is crawling. If it’s someone he already knows he doesn’t mind it as much but he’d never initiate any kind of touch with people. Except for Sam.

Why? Bucky thinks to himself, furrowing his eyebrows together. Sam’s presence is just calming, Bucky feels like he can trust him and let his guard down. But he also trusts people like Ayo and Shuri, and it doesn’t feel the same as Sam.

Bucky’s saved from having to think more about it when Sam calls out for him.

“They wanna ask you about the mission.” Sam holds out the phone.

Bucky sighs, not looking forward to whoever he needs to talk to and whatever he needs to say. He tucks his deliberations to the side for now, maybe he’ll think more on it later.

Voices from people talking in various conversations float around Bucky as he eats at the Wilson’s neighbourhood cookout. He’s sat with Cass to his left, Sam at the end of the table on his right, and Sarah and AJ across from him, their usual seats. Sam’s telling a story from one of their previous undercover operations to Sarah.

“Now I’m pretty sure they got some messed up stuff going on there ‘cause the halls were actually changing.” Sam says, causing Bucky to snort.

“What’s the matter?” Sam asks, smiling over at Bucky.

“The halls didn’t change,” Bucky punches Sam’s shoulder then turns to Sarah, “he got lost.”

“I was not lost! I swear to god the hallways changed! I went in one hallway and then immediately went out and I was in a completely different place.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Bucky jokes, patting Sam on the shoulder and Bucky notices Sarah eyeing the movement. Sam swipes his hand away,

“Don’t patronise me! I know what I saw.” He turns back to Sarah to continue the story, leaving Bucky thinking about the look on Sarah’s face.

She didn’t seem confused but she did look surprised at Bucky’s eagerness to touch Sam. Unlike Joaquin, Sarah knew that Bucky was pretty averse to touch. The people in the town were endlessly friendly and often Sarah took it upon herself to turn down hugs for him because he always felt bad for doing so. Bucky considers the question again, why does he touch Sam so much? A lot of the time the reason he doesn’t touch people is simply because he doesn’t feel comfortable around them, giving Bucky an answer that doesn’t quite seem to fit with Sam. It’s not just comfort, Bucky thinks, there’s something else.

He considers Sarah. He’s hugged Sarah before and didn’t hate it, and he wouldn’t shy away from Sarah giving him a comforting pat on the back or a side-hug. But Bucky imagines reaching out and patting Sarah’s shoulder like he did with Sam just now and that simply seems odd to Bucky. Why? Bucky asks himself. Because I don’t want to, he answers his own question. And with Sam, I do? he thinks. He looks over at Sam,

Yes, he answers. Something about Sam just makes Bucky want to reach out and touch him. Even now, when Bucky pretends to be listening, he can remember the feel of Sam’s shoulder, he remembers how it feels to have an arm around him and what it’s like to feel the rumble in his chest when he laughs or the steady movement of him breathing. Bucky wants to feel it again.

“Right, Bucky?” Sarah asks, shaking Bucky out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He says, “sorry I wasn’t listening.”

“I said, Sam’s always pretty stubborn, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” He says, turning to look at Sam who looks back with betrayed eyes.

“Coming from you!” Sam throws back and Bucky chuckles, looking back at his plate. Bucky’s pulled into a conversation with Cass about the book he’s reading but at the back of Bucky’s mind is the heat coming from Sam and how much he misses the feeling of it under his hands.

All this thinking about touching Sam must have gone to Bucky’s head. Bucky’s standing behind Sam who is addressing the agents going with them to collect the chemical weapon plans and hopefully put an end to the threat. But all Bucky can think of is how hunched Sam’s back is and how he wishes he could rub the tension away by placing a palm right in the middle.

This is not the time nor the place, Bucky tells himself, trying to force what Sam is saying into his mind. But then Sam’s putting his hand on his hip and Bucky wants to walk over to stand next to him just so he can tap Sam’s waist to get him to move over.

He doesn’t, though. He wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened with Joaquin. He doesn’t want people to get the idea that he’d be alright with just anyone touching him, and he doesn’t want to have to explain that Sam is the only one he wants to touch. All the time, it seems.

A bump to his shoulder makes Bucky look up from staring at the ground, Sam’s standing beside him now.

“You ready?” He asks

“Yeah,” he says, sighing.

“Hopefully this is the last we’ll hear of them,” Sam smiles and places a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky’s shoulders fall from his ears and he rolls his neck, “it’d better be.” He grumbles, forcing a scoff out of Sam.

“Is this too hard for you, old man?” He teases, and gives a slap to Bucky’s back. Bucky doesn’t grant that an answer, shooting Sam a soft glare. Bucky’s gotten used to the light feeling in his chest after Sam touches him and instead of being caught off guard by it, he now depends on it. An announcement rings out from the speakers of the helicopter and people start moving into their drop positions, Bucky’s able to use brushing past Sam as an excuse to nudge his arm and that’s all he’s willing to allow himself. Now he needs to focus on the mission.

Bucky’s never been good at fishing. Sure, he can do it, but he couldn’t remember a time when he’d caught anything. So when Sam had offered for them to head out to fish, Bucky had told him as much.

“Well, I’ll just have to show you how it’s done then,” Sam had decided, “come on.”

Now they were sitting in some random body of water with their lines in, and Bucky was soaking up the breeze. He was sitting on the side of the boat, with Sam on the side across from him.

“It’s not a lot of action, is it?” Bucky mentions, causing Sam to turn to him.

“Were you expecting action?” Sam chuckles,

“No, but… “ Bucky thinks, “just didn’t realise it would be this quiet.”

Sam frowns, “I mean, we could talk if you want?”

Bucky shakes his head, “nah, it’s… it’s a good quiet.”

It’s the right kind of quiet that doesn’t make you think. Bucky can hear birds from afar and the sound of water hitting the boat is steady. The sway from the water rocks them slightly.

Bucky makes the mistake of looking over at Sam, who’s looking out into the distance. He sees Sam’s shirt flapping slightly in the breeze, exposing the shirt underneath it and Bucky wants to place a hand there. He sees Sam turn his head to look back at the front of the boat, arching his neck, and Bucky wants to hold it and drag his fingers across his defined jaw. When Sam turns back Bucky can see his lips slightly open in concentration, they look soft and Bucky wonders what they feel like.

Sam suddenly turns to Bucky and he almost startles. Instead, his eye just twitches as his heart rate jumps.

“You’re staring again, Buck” Sam says softly as a smile reaches his face.

Bucky cracks a smile as well before he turns back to look at the water, praying his heart to calm down.

A yelp from Sam gets Bucky to look back at him in time to see him reeling in a shiny white fish.

“Get the cooler!” He orders, making Bucky hurriedly put down his fishing rod and rush inside the cabin to grab their cooler.

“First of many, baby!” Sam says excitedly and Bucky’s face breaks out into a smile that he couldn’t stop if he wanted to.

Yet again, Bucky and Sam are alone together. Every now and then Sam checks on how the fish are cooking before leaning back against the side table where he gutted them, Bucky stands to his side.

Night fell a little while ago and the bugs are out, their noises fill the air along with the sizzling sound of the fish.

“Our catch was pretty good today.” Sam mentions, turning over to Bucky.

Bucky laughs, “you mean yours, I caught like, one, and we had to throw it back.”

“Oh that’s right, isn’t it” Sam smirks mischievously.

Bucky pushes Sam away as he starts laughing. “Whatever,” he says, unable to stop himself from smiling yet again as Sam checks the fish.

Sam yelps in surprise and Bucky quickly looks over to see him stick his finger in his mouth.

“I burnt my damn finger.” He complains before putting his finger back in.

Bucky nods understandingly but his eyes are trained on Sam’s mouth. He’d been distracted from thinking about them earlier but now his gaze seems to be stuck on them. Sam’s finger retracts and grazes his bottom lip, Bucky wonders what it would feel like to brush his own finger against them.

Before he’d joined the army, Bucky had his doubts about his attraction towards men. He hung around with many people who were interested in their own gender but never thought of him to be one of them until just before he got sent off to war. By then, he decided that he didn’t have time to worry about it and that he was probably just confused.

But there was nothing confusing about what he felt when he imagined kissing Sam right then and there. To feel his lips against his own made his heart beat faster but not in a scary way. Bucky imagined kissing Sam would be just like touching him; calming, soft, perfect.

Bucky’s gaze trails away from Sam’s lips and lands on his eyes, which are looking right at him.

“I thought I was the one with the staring problem,” Bucky jokes, embarrassment creeping into his chest.

“Maybe I get it now.” Sam mutters, his eyes moving to Bucky’s own lips.

Bucky’s heart thumps against his chest as Sam takes a step closer, his eyes not moving from Bucky’s face.

“The fish…” Bucky mutters dumbly, not sure what to do as Sam hovers his mouth over his.

“They can wait,” Sam whispers.

Bucky holds his breath, waiting for Sam to close the gap.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss me?” Bucky mutters when he starts getting impatient.

He feels Sam’s smile when their lips finally press together.

It’s exactly how Bucky predicted, every sensation he feels from the gentle movement of their lips makes him fill with a kind of peace he’s never felt before. Even the harsh brush of their stubbles send tingles down his spine.

Sam brings a hand up to cup Bucky’s chin and Bucky almost moans. Finally, he thinks to himself and his arms move almost desperately grabbing at Sam’s waist and neck.

Sam smirks against his lips, “I didn’t think you’d be this handsy,” he laughs.

“I’m not, just with you.” Bucky mutters before going back for another kiss.

It’s a while later before they break apart, panting against each other.

“God, I’m gonna get an earful from Carlos and the guys for this.” Sam laughs to himself,

“Why?” Bucky asks, smiling as he rubs a thumb over Sam’s neck.

“They were insisting we were into each other and I kept pretending I wasn’t, and being like ‘you’re crazy!’”

Bucky smiles, “to be fair, it took me a while to realise,” he starts, “so it wasn’t your fault. I was just a bit slow.”

“Well you are old,” Sam says.

Bucky pinches his side and Sam jumps.

“Hey! You little-” Sam cuts himself off as he sniffs the air then turns around quickly.

“Fuck-” Bucky says once he follows Sam’s gaze,

“The fish!” Sam yells and quickly takes the burnt pieces of fish off of the grill.

Bucky huffs a laugh that earns him a stern look from Sam.

“This is your fault, asshole!” Sam snaps,

Bucky gapes, “what the hell? I literally warned you about the fish!” He counters,

“Well you didn’t try to remind me or anything!” Sam shoots back as he starts cutting the charred pieces off of the fish.

“Sorry doll, I guess you’re just too distracting.” Bucky says sarcastically but the way he looks at Sam shows it really isn’t sarcastic at all.

“There’s no time for any more distractions,” Sam nudges Bucky towards the house, “go tell Sarah what you’ve done to the damn food.”

“Probably sparing some details, right?” Bucky quips before he heads out, smiling at the flustered muttering Sam does as he leaves.

That night, as they’re eating the dinner that Sarah cursed them out for messing up, Bucky finds his eyes landing on Sam, naturally. This time he doesn’t stop himself from reaching his foot out to lock with Sam’s. Sam’s hidden smile is as soft as Bucky feels; how Bucky has always felt when he touches Sam. Only, now, Bucky understands exactly why.

#sambucky #sambucky fic #bucky barnes #sam wilson

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ineffable-snowman · 4 years ago

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(apologies in advance to the people who followed me for Good Omens. I’m diving headfirst into a new fandom, so I’m afraid there’s going to be a lot of Sambucky in the next three weeks at least...)

I wrote a fic inspired by episode 3 of FATWS. Read it here or on AO3.

Trouble Man

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete, comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.”

What kind of passive-aggressive bullshit was that? It was annoying enough that Zemo insisted on calling him ‘James’ in that patronising way of his but now he tried to lecture him or rather tried to make him look stupid, uncultured and ignorant. Bucky wanted to laugh at Zemo’s comment that sounded more like he was quoting a Wikipedia article to appear sophisticated, but then Sam spoke up.

“He is out of line – but he is right.”

Fuck Zemo. Seriously, Bucky had enough reason to hate Zemo but this was on another level. This was personal. He made Bucky look stupid, uncultured and ignorant in front of Sam. And the thing was, he was mostly ignorant about Marvin Gaye. He had listened to some of the tracks from Trouble Man just because they were on Steve’s list, and had quickly decided that it was not his kind of music. Now he wished he had at least listened to the whole album so he could contribute more than a weak “I like Marvin Gaye”, which fooled absolutely no one. He had no idea how a simple conversation about music had escalated like this. It had seemed like perfectly normal banter, Sam making fun of him for being old-fashioned, and then Zemo had interfered with that comment and it was downhill from there.

For some reason Sam was very passionate about Marvin Gaye and Bucky was intent on finding out why. Also, he needed to find out how music could be “complete, comprehensive” and “capture the African-American experience.” In his experience, music was used for dancing and for fun and that’s all there was to it. He stared at the notebook. There was some really good advice in it, like Thai food or Star Wars. So far, Bucky had not seen the appeal of Marvin Gaye. But apparently Steve had. If Steve had adored the music so much, why had he just simply crossed it out in a neat line and not, for example, put an exclamation mark behind it? Bucky added two exclamation marks.

Right, how to do this? Not for the first time he regretted just getting a simple flip phone instead of one of those fancy smartphones. When the shop assistant had told him that he needed a phone for taking photos and listening to music, Bucky had almost laughed at him. Talking about stupid… He could really use Youtube or Google now.

“Do you have a computer with internet?” he asked Sharon.

She looked at him like he was stupid (it was becoming a theme) but showed him to a computer and even gave him earphones. Then he started to listen to Trouble Man and this time did not skip any tracks but listened to the whole songs. He also googled the lyrics but that did not leave him any the wiser. Doctor Raynor would probably tell him to use his goddamn mouth and just ask someone, for heaven’s sake. He would rather get frozen again than ask Zemo. But it also felt extremely wrong that Zemo, who was supposed to be one of the bad guys, seemed to know and understand Sam better than Bucky, who was supposed to be Sam’s…whatever. Were they friends? Bucky certainly considered Sam a friend (although he never would say it out oud), probably the only friend he had left. Someone who texted you and asked you how you were and invited you to lunch was a friend, right? Someone who even saved your ass and (repeatedly) broke the law for you was a very good friend. But did Sam consider someone his friend who did not text back, who repeatedly got him into trouble, kept things from him and had even tried to kill him? Bucky stared at the screen. It was a miracle Sam had not tried to kill him yet. It was even more of a miracle that he was still being nice (sometimes). He googled “Trouble Man” and “African-American experience”. To his disappointment, it was not a quote from a Wikipedia article. So Zemo knew what was going on and Bucky did not. He turned up the volume and tried to make sense of the lyrics (“Got me singin' – yeah, yeah – Hoo“).

“Finally doing some catching up on the good stuff?”

Bucky turned around so quickly that the earphones were ripped out of his ears. Sam had put up his hands in defence and was babbling something about attacking or not attacking or whatever.

“Jesus.” Bucky consciously unclenched his left fist. “Couldn’t you just knock?”

“I did. You didn’t answer.” Sam pointed at the screen where the Youtube video of Trouble Man was still running. “I knew it,” he said gleefully. “You have no idea who Marvin Gaye is.”

“I do!” Bucky protested but then trailed off because he may have heard some of Gaye’s songs but he still did not know who Marvin Gaye was.

“So.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you think? Honestly.”

Bucky looked from Sam to the screen to the dangling earphones. I like it was not an appropriate answer. Not an honest one. “I don’t get it,” he finally said.

“No appreciation for good music.” Sam sighed dramatically. “Hopeless. Stuck in the 40s forever.”

Bucky could have left it at that. They were on common ground again, bickering but not hurting each other, it felt familiar, safe. “No,” he said nevertheless. “I – how? How is this music – how does it…capture the African-American experience? Most of the songs don’t even have lyrics.”

“You don’t need lyrics for music to be meaningful.”

“How? Is it because people listen to it in certain situations or…?”

“Alright. Ready for a lesson on 20th century music? You better take notes.”

Bucky opened the notebook and took a pen. Then he noticed Sam’s grin. Right, he hadn’t meant it literally. But now Bucky had already opened the notebook and he was determined to go through with it. So he wrote down all the names Sam dropped, the musical genres and important songs. It was a lot and, as a lot of things, it confused Bucky but he just rolled with it. So some bands destroyed instruments on stage and certain music apparently had a soul? Great. Speaking of souls, this was probably the right time for some soul-gazing to show Sam that he was actively listening. (Doctor Raynor would be so proud of him.) Sam kept bringing up the soul thing several more times until finally Bucky could not keep quiet any longer.

“What’s with this soul music? Is it, like…music for funerals?”

Sam stared at him. Bucky stared back.

“Okay, scoot over.” Sam squeezed on the chair next to Bucky so Bucky almost fell over on the other side. Then he reached over Bucky to grab the mouse, opened another tab and chose a Youtube video for Bucky to listen to. “This is soul music.”

It was highly uncomfortable because the chair was not made for two people and they both weren’t exactly small but Bucky was resolved to stay on the chair, at least with one thigh. Sam chose video after video, pointed out characteristic musical features, quoted parts of the lyrics and talked about the history or the significance the songs. It was still a lot and Bucky still did not get everything but he dutifully took notes to look up some things in detail later. When he had filled the sixth page in his notebook, Sam stopped the music lesson.

“So, 40s music. Any recommendations?”

Bucky turned to face him. They were awfully close. Sam’s eyes were somehow very soft, there was the hint of a smile on his lips and he looked very huggable in that thin turtleneck – and he looked genuinely interested in Bucky’s answer. Bucky felt hot shame flooding him. Sam could be aggravating and an outright asshole but he was too kind for this world. Too kind to Bucky.

“Nah,” he mumbled. “Music in the 40s was just for dancing, for fun. Not…not important like your music.”

“Oh, you can dance just fine to my music,” Sam said in mock outrage. “Come on.” He elbowed Bucky out of the chair and chose another Youtube video, then stood up, too.

“Soul music?” Bucky guessed when the first chords of an electric guitar could be heard.

“Funk. Close enough.”

Sam started to move to the music. It should be ridiculous, the weird moves he was doing, because that certainly wasn’t proper dancing, not the dancing Bucky knew anyway – no rehearsed dancing steps, more like a spontaneous swaying to the music and some of the moves were definitely ridiculous but Sam made them look, well, smooth.

“See, that’s dance music, too,” Sam said and came to stand in front of Bucky.

Bucky had no idea why it was even called dancing but he wasn’t going to say that because he did not want to offend Sam again.

But of course Sam had to nag him. “Spit it out.”

“What?”

“I can see the cyborg gears turning. What’s wrong with dancing?”

“Nothing. Just not what I’m used to.”

“You can choose the next song. For now – get those hips moving.” He nudged Bucky, and how could Bucky say no? After Sam had spent all that time educating him and only mildly making fun of him for his ignorance, he owed it to him.

“This is ridiculous, I feel ridiculous,” Bucky complained when he tried to copy some of Sam’s moves.

“You’re doing great,” Sam said but he was grinning, clearly enjoying how Bucky was making a fool of himself. “Maybe tone down the staring a bit.”

Well, if it made Sam happy… Bucky decided to give it his all and moved wildly to the rhythm, not caring if it could be called “dancing” or not. Nonetheless, he was a little relieved when the song was over.

“Your turn.” Sam indicated the computer.

Bucky had no idea which song to pick. He tentatively typed “Billie Holiday” into the search bar.

“Seriously?” Sam came up behind him. “You know Billie Holiday and say you don’t understand how music can capture the African-American experience?”

It was like a punch in the face. A well-deserved punch probably. “I mostly saw her as the singer of love songs, for slow dancing,” he admitted. “Never really…thought much about it.”

“So what, you’re going to slow dance with me, Barnes?” It wasn’t the usual good-natured banter but sounded more like an accusation.

“Look, Sam, I…” Bucky rubbed his temples. “Let’s head downstairs to that party to…” hopefully not dance. Whatever. Get out of this situation where, he feared, he was breaking rule #2 again.

“No, let’s do this.” Sam clicked on the first link and a swing tune started to play, Me, Myself and I. “Let’s slow dance if that’s what you do.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

It was certainly the most aggressive ask for a dance he had ever received. And he had never been this stiff during a dance before. He used to be a good dancer back in the days but now he felt clumsy when he placed his hand on Sam’s back while trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.

They had not even made eight uncoordinated steps when Sam started to speak. “Would it hurt you to use that brain of yours once in a while? It’s supposed to be working properly again, isn’t it? That’s what I heard at least.”

Doctor Raynor’s words came back to him, that he was free. To do what? Certainly to do better than hurt the man who had always had his back without Bucky ever having done anything to deserve that kind of loyalty.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unconsciously tightening his grip on Sam’s back.

“What for?”

Everything. “For being…kind of… thoughtless, I guess.”

Being so close, he could actually feel Sam exhale. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

“For being a huge dick,” Bucky offered.

“Better,” Sam grumbled. “Now, was that so hard?”

Bucky took a step back to gauge Sam’s reaction. He was relieved to find no traces of hurt or betrayal in Sam’s eyes, just the usual exasperation he put on when looking at Bucky. “Yes. Physically painful,” he tentatively tested the water. It was like a dance, back and forth, seeing how far you could get.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I hate you. And please stop staring.”

Bucky shrugged and pulled Sam close again, in fact, so close that he did not have to look into Sam’s eyes anymore but was now staring at his left shoulder. Sam was visibly relaxing in Bucky’s arms and wasn’t that a miracle, that he was still in Bucky’s arms, still allowed Bucky to hold him?

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbled into Sam’s shoulder.

“What for?”

Everything. Bucky tightened his hold on Sam (and silently thanked the autoplay function that started the next song because he was in no way ready to let go of Sam yet). “I’m a mess and you don’t deserve all that shit I throw at you.”

“Mm. You’re welcome.” Sam squeezed his shoulder, like a reassurance that he would continue to put up with all of Bucky’s bullshit. Too damn kind for this world. Good thing he had Bucky on his side who was going to beat up everyone who so much as tried to exploit Sam’s kindness. (Yes, he knew he was being hypocritical and should technically start with beating up himself.)

“Sharon was wrong,” Bucky said. “I’m not obsessed with the whole stars and stripes stuff. I didn’t follow Steve because he had that shield. And I’m – well, you might’ve noticed I’m here and not following that – that asshole. Sam, I think you should take the shield but, with or without the shield, I’ll follow you. Just so you know.”

Sam was silent for quite some time, they were just swaying gently to the music, until Bucky heard close to his ear, “That a threat, Buck?” He could almost sense the smile against his cheek.

“Just a fact. And I hate you too, by the way.”

#non good omens #sambucky #my writing #fanfic

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ornithia · 4 years ago

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i got sick and tired of seeing her (and for anyone reading this, we're talking about that @starlatte27) clog my tags with literal bullshit and got lucky enough to happen upon her while she talking out of her ass on a subject i was significantly more familiar with than she (french animation).

too bad my words were wasted bc she literally took NOTHING away what i said and only kept trying to derail the convo by slinging false accusations my way ([and now she's even taking me out of context on more essay rants] which ... i do have to apologize for. she blocked me so now i don't have to see her in the tags but she didn't have the courtesy to block the rest of the website so now you're all stuck with that aftermath).

also, that she had the audacity to call me a coward, when i was direct and to the point about everything i said? while she kept jumping back and forth just to seem like she was constantly in the "right" is hilarious. she thought i was mad at her bc she's a hazbin/helluva critical and no, those shows have genuine flaws, i won't deny that (and just for transparency's sake, i do enjoy hazbin significantly more than helluva boss) - but i literally was just mad about her willing crusade of ignorance (in addition to a few other pet peeves i will elaborate on) -

but just - to blame them for real world problems is about as bad as boomers blaming video games for school shootings. maybe if she (and other) antis would put even an ounce of that passion into real-world victims of abuse and violence they'd actually change the world but noo, i guess it's so much easier to feed your "hero" complex when you don't actually have real lives on a literal deadline to weight on your conscious if you don't actually manage to get anything done, right?

anyway, @starlatte27, this one's for you - and i wasn't even actually going to bring it up, except you called me a "coward hiding behind a screen", and now that i'm seeing how you're conveniently editing your posts after you blocked me (which you are free to do, but not so that you can play revisionist history) and taking my words out of context (and i gave you SO much context to work with) -

you're not just deliberately dense, you are maliciously manipulative, and i can't tell if you just fail to see the hypocrisy, or if you really are just a kid shamelessly lying on the internet just so that you can earn some internet points so that your "much older" internet friends with give you a sad pat on the back, but you are not an ally to survivors. AND you're acephobic, to boot:

i sent this anon message to her a few days ago in response to [this post] and its [follow-up] (bc i hate typing on my phone and i didn't want to log onto tumblr from my work computer)

how did she respond? by taking me out of context [here] (there were undoubtedly other anons, possibly including the original, but her response to my parts were wildly exaggerated, so i can only assume the worst for theirs, too)

and what did she do when i asked her to actually publish her asks, in full context like a self-respecting person who isn't afraid of being called out for lying?

(my ask, by the way. for context): asexual anon here. i only sent 2 asks, and i have no idea who else sent anything, but how about you post everyone's full asks for full context instead of hiding behind vague accusations like a coward? because how dare you call me acephobic when i've been asexual for longer than you've been alive. you're a literal child at 17, what are you even doing in adult fandom spaces when you're clearly not mature enough to even comprehend what a "story" is?

src: https://starlatte27.tumblr.com/post/647030273639383040/you-hearin-somthin

real mature 🙄 maybe i was a bit harsh, i will admit, but she was infantilising my sexuality and being patronising, to boot. as an asexual, i wasn't viewing valentino as a character to be 'thirsted' over (and even THAT isn't a crime for those people who like his aesthetic, so long as they recognise that he is fictional) - i was viewing him as a villain to be reckoned with, a plot point to be resolved. i despise his character archetype, but i can also respect the role he provides for the narrative because he is what gives angel and vox and charlie and vaggie and alastor and whoever the fuck else is used by him and/or disgusted by what he represents a reason to change the status quo that surrounds them. THAT is called critical thinking.

ps: oh by the way, she also pulled the stupid "stop it guys i'm just a kid on the internet :-)" bullshit here, too:

src: https://starlatte27.tumblr.com/post/647023177902489601/my-asks-are-getting-attacked-by-valentino-fans seriously grow the fuck up

#starlatte27 #hazbin hotel #hazbin criticals #discourse #antis #valentino #adult animation #ask #anonymous #villains

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outlier-rookie · 4 years ago

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Witch!Reader and the Gang

- Regardless of gender, if you were taught the craft or had to learn it, your title is witch

- Surprisingly easy to pass it off as just being eccentric, although several gang members (Karen, Swanson, Bill and Abigail) are considerably more weary of you compared to the other

- Jack on the other hand loves to play with you cause rabbits and birds tend to flock around you and he gets to play with them

- The horses also like you so Kieran becomes a surprising but welcome friend (even if he does sometimes give you the side eye when performing a ritual)

- Javier, Lenny and John are sceptical about your supposed powers and beliefs but are smart enough to not take chances with it

- Sean and Uncle on the other hand ask a lot of dumb questions and crack a lot of jokes, especially about midnight orgies and dancing naked under a full moon (they aren’t as funny as they think they are)

- Hosea and Arthur aren’t really bothered about you ‘eccentricities’ and Strauss deals with you since you help him with the medical wagon, even though he thinks its complete bullshit (as does Dutch) and Charles is polite about it

- Trelawny can be patronising and a bit dismissive of your practices which is both amusing and frustrating given the fact you case actual spells and he is just good at misdirection

- Micah, to no ones surprise, is a complete ass and regularly mocks you. Gradually he starts to avoid you when he notices weird and unlucky things happen to him when he does mock you

- Arthur once mentioned in passing that he drank from an abandoned bubbling cauldron in front of you and you lost your shit at him

- Mary Beth tends to ask lots of questions about what you are doing and the purpose of your spells, so much so that you have been considering teaching her

- Mrs Grimshaw gets a bit huffy with you when you burn perfectly good herbs that Pearson could be using to make his stew more palatable (if only he used them properly :/ )

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #witch reader #x female reader #x male reader #x gn reader #x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 imagine

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it-stheaulifeforme · 4 years ago

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There was a loud ferocious barking, angry voices and scuffling outside the cabin door, and Tintin’s head snapped around against the bars of the cage, eyes wide with panic. It could have only been one dog making that noise, causing that kind of chaos for the crewmates that had only recently left the cabin where he was being kept. He felt a sick feeling of anger and fear rise in the pit of his stomach, dreading what could be happening to him right outside that door.

He cursed, wrists chafing against the rope around them, overcome by more fear than anything else that burned especially across his face and through his stomach. He felt a numbness creep up his legs, his shoes scuffing against the floorboards in his attempt to free himself or at the very least, be able to stand on two feet.

He stopped, sensing the noises outside and trying to listen closer. The voices were muffled and though he couldn’t hear, there was definitely a level of threat involved. Tintin was normally level-headed even in situations like this, but this was involving his dog. His throat was dry and he swallowed, feeling the unmistakeable racing of his own heart. No, no, no, don’t, please don’t, he’d never let anything happen to him—

The voices got quieter, Snowy’s barking fading into the distance along with a few footsteps. Normally his instinct was to do something, but the racing panic and now anger simmering underneath the surface seemed to put him in freeze mode. He did manage to have some strength to pull himself up though onto his feet with one of the bars though, his body shaking with adrenaline.

He heard the door open and shut behind him as he managed to stand. He felt a mix of emotions - fear, panic, anger, disgust, distress - at anything happening to his trusty little white dog. Would they kill him? Maybe. Would they hurt him? Almost certainly. But it was also certain they were doing this so they could force his hand to help them, he guessed. His hands felt dirty and he felt terror and nausea simultaneously just thinking about it. He couldn’t, wouldn’t think about him doing anything to help them or what could be happening to Snowy.

That kind of stroll on the floorboards with a lighter shoe was pretty much recognisable. Of course. Who else would it be? He only ever talked to somebody when he wanted something. He didn’t have any friends. It was nothing but what he wanted and what he could get from anyone. What a sad life.

“If this is about my dog—” he bitterly remarked, trying to get his voice to remain cold, before he heard the familiar interruption of that faux affable, almost mocking, laugh.

“I believe you heard the commotion outside,” Sakharine replied behind him, a sick politeness in his tone, “I assure you, nothing bad will come to him—”

Tintin finally spun around, making direct eye contact with the man in red in front of him. The audacity in his voice and the clear coldness of his eyes demonstrated nothing but pretentious bullshit, to be frank, in his own mind. He stepped forward as close as he was able to, unable to help the fire burning in him to come straight out of his own mouth.

“—unless I don’t help you, of course,” he spat, refusing to stop looking this man in the eye, “You could not frankly be more obvious about what you want and why you have him, so stop acting so damn nice about it.” He laughed, a laugh laced tremendously with venom.

Sakharine’s smile faded slightly, threat underlining his expression. He was perturbed by the boy’s reaction. Nonetheless, he was confident that this could be a breaking point. Let him be angry; not like there was much he could do. He could only be like this for so long.

He stepped forward so he was barely a foot away from him, the boy’s spiteful expression not budging. Though it was an obstacle to what he wanted, he was fascinated by the fire in his blood. He could see it in his eyes. I mean, he’d ended up here, hadn’t he? Such an eagerness for adventure and mystery at a young age that he forgot not to involve himself in business that clearly had nothing to do with him.

“You know,” he remarked, “I do wonder why such a young boy is involving himself in something like this. It seems considerably reckless of you to interfere with what the…adults are doing.” He grinned at that last part, his voice taking on a more patronising tone by the end. The boy’s expression took on more of a disgusted appearance, demonstrating that this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“I don’t exist to be patronised, Mr Sakharine,” Tintin stated, addressing him in that familiar way, “My age is not important when the adults are busy committing to illicit business affairs.” He repeated it back similarly, malice heavy on that word in particular. He didn’t know if he had forgotten his fear or just ignored it, but he wasn’t in the place to debate that.

Sakharine was about to say something, but the boy clearly had the attitude to interrupt him. He’d pay for it dearly, evidently.

“And before you spin some sort of story right now, yes, I haven’t forgotten about my dear dog,” he said, practically snapping at the man, “I doubt harm will not come to whilst he’s with you.” His eyes appeared to burn both hot and cold at the other man, refusing to budge. He had not been one to shy away from these circumstances of intimidation.

Sakharine was not one for sentiment (maybe apart from his falcon, but that felt different), but the persistence of this boy about his dog demonstrated enough how easy it was to use others’ for his own gain. He didn’t care what happened to that white little mutt that meant so much to the ginger brat just so long as he got what he wanted from him.

Though frankly, with the way the boy was going with this, he might just have his men break a leg or two or even half drown the damn thing to get him to stop.

He laughed in his usual faux affable tone. “Perhaps,” he said, stressing very specifically on that word, “You’re far too attached to that thing to be involved with these affairs, so you should be…very glad I haven’t thrown it over board to die.” He similarly did so with the last sentence, displaying a sick grin as he studied the boy’s reaction to this response.

Tintin’s eyes flashed in anger, mouth twisted in scorn and teeth bared. “It’s very obvious life has no value for you unless it gives you what you want,” he viciously remarked, face pressed against the bars, “I’ve seen it all before. You’d step on anything to get what you want because the only person that matters in your life is you. That ‘thing’ is my dog, and if anyone’s blood here is going to be spilt, it’s mine.”

He appeared so serious, Sakharine almost wanted to laugh. “How noble of someone so young to throw yourself in front of your dear dog.” He displayed a contemptuous grin. “I’d say brave, but that doesn’t suit you. This isn’t a decision for you to make.”

The boy’s clear eyes appeared to shine more in the dim light, despite still maintaining the direct eye contact with him. Was that just him? The boy might be beginning to break. It was amazing that this attachment to this dog was enough to start such a ball rolling. For the boy’s spirits and capabilities, this seemed far too easy.

He took a step back and went to turn away, but the teenager couldn’t help but let out a particular desperation in his voice. “You have no right to make that decision! You have no right to take what isn’t yours!” He turned back around, relishing this moment. Those eyes were burning with emotion, that fire across his features. As endeared as he felt to that, this brat had no idea what he was dealing with.

He turned back, making a long, menacing step back towards him, faces now only inches apart. The boy’s brows furrowed, trying to maintain his anger despite the air of distress in his eyes. If no one else was going to put this child in his place, then he would.

“Listen here, you actual child, I think I’ve made it very clear that I am not one to preach to about fairness!” he exclaimed contemptuously, a sneer across his face, “You’re on my ship interfering with my business, I don’t care if it was rather you you’d want me to hurt instead of your dear mutt! Maybe if your parents taught you better, I wouldn’t have to be dealing with a brat and his dog like you!”

He stopped, taking in his reaction. Normally he’d come back with a quick response, but he was speechless. His clear eyes glistened more in the light, mouth shaking as if he was trying to say something. His brow remained furrowed, now full of a new emotion that perhaps he hadn’t felt in a while. The boy was probably used to this somehow, but maybe this time Sakharine had hit a nerve.

Tintin’s mouth was shaped in a scowl, disgust, anger and distress roiling especially underneath the surface. He couldn’t speak for a few moments, cursing this fresh vulnerability at the older man’s exclamation. He’d heard similar stuff before, his reputation with enemies beginning to precede him. But this villainous type seemed to hit him out of nowhere, and it was probably all the more painful when they had his dog besides.

“I don’t think anyone has been able to show you exactly what you’re dealing with,” Sakharine continued, voice softer and all the more sinister, “you’re a child, Tintin, if that is your real name, and I have no idea how someone your age is getting involved in business that is no concern of him.”

“You’re hurting others just to get what you want! Besides, you stole my ship!”

“You broke into MY house with a clear idea of what you were doing! You seemed it think it was fine and dandy to snoop around a place you didn’t belong!”

“I doubt it had ever crossed your mind that I had simply found a nice ship at the market before you got involved. Who else was I supposed to suspect but you when I had bought it, clearly trying a bit too hard to convince me to sell it to you?”

Their voices had risen not so much in volume, but emotion. This boy had been too much of a smart ass from the beginning, and finding out he was a reporter was enough of a breaking point. If he was getting this conversation more in his control, he’d turn it back around. He wasn’t about to be outdone by a literal child. It was beginning to go absolutely nowhere as a result.

“I was trying to be reasonable,” Sakharine responded, a faux affable tone returning to his voice, “but since you have continued to not understand who you’re dealing with, I think I’ll go ahead and have your precious mutt’s legs broken. Call it a small comfort that I won’t make you watch.”

Tintin’s face appeared to drain of colour as Sakharine’s face split open at a sick grin at what he just said.

“You touch my dog and I’ll–” Tintin said, voice now cracking before he was interrupted.

“Or you’ll do what?” Sakharine asked mockingly, malicious amusement clear in his voice, “What could you possibly do in your situation if I touch that poor little white dog of yours?”

Anger and distress was now boiling on the surface, and Tintin could feel tears collect in his eyes. He was not one to do this, this was not him. Even for someone his age, he was usually strong-willed. But, perhaps, not enough for Snowy.

The older man was relishing in this new sight of this pesky ginger brat finally be compromised this emotionally. He was in the authoritative position here and seeing that release of tears, though pathetic, be somewhat enjoyable. It had taken threatening to hurt his trusty little animal to break him so easily.

“Don’t you dare,” Tintin said, voice shaking with a quiet anger, “he doesn’t need to be a part of this.”

Sakharine stepped back and turned, sighing. “If you’re going to remain this stubborn and refuse to cooperate, I’m afraid he’ll be even more involved. You two have given me enough grief already.”

The tears were carving even more of a wet path down Tintin’s face now, watching Sakharine as he turned and began to walk away. He pressed his face as much as he could against the metal bars. “Fine! Do whatever you want, but don’t you dare touch my dog!” Tintin snapped, voice bitter and angry despite how broken it felt. The older man refused to stop but merely smiled self-satisfactorily away from him as he strolled back towards the door.

Let him rant, he thought. They could wait. It was enough to get him to even attempt to cooperate, but even better that he found it easier to break the boy’s spirits. Maybe leaving him on his own in there would put him in his place whilst he was none the wiser about his dog, and shouting would get him nowhere.

“Listen to me! Don’t you even think about it!” Tintin began to shout as Sakharine opened the door and stepped through, not even thinking to look back as it finally shut. He heard the footsteps as he felt a sob rising in his throat. He wouldn’t, no he wouldn’t. This wouldn’t happen to him, despite everything that others had thrown at him.

Now that he was alone, he began to feel the fresh release of tears as they burnt across his skin. He was angry, of course he was angry. There was too much he was angry about. But he was scared, he was upset, he had no idea what was happening outside of his current prison, things he’d refuse to admit to himself. He opened his mouth to shout something again, but stopped, coming to the realisation that it was hopeless.

He stepped back, sliding against the bars on the opposite side until he was sitting again. His wrists felt raw from the rope biting his skin and he leant his head back until he was staring at the ceiling. The sob that had settled at the back of his throat finally escaped from his mouth, and he shut his eyes as hot tears fell faster down his face. His dog brought at least solace and affection in dire situations like this, but now he had no idea what was happening to him.

“Snowy…” he finally spoke into the silence, voice quieter than ever, “I’m sorry.”

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fandom-necromancer · 5 years ago

Text

Android tears

Thank you so much for prompting this! I loved writing this!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warning: self-harm (character unhealthily denying their personality))

‘Don’t you patronise me! I can talk and decide for myself, dipshit!’ ‘I don’t need your phcking help, leave me alone!’ ‘Oh so suddenly you try befriend me? Phck off!’ ‘So, we started working together. No big deal. But I won’t be up for this partner bullshit, yeah? And no, I won’t go with you to some bar! Get your metal ass somewhere else, I’ll go with Tina. You are not invited.’

RK900 had learned very early that Detective Gavin Reed was a rather stubborn and proud individual. It was difficult to work with him to say the least. But he was just as determined himself. If he simply did all the man demanded of him he would certainly get more civil, right? If he had no reason to complain, maybe he would become nicer. RK900 was deviant, had been woken up after the revolution by Markus and Connor. He remembered how confusing the world had been. No orders, no purpose, no goals. He had to set them himself. His current mission was to get on Reed’s good side. Only then he could work effectively.

The only problem were his emotions. Without programming to hold them in check they were free to mingle with his logic and decision-making. He had learned to appreciate them very early on because they managed to give him a clear first impression and quick reactions. A detection device in social situation and an essential part of him he embraced with pride. He couldn’t understand how others shut them out as if they were some intruding virus, although he unfortunately knew their chaining properties too.

Every time the Detective scolded him, told him what to do and more importantly what not to do, he was swallowed by emotions. They kept him back from nodding his head and go on, letting him replay his decisions in his mind to find the error. He had tried to help, helping was a good thing. He had wanted to help the Detective because then things would be easier for the human. Humans liked when things were easy and appreciated the attention and care of others. It was the basic idea of friendship and other human social structures. Working together was an essential part of their identity starting in their organic origin and ending in their self-created societies. So why was this detective so averse to him offering his help or trying to form these social bonds? He seemed to like their initial purpose, the simple machines, more. And if RK900 had to cut his emotions short to try and convince this human he was worth getting to know if Reed just tried, he would do that. Even if it made him feel horrible and made him having trouble entering stasis thinking about the regret of having to become something he was not. But if he got the Detective to like him, to be more open, then maybe he could show him his true self again. Maybe this all was too much at once for the man.

So he stripped away more and more personality with each and every scolding or complaint. He stopped offering to carry their files to and from the archive, he stopped asking how the detective’s weekend had been. He stopped trying to engage in after work activities with him. He stopped joking with him. He slowly became more of a machine than he would have been had he never deviated. But it started to work: the detective’s complaints were becoming rarer. RK900 was sure he could soon start trying to slowly build himself up again.

‘Toaster, you’ll go right, I’ll go left! Get that asshole!’ RK900 nodded and started speeding up. Their fugitive was running in front of the detective, but if he was fast enough he might be able to intercept him, allowing them a quick and easy arrest. Reed would like that. He exceeded human speeds as his feet drummed against the ground and calculated the possible path of the fugitive. His speed was ideal. He would turn around the corner and stand just in front of the man. Perfect.

It was the void he found when he actually turned around that disturbed his preconstructing programs. He just looked at the empty space for a few moments before distant curses reached his ears. In the distance, only half way between him and where they had split up before, Reed was held by the throat over a deep chasm where traintracks emerged from a tunnel. The Detective gasped for air, scratching at the arm of their fugitive trying to get out of his grip and at the same time hold onto him.

‘Gavin!’ RK900 felt his carefully buried emotions reemerge, recognised the fear in his voice as he screamed out the name he wasn’t allowed to use. Would the criminal let go of him, the detective’s chances at survival were minimal. The drop he could survive with serious injuries, but the current was a whole different thing. His mechanical heart dropped as the fugitive saw him, panicked and let go of his partner in favour of running off. He was already running, knowing well enough he wouldn’t make it in time, but was relieved to see the man managed to grab at the edge, now hanging down the wall. RK900 was confronted with a decision. Everything in him screamed to help the man, to grab his wrists and lift him up back to safe grounds. But there was also [Reed doesn’t need my phcking help, leave him alone!]. RK900 nearly gave in to the urge, but reminded himself the detective had valued the mission always higher than his own wellbeing. He wouldn’t like it would he let the fugitive get away. Although it hurt, RK900 ran past his struggling partner and followed the criminal, catching him two blocks away and calling in someone to take him away. It was as the car departed, he saw a figure walking towards him. A very angry figure.

‘What the phcking hell were you thinking leaving me alone there?’, the detective screamed at him, while RK900 just felt immense relief that the human was still alive and well. ‘What made yoou think this was a good idea, huh? You phcking tin-can! I could have died! Ah maybe you wanted that? Get rid of me finally? You phcking asshole. Guess finishing your mission is more important than a human life.’ ‘You!’ He sucked in more air before uttering the words that cut deep, too deep: ‘You are just a phcking machine after all! Why had I even imagined you care? You don’t have emotions, you don’t have anything. Just a stupid, worthless robot.’

RK900 couldn’t bear this any more. Everything the man had said to him until now had made him become this, he had had hope to finally be good, to finally be what the man wanted. But now… It suddenly wasn’t enough, it wasn’t at all pleasing. All these confines, all this effort – for nothing. The android felt his knees gave in underneath him and he fell together with his self-written confines. All the emotions he had locked away to please the human now came flooding back and over him, weighing him down with immense pressure. He felt it all. Hurt was the strongest, but beyond that laid an overwhelming sea of sadness with just a dash of despair. ‘Nines?’ It was carefully spoken and absent-mindedly he realised there were tears streaming down his face. Just too much emotion to handle. Everything was felt and flew down a drain just to emerge as fury and anger he tried to supress desperately, because even after all this, he still wanted to be good. To build up a friendship to this true asshole of a human being. But it wasn’t to be contained. It was like a barrel leaking water through holes and he tried to press his hands against them, only that the holes were bathtub-sized. ‘Nines, god, is everything okay?’ RK900 shook his head, the tears rolling down now of anger not of sadness. ‘You really think that? You really think that everything is okay?’ He laughed through the tears standing up and saw Gavin taking a step back from him - hand stretched out towards him before now back to his side. ‘How can you?!’ RK900 hadn’t realised his voice could be this loud, this booming. ‘I guess that’s too much for you, huh? A crying android. I bet you’ll make fun of that too! Hah, this damn tin-can invited me to drink. It can’t even drink. Hah, the toaster tried taking a box away from me. Like I couldn’t do it myself! Hah, the stupid machine can’t even take a hit, it’s crying now! I am just something you can hate on, isn’t that right? I did everything you wanted. I tried to be nice to you, who knows why, and every time you told me to stop. And I complied. I followed everything you told me. I became something I hated just to please you! And now. Now I followed it again, keeping the mission first priority as I should do according to you. And now that is wrong, too? I realise now there is no way to please you. There is no way for me becoming friends with you, because everything I do is wrong, no matter what I do or how hard I try. I realised everything I denied myself I denied without a reason, without something to make it worth in the end. And still you have the audacity to ask if everything is okay?’

‘Nines, I.. I didn’t know-‘ ‘Oh you knew. You just didn’t care.’ RK900’s anger had subsided. It had felt good being angry, it gave him energy to say what he had wanted to push out for so long. But now… there was just the cold realisation and the sadness coming back. ‘Is that really how you felt all the time? I never realised what I said hurt you like that.’ ‘Oh no, why should it hurt, right? Because it’s just an android, right? No harm done then. Of course it hurts! I have feelings too!’ ‘You always seemed like that stoic robot to me, Nines. I didn’t even knew you heard what I’d said.’ ‘No, you just never looked past the robot. I was just another damn android to you! Like an oversized computer! I am a person, Gavin!’ There was silence as the android used his sleeve to wipe away the streaks of tears on his cheeks and Gavin looked to the ground.

As the human lifted his head again and looked into RK900’s eyes, despite logic and reason, hope rose up. ‘I am sorry, Nines.’ ‘That won’t change anything you’ve done’, RK900 hissed with venom. ‘I know.’ That caught him off-guard and maybe the detective deserved another chance. Yet another one after the uncontable number of chances RK900 had granted him already. So, he just sighed, blinking away the residue in his eyes.

��It won’t erase your mistakes. But I guess it’s a start.’ ‘Start over then?’ Gavin held out his hand with his offer. ‘As partners?’ RK900 eyed him sceptically. ‘As partners’, Gavin agreed and Nines took the human’s hand with a firm nod.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #this hit a little too close to home XD #But I really liked writing it #emotional Nines is best Nines #Gavin is an asshole just because no one stopped him yet #Gavin: hurting your feelings hurt your feelings? Impossible!

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hargroves-dingus · 5 years ago

Text

fire meets gasoline | b.h x v.h

pairings: Billy Hargrove x Veronica Hopper (O.C), Hopper!AdoptiveDad x Veronica Hopper, Eleven!AdoptiveSister x Veronica Hopper

summary: Billy comes to pick up Max and Hopper isn’t happy about his daughter knowing the neighbourhood bicycle, but what happens when Veronica disregards her father and still goes to Tina’s party to see none other than Billy Hargrove?

warnings: moderate swearing??

a/n: lemme know if you want to be tagged in future parts dudes :)

CHAPTER TWO

Morning were often my favourite time of the day, quickly followed by nightfall: the hours I could truly bask in my own solace. The sunlight fought to seen through the curtains, shining a bright light on my face causing me to turn to the other side of the bed, humming in content at the smell that lingered. Dad was making eggos. Hauling myself out of bed, I threw my hair up in a messy bun and wiped the sleep away from my eyes.

“Morning sweetheart” Hopper robotically muttered, he said it every morning, and when faced with making breakfast, he lost the ability to multitask. “The girls not up yet?” Scanning the room for the brunette and her ginger accomplice, only to find they were missing so knocked on her bedroom door and alerted them of eggos – which motivated them to get out of bed. “Four eggo extravaganzas and strawberry milkshakes.” Hopper announced, placing them around the table. The mismatch family (plus a Max) sat around the table, starting to devour their breakfast, before a door knock pulled us all from our morning conversation.

Already getting up, I dusted any crumbs off of my lap, “I’ll get it.”, and lazily opened the door, and snapped into sense when Billy Hargrove was leaning against the doorframe, his gold necklace dangling idly in front of his chest, wearing none other than a shirt that was buttoned a bit too low. “I’m here for Max, princess.” God I could only imagine Hoppers reaction to his pet name, and I was not looking forward to the questioning. “We’re still eating breakfast, none of us are ready.” I shrugged, leaving the flirty tone from last night at bay. Not around Hopper or the girls. “Explains the outfit.” At this moment, I realised how exposed I was, simply an oversized t-shirt that hung over my right shoulder from the excessive size. “Stop gawking, Hargrove.” Slightly snarling with a small smirk, crossing my arms at his not so stealthy mission of checking me out. From this and when we met, it seems he likes being caught. “Come in then.” Turning on my heels, I walked back to the table, picking up my plate, “You can have some of mine.”

“So you can be nice sometimes.” Laughing, he grabbed a plate from the cupboard and I piled some food onto his place and gave him a fork, and we sat at the counter beside eachother. Feeling Hoppers eyes burning into us, I slightly shouted “Dad? This is Billy, Max’s brother.” Feeling like an introduction to the teenage boy in his house was what he was expecting. “Step-brother.” Both Max and Billy mumbled, which I threw my hands up in surrender up, muttering a string of amused ‘sorry’s.

“We’ve met.” Hopper grunted, eyes squinting onto Billy. This was a splendid start. “Still speeding around town like a maniac, Hargrove?” He was challenging him. Baiting him almost. “Not anymore, sir, not since you busted me.” Billy’s signature cocky tone was back, and it irritated Hopper, as he added, “Six times.”

“Five, actually, sir.” He corrected, and you could see Hopper tense up, as if ready to pounce. “Alright, Mr and Mrs Testosterone, break it up.”

Both backed off, turning back around to continue their meal. For a bit, I just watched him eat, sitting in a comfortable silence. It was then that I really noticed his eyes, this bright shade of blue that burned into you. They were like water, or even the sea, but the intensity reminded me of a burning fire. “Having fun there, princess?” Laughing, I cleared his now empty plate into the sink. “You wish.” Raising an eyebrow, I leant back onto the counter to which he walked over, reaching behind me, our bodies millimetres from touching and all I wanted to do was close the space between us, “Oh I do. Trust me.” And picked up an apple, and copied my stance on the counter opposite. “Are you coming to Tina’s party tonight?” Taking a bite of the apple, the juice slightly dripped onto his chin and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. How could Billy fucking Hargrove eating an apple make me so goddamn weak? “I might make an appearance.”

“Billy, let’s go!” Max shouted from the door, all dressed and ready to leave. Billy rolled his eyes in what I guess to be frustration and pushed himself off the counter. I went to walk him to the door and he placed his hand on the small of my back, sending shivers down my spine, “Well I hope you do, princess.”

Billy then straightened out his jacket, and extended his right hand forward in front of Hopper, and he begrudgingly took it and grunted “Thank you for breakfast, sir, nice to see you again.” And when he left, a part of me was hoping it wouldn’t be for long. There wasn’t a breath of silence before Hopper broke it again. “So. Veronica.” He scratched his head, almost comically and in the most patronising and dad-like way asked “How long have you known Billy ‘I like to speed around and break rules’ Hargrove?” Of course he was getting annoyed. Billy isn’t the type of guy who bring home to your family. He’s the type of guy to only ever meet your bedroom. Playfully rolling my eyes, I stood put, not moving from the door. “Since yesterday, dad. Purely because he’s Max’s step-brother.”

“Then how did he know where the plates were kept. Hmm?” His voice became louder, angrier, and he sharply shrugged in anticipation. Slamming his hand on the side and he sighed before returning to his more heated tone, “Why does he know where we keep our goddamn cutlery, Veronica?”

“Stop yelling! Fucksake. It’s seriously not that deep. I invited him in for a drink when he dropped Max off last night. No need to make a drama.” I’d known Hopper to get mad at me. It wasn’t rare. I guess over time, he accepted whatever shit I got into and he shrugged it off. But I had seen him angry. This somehow felt different. “No need? Sorry I don’t want my daughter hanging out with some trouble maker Casanova like him.” Scoffing, he placed himself on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees running his hands over his face. “I can handle myself. This is bullshit. And you know it.”

“Excuse me?”

Then it clicked. He didn’t like Billy because he’s a ‘bad boy’ (or not entirely), he didn’t want to lose his little girl. “You just don’t like the fact that I’m growing up. I’m no longer a kid and that scares the shit out of you. I’m going to be around boys, going to parties, sleeping with people,” At the last part, he scrunched up his face in disgust, and almost in raw truth, as he realised I was right. “And that terrifies you. But don’t project that onto me. Deal with your shit, dad.”

* * *

The house was practically shaking from the blaring music, the entire teenage population of Hawkins crammed into Tina’s house, filling their veins with burning alcohol, finding somebody to pretend to love for just one night, pretend they didn’t live in this tiny shitty town. Clinging to my denim jacket, I mentally cursed at myself for wearing black cycling shorts and a black tucked in t-shirt, causing my legs to turn into icicles from the Indiana October weather. There were murmurs and subtle gasps of shock when I walked in, parties never usually being my scene, opting to stay in and read. Or maybe have dinner with the devil as I’ve heard some people say I do in my spare time. That one was my favourite.

Hearing I chorus of cheers, I was drawn to the garden, hearing a voice roaring, “That’s how you do it, Indiana!” and a smile graced my face as I identified it as Billy. My pathway was blocked as the bathroom door swung open, and a guy leaving nearly knocked me off my feet. “Fucking hell, watch it ass-” My series of curses halted as I looked up to see none other than Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington crying.Nobody had seen King Stevecry. Well, anybody but me. And I’m not talking about this moment. Before he was crowned King, we were best friends, since being toddlers. He was the one who held me crying when I felt alone and unloved (each time) and when Hopper adopted me, then we distanced. I’d seen Steve cry, when his parents were on brink of divorce, when he felt like they didn’t care, we saw each other at our lowest. It must be something big to cause Steve to break at a party full of everybody he knew.

“Steve? Let’s go outside.” I tried my best to hide his face, to keep up his image but everyone was too drunk to remember this tomorrow. We sat on the porch steps, and the cold air whipped my skin and I sat waiting for him to talk. “Don’t shut me out again.” I whispered, not even looking at him, the pain from all those years ago laced in my voice. “Talk to me.” Placing my hand on his wrist, I tried my best to comfort him. At first he tensed up, not used to my touch but it didn’t take long for him to relax into it, putting his other hand atop mine, interlocking our hands. “It was all bullshit.” His voice was broken. Utterly broken. I hadn’t heard his voice like that since his dad told him he wished he’d never had a son in the first place. “What was?”

“Her.” Nancy Wheeler. When they first started dating, it made me laugh. Stuck-up prudish good girl dating King Steve – what else did I expect? But I never thought she’d end it. Honestly thought new Steve would fuck up and sleep with someone else. “What happened?”

“She broke up with me.” He laughed. In a way that was filled with disbelief, even he couldn’t understand it. “You can do so much better than Nancy fucking Wheeler.” Scoffing, I wrapped my arms around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug which he only weaselled his way out of, standing up in front of me, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t want better. I want her. I love her.” Sighing, I looked up at him. “Love is fucked up, and overrated.”

“I know.” With that, he wiped his face, shook his body as if shaking away his pain and smiled at me. A genuine smile. “I’m going to head home. Thank you, Ron.” Ron. It felt weird hearing him say it but comforting at the same time.

“You made it.” Steve’s place was replaced with Billy, and a waft of beer stench and cigarette smoke invaded the air around me. He flashed a smile, biting his lower lip and I stretched my legs out in front of me. “Seems I did Hargrove.” Crossing my arms, I took in the view around me. Nightfall. The sky was dark, a poetry of stars strung throughout the blackness and the blanket it made comforted me. He sighed in boredom before asking, “Wanna get out of here?”

“I know a place.”

* * *

He parked his car on the side of the road, and as I grabbed his hand, I guided him through the trees. “So where are we going?” He chuckled, “You’re not going to kill me right?” Weaving throughout the towering branches, I sighed in content as we arrived at a clearing, the grass full of a variation of flowers and walked to the group of rocks in which I perched myself on top of, motioning for him to join me. “My thinking place.”

“Thinking place?” He repeated, looking around, taking in the view. The flowers were my favourite, the haze of purple and yellow, although the vibrancy was masked the dark sky. “Obviously you know Hopper isn’t my real dad.” I stated, voice void from emotion. And as I said that I didn’t know why I did. Why I was opening up. But there was this feeling. This instinct that I could trust him. “My dad left when I was four. Mum died from an overdose when I was six. Hopper was close to my mum so he took me as his own.” Looking at him, his eyes were glassy slightly, eyebrows furrowed and I felt this steel ball sink in my stomach. “Please don’t give me that look. I don’t want your pity.” Resting his hand on my thigh, his warmth made me jump slightly, probably the California in him. But his touch calmed me. “I wasn’t going to. I know a few things about shitty dads.” It was odd. Two strangers opening up to each other. “Yours an asshole too?”

“You see this?” Twisting slightly, it revealed a scar along the side of his head, running along his temple, “Gave that to me.” I traced it with my thumb, the rest of my hand placed on the side of his head. “Fucking hell, Billy.” Scoffing, he looked down, then coughed, discarding of the tears that started to form. “See? Now you’re giving me that look.”

“That’s different. Mine decided I wasn’t going enough for him so left. Yours…”

“Hey,” He hushed, this newfound softness in his voice was soothing, and he took both of my hands in his and brought them up to his lips. “Don’t think you’re not good enough. You were four. Whatever the reason he left, wasn’t because of you.” I sent him a weak smile. I only ever spoke to Hopper or El about it, on the very rare occasion, but it was nice to open up to him. “You know what, Hargrove? We’re kindred souls, you and I.”

He smirked, laughing under his breath, “Oh yeah?” Nodding, I crossed my legs, fiddling with the hem of my shorts, “I think we were meant to find each other”

“You really believe in that stuff?”

“Not until I met you.”

-------

taglist:

@katiexdacre

@httpakasha

@yaidothat

@becca-dolan

@prettylestrange

#billy #hargrove #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #x oc #steve harrington #steve #harrington #jim #hopper #eleven #stranger things #fanfic #fanfiction

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dragonanddirewolf · 5 years ago

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The promised post on why Dany was never meant to become the mad queen

In the following essay I will try to pick up most of the reasons people try to push down our throats on how this was foreshadowed. A few disclaimers first:

- I am a 27 yr old female with a happy life (and yet look at me bitching on tumblr) so please save your patronising ‘Dany fanboy’ bullshit

-I have read the books and seen the show more times than I can count

-I am judging Dany based on GoT world not modern-day morals

-I believe in eye-for-an-eye justice when fighting a greater evil. E.g. You SHOULD punch a Nazi in the face and no, there weren’t ‘bad people on both sides’ in Charlottesville. There are certain people you just cannot reason with and if you’re weak they will fuck over you and anyone they consider weak.

-I agree Dany is ruthless but not mad to the level portrayed by season 8 and she would never go on a rampage the way it happened. I could’ve believed her going straight for the Red Keep and burning it down. This would still result in killing innocent people due to falling debris/excess fire - which is pretty awful for someone trying to save innocents but would make sense in a ‘this is personal’ shitty moment they’re trying to achieve. Burning KL street by street makes no sense.

So without further ado, here goes:

1) Not caring about Viserys being killed violently

Viserys sexually abused his younger sister, sold her off to a warlord and said he’d happily let savages and their horses rape her to death. If that’s not bad enough, he also threatened to kill not just her but her baby. I would be really worried for her state of mind if she DID care about him dying

2) Loving Drogo’s speech about raping/pillaging in Westeros

I’m pretty certain it wasn’t the raping/pillaging part that she liked. For the first time in her life someone believed in her and was willing to do something extraordinary (i.e. crossing the Narrow Sea) and win back her birthright. For her. Also, later she forbade the Dothraki from raping (which eventually led to Drogo being wounded) so pretty sure this is not her aesthetic. "I have claimed many daughters this day... so they cannot be mounted.""It pleases me to keep them safe." pretty possessive but you get the point. If you need another example, she also explicitly forbade Yara’s people from doing the same.

3) Burning Mirri Maz Duur

Oh come on, do I really need to explain why it makes sense after someone kills your husband, your baby and then puts a curse on you that you would kill them? Oh, and all this after you save them. Sure, Mirri had a point about having been raped already but did she want it to continue or something? Makes no sense that she took out all her vengeance back on Dany. Is anyone calling Mirri mad tho?

4) “When my dragons are grown… we will lay waste to armies and burn cities to the ground.”

She’s starving and her entire Khalasar is close to dying- of course the girl is gonna try anything to get inside Qarth! GoT is a harsh world where even an illusion of strength gains respect and this is exactly what she’s doing here. I cannot count the number of times she has said things like ‘I will not be queen of the ashes’ or saying she will spill ‘blood of her enemies, not innocents’. We clearly should not judge her words but her (pre-S8E5) actions instead. (This also applies to her “I will take what is mine with fire and blood.” line and any other time she threatens to burn down a city. They’re just angry, desperate words and she never goes through with it. Until D&D forgot how to write.)

4) Burning the house of the Undying/Locking up Xaro Xhoan Daxos

So they steal her dragons and murder her close friend and fellows and what? They get away with it? No self-respecting person would allow that in GoT reality. Just remember that Jon kills a 10 yr old boy (who saw his parents get murdered by wildlings) and Arya murders the entire house Frey in a pretty disgusting way. No one is calling them mad.

5) “Half the Targaryens went mad, didn’t they? What’s the saying? ‘Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin.’”

Jon didn’t. Dany’s mother didn’t. Aegon the Conqueror didn’t. She literally spends hours on this show saying she is disgusted by her father, is not him and has many main characters say it too.

6) Crucifying 163 slavers in Mereen

You lost me when you tried to defend slavers.

Also, to those complaining of her killing slavers as young as 13- she was 13 in the books at that time and felt that if she knew better others should do.

7) Burning Vaes Dothrak

She wouldn’t have been able to escape, even with the help of Jorah and Daario. Nor was the three of them strong enough to battle all the Dothraki so it makes sense she figured out a way to avoid getting raped and killed. Many other women on this show don’t seem to like the idea of rape and yet they’re not called mad! Funny.

8) Burning the Tarlys

This one annoys me so much I made a whole other post about it. Not only did she offer for them to take the black but they were traitors. They were sworn bannermen to house Tyrell. House Tyrell was sworn to Dany. By turning on house Tyrell they became traitors and deserved to die. Traitors get killed in GoT. Also, can we stop acting like Dickon was innocent? Not once has he defended Sam and he admitted to killing many of his friends in Highgarden in what was basically a massacre.

Just a few additional good things that don’t get pointed out enough:

1) "Khaleesi, this man has been sentenced to death." Dany offers a crucified, dying slave some water.

2) Time and time again she listens to her advisors despite them giving her the shittiest advice ever which continue to make her lose more of her forces when she could’ve just burnt the Red Keep.

3) She does not go straight for the throne when in Westeros and instead fights with the North (despite all the hate she gets from the folk up there) to save innocent lives. She easily could’ve pulled a Cersei and waited it out. She also saves Jon’s ass whilst there. Once to complete Tyrion’s ridiculous plan of bringing a wight to KL and twice during the battle of Winterfell.

4) She ignores advice from Olenna

4) She reaches out to Cersei multiple times to avoid spilling blood

I could carry on with the good stuff but I just wanted to confront the BS about how it was always obvious she could become mad. I can see it was ‘foreshadowed’ that ‘a’ Targaryen could go mad but this is NOT the same as character development.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. My fingers hurt from typing now but I’m sure this is not the end of my complaining just yet.

#daenerys targaryen #jon snow x daenerys targaryen #jonerys #game of thrones #got #got spoilers #got season 8 #anti-got #mad queen #dany

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wykart · 6 years ago

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Does it Matter? (It’s Klaus)

Part 2 of Fifty-one years (and one day) later (read on ao3)

Summary: The truth comes out, and Klaus must come to grips with the fact that his entire life of happiness with Dave was taken away by his own brother.

Chapter 2: The floods are on the plains (read chapter 1)

"Is there any way to silence that voice in your head that screams out to be the centre of attention?"

2 days, 14 hours

“What?” Klaus only asked because he knew he couldn’t have heard him correctly. He looked sidewards at Ben, but he looked just as perplexed as he did. Both of them rounded on Five, who looked uncomfortable, scuffing at the floorboards with one of his feet. “What did you say?” Klaus asked again.

“I said,” he sighed, unable to look Klaus in the eyes, “I’m the one who killed Dave.”

“W-what the hell are you talking about, Five?” Again, that nervous laughter. Five couldn’t stand anymore of it.

“Will you stop laughing!” He snapped, “listen to what I’m saying, will you?”

Klaus stared at him, empty eyes, “why?”

“The world needs you, Klaus,”

His lip was quivering, he couldn’t bear anymore of this ‘apocalypse’ crap. “Bullshit,” he muttered, turning away.

“It’s true, okay, I know it because I’ve seen it! The world will end in three days, unless we, the umbrella academy, can stop it.” Klaus was shaking his head, walking away. “Hey, hey, no, look at me,” he cried, “that means you as well, and the only way to get you back here was to get rid of the one thing that was holding you back, distracting you from what you needed to–“

“Don’t call him a thing!” He screamed, “his name was Dave, he was a person!” He spluttered, “a-and distraction from what, Five, I didn’t sign up for this shit! I found someone I loved and you’re telling me that you… you killed him?”

“I only did what I needed to–“

“oh come on–“

“To save this family, Klaus, doesn’t that mean anything to you? If I hadn’t intervened you would have stayed in 1968, you would never have come back here, and we would have lost.”

“No,” he snapped, “you don’t know that, you can’t possibly know that.”

“I know everything.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, “Oh you are so full of shit,” he spat. “You couldn’t have just, oh I don’t know, asked me to come back!”

“Would you have said yes? No! Because you’ve never cared about us, all you’ve wanted to do is run away, your whole life.”

Klaus chuckled, “that’s real rich coming from you, which one of us ran away for, what was it, sixteen years?”

“I got stuck, I did everything I could to get back here and save your sorry asses–“

“But you loved it, didn’t you. Always better than everyone, so far above the rest, you know what?” He struggled to speak between shallow, strangled breaths. “You deserved what you got! You finally got to be the best, because everyone else was dead!”

Five tried not to let his words hurt him, after all, he deserved far worse than this. “I am trying to save the world here, I don’t have time for this.”

“No, you’ve gone insane! Your girlfriend is a fucking mannequin, and you’re so addicted to this idea of saving the world that you’re dragging all of us down with you – you know what Five,” he said, triumphant, “you’re just like Dad.”

He sighed, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got this idea in your head that we’re supposed to stop the apocalypse, but you have no idea, do you? For all you know, the world is going to end and we’ll all be powerless to stop it, and you can’t fucking accept it! You’re hanging onto this fantasy that we’re all special somehow, that it was all worth it.” The sobs were breaking through his speech, cheeks wet, no time to think about what he was hearing. All he felt was anger. “You’re trying to control us, control time for fucks sake. I mean look at you, y-you’re even wearing the uniform!”

“It was the only thing that fit –”

“No, you can’t let go of the only thing you knew before you died. Because you died, Five, I don’t know who you are now but you’re not my brother.”

“Oh grow up Klaus, I’m sorry but there are more important things at stake here. More important than me, or you, and definitely more important that Dave.”

It was the way he said it, the way he didn’t even seem to care.

Klaus launched forwards, trying to grab Five by the neck, but he jumped away in a twist of blue light, standing over the other side of the room in less than a moment. “It doesn’t have to be like this Klaus,” he sounded like he was lecturing him “just come downstairs and we can get to work.”

“Don’t patronise me, you little shit!” He spat. Usually Ben would try and stop him from doing stupid things like picking fights with his brothers, but he didn’t say a word.

“Just forget about him, Klaus!” He cried, as Klaus lunged for him again and he shot away. “You were never even meant to be there, I did you a favour –“

“SHUT UP!” He roared, and a darkness fell across the room. Klaus’ breaths came heavy, tears streaming down his reddened face. Five tried to jump, but he was powerless, nothing but pale pulses of energy emanating from his hands. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered, drawing his hand back to strike. Dark shapes shifted in the corner of his vision, breaking through from other planes, a pulse of voices in his head, amplified louder than he’d ever heard them. Something stirred, and Five must have felt it too, because Klaus could’ve sworn that was fear in his eyes. Klaus didn’t hear the round of hurried footsteps that thundered up the stairs, and when Luther, Diego, and Allison all burst into the room, they found an incriminating scene. Klaus, with his fist drawn, Five looking scared and exhausted… Luther was the first to act, pulling Klaus away from Five in his huge, smothering arms. The dust settled to the floor again, and Klaus felt more drained than ever, shivering as he struggled against his brother’s grip.

“Klaus,” Allison cried, “what were you doing?”

“You okay man?” Diego added, catching sight of Klaus’ tear-stained face. “we heard shouting upstairs and –“

“He killed him,” Klaus sobbed, “it was him!” He pointed at Five. He was having trouble organising his thoughts, everything was blurred.

“Killed who? What is he talking about Five?” Luther asked, still restraining Klaus.

Five sighed. This was low, even for him, and he knew it. “I have no idea,” he grimaced, unable to meet Klaus’ gaze.

Klaus’ face fell in devastation for a moment, then knotted itself up in anger. “You little shit, I’ll –“ he kept on muttering obscenities under his breath, kicking against Luther as he struggled in his grasp.

“What’s gotten into him?” Luther asked, unfazed.

“Does it matter?” Five muttered, “It’s Klaus.”

“Well, he’s got a point there,” Diego sighed. “You high or something, bro?”

“No,” he spat, “I’m not fucking high, okay, Five’s an evil little bastard!”

“We’re well aware of that,” Allison smiled, and Five returned the gesture.

“Are you sure you’re not high?” Luther prompted, as Klaus rapidly lost energy from all the kicking and screaming. He was slipping through Luther’s grip – he felt like he could slip through the floorboards and right down into the earth.

“Oh, he’s definitely high.” Five sighed.

“How’re you supposed to stop the impending apocalypse if you won’t sober up, Klaus?”

“He killed Dave,” Klaus sobbed, voice ragged, no energy left to scream out.

“Who’s this Dave guy?” One of them asked, their voices all sounded the same, none of them believing, none of them caring, none of them even listening.

“No idea,” Five again. Luther let Klaus go, and he collapsed onto the floor, still muttering, but no one could hear, “he killed him, he killed him, he killed him, he –“

“What should we do with him, like, can we give him something?” He could feel their eyes on him, pity, shame, disgust.

“I think we’ve just got to wait it out.”

“He’ll just get in the way if we bring him along, in this state anyway.”

“Speaking of, what did you find?”

“Well, you aren’t going to like this, Five.”

“What?”

“Vanya’s boyfriend is Harold Jenkins, and he’s a convicted murderer.”

“And you let her leave the house with this psycho?”

“Hey, it’s not like we knew!”

“I would’ve known.”

“Yeah, takes one to know one, hey Five.”

“Shut up Diego.”

Their voices kept on going and going and they didn’t even care that he was lying there falling apart. He was just Klaus, useless, useless, useless. They just left him there, talking about more important things as they walked back down the stairs. He was just Klaus, the kid who never really grew up, craving the centre of attention just like he craved the pills that dulled his mind and drove him crazy. He was never really one of them, never strong enough, never any help on missions because he was too afraid of himself, always scared, always crying at night when the voices wouldn’t stop and they never understood, never cared to try. He didn’t belong with the living or the dead.

“Klaus?” Ben. He was the only one that cared what he had to say, and he wasn’t even real. “I’d help you up but, well, you know.” Klaus stayed silent, body still shaking, tears falling hot and fast. “I don’t even know what to say,” Ben admitted, crouching down beside him. “I can’t believe Five would do that, what happened to him?” Ben remembered the boy he’d known sixteen years ago, confident, almost to a fault, but kind. Deep down, he knew that Five still cared.

“They – they didn’t even listen…” he mumbled, eyes still pressed tightly shut.

“I know…” he didn’t know how to comfort him, because after years of lying and stealing, sleeping rough and living for his next high, Klaus’ siblings often struggled to see him as anything but a nuisance, someone to pity, because he couldn’t handle the simple day-to-day that they all took in their stride. He was stronger than they knew, Ben saw it, but only because he was with him through it all – the hardships beneath the careless attitude, the longing for something more than the empty life he led. “Can you walk?” He asked, reaching down to him. He couldn’t even touch him, couldn’t even give him the smallest of comforts.

“Yeah,” Klaus muttered, dragging himself up into a sitting position. “Fuck,” he groaned, hands pressed over his eyes, “I need my pills.”

“No, Klaus, you don’t, okay? They already think you’re high, don’t prove them right.”

“What am I supposed to do, live like this?” He looked up at Ben, pleading eyes, dark makeup running.

“Think about it, this is the most sober you’ve been in years, maybe you could try to actually… use your power.” Something had happened back there, something that Klaus had been too worked up in his emotions to even notice. Ben could’ve sworn he’d felt the barrier between two words breaking, a door opened just a crack, a stream of light shining through. Maybe Klaus really was capable of more.

“What, get yelled at by gutted corpses? – no offence,” he added.

“No, I mean, why don’t you try and conjure Dave.” Klaus eyes lit up with a sad, desperate longing. “Maybe if you can talk to him, about what happened to him, maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

“You know Ben, this is why you’re my favourite dead brother,” he grinned, sniffling. Just the thought of seeing him again, it was enough to get Klaus back on his feet.

“Err, thanks?”

“And, after that shit show, you’re probably my favourite regular brother too.” He laughed, like he always did, but Ben knew how much it pained him to be turned away, again and again. He got to his feet, shivering form head to foot. “Well, you’re the expert on dead people Ben, where do we start?”

He glared at Klaus in feigned anger, but he couldn’t hold it for long. He broke a smile, “Dad always said a visual aid could help, do you want to break out the ouija?”

“God,” he sighed, “do I still even have that thing?” He cleared his throat, walking past Ben and down the hall.

It had been jarring, seeing his old room after so long. First, when he’d come for the funeral, not having seen the place in thirteen years, and second, when he’d come back from the war, having changed more in ten months than in the thirteen years prior, seeing it all untouched, his past waiting there for him, hungry. He’d knocked down the wall to Vanya’s room after she’d left for music school, but less than a year later he himself had left, and Diego soon after that. The walls were still covered in writing, symbols, poems, song lyrics, and scribblings of the dead’s mutterings, a way to make them feel real, a way for Klaus to concentrate on one voice in amongst the impenetrable noise. This was how his siblings still saw him, the scared, lonely kid holed up in his bedroom getting high, crying through the night, clawing at his skin. Stunted, frail, morbid, so very disappointing. All words his father would use as he watched Klaus retreat further and further into himself, never coming on missions, never leaving his room, barely eating, barely sleeping, barely even able to hold a thought for more than a few seconds in the daze.

He reached under the collar of his singlet, grasping the dog tags that now hung there. One for him, one for Dave. He’d pulled it off his corpse when he’d been sure that he’d stopped breathing. Was Five right? Would everything have been better off if he’d never gone back there, certainly Dave would have, and this heartbreak… No, not his fault, Five’s.

“You know, it just occurred to me,” he mumbled, caressing his thumb over the metal engraving, tracing the letters on his skin, "Five didn’t even say he was sorry.” He looked over at Ben, who was looking back with that pitiful smile, the only look he seemed to get from anyone around here. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Right,” he coughed, “the board.”

He found three of them stashed under his bed. One he’d gotten from Dad in his desperate attempt to help him connect with his power in a tangible way. It was all black and white, clear cropped, smart lettering. Klaus hadn’t touched it. His favourite was one he’d gotten from a fan at one of those parades. They’d all been holding up signs, decorated with glitter and block lettering, kids who looked up to them, who wished away their normal lives in favour the Hargreeves lives of cold experimentation, fruitless competition, needless suffering. Back then, the academy was still together in its entirety, and Klaus was still holding out hope that he’d be able to unlock and strengthen his powers further if he just let go of his fear. He’d heard his father talk of levitation, possession, physical manifestation of spirits… hypotheticals, based on his research, but it kept Klaus hopeful and, most importantly, obedient. The board was bright pink and covered in glitter. ‘The Seance’ was written across the underside in permanent marker, along with other scribblings of messages from his siblings and other fans. His eyes gravitated towards a message written in a neat, condensed hand – “Don’t be scared Klaus! You’re stronger than you know, give those mean spirits a taste of your awesomeness! – 5.” Whatever happened to that calm, confident kid who’d always laugh at Klaus’ jokes and tease his siblings, who’d sit with Vanya and Ben for hours in the library, who was always so proud of them all, so kind. He left that one behind too, and went for a more traditional board, the one he used most often. Curly brown lettering, swirled patterns on the corners. He snatched it up, still unsure if it would actually help him at all.

“I can’t stay here,” he whispered, swallowing the lump rising in his throat, “I don’t want to be here when they come back.”

“We don’t exactly have a lot of options, Klaus.”

“What about Vanya’s apartment,” he suggested, “she said I could come by anytime I was wandering around that part of town. I’m pretty sure I still have the key, and it’s not like she’ll be there, she’s off with that psycho murderer.” Ben looked down all of a sudden, it was clear that he was worried about Vanya, even more so by the fact that he could do nothing to help her. “Hey,” Klaus said, raising a compassionate hand to rest on his brothers shoulder. He thought better of it at the last moment, not wanting to remind them both of who was really here, and who wasn’t. “She’ll be okay, she’s tough.”

Ben smiled, nodding, “yeah, she is.”

“We can find somewhere else to go once she comes back, but until then... I just can’t be near the others, okay?” Ben nodded again. “Alright then, we have a plan!” He kept on smiling, running on the hope that it really was possible for him to see Dave again. Maybe that would help him come to terms with what had happened. He didn’t care if his siblings thought he was crazy, none of them mattered if he could just talk to Dave again.

#tua #ua #umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #fanfic #the umbrella academy #klave #dave katz #angst #ao3 #five hargreeves #number five #diego hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #the seance #fanfiction

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billyhardgrove · 6 years ago

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DON’T YOU TRUST ME?

A/N: Just some good ol’ cliché angst to kickstart my writing on here lol.

DON’T YOU TRUST ME?

Pairing: Billy & Reader

Word Count: 2.4k approx.

Warning: Swearing, cheating, angst

Summary: You always had your doubts when it came to Billy and you hoped none of them were true.

It all started with that fight. That stupid fucking fight.

If only you hadn’t started it.

But then he would’ve gotten away with it.

If only you hadn’t raised your voice.

But then he would’ve instead.

If only he hadn’t stormed out.

But how were you to control that?

Everybody knew Billy Hargrove as the angry aggressive blonde that spat only insults and fought confrontation with avoidance. With you perhaps he was different, but this time he was exactly who everybody viewed him to be.

You sat on your front doorstep, tears flooding from your eyes and drowning your cheeks soaked. Regret and rationality were battling each other in your mind as you sat there, shivering from the cold air.

You were alone.

Normally when you were in such a state, Billy would be the one you went to, but how could you run to the person that caused it?

“Please, Billy, just tell me the truth.” You pleaded once more, begging him to just admit what you already knew. It had to be true, it had to be, you thought.

“I am telling you the fucking truth,” Billy growled, growing more and more annoyed with every word of doubt that left your lips. “I didn’t do fuck with Tiffany, alright? Now can you stop giving me the fucking third degree, Jesus.”

Folding your arms over your chest as though to barricade yourself from him to an extent, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips pouted at how bad-tempered he was being with you.

It wasn’t easy hearing the girls at school brag about how Tiffany Walsh supposedly sucked Billy off behind the bleachers during gym class, a class that you and Billy didn’t share, but he and Tiffany definitely did.

Although it was still early days for you and Billy’s relationship, only officially dating for just over two months, but in that short space of time you began to fall for the mullet boy, hard. He had said all the right things, done all the right things and now he had you wrapped around his finger, no matter how much you tried to fight the dominance he had in the relationship.

Of course, people had warned you of getting involved with Billy, Steve Harrington, a good friend of yours, especially. But you claimed to know what you were doing, refusing to fall for him before he fell for you. But that was easier said than done when your boyfriend was Billy Hargrove.

Charm, charisma and a cheeky smile was all he needed to blind girls of his dark side, you falling victim to the traits too no matter how much you denied it.

It was also no secret that Tiffany Walsh had her eye on Billy ever since he had arrived in Hawkins and although he had made his way around a large portion of the girls at school, she wasn’t one of them to her annoyance. And then when he revealed he was in a relationship with you, the annoyance grew to jealousy, for you were clearly the cockblocker to her thirsty lust for your boyfriend.

So, when you heard the girls claiming the rumour between her and Billy to be true, you couldn’t help but grow doubtful. After all, Billy wasn’t exactly familiar to the whole commitment situation so of course you thought it plausible gossip.

Noticing your genuine upset, Billy sighed heavily, his features softening as he took a step closer to you. Pulling your arms out of their crossed position, Billy pulled you towards him, before raising your arms and resting them on either side of his head, your hands surrendering and clasping gently behind his neck.

One of his hands rested on your hip while the other held your cheek softly, his breath fanning against your cheek as his eyes gazed into yours in an unspoken reassurance.

“I didn’t do anything with Tiffany, I promise.” He spoke softly, his thumb rubbing over your cheek as he leaned even closer, his lips gently ghosting over your own, leading you to crave his touch. “Don’t you trust me?” He asked, his voice so earnest and you couldn’t help but feel guilty for accusing him of such a thing. A heavy feeling of regret filled your chest as your eyes fluttered to the ground, but before you could continue to feel embarrassed for your outburst, Billy’s lips finally pressed against yours, your eyes closing as your heart stuttered, something you had grown accustomed to when with him.

Tilting his head to the side, his tongue teasingly slipped into your mouth as your hands gripped at the long hairs on the back of his neck. Billy’s hands left your hip and cheek before making their way down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze as he released a low groan from the bottom of his throat. You couldn’t help but get turned on at the sound, and you grew excited as to what would happen next.

Sex with Billy was always amazing and although in the back of your mind you knew it was largely down to experience on his part, you assured yourself that you were the one that he had chosen to go back to and stick with which made you special compared to the other girls.

His hands pulled at the bottom of your top, tugging it off your body while your own hands pulled away from his neck to the few bottoms of his shirt that were yet to be undone. Billy’s lips moved along your neck, soft, gentle kisses trailing from your ear to your collarbone, causing you to sigh at his tender touch.

Pushing the shirt from his shoulders and dropping it to the ground, you gazed at his strong chest, your fingers tracing the freckles that the California sun had kissed his skin with before your actions halted altogether.

No. No. No. For fuck’s sake Billy! You cursed your boyfriend as you gazed at the bruised skin on the left side of his chest.

Billy sensed your abrupt stop, pulling back from your neck before furrowing his eyebrows at your odd behaviour as you did nothing but stare at his skin.

“Y/N…” He questioned, reaching a hand out towards you but you quickly hit it away, scoffing at the blonde boy in front of you.

“’Didn’t do anything’ my fucking ass, Billy.” You spat, bending down to the ground and picking up your shirt before pulling it back over your head. Anger tore across every cell in your body.

“What are you talking about? Y/N, baby, I swear I didn’t do anything-“

“That’s fucking bullshit!” You suddenly screamed, your voice bouncing off the walls as your hands balled into fists in an attempt to calm down your fury and overwhelming hurt of betrayal.

“No it’s not. Y/N, I-“

“Explain the fucking hickeys then, Billy!” You cut him off again, pointing to the obvious bruises scattered across the skin you made sure to never touch like that. Instantly his face fell.

You remembered during the first or second week of dating Billy, you had teasingly left a nice obvious hickey on the side of his neck, a greedy part of you wanting to show the girls at school just who Billy was with now. But then the next day when Billy turned up to school his face was covered in bruises of a different kind. Eventually Billy told you of how his father had noticed it and had called him out for being such a ‘pussy’ for letting a ‘whore’ leave a mark on him. Apparently, it made Billy appear weak for it seemed as though he wasn’t the dominant of his relationship and Neil viewed that as deserving of a very severe beating.

You never wanted to be the cause of Billy’s hurt ever again and so you made sure any time things got heated between the two of you, not a mark (or obvious one at least) was to be left on his tanned skin.

“Y/N, baby- “

“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me, Billy! You just blatantly lied to my face!” You yelled. You couldn’t help that your voice was raised and you couldn’t help that you were so filled with anger.

But for some reason it triggered something irrational in Billy to turn nasty and destructive.

“How many girls was it, huh? God, with your record it was probably three at the same fucking time.” You were screaming nonsense now, your words steered by fury and frustration.

Finally looking back up at him, you saw how his face was blank, no emotion displayed on his handsome features and there was something more worrying about that than anything else. He should be begging to explain, throwing excuses to try and get you to understand or somewhat forgive him (which you would surely refuse but the point was he should be trying to defend himself). But instead he was quiet, staring down at you through his long lashes as you yelled at him.

You were so overwhelmed in that moment, so confused and hurt and you couldn’t help that your eyes started to rim with tears. Letting out a stuttered sob that you tried to hide as a sigh, you gazed up at your cheating boyfriend.

“Billy, please. Just tell me. I need to hear it. I need you to say the words.” You didn’t know why you needed to hear him say it because Lord knew it was going to tear you apart, but part of you also knew you just needed the confirmation to properly deal with it. The confirmation would make it real and therefore you wouldn’t be suffocated with the sure doubt of irrational blame you held on yourself, with ‘what if you accused him of something that wasn’t true’ or ‘what if you ruined this all based on assumptions?’ You just needed to hear him say it.

Staring you down, he was silent for one moment before finally speaking. “I didn’t fuck around with Tiffany.”

His voice was monotonous, which only made it all the more intimidating, and although it made your hairs stand on end in minor fear, your anger was stronger and his denial only made you more upset.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Billy? The evidence is on your fucking chest!” You spat, frustrated tears finally falling from your pained eyes. “You’re such a disgusting liar.”

“Oh, but sweetheart, I’m not lying.” Billy suddenly said, his lips turning up to one side in a smirk, his tone patronising and cocky. And you recognised this Billy all too well, but never had you been on the receiving end of this cruel side. It was normally thrown at people he deemed as inferior, people he was in fact intimidated by, people like his little sister Max or Steve Harrington.

Staring up at him, you tried to read him, tried to see if this was for real or if it was some awful joke of his. Either way, both were as malicious as the other.

But this was what Billy did. When confronted or when situations didn’t go his selfish way, then he would turn twisted, he wouldn’t talk reasonably but would instead turn malevolent. And sure you knew he could be this way, but what hurt the most was that he was being this way with you, the person you thought he had fallen for, but maybe it had been a one-sided infatuation all along.

“Get out,” You suddenly uttered. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” You screamed at him, hitting his chest over and over, pushing him towards the door.

Getting a grasp on your hands, he stopped your actions, pushing you slightly so that your back was pressed against the wall behind you. His chest heaved up and down, his face going closer to yours as you cowered away from him, your head flinching back with your eyes closed. “The reason I’m not lying, sweetheart is because it wasn’t Tiffany.” He murmured, his voice low and husky. A couple strands of his curly hair had fallen over his face, something you always used to love, but at this moment you hated everything about him. “It was Natasha Denis.” He spat, staring at you for a second to watch your reaction, something you were sure he would thrive off of, but you remained cowered with your eyes screwed shut.

Scoffing at you, he saw you as pathetic, shoving your hands that he still had a grasp on towards your chest, he finally let go and walked away from you. Grabbing his shirt that was still on the floor, he stormed towards the door, opening it, but not stepping out before shouting to you; “And you’re right, baby, there was another girl there too but fuck knows what her name was. But let me tell you, they definitely knew what mine was; they were the ones screaming it over and over after all.”

With that you heard the door slam shut, and that was all it took for you to collapse. Sliding down the wall, a hand clasped over your mouth as you tried to muffle your sobs. Your parents were asleep upstairs after all since it was nearly 3AM and you didn’t want to wake them.

That’s how you found yourself sitting on your doorstep in the early hours of that day, your sobs feeble and eyes stinging with how much you’d been crying. Your head ached and pounded in time with your pulse, showing just how many tears you’d let fall since your body begged for water.

You’d been sitting outside for what felt like ages, but you didn’t care.

You’d tugged at your hair out of frustration, drawing it ragged and tangled, but you didn’t care.

You’d smoked three of Billy’s cigarettes that he had left behind even though you didn’t smoke, but you didn’t care.

In a matter of minutes, you’d discovered what heartbreak was and it had destroyed you. Billy did what he did best; break things, and you had nobody but to blame but your naïve self. That’s what your mind spoke anyway.

Delirious and confused, you felt numb, your eyes staring off at nothing as you uttered six words too late.

“No. I don’t fucking trust you.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove writing #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery imagine #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things writing #stranger things imagine #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #will byers #jonathan byers #lucas sinclair

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pass-the-bechdel · 6 years ago

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Stargate SG1 season five full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

54.54% (twelve of twenty-two).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

22.28%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

One (episode six ‘Rite of Passage’ (44.44%)).

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

Six (episode five ‘Red Sky’ (11.11%), episode seven ‘Beast of Burden’ (14.28%), episode ten ‘2001′ (7.69%), episode fourteen ‘48 Hours’ (8.33%), episode eighteen ‘The Warrior’ (10%), and episode twenty ‘The Sentinel’ (16.66%)).

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Nineteen. Five who appear in more than one episode, one who appears in at least half the episodes, and one who appears in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Seventy-two. Twenty-one who appear in more than one episode, four who appear in at least half the episodes, and two who appear in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Not much to speak for; the one high-note episode is followed immediately by a significantly low note, and everything else is maintaining a standard of disinterest (average rating of 3).

General Season Quality:

Mostly solid; some episodes are astonishingly ill-conceived or just plain boring, but for the most part the show is giving evidence of being headed for greater heights than ever before, rather than having passed its peak.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Wow. Twenty-two percent on the male:female character ratio?!?! They did a better job with that when it was still the nineties! After last season’s review, I predicted being stuck talking about dudes again due to lack of female-related narrative substance, but damn. I did not anticipate the female-related narrative substance being this low. This had better be an awful fluke and not a crappy new trend...

I mean, I knew there’d be a dearth of content to discuss, I flagged that coming in. It’s not a shock, it’s just disappointing to watch it play out, and when they hit brand-new all-time-lows on their percentages it isn’t exactly heartening. I wrote several paragraphs here, some days ago, talking about actor intentions vs writers intentions and narrative flatness and transparent characterisation, and I’m sure it was at least mildly interesting but as a reflection of season five of Stargate SG1, it just didn’t really fit, and the truth is I was grasping for something to discuss. So; paragraphs deleted. And what to put in its place? I know I threatened to talk dudes, but I have nothing new to say about O’Neill, I still think Teal’c is best discussed with a couple more seasons under our belts (as I pointed out this season, Christopher Judge is about to start trying his hand at writing episodes himself and it is GOOD), and Hammond is a delight but not one who invites a depth of commentary, at least not here and now on this blog. And that leaves...Daniel.

I’m not sure what to say about Daniel. I loved him when I first watched this show when I was younger, but as I get older and wiser and more discerning I am far less impressed. Within the context of this blog, I guess the most important thing to note about Daniel is his history of condescension toward anyone he perceives as ‘less cultured’ or ‘civilised’; this is not necessarily something that takes on a specifically gendered air with him, but it has nevertheless often played out that way by virtue of the show’s adherence to the ‘and one (1) Hot Young Female Alien’ model of guest-populating episodes (it was also a huge problem with his interactions with his wife - remember her? - and the other Abydonians, whom he lived among for over a year and yet apparently never stopped talking to like they were all five years old). As much as Daniel was supposed to function as the ‘heart’ of the team and the diplomatic force due to his cultural knowledge, his personal connections often came off as perfunctory surface-level interactions hindered by Daniel’s patronising attitude, and he typically seemed a textbook example of a self-important academic more concerned with how a society fit his pre-conceived notions of it’s history than with actually learning of it first-hand. I could no more buy the idea that his relationship with Sha’re was a marriage of equals in Daniel’s own mind than I could believe that his (incorrect) correction of the Kelownans word ‘naquadria’ in his death episode was anything less than condescension as he presumed to ‘share’ knowledge of another culture’s ancient writings TO THE PEOPLE OF THE CULTURE ITSELF. Honestly, I cringe every time I watch that scene. And even if you dismiss that example as just a vehicle for SG1 to learn that naquadah and naquadria are two different things, the fact that the condescension is so seamlessly in-character doesn’t change. And if you want an alternative example, you need look no further than the odious ‘Beast of Burden’ episode earlier this season. Or his interactions with Reese the android, who may have had a child’s mind but it was still much more advanced than the way Daniel approached her. The people in Red Sky also got a bad end of the patronising-Daniel stick, and that’s still just an example from this season. Need we look back further? I think not.

Anyway...I guess what I’m getting at is, I’m not sorry to lose Daniel, because for a cultural expert and amateur diplomat he was often the most insufferable person for any unfortunate alien to encounter, and the only reason his behaviour didn’t ruffle more feathers was probably because those good ol’ white American boys on the writing staff failed to recognise the condescending bullshit they were themselves perpetuating like a bunch of privileged chumps. Sorry not sorry. I really, really believe that season six is the best season of this show, and I’m not saying it’s because Daniel ascended his ass outta the team, but I’m also...not not saying that. No one needs Captain Condescension around, and he makes for a pretty dodgy ‘heart’ of the team when he’s such a holier-than-thou asshat. You know who is much better at being the heart? Teal’c. MVP. But, that’s a conversation for another time.

#Stargate SG1 #Stargate SG1 season five #Bechdel Test #female representation #full season review

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soft-sarcasm · 7 years ago

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26. “There’s no one out there with a bigger heart than you, that’s why I love you.”

Pairing: boo seungkwan x reader.

Request: Anonymous: 26 with boo seungkwan please 💕 love your works!

Genre: fluff I guess???

Word count: 2,1+k.

a/n: so this like majorly spiralled out of control and I’m not exactly sure where this came from but it happened. I’m kind of mildly in love with this drabble so I hope you guys like it as well, as always, thanks for reading!! (also I’m tagging @ninjakary because this is the first time i’m writing for one of yuor biases.)

request a drabble.

“I swear-” The culprit began, his form instantly assuming a defending posture, “-I did not do it on purpose.”

Your gaze instantly sharpened into one of scepticism as you fully scrutinised your assailant, who more commonly went by the name of Jeonghan, who after only taking a brief look at you had realised his crime. “I feel like that’s total bullshit, there’s no way this could happen by accident, again.”

The this you were referring to was the fact that you and Jeonghan had ended up at an event wearing all but matching outfits and hairstyles again. Perhaps some would say that it was a true show of how close you two truly were that you seemed to instinctively mimic one another, you on the other hand just viewed it as Jeonghan trying to tease you in any form possible. It was almost a running joke amongst your friend group that you and Jeonghan were the same person due to how frequently you ended up looking like some sort of matching couple at a variety of different gatherings.The occasional similarly striped oversized shirt you could forgive, it wasn’t Jeonghan’s fault that your style was a bit too androgynous to the point that your outfits often replicated that of your male friends.

But tonight, it was just a step too far.

Despite the dim lighting that you could only assume was a purposeful decision by tonight’s party host, Mingyu, to make his and Wonwoo’s apartment's vibe more ‘vibey,’ you could clearly discern the freshly dyed cotton pink that now coloured Jeonghan’s cropped locks. Not only was the shade the exact same as the hair that was pinned to your own head but there was also the fact that his ensemble of a black polo neck and tight-fitting jeans mirrored yours almost to a T.

“Why is it that I’m always the one copying you huh?” Jeonghan retorted over the thrumming of some ‘chill rnb’ tune that poured through the apartment that currently crawled with other party goers. “You could be the one copying me this time.”

“I literally just posted a picture of my new hair Jeonghan,” You reminded, shooting Jun a harsh grin as he quietly chuckled to himself to your left, “Can’t you let me be something alone for once?”

Jeonghan reached up to caress his counterfeit locks lovingly, “You don’t own pink you know? What if I just suddenly decided I want a change?”

“I would say you’re lying, seeing as this is what- the third time this has just ‘happened?’” You said, referring to the other two occurrences in which after sending a picture of a new hair colour to the group chat, Jeonghan just happened to rock up with either a similar or identical shade within the next day or so.

“Seeing it on you lets me know whether it’ll look bad on me or not,” He revealed casually, slithering back into his usual air uncaring and not-so-subtle goading as he had now realised that denial was no longer necessary, “That’s why I’ve never gone green.”

Your mouth gaped in outrage and your hand moved on instinct to slam down on his bicep, “How dare you! Are you trying to imply that I didn’t look good green?”

“No,” Jeonghan purred though the smirk he attempted to hide by taking a sip of his drink said yes.

“Fuck you Jeonghan,” Was your response that came just in time for the arrival of one of your favourite people in the world to the small circle of your friends that had formed around you and Jeonghan, “Seungkwan!”

“Hey,” He returned before taking a swig of his beer that he had to stop himself from choking on when your arm wrapped abruptly around his neck.

“Seungkwan, tell Jeonghan that I look better and for him to stop copying me?” You pouted, all but hanging off of the boy who struggled slightly under your grip.

“Nu-uh,” Jeonghan exclaimed in indignation, “You can’t just pout at Seungkwan to get him to lie for you, that’s not fair.”

“What are you talking about?” You gasped in overemphasised vexation, redirecting your attention from Seungkwan back to Jeonghan, “I couldn’t make Seungkwan lie even if I wanted to.”

Jeonghan scoffed, crossing his arms as he settled further back against the wall, “Of course you could, the boy would do anything for you he’s so whipped by your self-absorbed ass.”

While Seungkwan did choke on his beer this time at Jeonghan’s comment, you decided to push it aside as another display of Jeonghan’s immature tendency to perpetual tease those around him. “Perhaps the reason why you keep copying me Jeonghan is because you’re so desperately searching for a mirror so you can finally see that you’re the self-absorbed one here.”

Your comment was met by the hollering of Jun and Seongcheol that had taken to being the spectators of yours and Jeonghan’s friendly spat. It was an over-played argument but it was amusing to the slightly tipsy brain which was probably why Jihoon had been giggling quietly to himself as Seungkwan remained uncharacteristically quiet still pulled to your side by your arm swung over his shoulder.

“Don’t be bitter just because I pull it off better,” Jeonghan sniffed, “It’ll make wrinkles.”

“At least I still have to make them, unlike you.” Your retort was rewarded by a congratulatory high-five from Seongcheol who often found himself under Jeonghan’s fire and was revelling in one of the few instances where the blonde-turned-pink was put into his place.

“That was lame,” Jeonghan whined, his pink lips sulking into a pout while you sent him a toothy grin.

Jihoon placed a sympathetic hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder though it seemed like it was more to use as leverage to keep himself from laughing, “Just admit your failure and move on, it’s for the best.”

His comment was met by an uproar of laughter that near boomed over the loud trap that had taken to blaring out of the speakers as shoves and jeers were exchanged, the ruckus commencing while Seungkwan remained silent, simply sipping.

It was two hours later and you had yet to see Seungkwan again after he had disappeared when you and Jeonghan had returned to your usual state of being partners rather than adversaries and everyone had scattered in fear. Your second drink sat on the table opposite the couch you and Jeonghan had nestled yourselves into after retreating from the dance floor that had turned into a near cesspool of grinding couples, an effortlessly mesh of meaningless conversation topics flowing between you two.

“Have you ever thought about Seungkwan?” Jeonghan asked during the small pause that had occurred after you had finished rattling off about how strange you found the word ‘fibre.’

You raised a curious eyebrow at his abrupt question, “How so?”

“You know what I mean,” Jeonghan goaded while giving your shoulder a prompting nudge, “You know, like thought about him- like that.”

“Not really,” You admitted while reaching to take a slip of the now flat liquid, “It’s not like I’d ever say I'm against the idea or anything, I’ve just never really pictured it.”

“Well, he’s definitely pictured you,” The minx to your left purred, waggling his fingers in an overly suggestive manner.

You swatted his hands from your face, “Stop that. And no he hasn’t. He just sees us as friends.”

“Yeah totally,” Jeonghan agreed in his typical sarcasm saturated tone, “That’s why he’s been planning a way of confessing to you for the past month.”

“You’re such a liar,” You gasped while shoving Jeonghan in retaliation despite the fact that your heart made an unnatural leap in your chest that you attempted to not credit to the thought of Seungkwan and you being something else then the good friends you had been for months now. You weren’t sure if you were ready to confront such a heavy notion and so instead you collected yourself to your feet, chugging your drink back as you went. “I’m going to go get another drink.”

The smirk that twisted onto Jeonghan’s face was near devilish and all but haunted you as you made your way through the convulsing mix of bodies to the kitchen. It was a mission and a half to find something bottled to drink as you knew better than to trust any sort of punch that was lazing around one of Mingyu and Wonwoo’s parties. You found a bottle of vodka in the cereal cabinet and took your time mixing it with the water in your cup; your preferred drink even though you were continuously judged by most of your friends for it.

After retrieving your desired refreshment, you began to make the tedious trek back to Jeonghan, shimmying through the crowd as best as you could. You must have been gone longer then you had first thought because when you arrived a few paces back from the couch, you noticed your abandoned spot was now inhabited by Seungkwan who looked to be particularly drunk as he leaned down to Jeonghan who was staring at him in a mixture of confusion and amusement as the inebriated fellow continued to rattle on.

“-And you’re like really nice to look at, like really nice to look at.” You heard Seungkwan ramble as you grew nearer to the sofa. “But that’s not just what I like about you-actually I like everything about you.”

“Seungkwan,” Jeonghan called in an overly patronising manner, “I don’t think you’re saying this to the right person.”

“What do you mean?” Seungkwan slurred, his expression contorting into one of adorable misunderstanding, “Would you just let me confess to you Y/N? I’ve been planning this for a while.”

Your eyes instantly widen as your body froze under Seungkwan’s bumbled out words, so distracted by them that you didn’t even feel the need to shoot a look of retaliation to match Jeonghan’s all-knowing gaze he was pinning you down.

“Now I know we look slightly similar Seungkwan,” Jeonghan cooed most likely in hopes that a more endearing tone would reach Seungkwan’s alcohol addled brain. “But I’m not Y/N, she’s right over there.”

You blinked in shock as both Jeonghan’s finger and Seungkwan’s attention pointed in your direction. You weren’t exactly sure how you were meant to respond to the fact that you had just overheard Seungkwan giving the confession he apparently had originally meant for you to Jeonghan because he was so drunk that he hadn’t been able to tell the difference between the two of you.

But while you remained stationary, Seungkwan was scrambling up to his feet, a dopey smile on his face as he swayed his way over to you, “Y/N! You’re here, I can continue.”

“Seungkwan-” You attempted to interrupt but you were quickly silenced by Seungkwan’s finger being pressed your lips.

“Shush now, I’ve already been interrupted once and I really need to get this over and done with.” Seungkwan declared, stumbling slightly as he attempted to recentre himself. “Y/N; I’m into you. Actually, I’m more than that but that’s what we’re going with for now. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now but I’ve either been too scared or too sober. But tonight, I’m neither of those things.”

“Seungkwan-”

“You no talking,” He ordered, “Y/N I think you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met and I really want to date the fuck out of you. Like for real. You’re passionate and intelligent and you’re the only person that can put Jeonghan in his place.”

“Oi, leave me out of your romantic bullshit,” Jeonghan demanded from his position still observing from the couch.

Seungkwan whipped his head only for a moment to glare the pink haired boy into silence before turning back to you, “Anyway. You’re just amazing. There’s no one out there with a bigger heart than you, that’s why I love you. Wanna date?”

You brain stuttered, frazzling and sparking under the surge of Seungkwan’s mess of a confession that had your heart oozing out over your ribs out of fondness. You decided to ignore both his admission of some larger emotions and the fact that he was drunk all due to the sincerity in the eyes that peered up at you in question. “Yes, Seungkwan- I do want to date you.”

��Hooray,” Seungkwan cheered drowsily, his drooping eyes the only indication you were given before he was slumping into you, head in the crook of your neck as the majority of his weight fell onto you.

You stumbled backwards as you attempted to keep you both stable, your struggle made all the more difficult when you met Jeonghan’s gaze over a near comatose Seungkwan’s shoulder and had to witness him send you an overtly mocking grin before mouthing;

Told you.

#seventeen scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #seventeen #seungkwan #kpop scenarios #writing #seventeen smut

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