Adrien Agreste is desperate. He’s tried asking Nino, but his friend sort of tripped his way into his relationship with Alya by mistake, and he’s not too proud to admit it. Plagg is no help. He’s asked Natalie, only to get a blank look. Plagg is NO help. Adrien’s even asked Gorilla. The man stared at him through the rearview mirror for a full minute before he burst out laughing and didn’t stop even after he dropped Adrien off at school. It was hard not to pout all day.
So now, Adrien is doing what he should have done in the first place - it’s SO obvious, after all. I mean, obviously HE’D be an expert.
Adrien walks into his father’s study with shoulders pushed back in his dad’s preferred posture.
‘What did you need?’ his father asked without looking up from his designs, seven different sketched clothes articles being shuffled around to create various combinations.
‘Yeah,’ Adrien said, trying to channel as much of Chat Noir as he could, ‘so dad, you and mum, huh?’
Gabriel’s hand paused delicately where it was poised over a pair of tan women’s trousers.
'I mean, you two…. Got together and everything, you know?’
Adrien watched in fascination as his father’s eyebrows rose very slowly. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign so he went on.
'And mum was pretty. I mean, REAL pretty. Well of course she was pretty she was a model. But she was. Nice, I mean. And you TALKED to her. And it WORKED. Of course it worked, she married you and you had ME.’
Gabriel Agreste looked like he was almost afraid to talk, but he put the sketches down, steepled his fingers and finally looked up at his son.
'What are you asking exactly, Adrien? I thought Natalie had adequately covered the topic of human sexual reproduction even before you joined College?’
'Not that, dad!’ Adrien replied, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. 'I know all about that. Natalie tested me and everything and I got top marks. I’m asking about all the rest! That’s more important!’
Gabriel Agreste’s eyebrows joined his hairline. He managed to look vaguely nauseous, which was the face he made when he was in any way flustered or uncomfortable.
'All… The rest.’
'Yes!’ Adrien replied, the word exploding out of him when he couldn’t contain it anymore. A river of more words followed it once it had split the dam. 'The flowers and the complements, and the manners and kissing her hand, and being a gentleman! All of that! But I’ve tried it all and it hasn’t worked, so I MUST be doing something wrong! But you landed MUM, so you must have done something really right, so please dad, please teach me?’
Gabriel Agreste may as well be speechless for the first time in his life. He managed, 'What?’
'How to ask out a pretty girl!’ Adrien said in moan. 'The right way! So she says yes!’
Gabriel took off his spectacles to give himself time to think, polishing them off a silk hanky he always carried in his pocket, to give himself time to think. He didn’t think he’d be thinking about this already. But that was the problem with thinking. Once he put them back on, he’d formulated a reasonable response.
'I would like to know who the young lady in question is, before we go any further.’
Adrien’s brain went into panic mode. Darn, darn darn darn, he hadn’t thought of this! What was he going to say? He couldn’t say Ladybug obviously, his dad would never buy it. Quick, think of girls he knew! Girls he knew, girls he knew- ah! Girls from his class! Let’s see; Chloe- ah ah, hard nope, no way. Alya- nope, no way again, bro code. Mylene, yeah, super taken. Alix….. Just no. Darn it all, all he could think of were black hair and blue eyes and - hang on!
'Marinette Dupain-Cheng,’ Adrien squeaked. He hoped his cheeks feeling hot meant he would convince his father. Gabriel stared at him for a moment before he buzzed Natalie from the intercom on his desk.
'Natalie, send me the file of Dupain-Cheng Marinette from the College research folder.’
'Yes sir,’ Natalie chirped back. A few moments of heavy sweating later - for Adrien - his father’s phone pinged, and Gabriel picked it up, thumbing through whatever Natalie had sent. One eyebrow rose higher than the other in the expression his father often made when he was pleasantly surprised. Somehow, Adrien was irrationally pleased his father approved of Marinette, even though he realised he was now totally screwed.
'Designed an album for Jagged Stone,’ his father said, sounding reluctantly impressed. 'You will invite her to dinner next week.’
Gabriel put his phone down, seemingly done with the decision. Adrien tried desperately one more time.
'But, the advice!’
Gabriel looked him straight in the eyes.
'What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room,’ he said solemnly.
'Yes father!’ Adrien replied eagerly.
'The secret,’ Gabriel went on solemnly, 'is puns.’
'I knew it!’ Adrien hissed under his breath.
'Ah, but not just any puns,’ Gabriel admonished. 'That is why you have been unsuccessful. You need to find her interests, formulate humourous sentence arrangements. Drop them with the correct TIMING. Timing is crucial, especially in one particular way.’
Adrien fairly vibrated in his seat as he leaned forward, waiting for his dad to finally tell him the secret.
'You must take her hand, gently. Look her in the eyes, and tell her, without fanfare, how you feel about her. And how that makes you feel: in that order, son. Then, and only then, must you drop a very smart pun, about something she loves, and beg her to consider giving you a chance. Then walk away, let her think about it, and maybe drop another pun on your way out. Make her laugh, so that when she remembers you, she will smile. She’ll call you back within the week.’
Gabriel was smiling for the first time in a whole year, that Adrien remembered. He looked misty eyed and far away before he snapped out of it.
'Natalie,’ he said into the buzzer again, 'contact mlle Dupain-Cheng, invite her to dinner Friday week.’
'Yes sir. I will inform cook and the household.’
'Good.’ Gabriel looked at his son with a determined look on his face. 'I will allow you to see how it is done during this first dinner. I will then expect you to try and learn, with practice, during following invitations. Do not let me down.’
'No sir!’ Adrien replied excitedly. He raced to his room, almost bouncing giddily with joy at how helpful his dad had been. Real advice! With practice!
Then he froze when he realised he was going to be practicing on his sweet, shy classmate, who was likely going to get the entirely wrong idea, and who he had absolutely not the courage to come clean with; not on this.
'Darn’, he hissed into his room. Plagg ignored him and continued to eat his cheese noisily.
Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match!
Word Count: 1,723
A/N: This is already planned out and written (in my head). I loved writing this.
Nat raised a brow, a mysterious
curve to her smile. Steve was immediately suspicious. He felt his shoulders
stiffen and his back straighten. He knew he looked like he had a stick up his
ass, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when Natasha looked like the cat that
had eaten the canary, and wanted to
“You left your phone on the coffee
table,” she said. Her tone was relaxed, which made Steve more nervous.
His eyes narrowed. “What did you
do, Romanoff?” he questioned, broad arms crossing over an equally-broad chest.
She merely shrugged before she
turned her right-hand palm-up and relaxing it. Steve’s phone was revealed. “See
Shortly after the overdose, Bob decided to tell Jack the story of why he really got put in the Stanley Cup as a baby. It was Bob’s way of thanking the cup.
“After I won my first cup,” he told Jack, “I realized I’d achieved my dream, and I had married this amazing woman, but something still felt like it was missing. I wanted to be a father.” He told Jack how he and Alicia had tried to have a baby, but it just wasn’t happening. As the months dragged on with more of the same, they started to get worried.
“And even when you were worrying you’d never truly be happy you managed to win the cup again, yeah? That’s the moral of the story?” Jack snapped. Bob shook his head, reached out to run a hand over Jack’s back, like he could smooth down his son’s frayed nerves.
“Non, non, non, that would be a terrible moral. Actually my stats were worse that year than when I was a rookie. But my team was incredible, and we made it to the cup again. And here’s where the story gets good, you see, because I’d heard all kinds of wild legends through the league about ‘cup magic’ and how sometimes it would grant wishes”
“Or turn you into a fucking penguin,” Jack scoffed.
“Well I was playing for the Canadiens at the time, so I suppose there wasn’t much risk involved, but there was a whole lot of desperate hope.So on my cup day, after everyone else left, I sat down and had a chat with it,” he gestures to the table they’re sitting at. “Right at this kitchen table.”
“Please tell me that’s the only part of this story that happened at this table,” Jack groaned. Bob laughed.
“This story, yes.”
“Papaaaa,” Jack picked up his bowl of cereal and pointedly continued eating without letting his food touch the table.
“Oh for God’s sake, Jack, this table has been cleaned many times since, put your food down for a bit, I’m trying to have a moment with you here.”
“Alright, alright, fine.” Jack obediently set the bowl aside and faced his father.
“As I was saying…” Bob cleared his throat. “I talked to the cup. I told it I didn’t care if I ever won it again. All I wanted was a son. If it would give me that, I promised, I wouldn’t ask to win so much as a faceoff for the rest of my life. And I promised that I would love my son - that I would love you - unconditionally, more than anything in the world.”
“And you won a fuckton more awards anyway.”
“But,” Bob countered, “I didn’t win the cup again until after you were born when I was with the Pens. And so when your mother brought you onto the ice to see me, I wanted us to put you in the cup, but it wasn’t supposed to pass along some kind of hockey magic and ensure the Zimmermann dynasty or whatever the fuck ESPN likes to say, alright? We did it as a thank you. We wanted the cup to see what a beautiful baby we had, and to feel how incredibly loved you were.” Bob ran a hand over Jack’s newly-cropped hair, feeling the strands against his palm, almost as soft as when he used to sit next to Bob in his high chair smashing banana all over the tray. “I kept my promise too,” Bob said. “I love you. Unconditionally. More than anything in the world. And your mother and I just want to help you be happy, whatever that looks like.” He smiled warmly at his son, letting all the pride he usually kept a lid on to keep from embarrassing Jack bubble up to the surface. Jack looked down at his hands.
“How can you not be disappointed? Look at me.” Jack’s shoulders hunched in, shrinking him down, and Bob pressed his hand between Jack’s shoulder blades, rubbing circles in the way that always used to put him right to sleep as a child.
“I will always be proud of you, hockey or no. Because you know what?” Jack chanced a glance up at his father’s face and was held by his earnest expression. “Winning the Stanley Cup isn’t even in my top hundred favorite memories anymore. All of my best memories are with you and your mother.” Jack didn’t say anything in response, and Bob was learning when to give him space to process, so he stood up, bending back down to kiss his son’s forehead as he snagged the now-soggy bowl of raisin bran from in front of him.
It took a few days for Bob to get a real response from Jack, and in the meantime he just left everything to percolate. And then one night, Bob just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. His knee wasn’t quite hurting, but it was on that edge where it just didn’t feel settled, and Alicia had been snoring, and at the back of his head he could feel some kind of humming, like he could feel the tense air in Jack’s room. He’d gotten himself all worked up mulling that last one over until he had to get out of bed. He stood in front of Jack’s bedroom door, looking at the light peeking out from below the doorjamb for minutes, listening to the sounds of floorboards creaking occasionally, pages rustling, a keyboard clacking. After he’d gotten enough of the sounds of Jack just existing on the other side of the door to calm his racing heart, he went to the living room.
He settled into the couch with a box of crackers and a nature documentary when he heard footsteps creaking on the stairs. At first, he was expecting Alicia coming to call him back to bed, but the footfalls were too loud for her. Bob tried not to look surprised when Jack rounded the corner, keeping his eyes carefully trained on Animal Planet. He held up the crackers in greeting.
“Joining your old man for a midnight snack, eh?”
“Oh. Um, sure.” Jack padded over to the couch and made himself comfortable next to Bob, pulling down the afghan from the back of the sofa. They stare at the TV in silence for a long while before Jack speaks up again, quietly. “Papa?”
“So…what exactly was better than winning the cup?”
╳ Summary: Being roommates with your best friend can be fun until one day you look at him differently.
(this is something that I found that I had written months ago and just decided to post it!!)
The day you looked at your best friend as more than a friend, you knew you were screwed. It happened out of nowhere. You just woke up one morning and looked at him differently. You were never going to tell anyone, you weren’t stupid. That would just lead to Jimin being freaked out and nothing being the same. Risking your friendship with Jimin was not worth the little crush you had on him.
Deciding that you couldn’t fall back asleep, you got up to start the morning. Walking into the kitchen to get some breakfast, you didn’t notice your best friend standing there.
“Holy shit! Jimin, you scared me!” You yelled, clutching your chest.
“What’s gotten you so jumpy?” Jimin asks, laughing while opening the refrigerator
Summary: Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well.
A/N:Can you believe that I managed to come up with a quick update? Me neither.
Monotone, drowning in tedium — that was how your first Monday class begun. Somewhere deep inside your mind, you could hear your teacher going on about an empty subject, filling the air inside the classroom with disconex sentences and incomprehensible claims; your own perception far beyond the yellowed walls of that room. Perhaps, sitting on the last row was not helping your lack of focus; but, much to your personal bliss, Jennie was right next to you, taking the notes you would make sure to use later.
In all honesty, your mind was in the same location as before: the party. Equivalent to what unfolded during the weekend, the story repeated itself amidst your tired daydreams; dragging your consciousness towards the bubbling, divergent feelings inside your chest. Unlike what you first expected, the anguish and guilt of your acts did not last longer than the ride back to your dorm, instead morphing into a sense of curiosity. After all, there were so many details that you waited to be presented with — the second step, the collateral damage it would have on your friendship and, more than anything, Jimin’s reaction.
You just did not expect it would come that instant.
The cloudy preoccupations of your chaotic thoughts dissipated as a light buzz sounded below you, your phone lighting up with a new notification. With a frown, you stared down at the illuminated screen, eyes falling to the white text.
The second you read it, your heart skipped a beat.
How realistic is it for the retired agent/spy/assassin to come back and kick just as much butt as they did years before? Does such training come back to you easily if you haven't used it in a long while or will you be rusty enough to get killed?
Parts of this are realistic, others not so much.
If you’ve spent enough time training techniques, this stuff
gets baked into the way you move. It’s not, “oh, I’ll do this to someone;” it’s
just there. Training can also affect
how you look at the world; this is true as a general statement on life, but it also
applies here. Again, as with muscle memory, this is always there, always affecting
how you view your surroundings and the people in them.
So, in that sense, yes. A veteran character coming back after
years away from the job will still
have their skills and training. Some of that will be rusty, but this stuff
sticks with you. Especially if you were maintaining your training for years.
That said, they’ll still get their teeth kicked in.
Ironically, one of the more realistic takes I’ve seen on this
was in the middle seasons of 24. In
the early seasons, the protagonist, Jack Bauer, is a federal counterterrorist
agent. After the third season he’s basically on his own, and no longer a part
of the agency that trained him. By the fifth season (about 3 years later) he’s
at a point where he’s getting his ass handed to him by a security guard.
The problem is something we’ve explained, repeatedly. Hand to
hand combat is not static. The training I got 20 years ago doesn’t apply now.
It will work against untrained
opponents. Basic physiology doesn’t change. However, going up against opponents
who’ve been keeping their training up to date, (or are some of the people
responsible for updating the techniques in the first place), is not going to
Something I know we haven’t discussed on this subject is how
this updating happens. It requires contact with people who are actually using
their training practically. Seeing what people are doing isn’t something that
you can do sitting on a mountain top. You need to actually be immersed in the
community. You look for how people are adapting to the techniques you’re
training others in, and look for ways to get around those counters.
In the case of law enforcement, one major source if
intelligence to guide updates is watching what criminals are teaching each
other in prison. Career criminals will look for ways to counter police hand to
hand, and once they have that, will (usually) share it with people they work and/or
A veteran coming in after years away may be able to execute
their training perfectly, and still get taken down by a rookie who received
their training last year, because they were trained to counter the veteran’s
Updating is about looking for the things that are most prevalent,
and finding ways to defend against them. It’s very likely your veteran will
understand this concept. Whether that affects their behavior is more of a
Incidentally, this doesn’t just apply to hand to hand, it’s
also a relevant concept when you’re talking about things like tradecraft.
Tradecraft is the shorthand for techniques used in
intelligence gathering. It’s (somewhat) all encompassing. So, anything from
social engineering to dead drops or even the way you set up surveillance could
be lumped in under this header.
Just like hand to hand training, this stuff does go out of
date. Usually once someone’s actually exploited a method and gotten caught
doing it. Though, sometimes it’s preventative.
The irony is, when it comes to being a spy, the biggest
problem is being a veteran, not being out of practice. It’s being a veteran. When
a spy starts their career, no one knows who they are, they have no reputation,
they’ve never turned up in strange places, they’re just someone walking around,
taking in the sights, maybe doing a job for some NGO.
Even if a spy is never caught, as they work, their name will
start ending up on desks, in lists of witnesses, employees, or whatever. Once
is not a pattern, but as their name keeps coming up over the years, it becomes
easier to identify them. Potential enemies start keeping files, and gradually
filling them with what they know. This means it is much harder for a veteran spy to operate in the field undetected,
than it is for a rookie.
There’s a similar issue for assassins. Either they’re a
complete ghost, no one knows who they are, and may not even believe they ever
existed, or (more likely), if they were working for a government (or any other
large, overt organization, like a corporation), they’re in the same boat as a veteran
spy. People may not know your character is an assassin, but they will know that
they worked for someone. Which in
turn, will put them on guard, and make your character’s life much harder.
There are concepts a veteran will have internalized, which
someone without training won’t understand or grasp. Thing that just don’t go
out of style. For example, bullets will blow through most residential walls and
furniture. So, if someone’s taking cover behind a couch, kitchen wall, or car
door, it’s far more expedient to simply shoot through whatever’s in your way.
Another concept is one I’ve mentioned recently, you reload when you have the
time, not when you’ve run your gun dry.
Similarly, experience they’ve learned from may still be relevant.
Being able to read someone’s intentions, know when they’re about to resort to
violence, or simply knowing the value of good intelligence aren’t going to go
away because your character spent the last five years pretending to be a well-adjusted
Summary:You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.
Word count: ~2500
Warnings:Language, mission/war related violence and gore, shooting, battle related injuries/casualties/mayhem
A/N: My sincere apologies for how long this has taken. I’ve been dealing with some personal things and, quite frankly, it took away all desire to write. I hope you like this chapter, the photo with the shield later on in the story is actually the inspiration for the entire series. So you can get inspiration from anywhere :) I want to thank everyone who stuck around waiting and who has been so helpful and kind to me. Also, I’m very excited to continue writing more chapters! Thank you for your continued patience.
As always, feedback is always appreciated. Please let me know how the ‘action’ plays out as I am always looking for ways to improve my storytelling. Thanks!
face fell in horror, but you seemed to be the only one moving, the rest of the
world seemed to be stuck in some sort of time lapse. Bucky was still just crouching there, holding
the boy, with that stupid, beautiful smile still plastered to his face, not yet
seeing the danger, not yet registering your alarm.
No no no no no no NO! Your mind was screaming the words as you tore your gaze away from the
scene. The man was getting closer. NO!
bolted forward, shoving the woman into the alley screaming for Bucky to run,
ripping your vocal chords in the process.
Your legs felt like they were trudging through molasses, like some force
was pulling you back, weighing you down.
And each step on the pavement felt like an elephant stomp making the
ground shake. But it was as if you
weren’t moving any closer. But you had
to. You had to. Because what was about to happen could. not.
(A/N): YOU GUYS I LOVE PREWAR BUCKY SO MUCH (please send me more prewar requests, I’m begging you)
Request:Hey 👋🏻 ❤ So could I request a 40’s Bucky x reader?the reader is very shy and a friend of Peggy. Bucky is the ladies man. One night they all went to a party and Bucky asked the reader out as a bet she said yes and they became a couple. Bucky begins to fall in love with the reader. After a while she discovers by accident about the bet and her heart got broken. Bucky does not give up on her and tries to win her back! With a happy ending,angst and fluff!! Thank you love you 💛💙
Bucky was bored, Steve was bored but Peggy was having the time of her life. The three of them were out celebrating the end of the war, the fact they were still alive; In fact, it seemed everyone was out celebrating their win. The bar was crammed full of men and women, all dancing and drinking, having a jolly good time, everyone except Bucky and Steve. Peggy had had one too many drinks and she was content to talk the entire night away, boring both men into a light sleep. The only thing that woke them up was when Steve accidentally let his head slip out of his hands and he smacked the table, jolting both men awake. Bucky looked around in shock, before looking at Steve who was now rubbing at his red forehead. Bucky snickered softly, shaking his head but his laughter immediately died when his eyes caught something lingering at the entrance.
A young girl, around Peggy’s age, was standing at the entrance to the bar, looking rather anxious. Immediately she perked up as she looked in his direction. Bucky thought she was smiling at him but he quickly realized he was wrong when Peggy jumped up and rushed over to her to hug her.
"(Y/N), you’re here!“
"I wouldn’t miss out on the chance to see you,” She smiled gently, showcasing her beautiful smile.
Bucky looks at the two interacting for quite some time, entrance with (Y/N) but a quick tap to his shoulder quickly snapped him out of his trance.
“I’ve got a dare for you,” Steve smirks coolly as he folds his arms over his chest. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you go and ask her out,” Bucky looks at him, furrowing his brows.
"Okay…what’s the catch?“
"You have to date her for more than four months,”
“no,” Bucky shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest. “No way, do you know how many days that is that I’d have to go without kissing some cute blonde?” Steve chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.
“What about two hundred?” Bucky purses his lips in thought, humming softly as Peggy and (Y/N) approach the table, still talking to each other animatedly.
"Fine two hundred dollars,“ Steve chuckles as he leans back into his seat, closing his eyes once again.
"Guess you’re gonna be out of two hundred dollars in a month,"
"Whatever,” Bucky growls to Steve as Peggy and (Y/N) sit down.
"Steven, James, this (Y/N), a friend of mine,“
"Hello,” Steve answers politely, giving (Y/N) a soft smile. Bucky on the other hand was going to be more flirtatious, he did have to win a bet after all.
“Heya doll,” Bucky leans forward, smiling at (Y/N) smugly. The poor girl blushed madly, her entire face red as Bucky looked at her.
"Hi,“ (Y/N) replies quietly, her eyes glued to their hands as she does so. She was shy, Bucky loved the shy ones.
"She recently moved to Brooklyn-"
"Good choice cutie,” Bucky winked at her and Bucky swore he’d never seen a face redder than hers. It was…cute. Most women were throwing themself at his feet, batting their eyelashes and acting all sorts of sweet and innocent but for once Bucky thought he’d found a girl who actually was what all those women pretended to be. She seemed so genuinely moved by his compliments, as though no one had ever called her cute nicknames or told her how cute she was.
Oh, Bucky was going to have fun with this one.
The “party” had dragged by painfully slow, with Peggy still rambling and (Y/N) occasionally breaking the constant talking with small input here and there. Every now and then Bucky would throw a compliment her way, a ‘your hair is looking fantastic’, or maybe a little something like 'Thats one hell of a dress’. E very time he so much looked her way she ended up blushing madly but nonetheless it always brought a small smile to her rosy cheeks.
Around 10 Peggy finally crashed, quite literally too. She was slowly talking one second and then the next she was fast asleep. Steve picked her up and carried her home, leaving Bucky and (Y/N) all alone. He was of course going to walk her home, what kind of a man would he be if he didnt? And truthfully he was actually looking forward to some one on one time with (Y/N), she seemed beyond nice and Bucky wanted to get to know her more.
“(Y/N)’s a gorgeous name,” Bucky states as he walks along, hands shoved in his pockets. Even in the dim lighting of Brooklyn he could see (Y/N)’s wild blush. “And that blush is pretty cute too,” Bucky smirks as (Y/N) cracks a wide smile, hanging her head to hide jus how much of an effect his words had on her. “So (Y/N), you got a man of your own?"
"Um no,” (Y/N) whispers, cheeks burning once again.
"No?“ Bucky asks dumbfoundedly. "That’s- no- that’s not possible, how can someone like you not be datin’ anyone?” (Y/N) shrugs, her ever present smile still there.
"I’m really quiet, guess that’s not something men these days like,“
"I like it,” Bucky supplies rather quickly. “Shy gals are the cutest,"
"Seems like you’re the only man on the face of the earth who thinks like that,”
“Good,” Bucky smirks a bit, “more for me,” (Y/N) smiles, a wide toothy thing that had Bucky’s heart fluttering just a bit. “So (Y/N), I was wonderin’ if maybe you’d like to go out on a date sometime, I get if you don’t want to but you seem really nice and I’d love to get to know ya more,” (Y/N) looks at Bucky with a shocked expression, eyes wide and lips parted.
“Are- are you serious?"
"Hell yeah I’m serious,” Bucky smiles at her widely.
"You’re not lying to me?“
"No doll,” Bucky stops walking, turning to face her immediately. “I’m bein’ dead serious, I’d love to take you out for some dinner some time, maybe see a movie, go feed the ducks, whatever the hell you wanna do,” (Y/N) blushes once again but we smile is much brighter and bigger than he had ever seen it.
"I’d love that,“ Bucky sighs gratefully, internally chanting and rooting himself on. In five months he was going to have a nice stack of two hundred dollars in his hand…
Well- Bucky had fucked up
Royally, what had supposed to be nothing more than a stupid bet had quickly turned into something more. Bucky quickly realized what a gem in the rough he’d found, (Y/N) was unlike any other girl he’d ever met. She was abnormally sweet, so caring, beyond adorable, and not to mention the most hilarious person he’d ever met.
After having spent a couple of years with the military he was used to strong language, crude jokes but what he heard from (Y/N) completely topped anything he hear in the army. It was a huge surprise when one day whilst (Y/N) was cooking a meal for the two of then he quite suddenly heard a loud crash followed by (Y/N)’s feminine voice yelling a short but consice "Fuck!” Bucky didnt think he had laughed that hard in his entire life. But Bucky quickly learned that (Y/N) also had a bit of a feisty side. She was bound and determined to do everything herself, she didn’t need help doing a single thing. While most women would expect him to do everything (Y/N) would most likely punch him if he even thought about doing a single thing for her. She was different and Bucky loved that.
It didn’t take him long to realize just how screwed he was. A month of dating each other and he realized he was in love. The damn idiot had actually fallen in love. Now, it was the five month mark and Bucky was as anxious for it as he could be. He couldn’t accept Steve’s money now, not after falling in love with (Y/N) and he sure as hell had to tell her about the bet, how horrible would it be of him to not to do so? He’d be the worst boyfriend on the face of the earth but whenever he tried to he’d choke up and refuse to tell her. But now he had really done it.
He had meant to tell her that night but then things went a little….sidewards and now he was laying in (Y/N)’s bed, butt fucking naked as he held a sleeping (Y/N). Her skin was still slightly sweaty from precious activities but if he even dared pulled away she’d begin to shiver and whine in her sleep so Bucky stayed by her side, holding her as close as humanly possible.
He’d tell her later, after she woke up. He’d make her a nice breakfast (even though she’d probably beat him for it), he try to explain it as nicely as he could and hope for the best.
“Wait…” (Y/N) looks at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Are you- are you being serious?” Her tone was meek and quiet, just like the tone she usually had around anyone but him. Bucky sighs, his stomach twisted up in knots as he nods.
"Yeah, yeah I am,“
"I was just- I was just a bet to you?” (Y/N) squeaks, her voice breaking as her tears threatened to spill over.
It physically made Bucky sick to see (Y/N) hurting, especially because of him. He’d never seen her cry and the idea that he was the cause of these fresh tears made his heart ache.
"In the beginning yes but as soon as I took you on that first date I realized that you meant more than that-“ Bucky stops when (Y/N) sniffles, a single tear rolling down her beautiful cheeks. "Doll, I promise-” Bucky reached out to wipe the tear away but his hand froze in mid air as (Y/N) abruptly stood up, tears now freely sliding down her cheeks, turned on her heel and marched to Bucky’s front door. She grabbed her jacket and hand bag, not even giving Bucky a second glance as she did so.
"(Y/N), doll, I promise it’s not like that anymore-“
"Two hundred dollars?” (Y/N) looks at him, her beautiful lips trembling. “Two hundred dollars is all I mean to you?” Bucky’s heart aches, it hurts so fucking much and all he wants to do is reach out and hold (Y/N), comfort her and convince her that she meant the world to him. But before he could even open his mouth to respond (Y/N) slammed the door shut, leaving Bucky all alone in his apartment.
Bucky immediately ran to Steve’s place, damn well knowing that Peggy was probably there as well. His fist best upon the door loudly, he panted from the exertion of running god knows how many blocks, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. Immediately the door opened, revealing a rather dishelved looking Steve.
"Buck, uh- I’m kinda busy right now-“
"Yeah, I can see that,” Bucky grumbles as he marches into Steve’s apartment, ignoring Steve’s cries not to. Bucky completely ignored the fact that Peggy was laying naked on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her body as she looked at Bucky in disappointment. “I fucked up Steve, I fucked up so bad,"
"What? What’d you do?” Steve asks as he slams the front door shut, obviously unhappy with the way things were turning out. “I told (Y/N) about the bet,”
"you- you- you fucking idiot! Why the hell would you do that?“
"I thought she deserved to know!"
"God Bucky, what kind of an idiot does something like that?”
"Wait-” Peggy raises a hand, silencing both boys. “What bet?” Both men sigh in disappointment, knowing that Peggy would beat both their asses for what they did.
"That day in the bar, the day we returned home,“
"Yes,” Peggy nods, acknowledging the memory.
"Well I told Bucky that if he could date (Y/N) for a solid five months I’d give him two hundred dollars,“ Peggy looks between the two of them, dumbfounded, and even a bit hurt. The room is silent for far too long, no one says a word as Peggy sits there brewing in her anger. Both of the boys nearly cowered in fear, waiting for Peggy to snap and bite their heads off.
"You two-” Peggy whispers quietly, “Are the biggest dicks on the face of this earth!” Peggy chucks a pillow their way, cursing both of them to hell and back. “I can’t believe you’d do that!"
"I know,” Bucky cowers in fear as Peggy continues to throw pillows. “We were stupid!"
"I ought to get up and beat you to a bloody pulp, both of you!"
"Or you can help me fix this with (Y/N)!”
"Why should I you heartless prick?“
"Because I love her, okay! I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything in this world and I can’t- I can’t lose her,” Peggy finally settles down, looking at Bucky with a now much softer gaze. “I want to fix this, I want (Y/N) to know how much I love her.” Peggy sighs softly as she readjusts her blanket, pulling it up her body a little higher.
“She’s not going to be easy to win back, she’s sensitive and she likes to hold a grudge,” Bucky nods, sighing in defeat. “But I know you can win her back James,” Peggy smiles softly, “Plus with a little help from me you’ll be golden,” Bucky smiles, sighing in relief.
“Oh thank you so much Peggy, I can’t thank you enough,"
"You can thank me by getting out of here, I’ll come buy Tommorrow to figure something out, okay?” Bucky nods as he runs a hand through his hair, gripping the strands gently.
With Peggy’s help he actually had a chance at winning (Y/N) back, there was a glimmer of hope for him. He just hoped that he hadn’t hurt (Y/N) too much, he hoped it wasn’t too late to repair what they had.
"She loves the stars,“
"Yeah, I know that Pegs,”
"I know that too,”
"She loves to read-“
"Peggy, this is all shit I already know-”
“She likes red wine too,”
“How is this going to help me at all?”
“Just combine them all together,” Peggy sighs, shaking her head. “A night under the stars, some chocolate and red wine, pick up a book for her,"
"Peggy, Brooklyn is covered in snow, how am I supposed to-”
"Stark has been working on this machine, more like a room really. Find (Y/N), tell her you’ll pick her up at six, I’ll give you directions to the place, you just show up with your stuff and I’ll have everything ready,“
Bucky was a bit reluctant to agree, after all, what if Peggy screwed him over for making the bet? But this was the best plan he had right now so he had to roll with it even if his gut feeling was telling him it was a bad idea.
Bucky rapped his knuckles against (Y/N)’s door, sighing shakily as he awaited an answer.
"Go away,” (Y/N)’s voice was soft, full of insecurity.
"(Y/N), please just open up,“
"Are you here to rub two hundred dollars in my face?”
“No, I’m here to ask you on a date-”
“a date? Are you serious?”
“Please (Y/N), just open up so I can talk to you,”
“Why should I?”
“Please (Y/N),” Bucky rests his forehead against the cold wood door, sighing as he does. “I’m beggin’ ya doll,” Bucky could hear (Y/N) sigh softly and not a moment afterwards the door swung open, revealing a rather worn down looking (Y/N). Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, her hair was a mess, and the only piece of clothing around her body was an old robe. Even now Bucky found her stunning.
“Yeah,” Bucky nods, trying to tear his eyes away from (Y/N)’s gorgeous form.
“I’ve picked some stuff up and I’ve got something special planned for us,”
“Do I have to dress up?” Bucky smiles a bit, shaking his head as he does.
“Of course not, wear whatever you want,”
“…when do we leave?”
“Six,” (Y/N) sighs, resting her head against the doorframe. “I know I hurt you,” Bucky looks at his feet, shame flooding through his system. “It was stupid to even have the bet, I shouldn’t have done that to you and I’m so sorry (Y/N)-”
“It’s okay,” (Y/N) shrugs, “Guess it was the only way someone would ever want to date me-”
“No doll,” Bucky takes a step forward to hold her, just like he usually did when she was hurting but this time he stopped himself, deciding against it. “That’s not true,”
“that’s why you dated me, right? Had it not been for the bet you wouldn’t even be with me right now, would you?”
“I don’t- I don’t know doll,” Bucky sighs, looking down to his hands once again.
“Yeah…that’s what I thought,” Both of them fall silent for a bit, just staring at the ground, each one biting back their own words and feelings, too scared to share them at such a vulnerable moment. “I’ll be ready at 5:45,” (Y/N) finally speaks, their voice so quiet Bucky had to strain to hear it. “You can come pick me up then,” Bucky nods, sighing shakily as he does,
“Sounds good,” He gave (Y/N) a gentle smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually did. (Y/N) smiles back, mirroring his expression as she murmurs okay and gently closes the door, leaving Bucky all alone on their doorstep.
Well, she had said yes, that was a start.
As promised Bucky was there at 5:45, knocking on (Y/N)’s door gently. Immediately it swung open, revealing the girl herself and holy shit- she damn near took Bucky’s breath away. She wasn’t dressed in anything extravagant, just a simple floral dress, she didn’t even have a lick of makeup on and Bucky still thought she looked far more beautiful than any other woman he’d laid eyes on.
“You look amazing,” Bucky whispers, his eyes unashamedly raking over (Y/N)’s form. A slight blush rise to her cheeks, the same blush that made Bucky fall in love and suddenly he felt like he was on his first date all over again.
“Thank you,” (Y/N) whispers all shy and timidly, making Bucky’s heart flutter lightly.
“I uh- I’d ask to hold your hand but I think you’d break my hand if I did,” Bucky smiles sheepishly as he and (Y/N) make their way down the steps and out onto the open streets. Wordlessly (Y/N) clasps Bucky’s hand in her own, giving it a soft squeeze, a reassuring squeeze. Even when she was mad at him she could help but give into the affection, Bucky loved it. Bucky smiles happily as he guides (Y/N) along, his thumb smoothing circles into her skin as they walked along, venturing further and further away from civilization.
“Uh- you’re not taking me out here to murder me, are you?” (Y/N) chuckles nervously, looking at the abandoned streets and overpowering weeds in fear. “Of course not,” Bucky chuckles. “I’ve just got something special, that’s all,”
“Is it murder? I bet it’s murder,”
“It’s not murder,” Bucky chuckles a bit. “I promise,”
“Well, what’s in the box?” (Y/N) gestures to the small bag Bucky carried in his free hand. It was full of all the materials Peggy told him to bring, chocolate, wine, a good book all he needed was Starks facility and hopefully he was good to go…hopefully…
The place Peggy had given him the directions to was…run down to put it lightly. It was a crumbling buidling in some old lot, one that barely looked inhabitable but Bucky didnt doubt Peggy, never did and never would.
“This is the surprise?” (Y/N) asks in disbelief.
“It’s on the inside,” Bucky mutters, biting his lip as he took a few steps towards the building. He trusted Peggy, he trusted Peggy, he trusted Peggy, he trusted-
Bucky stops as he enters the building, his eyes roaming around the interior in shock. It was full of stars- not exaggerating. The entire interior was space, he could see all the planets, every star, every little speck of dust in the universe was in this room.
(Y/N) trails not too far behind, her eyes wide as she stepped in as well. If Bucky thought that was cool it became magnificent when suddenly the stars and planets began to move, orbiting as though they were actually in space.
“Bucky-” (Y/N)’s voice is quiet, full of surprise as she looks around. She trails off however as they reach out, touching a small star close to them. The thing moved to her hand, sitting there as though an actual fucking star was made to fit in her hand.
“You like stars, don’t'cha?” Bucky asks as he gently tugs (Y/N) along, to a small spot in the middle of the room. There was already a blanket there (Thanks Peggy) and Bucky sat down, pulling (Y/N) alongside him. She looked around in awe, her eyes twinkling in a way Bucky had never seen before. She looked so beatiful, so full I happiness and curiosity that Bucky wished he could just live in this moment forever, just to watch (Y/N) smiles the way she was smiling. “I also- uh- have some chocolate and wine,” Bucky pulls the two Items out, setting them down on the blanket for (Y/N) to take. “And I know you love poetry and love so-” Bucky chuckles as he pulls out some poetry book he had found at the store. It was chuck full of cheesy romance poems and he knew (Y/N) would simply eat up.
“You did all this for me?” (Y/N) asks softly, her eyes brimming with tears as she looks at Bucky. Bucky nods, smiling at her so sweetly and so lovingly he was surprised he didn’t develop diabetes.
“Yeah I did, with a little help from some friends,” (Y/N) smiles, her eyes watering even more as she pounces forward, wrapping Bucky up In a warm, tight hug.
“Thank you so much,” She whispers as she nuzzles into his neck, breathing in deeply.
Bucky wraps his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, sighing softly as he finally- finally held her. It felt so good to have her back in his arms, it had only been a few days but even that had been too much for him.
“Anything for you doll,” Bucky whispers as he kisses the tip of (Y/N)’s ear, a small action that she loved dearly. “I’m so sorry about the bet, I promise you mean so much more to me than some stupid money. The thought of hurting you the way I did makes me sick, I don’t want you to ever think I don’t love you, because I do, I love you so fucking much (Y/N) and I wish I had told you sooner,” Bucky rants as he rubs his nose against (Y/N)’s pulse point, her heartbeat soothing him slightly.
“I love you too Bucky,” (Y/N) smiles at Bucky, her cheeks now wet with tears. “I love you so much,” Without any hesitation she leans forward, connection her lips with Bucky’s.
It felt so good to be kissing her, to be able to feel her and hold her, it felt so amazing to know that she knew that he loved her, what was even better was knowing she loved him back. Bucky and (Y/N) loved each other, that’s all that mattered.
Bucky pulls (Y/N) a little closer, kisses her a little deeper, a little more passionately, a little more sensually-
“As cute as this moment is,” Howard Stark’s voice blares through the room, breaking the two lovers apart. “I’d like to remind you two not to have sex inside here, I don’t need your bodily fluids all over my experiment, thanks,”
❛❛we’re next-door neighbors and have hated each other since middle school but now we’re going to the same university how can we avoid the other person like the plague so there isn’t a crime scene— what do you mean you promised my mom you would keep an eye on me???? you fucking planned this❜❜ AU
COUNT → 17.686
GENRE → smut | eventual angst
PAIRING → jungkook | reader
WARNINGS → dom and sub tones | spanking mention | mild cum play | explicit language | male and female masturbation | penetration | erotica mention | public sex | restraints | dry humping | graphic dirty talk
The second the
timer on the drying machine went off to alert you of your shirt finally
being dry enough to wear, the band from its neckline snapped against your
shoulders when you slipped it back on. You pulled some of the cotton material
to your nose, trying to see if it still even faintly smelled like beer.
underwear which just smelled like cum and farts.
The farts courtesy
of Jungkook. Well, you didn’t know if he actually farted, but he just
naturally smelled like that to you—like old beans and moldy cheese.
You’d spent the
past two hours in the laundry room in nothing but a bra and your loose-fitted
skirt. It still hadn’t hit you yet—at least not entirely—that you had let your
next-door neighbor spank and bone the living shit out of you. That was
something you were going to put on your list of
stupid-things-you’ve-done-but-did-anyway-for-some-reason. Maybe his mother
could relate after giving birth to him. You were pretty sure she found him just
as annoying as you.
But then everyone
else thought rainbows shined out of his ass.
“I must say, your wife is pretty good in bed too, my dear friend.”
Frozen, you stared at your husband’s smirking face. Did he feel the same way when he found out that his wife and his best friend have a relationship they shouldn’t actually have? Was he also disappointed in you like you were in him right now?
The second you felt Jimin lunging forward towards Taehyung, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, turned him to yourself and whispered. “Don’t..”
Looking into his angry eyes, you tried to ignore what your husband was saying and focused on calming Jimin down by stroking his cheeks gently.
Taehyung, on the other hand, was enjoying the way he was irking Jimin with his stinging words. “What’s wrong, Jimin? Are you angry? You feel uncomfortable, right? Now imagine how I felt whenever I saw my own wife stepping into the hotel room with a smile plastered on her face! Imagine how I felt when I knew that my best friend’s hands were touching my wife’s body!”
Jimin started taking deep breaths and closed his eyes, trying to control his anger. You placed your hands on his ears and leaned your forehead on his. “Don’t listen to him.. Please, let’s just go from here..”
Hearing Taehyung’s voice again, you copied the way Jimin closed his eyes and tried to think about something else.
“Oh, and Y/N. My dear wife. Let me break it to you. I never loved you. Everything was fake, you know. I never wanted to marry you. But you see, money controls everything in this world. And marrying you just happened to be the perfect opportunity to get a hold of that money-”
Just before Taehyung could end his sentence, Jimin yanked your hands away and lunged forward to him, punching his face countlessly without taking a breath.
A loud shriek left your mouth and with that, you felt a sharp pain in your belly. Bending forward a little bit, you placed your hand on the spot that hurt uncontrollably and gasped loudly when you felt something dripping down your thighs.
The moment you realized what it was, you started sobbing loudly. “J-Jimin!”
Not hearing your shaky voice, Jimin still punched your husband in the face. “J-Jimin, the baby! B-Blood!”
When Jimin heard your shrieking, he turned his head towards you and found you sitting on the ground, hands shaking uncontrollably.
Letting go of his best friend, he run towards you and looked at your bloody hands. “Y-Y/N what’s wrong?! Y/N?!”
Taehyung, on the other hand, stood there frozen with his bruised face, trying to understand what you were saying. “B-Baby? W-What do you mea- H-How?”
Jimin cupped your cheeks with his now bloody hands. “No! Y/N, open your eyes! No! Y/N, please, open your eyes!”
Turning his head to Taehyung, he yelled desperately at him. “Call the ambulance! Do something, damn it!”
Still shocked, Taehyung mumbled to himself. “This can’t be right, this can’t be right. The doctor said- H-How?!”
An All-Inclusive Guide to Making Your First Year in Practice Not Suck As Much As Wayfaring’s
Hi there, just curious if you’d share what things you were looking for in your first job vs what things you value now, now that you’ve been working out there on your own. Anything that must be in the contract that wasn’t there before (or vice versa)? Tips for future graduating residents?
Yaaaaasssss so many advices. So many things. This ask has been in my inbox for months because I have too many things to say about it and I can’t seem to organize it properly.
Let’s break it down into 3 sections: 1) What I thought I wanted 2) What I needed and didn’t know to ask/look for 3) What I want now. Here goes.
What I thought I wanted:
super sweet signing bonus
loan repayment assistance
regular 40 hour work schedule
independence / autonomy in decisionmaking
ability to practice the way I was trained - with up to date guidelines and procedures and equipment
What I wanted and didn’t know to ask for:
Supportive colleagues - In your first year of practice out of residency you lose every ounce of confidence that you gained as a senior resident. You question minor decisions and are constantly afraid of killing people or being sued. It is extra hard to practice in a new town when your partners in practice are not supportive. Sometimes you need someone to lay a fresh set of eyes on a wonky EKG or a weird rash, you know? I didn’t have that option. It made me study harder and somewhat be more cautious and definitely more creative in my practice. But having a colleague to commiserate with at the end of the day or to consult on difficult cases would have been really nice. You don’t have to be BFFs with your colleagues, but they have to be people you can agree/get along with and trust to take care of your patients in your absence.
Friends - This sounds obvious, but I moved to a new town that literally has no people anywhere close to my age. Even having one person I knew and could confide in would have been wonderful. One person to go to a movie with or watch a football game with would have been a sanity saver for me. Find a place where you can find other people like you.
A reasonable amount of time off - I got less time off in my first job than I did as a resident. That was unacceptable to me. This would be fine if my practice didn’t act like they were going to go bankrupt if I took an unpaid day or even a half day to go to the doctor, but they did. You need a place where you can take one week off every 3-4 months if possible, even if all that time isn’t paid. Medicine is such a stressful job. Make sure they’re giving you rest time.
A non-toxic work environment - I knew going into my job that I was replacing a workaholic and that I was joining a workaholic. What I didn’t realize was that I was also expected to be a workaholic and anything less than killing myself was seen as laziness. Pay attention to the culture at your new job. Ask the docs what they do for fun or to relax and more importantly when the last time was they did that thing. If they don’t have any answers, they’re too busy.
Diversity. This may just be me, but I went into family medicine because I get bored easily. I need variety of patient types and disease types and socioeconomic groups and everything else. I realized quickly in my practice that most of my patients were privately insured elderly white people. As in, the most boring demographic for Wayfaring.
A Balanced schedule. I figured that when I joined a practice that had been established for 30 years that the workflow kinks would have been worked out and it would run like a well oiled machine. In reality I would have 8 physicals a day and 5 of my most complicated patients in hospital follow ups back to back, all scheduled for just 15 minutes. There has to be balance in the schedule. You have to be able to take a little extra time here and make it up elsewhere.
What I want now:
fair dolla$$$. In actuality, what’s fair is actually considerably more than what I was making in my first job. I was grossly underpaid, particularly considering this being a rural area where nobody wants to work (typically those jobs are paid much higher). It’s not about the bottom dollar value for me. It’s about compensating me in a way that is comparable to my peers.
Colleagues who can be both friends and mentors. See above.
Good benefits. Two years of no dental or vision sucks when your most expensive problems are dental and vision related. Life insurance and retirement plans aren’t something most 30 year olds think of, but they’re really important, and I didn’t have those to start with.
A flexible schedule. The whole world doesn’t need to fall apart if I need to switch my regular day off or if I need a half day to go to the doctor.
Administrative time. Preferably a full week day, but a half day is great too. I’m happy working 4 10 or 12 hour days a week to have one week day off to catch up on work I’m behind on or get my hair cut and get my taxes done and see my psychiatrist, you know?
Knowledgeable and helpful staff. I need staff who don’t perpetuate old wives’ tales and notions like “you need a zpack for that cold”. I need to work with people who will ask if they don’t understand something rather than just make something up and who can help me educate my patients. I need folks who are prompt and who can anticipate some needs.
To not be responsible for other peoples’ paychecks. In private practice, if I take time off or scale back, the practice loses money and thus our staff lose hours or money too. The staff in my first job were horribly underpaid and I don’t like the idea of the entire burden of the practice’s finances hanging on my shoulders. Sign me up for that hospital-owned practice, please.
To not have to turn patients away based on payer source. This is a national problem and is definitely not limited to my first job. But my first job wouldn’t let me take Medicaid patients at all. It made it completely impossible for me to build any sort of pediatric or OB practice in our town. I don’t like the idea of turning away a patient because their type of insurance doesn’t pay as well. I want to just treat patients and not have to worry about their payments. Hello, single payer healthcare system. Get on it! Obviously I will still have to worry about whether my patient can afford their meds or whether their insurance will cover their meds, but I won’t have to pick and choose what patients I accept based on their payer source.
To deliver quality, up to date care. To work with people who will back up my evidence-based decisions and not practice based on feelings and patient satisfaction. To work with people who will encourage me to learn more and do new things.
There you have it folks. A lil summary of what I want, what you might want, and what I’ve learned in these first (almost) 2 years of practice. Here’s to better future jobs for us all!
When Ngozi posted this picture yesterday of young post-draft Tater “trying his darnedest to answer press questions in English,” I thought, “You know, I could make a play fic out of that.” Which is what led to the following 2700+ words about Tater and his ESL tutor.
Many, many thanks to @ktheunready for being my Russian authenticity consultant and beta!
Georgia Martin stood at the back of the media scrum and
watched Alexei Mashkov stumble his way through his post-draft interview, saw
the way his fingers kneaded the brim of the brand-new Falconers’ cap he’d been
handed for the initial official photos, saw the way his eyes widened and stayed
intently glued to whoever was asking him a question, like he was afraid he’d
miss some key bit of meaning if he blinked.
She pulled out her phone and made a call.
«No, Mama, I promise, my room is very nice. The family is
very nice. Everything is very…»
me guess, nice? »
Alexei sighed. «Yes.»
«You know I don’t doubt you, right, Alyosha? I’m not worried
you can’t do this. You will be fine.
But I know this is your first time to live in another country, with none of the
boys from your teams here. It can be… hard, sometimes. I know.»
«Yeah, Mama, I know. You told me.»
«Are you telling me you’ve heard the stories of my youth too
many times?» she asked in mock outrage.
«No, no!» he laughed. «Of course not.»
«Good. I should think not.» He could picture her face
exactly, and it made him smile. «I’m glad your host family seems nice, Alyosha.
I’m sure you will have many friends in no time.»
He flopped back on the bed again and stared at the ceiling. «I
«We’ll talk again soon. Love you, son.»
«Love you, too.»
He hung up and let his phone rest on his chest. He’d been to
America before. He’d thought he’d known what it would be like, that it wouldn’t
be so bad. Different, yes, but there would be so many interesting new things to
see, and new teammates, and he certainly knew how to play hockey. What he had
failed to take into account, apparently, was how exhausting it was to try to function in English all day. For a US
hockey team, the Falconers’ roster was shockingly low on Russian players, so
his host family was one of the French Canadian ones. To their credit, they did
speak some Russian, but it was hardly
enough to have a real conversation. Alexei felt like he’d been practically mute
Still no answer. You didn’t care that an old lady walking behind you gave you a very dirty look before shuffling down the corridor to her own apartment. It was only the manners instilled by your parents that stopped you from shooting daggers right back at her.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“JEON JUNGKOOK! Open the fucking door right now or I -”
Your shouts as well as your fist froze in mid-air when the door whipped open to reveal the man whose name you’d been yelling at the top of your lungs.
“Why the hell are you banging my door down?” Jungkook’s frown and his tone told you that he was irritated, which fueled your anger even more. He had no right to be annoyed at you after the shit he had put you through today.
“Why weren’t you at work?” You managed to lower your volume now that there wasn’t a door separating the two of you, but you made sure that he knew how angry you were.
“I took a day off, but I’m sure you could have gotten that information from the HR.”
His flippant answer didn’t impress you one bit. “You know that isn’t what I’m talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about?” The question came out sounding incredulous, but you didn’t miss the uncomfortable shuffling of the guilty man. He knew what you were talking about. Before you could point it out, however, a high-pitched woman’s voice called from inside his apartment.
“Who’s at the door, babe? Come back to bed, I can’t wait anymore!”
Everything felt like it was playing out and slow-motion and all you were doing was twirling the flowers in your hand. You were nauseated and your mind was racing with every possible scenario. You knew that Yoongi couldn’t have a squeaky clean record. Especially with his attitude and the way he talked to you sometimes. For some reason you still loved him, despite that.
aka, what could have happened if Chase’s minions had been so kind as to hold off on their kidnapping spree an extra 24 hours
for my friends on twitter who told me I should write this and know I can’t say no to them :)
psa: this is unbeta-ed and it’s past my bedtime, so read at your own risk of grammatical errors lol
Felicity opened her refrigerator in search of the leftover
takeout she could’ve sworn was still in there somewhere. To her dismay, all she
was greeted with was mostly empty shelves. She was not a big grocery shopping
person to begin with, and with everything they had been dealing with over the
past couple of weeks, she couldn’t remember the last time she pushed a cart
through those fluorescent lit aisles.
“How did Oliver manage to be the Green Arrow and keep our
refrigerator stocked,” she muttered to herself as she checked a container of
yogurt to discover it had expired months ago.
Her eyes caught the box from Oliver’s party the night before
and she slid it out, remembering that there had been a few leftover slices of
cake. They were on summer break after all, so cake was an acceptable dinner…
She was debating eating it straight from the box versus
preserving some of her dignity and getting a plate when she remembered that she
didn’t have to spend her evening sitting at her counter eating cake alone.
Setting the box down and reaching for her phone, she hit her
first number on speed dial and waited while it rang. Which wasn’t a long wait
since he picked up before the first ring had finished.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes… Am I only allowed to call when I’m in danger?” she
There was a pause. “Well, no I just—“
“Do you want to come over tonight?” She needed to get the
words out before he gave her enough time to talk herself out of it. She could
practically see his eyebrow rise in that way it did when she said something
that could have multiple interpretations and she hastily added, “There’s just
leftover birthday cake and I was about to eat it but I realized that you should
probably get dibs on it since it was for your birthday.” And also, I just really want to see you. “I promise this isn’t a
ruse. But if you’re busy I understand and—”
“No,” he interrupted her. “No I’m not busy. I’m just
finishing up at City Hall and then I can be right over.”
The corners of her mouth flicked up in a small smile at the eagerness
he was trying so hard and yet failing to hide in his voice.
It’s the first thing Y/n wakes up to, Savannah’s outraged voice echoing along the walls of Y/n’s bedroom.
Y/n groans, squinting her eyes open at the sudden movement of her bed shaking wildly.
Savannah’s pulling the stranger out of Y/n’s bed, her merciless hands continuously pushing him out the bedroom door. He’s half awake, his slumberous daze making him scramble as he attempts to throw his clothes back on.
“Fuckin’ Jesus” the unknown man grumbles, his eyes still half closed from the immense amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night.
Savannah remains relentless, despite his attempt to get fully dressed. He even falls at one point, when he hops on one foot to get his leg through his jeans, but she doesn’t stop for a second.
“You, get out of here!” she demands, her hand giving him one last shove out the door before she slams it shut.
Y/n groans again, her sensitivity to anything other than complete darkness and silence making her throw the duvets over her head and bury her face in her pillow. She’s well aware that she has to embrace the very few seconds she has of total peace and quiet before Savannah begins to lecture her for the irresponsibility she just walked into.
She’s only able to reunite with darkness for a split second before Savannah pulls the covers completely off of her, bringing her back into the horrifying sunlight.
Y/n falls off the bed, letting out a groan as her still slightly intoxicated body makes contact with the wooden floor. Her hungover state is making it nearly impossible to figure out the chaos unraveling in the room; all she can really understand is the pounding in her head and the burning in her eyes every time she exposes them from their lids.
She rolls over onto her back, huffing as her fingers dig into her eyelids. She coughs, her abrupt movements making her stomach flip with every turn she makes. She’s given no time to recover before Savannah rips her arms away from her face, gripping onto her wrists as she pulls Y/n off of the floor.
“What the fuck is going on here, Y/n?!” Savannah yells, eyes glaring at Y/n’s very, very hungover stance.
Y/n nearly trips over her own two feet as she attempts to balance herself after Savannah harshly pulled her up from her collapsed figure. If she had the capability to answer back, she would have, but she’s still fucked up from last night and can barely stomach the sunlight seeping in from the curtains.
“Is this what you’ve been up to?!” Savannah spits, angry laughter tying into her words, “Is this the kind of shit you’ve been doing while cutting everyone off?! Sleeping with random guys?!”
The last thing Savannah expected to see was Y/n in bed with a half-naked man and empty bottles of alcohol scattered across her bedroom floor. It was extremely rare for Y/n to carelessly consume alcohol and have consistent one night stands. Savannah’s witnessed her go through these phases only a handful of times throughout their friendship, all of which stemmed from Y/n’s toxic intolerance of being alone.
She should have seen this coming, though. After finding out she’s been in a relationship with someone Y/n was in love with, the first thing she should have done was check up on her. But there was so much fear holding her back, so much guilt preventing her from confronting her about it.
She wouldn’t know exactly what to say, or how to say it, without making it sound like she was the shittiest friend in the world. She had a feeling Y/n had feelings for Harry, considering she had mentioned him a plethora of times once she met him.
And Savannah still took it upon herself to date Harry, for her own selfish reasons. She never thought that it was the potential reason Y/n was so distant. That thought was the last one in the back of her head, completely throwing her off guard when she found out.
She’s tried to reach out to her multiple times, only to be deliberately ignored and shut down. After a while, she figured all Y/n wanted was space, so she stopped trying for a couple days.
But nothing stopped Harry. He’d spend hours knocking on her front door, on his knees, begging for her to speak to him. He’d call her when he wasn’t near her, because he had driven himself crazy knowing he never told Y/n what he needed to tell her so urgently.
Y/n knew—she knew just how much effort he was putting into seeing her again. She heard him, every day, through her front door, but she never knew what to do. The constant fear that Harry didn’t feel the same way back was all the convincing she needed to never speak to him again.
There’s only so much her heart could break, and she didn’t know how many more times it could before she finally snapped.
Y/n grips her head as she squints her eyes shut, hissing at the throbbing in her head when Savannah’s voice booms throughout the room. The overwhelming migraine taking over Y/n’s head practically forces her to sit on the edge of her bed, the palm of her hands still digging into her eyes.
“Not cutting anyone off,” Y/n mumbles, grumbling when she opens her eyes properly to look at Savannah, “I’m just adjusting.”
It isn’t a lie. Her intention wasn’t to ignore them, not at all. But as time went on, the more her emotions started becoming fragile; one wrong sight would have made her break.
And as stupid as it sounds, having sex was the only time she felt wanted after Harry and Savannah started dating. Even if it was in a drunken state, even if it was just purely for physical pleasure, the hours spent with random men were the only moments she felt purpose.
It was also her biggest distraction. Having one night stands was her emotional outlet, her way of letting out all of her emotions without actually doing so. It sure as hell was better than being alone—anything was.
Savannah sighs, shaking her head softly as she kneels eye level to her. She’d never seen her like this before, so lost and broken. She would have lectured her further if she wanted to because she had every right to smack some sense into her. But after all this time, after all the pain she could only imagine Y/n going through, could she really do that to her? Could she really blame her for doing this to herself?
“Y/n,” she rubs her legs, “I have been the shittiest, most horrible friend to you. I was so selfish and so inconsiderate, and I don’t blame you for not speaking to me these past couple days. But, Y/n, this—” her hands gesture around the horrendous state of her bedroom, “this isn’t adjusting. Having drunk sex isn’t going to rid your feelings for Harry. You’re suppressing your emotions, you’re running away. That’s what you’re doing.”
Y/n’s lips begin to quiver as her eyes well with tears; the first time she’s truly cried since the night she saw Harry at Lexi’s. Savannah feels somewhat relieved when she sees the tears falling from Y/n’s eyes. It isn’t a familiar sight to see, but it shows her that she’s actually accepting what she’s been hiding all along.
“You have to talk to me. I don’t care if you yell at me, Y/n. I don’t care what you do to me, but you have to talk to me. You have to show me something. I can’t be hearing about your feelings from Harry, that’s not fair for anyone.”
“What was I supposed to say?” Y/n whispers, her words breaking beneath cries she so desperately wishes she could stop.
But there’s no going back now. The alcohol is still running in her system and she’s reacting instinctively. There is nothing holding her back, not now.
“How was I supposed to tell him that I was in love with him when I knew he didn’t feel the same way? And how was I supposed to tell you anything about him when I knew this would end up happening anyways?! And what was I supposed to say to the both of you when you both decided to take it upon yourselves to flirt in front of me?!”
By now, Y/n’s blood is starting to boil. The words coming out of her mouth are laced with venom, her sudden shift in mood making Savannah swallow thickly. But everything in her is operating a million miles an hour, her words coming out faster than her brain can register. She doesn’t even remember standing up from the bed while she paces around her bedroom, empty bottles rolling around the wooden floor.
“Because no matter what I would have done, it would have ended the same! The way it always does, Savannah! The way it always ends with you getting what I want, even if I want it more—“
“Even if I need it! You still get it!”
The harshness in her voice is replaced by violent cries, her words drowned in uncontrollable sobs.
The pain is all over. Everything she’s attempted to numb is now all hitting her at once. All the loneliness, all the anger, all the hurt she’s been burying is now reaching the surface. She can barely breathe, all of the emotions suffocating her, squeezing against her throat.
Savannah is quick to embrace her shaken body, shushing her as her hands rub up and down her back.
A part of her always knew she was the reason Y/n’s love life was barely existent. Although Y/n never admitted it, she drops hints at it every so often. She did notice how all of Y/n’s high school crushes ended up liking her instead, and did notice how whenever Y/n tried to date, she would barely mention them to her. It was as if she was hiding them from her, completely intimidated that Savannah would take away her only chance at a relationship.
And Savannah can’t shake the horrible feeling she has when Y/n admits all of it to her.
Y/n buries her face in her shoulder, her tears soaking through her t-shirt. She wishes she could hold a grudge against Savannah, but she doesn’t have the heart to blame her for anything that’s happened. Everything is because of Y/n, everything happening is because of her fear of emotions and every bit of her has no one else to blame.
“I need him.” Y/n sobs into her shoulder, her hands tugging at the ends of her shirt for some sort of release.
“I need him so much. And I hate it—I hate that I do so m—much.”
“Oh, Y/n.” Savannah kisses her temple, holding her higher against her.
She knows how much Y/n needs him, and knows now more than ever. She was her happiest when she first met him, she was almost an entirely different person. But now, after everything that’s happened, Savannah has never seen her more of a wreck than she is in this moment.
“Let’s sit you down, you need to breathe.”
Y/n whimpers as she’s placed back on the bed, Savannah reminding her to breathe every couple of seconds. She looks at Y/n with sadness in her eyes, comforting her whenever she needs it most.
“He needs you, too, you know.” Savannah sighs, shaking her head as she takes Y/n’s fidgeting hands into hers.
“I never noticed it until you distanced yourself from us. He didn’t open up to me the way he should have, never talked to me the way he had with you. When I asked him about it—asked him why he wasn’t communicating with me properly, he always mentioned you.”
Y/n flutters her eyes shut, pursing her lips with the slight possibility that Harry may actually feel the same way towards her. There was always a part of her that fully believed the only reason he’s tried so hard to reach her was because he felt guilty for hurting her so much.
But knowing that there’s a chance in Harry reciprocating feelings gives Y/n an overwhelming sensation she’s ever experienced before. It’s the first time in a while there’s a particular type of warmth in her chest, and she swears she begins to tear up from the bit of happiness she’s been missing.
“He would tell me that you were the only one he truly felt comfortable around. Even confessed you were the only one he’d ever be able to talk to, even if we were in a relationship. He was going absolutely mental.”
Savannah sweeps the pad of her thumb under Y/n’s eye, catching the few extra tears that are overflowing. She smiles weakly at her in reassurance, raking her knotted hair between her fingers.
“No matter how much he claimed to like me, he loved you. He’ll always love you. And even when he was completely oblivious, I know now that, deep down, he was always yours. He was never really mine, no matter how much we all thought differently.”
Y/n nods slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips when she hears Savannah’s words. It’s the first sense of hope she’s felt in a while, and it almost completely rids the pain. Almost.
“I’m sorry for ruining your relationship, though. I kind of feel like this is all my fault.”
Savannah laughs softly, finding it almost completely unbelievable that Y/n always finds a way to apologize, even when things aren’t her fault.
“Are you serious, Y/n? Nobody, including me, can love that man half as much as you do. I ruined your relationship. You barely had anything to ruin.”
She runs her hands through Y/n’s hair one last time before patting her shoulder, a smirk growing on her face as she stands up from her kneeling position.
“Now, up you go. I believe you have to talk to someone who’s been dying to see you.”
It’s when Y/n is about to walk out of her door, freshly showered with a new change of clothes, ready to face Harry when she realizes she never said it.
She never fully told Harry she loves him, not when he was conscious, at least. She had felt it for so long, it has taken over her for so long, yet she never told him how she felt. It almost makes her wonder if it’s the reason why he’s been trying so hard for her.
He needs to hear her say it.
“It’s not hard.” She mumbles to herself as she unlocks her front door.
“Not hard, I just have to fucking sa—”
“Y/n!” Harry breathes out, springing from his position on the ground up to his feet.
He twitches when he instinctively brings his hand up to reach for her, but he holds himself back. He isn’t quite sure how far he’ll allow her to go, but if it were up to him, every part of her would be against him. Every single part.
She sucks in a breath, not expecting to see him waiting on her doorstep, and certainly not expecting him to seem so relieved to see her.
“H—Harry,” she whispers hesitantly, “what are you—“
“I’m sorry!” He stutters, interrupting her before she has a chance to finish asking her question.
“I know how inappropriate it is of me to just sit on your doorstep so unexpectedly but I knew Savannah was coming and I thought that maybe this would be the only time I’d get to see you and I was going to come in but some guy came running out of here and I didn’t want to get in between your time with Savannah so I just figured I’d wait until you came back out but I wasn’t sure if you ever would so I just figured I'd—“
He stops rambling when he feels Y/n’s hand on his cheek, her eyes looking at him with so much tenderness he swears his heart melts.
“Catch your breath, Harry.” She mumbles, rubbing her thumb along his cheek, “Just take a breath.”
He inhales sharply as he closes his eyes, turning his head so that her hand is against his lips. He kisses her palm softly before she moves it to play with his unbrushed hair.
His eyes flutter shut at her touch, his body almost completely melting into her. He feels his weakest now more than ever, and he’s never been more relieved to be this close to her again.
“Who was he, Y/n?” he whispers.
“The guy, who ran out of here, who was he?“
As much of a coward as it makes him, the thought of her in bed with someone else physically and mentally pains him more so than he’s ever expected. His head swims with thoughts of her naked, trembling, crying as she devotes her love to some other man, and the more he thinks about it, the more sick his stomach feels.
“Have I been trying for nothing? Have I been wasting my time?”
How could you ever doubt my love for you? is the first thought that comes to her. How could you ever question how much I love you?
Instead of saying the words right at the tip of her tongue, her eyes crease inward, slightly shaking her head as she scrapes her fingertips delicately against his scalp.
“I don’t know, Harry.” she whispers honestly, “I don’t know who he is.”
He nods softly, but nothing in her answer reassures him. He knows there is no other explanation for a guy to run out of her house at nine in the morning without a shirt on.
“May I come in? Wanna talk.” He asks tentatively.
“Of course you can.”
Silence falls between them as they both claim spots on opposite sides of the room.
There’s a tension in the room they both can’t seem to shake, an unaddressed barrier between them making it nearly impossible to find an appropriate way to start a conversation.
Harry’s the first one to break the silence, however, after a few minutes past of each of them refusing to make any eye contact with each other.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
The question caught Y/n’s attention quickly, her head that was once resting in the palm of her hand now up on its own, a small “hm?” parting past her lips.
She’s acting dumb even though she knows exactly what he’s talking about. She just isn’t prepared to answer him, not in the way he wants her to.
“That you’re in love with me. Were you ever going to tell me?”
She shrugs, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she tears her gaze away from his. She isn’t used to confrontation, especially when it involves her emotions. It’s one of her weaknesses, but there’s absolutely no way around this one. Even if there was, she wouldn’t have the audacity to take it. He deserves to know—everything this time.
“I told you before.”
Harry’s jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as he looks at her from across the room. No, he may have been oblivious about her feelings in the beginning, but he sure as hell would never have forgotten it if she told him how she felt.
“Bullshit!” He scoffs. “You didn’t tell me shit! We wouldn’t be here right now if you had told me!”
She sighs, her cheek laying right back down in the palm of her hand, almost as if shying away from him.
“Well, it’s just—you were sleeping.”
Harry stands from his place on the couch, face scrunching in aggravation as his hands rub up and down his face.
“You’re kidding me, right? You have to be fucking kidding me right now!”
His fingers harshly grip the roots of his hair before stomping is way towards her. If he doesn’t get any answers out of her, he swears he’ll lose his goddamn mind.
His hands grip the sides of her face, squeezing her jaw between his hands as he looks at her bewildered.
“I need answers, Y/n. I don’t think you understand how many fucking answers I need right now.”
He speaks through clenched teeth and a tightened jaw, frustration boiling in his blood as she gives him the outright most ambiguous and outrageous answers he’s ever heard in his life.
Y/n places her hands on top of his, her fingernails digging gently into his skin. Despite the harshness of his stare, this is the first time she’s seen him in weeks, and she still finds him to be the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.
“It was the night after I drove you back from Lexi’s, when you and Savannah were kind of going through that rough patch.”
He falls to his knees in between her legs, an almost unnoticeable smile tugging at his lips from the memories of that night. Because although Savannah had left him by himself, he had a night with Y/n that changed him forever.
"You fell asleep on me, after you told me you were still going to fight for her. That was probably one of the worst things you could have said to me, but you didn’t know, and I was angry at myself for not telling you sooner. I didn’t know how else to tell you unless you were—you were sleeping.”
His hand reaches up to her lips, his thumb tracing along the outlines of her mouth once she’s done speaking. No matter how much she confuses him, and no matter how fucking angry she makes him, he wouldn’t want to be staring at anybody else right now.
“I loved you then, too” he whispers, “I didn’t know it. I didn’t know anything until you left me. I knew you meant everything to me, I knew you were the only one I trusted so deeply. But the second I lost you, I felt empty.”
He presses his forehead against her collar bones, her heart beating quickly against his neck. She sighs, her fingers intertwining with his against her lap as her hips slide more towards the edge, her knees supporting the sides of his chest.
“Didn’t matter that I had Savannah. She was lovely, don’t get me wrong, but she wasn’t you. I tried so hard to make myself believe I was just missing you as a friend, but there was nothing that convinced me.”
His tearful eyes looked into hers, both chuckling slightly at their current state. They’re both crying, both their hearts racing in their chests. If someone were to tell them now that there’s a feeling even remotely close to how beautiful they feel now, together, they wouldn’t have believed it for a second.
Y/n wipes away the loose tears on his cheeks while she sniffles, giggling softly at how stupid they probably look.
“I’ve always loved you, Harry,” she whispers, “there’ll never be a time that I stop. No matter how hard I try, my love for you is stronger.”
It’s when the words fall from her lips that Harry realizes all he needed was for her to hear her say it. Her voice is so sweet as she says it, too, and her eyes leave no trace out doubt when she looks into him.
He tries to hold back the irresistible urge to kiss her, but it’s completely impossible. His lips press feverishly against hers, both of them releasing moans at just how right it feels to be kissing one another. Their kiss isn’t the slightest bit romantic. It’s harsh, it’s desperate, it’s messy but it’s just what they need.
Harry crawls on top of her, his hands on every part of her they can touch. He groans when he feels her nails scratch down his back, leaving her giggling underneath him.
“Mine.” He growls, his thumb putting pressure right underneath her chin.
He admires her face, the glorious look of her swollen lips, wet eyes, and pink cheeks. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. A soft whimper leaves her lips, craving nothing more than to feel his lips against hers again.
“These lips are mine. All of you—all of you is mine. No other fucking wanker gets you the way I do.”
She smirks, her eyes half-lidded.
“‘m not allowed to sleep with random guys but you’re allowed to fuck my best friend?”
He presses his lips against her again, his hands brushing loose strands of hair away from her face as he does so.
“Never fucked her,” He mumbles against her lips, “couldn’t get you off my mind.”
Y/n rolls over so that she’s on top of Harry, her legs on either side of his waist as her hands roam his chest through his t-shirt. He looks priceless like this, weak and breathless underneath her as her hands grip the sides of his face.
“The prettiest man I’ve ever seen.”
He blushes, his bottom lip in between his teeth as he sends her the biggest grin she’s ever seen on him. His eyes are full of love, too, and Y/n swears every breath she had the chance to take has been knocked right out of her.
“Nobody makes me feel the way you do, Y/n. Nobody.”
I was doing you a favor by playing the long game...
I too was playing yet another long game by holding on to this for so long.
SO I had read earlier today the owner of a previous job of mine passed away. This was a place that tried to screw me pretty hard and I took some pro revenge on. It drug up some angry old feelings, so why not take an equal dose of catharsis?
WARNING: This is a doozy so strap in if you dare, no TL;DR it wouldn’t do justice.
So this takes place almost a decade ago. I was working as a department manager for a fairly large privately owned pest control company. Their color scheme was black and yellow, much like the taxi’s the owner’s dad used to drive. Since the taxi industry would be around for ever(hello Uber/Lyft) so would this pest control company, (this is important later) or so the owner used to parrot constantly. My job was to over see the techs doing treatments and set their stops and generally manage assorted insect control services, inventory, payroll for that dept, etc etc. I had taken the job from the owners son who took it from the previous manager who they demoted and yet stayed in the dept…this is important later. The owners son was a late 30’s early 40’s man child. I mean if he had dialed it back a few degrees he would have been an awesome guy, but anytime booze was involved he was a mess. If it was weed, he turned into the stereo typical obnoxious stoner making nothing but bad Jamaican accented jokes. He also hit on anything younger than him that moved…while being married w a pregnant wife. But I digress, the owner was a piece of work too, old Jewish guy who was as racist as he was old, not with any kind of seething hatred. Just a “this is the way it is” type attitude. My fave line of his, “The sky is blue, Ch#@ks know math, N@&ers are lazy, Jews know gold. What else is new” Like it was the most clever thing of all time. Finally now on to the revenge and need for such.
Hi! Could you write something about soulmates. Like Betty having an abusive boyfriend and all the bruises and cuts show up on Jughead. And there is soulmates in the world so it's not unusual, but Jughead keeps getting injuries from Betty and starts writing on his arm to her and she rights back to him and can you continue this please thank you.
I lovveee these soulmate aus!
“Dude what the hell is that?”
Jughead looked up, confused by the sharp and disgruntled tone of his red headed best friend.
“What’s what?” He raised a confused brow, his eyes scanning his surroundings, searching for something off.
Archie reached for him, pulling Jugheads tanned arm up and into the air, shoving his wrist into his face
“This! Dude if your dad is beating on you again, you can tell me. You know you’re always welcome back at my place, my dad…”
Archie’s voice faded away as Jughead stared at the dark purple and blue bruises littering his arm, fingerprints left nasty circle shapes and some were faded and yellow, they’d clearly been there for a long time. How was that possible? There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed them and he couldn’t remember banging into someone , not to mention he was absolutely positive no one had left those marks on his body, it really wasn’t possible, unless..
“They’re not mine” he whispered, more to himself than anything, his eyes still glued to his arm.
“What are you talking about? Of course they’re yours, bruises don’t just show up, I mean it’s not like.. oh…” Archie trailed off finally understanding
It was Jugheads soulmate.
In life when you’re looking for the one you’re meant to be with, pieces of them become pieces of you. It happens suddenly but there’s no way to know when you’ll meet them. It had happened with Archie last year one day the football player came to school, his lips bright red and clearly made up, Jughead had nearly wet himself, he had laughed so hard as the boy desperately wiped at his mouth, smearing lipstick down his arm.
“It’s my soulmate! Clearly she likes wearing stupid ass lipstick”
Two days later he had met Veronica Lodge at the Riverdale mall, pearls on her neck and deep purple lipstick on her lips plus the addition of two thick black smudges under her eyes, eerily similar to the eye chalk Archie wore to football practice everyday.They had been inseparable ever since.
He watched in amazement as another bruise formed right before his eyes, a deep red welt, similar to the belt lashings he used to get when his father was an alcoholic. It didn’t hurt Jughead physically but the ache in his chest at his “soulmate” having to go through this, made him feel positively violent. Picking his bag up and walking out Archie’s front door, he gripped the bruises on his arm, willing them to stop, wishing he could make them stop for her, she didn’t deserve this, no one did. It was dark by the time he got to the trailer park, his mood volatile and nasty, his father was working on some bike in the front yard and he waved at his son. Jughead stormed past the older man and locked himself in his room, ripping the jeans from his body he stood in the mirror observing his body, sure enough he was covered in the painless bruises.
His eyes filled with tears and he was surprised when he couldn’t hold them back, he hadn’t cried since he was eight years old and his mother left. The door to his bedroom opened slowly and his father stepped in, eyes going wide at his sons bruised body before understanding took over, F.P jones sat on the edge of the bed and held his son as he cried helplessly.
“There’s nothing I can do.” He sniffled
“I can’t help her, I don’t even know her but I can feel her dad” he looked at the bruises once again, his fists clenching “I want to kill whoever did this.” He whispered.
“I know you do, but right now you can only do so much. So do what you do best.” He rose from the bed, walking over to Jughead desk and handing him a pen
With that he shot his son a knowing smile and slowly closed the door.
Jughead lifted the pen too his arm and took a deep breath.
Betty threw herself on her bed, her body aching from the beating she had just taken. She had tried to break up with Chuck again, she had tried so many times but each time it had ended exactly the same, Betty laying bloody on the floor begging for the angry boys forgiveness.
She rested her face on the soft silk pillowcase and bit her tongue, she had learned not to cry out, never let anyone see the bruises, be quiet Betty Cooper. Be perfect.
She couldn’t do it anymore, she was tired, so damn tired of being perfect. She wanted to go away, to sleep, sleep forever.
She reached into her nightstand and pulled out the tube of concealer, lifting the soft white sweater , fully prepared to cover up the bruises she knew would be visible in cheerleading practice tommorow, what she didn’t expect to see was the messy scrawl scribbled across her bruises
“You’re so much stronger than they are. You’re stronger than all of that white noise. You’re going to be okay, don’t let go. JJ”
Tears pricked her eyes. Her soulmate. She had one. she had gone so long believing she would never have one, destined to be passed around with the other mate less teenagers. She gripped her arm to her chest and let her tears fall freely, he was there and he could feel her, feel her pain. She wasn’t alone anymore.
Grabbing the purple gel pen off of her desk, she began writing back.
Jughead stared tirelessly at his arm, he didn’t even know if she was getting his messages, this could all be pointless, suddenly though, his arms were filled with distinctly feminine cursive in sparkly ink.
“Thank you JJ, it’s nice to meet my soulmate . Im sorry it had to be under such horrible circumstances. I’m Betty Cooper”
Betty Cooper? He knew that name, had heard Archie mention it a few times, but from where? He didn’t have time to think about that, ripping up his sleeve even higher he began writing again.
“It’s good to meet you in any way, although I do wish it wasn’t like this as well. Are you okay?”
He smiled when the reply was almost instant
“I’m okay, much better now that I know you’re here.”
They spent all night writing back and forth, Jugheads heart felt lighter that morning at school, and it was a fairly noticeable difference.
Archie of course made a huge deal out of it and Jughead found himself rolling his eyes at lunch when the football player went on about how awesome double dates would be from now on.
“Speaking of going out, i promised Ronnie, I’d meet her at central point park for that concert tonight, shes bringing her friend who’s going through a shitty breakup, i figured you could come along be like a fourth wheel. I promise you can write to your soulmate alllll night if you want.” Archie teased.
Jughead rolled his eyes, reluctantly agreeing.
Betty was sore that morning but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face, her soulmate was amazing, he loved writing and reading and they shared similar tastes in movies and he made her laugh like no one else.
“So you’ll come?” Veronica asked, snapping Betty out of her thoughts and pulling her gaze away from the faded words on her arms
“Hmm? Yeah sure, of course.” She answered,dazed.
“Alright love bird, we’re gonna enjoy ourselves tonight at the concert. Maybe you can find some lyrics to write to lover boy” Veronica smiled lovingly at her best friend, excited to see the blonde looking genuinely happy for the first time in ages.
“Maybe” Betty grinned.
That night came by fast and Betty took one last look at the words she had just written JJ
“Gotta go Romeo, talk to you later?”
She smiled when the familiar handwriting appeared
“You got it Juliet.”
Betty and Veronica stepped from the car, Betty’s hand tucked in Veronica’s as they navigated the grassy area
“Ronnie! We don’t have to run, I’m sure we wont miss him, that bright red hair is kind of hard not to spot.” She giggled.
Veronica waved her eyebrows suggestively
“I happen to like redheads.”
“I know, I was there when you started dating Chery Blossom last year.” Betty rolled her eyes
“I don’t discriminate. Love is love and all that” she grinned.
“Speaking of love.”
Both the girls whipped around at the familiar voice and Veronica instantly ran into her boyfriends arms
Archie laughed squeezing his girlfriend,
“Jughead this is Veronica’s best friend, Betty Cooper meet Jughead Jones.”
Jughead nearly dropped the novel he had gripped in his hands as he looked at the beautiful blonde with the bright green eyes and matching blue bruise on her chin, she was even more beautiful than he could have imagined, the very definition of a masterpiece.
“JJ” she whispered, her eyes scanning his and landing on his arms. She was smiling nervously, her fingers fidgeting as she slowly stood in place.
Jughead couldn’t keep the grin off of his face
“ hey there Juliet” he whispered, pulling his sleeves up as she gently rested her fingers on his inkstained arms.
She let out a breathy giggle and before he knew it she was falling into his arms, his own strong arms coming to wrap around her body, covering her and protecting her, now that he found her he was never letting her go.
She looked into his eyes and let the tears fall from hers
“I’ve been waiting for you Jughead Jones.”
He laughed, dropping a kiss to her lips
“You have no idea Betty Cooper”