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marvelyningreen · 3 years

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Aftershocks - Night 1

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | (deleted scene)

[Summary: Peter Maximoff is an unflappable sorta guy. He’d never let anything get to him before, and this recent misadventure will be no different. ...Right?

Warnings: mild language, references to injury, general trauma-related angst

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the established relationship variety. A ‘what if Fietro really was Peter?’ scenario. Same continuity/reader character from Linger and Late-bloomer. ]

On your first night back from Westview, you hesitate at Peter’s door. You’ve gotten so close to saying goodnight to each other half a dozen times, but here you still are.

“Why don’t you stay for a while?” Peter asks after an awkward few seconds of silence. “I’m not really all that tired. Are you?”

“Not really,” you lie.

Judging by the dark circles under Peter’s eyes, he’s not being entirely honest either.

It was late afternoon when you’d gotten back. Well, it was late afternoon here, at least. The passage of time in Westview was nebulous, to say the least.

Hank had been there to meet you when you all emerged from the portal – Peter, yourself, Mr. Lehnsherr and the professor, and the newcomers: Wanda Maximoff and her twin sons, Billy and Tommy. Hank summarily hurried you all off to the lab for debriefing, and also for a precautionary exam. Who knew what side-effects there could be from traveling between realities?

None, as it turns out. Wanda and the boys were just fine. Peter was a little dehydrated and underfed, but was otherwise in good health. You were ultimately the most scuffed-up from the experience.

In addition to the same issues as Peter, you’d amassed a fair amount of cuts and scrapes and bruises. Thankfully, the worst of it is just a badly sprained knee that’ll take several weeks to heal. Inconvenient, but bearable.

Peter has been pretty positive the whole time. If anything, he’s maybe a little too chipper, all things considered. But then again, he was immersed in playing cool uncle to the twins, and was probably just trying to keep their spirits up. They’d been through quite a lot, too.

“You should at least try to sleep, though,” you say, as you limp into Peter’s room.

Peter scoffs good-naturedly. “Are you trying to baby me?”

“Well, one of us has to be the responsible one.”

Peter rolls his eyes. Before you can blink, he’s changed into shorts and an old Pink Floyd t-shirt. He leans in to kiss you.

“I’ll try to sleep if you’ll at least sit down,” he says. “Deal?”

You smile. “Deal.”

As Peter climbs into bed, you settle yourself on the sofa. To say that it’d been a long few days would be understating things to a criminal degree.

You’d stepped through a mysterious portal to rescue Peter from wherever he’d been abducted to. You’d found that the culprit was a witch who’d taken him in an attempt to steal the power of another witch, and that witch is an alternate reality version of Peter’s sister… sorta? Or maybe not. You still aren’t completely clear on how any of this works.

Regardless, you’d ended up helping a woman named Captain Rambeau – who has powers like a mutant, but apparently isn’t one – to free Peter from the witch’s control. And then the young sons of Peter’s not-sister were in danger from some military creep, because said military creep had apparently made a cyborg zombie version of Wanda’s late husband.

Or something. Again, this was a lot to take in in a short period of time.

And no sooner had the business with magic and the military been cleared up than the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr appeared, intending to serve as backup. Luckily, there was no need.

Peter went to make his goodbyes and, in true Peter Maximoff fashion, wound up inviting Wanda and her sons to come back to the mansion with all of you. You weren’t the least bit surprised that the professor was fully on board with this. He’s always the first to reach out with compassion to a soul that’s lost and hurting.

What shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did was hearing Mr. Lehnsherr do the same. Between the three of them, Wanda was convinced to come to the school and to learn about her powers in a place where she and her sons would be safe and among friends.

It was at this point that Peter was trying to be in two places at once – serving as liaison to Wanda and the boys, and also making sure that you were alright. He only succeeded in making everyone dizzy, until Mr. Lehnsherr stepped in. He instructed Peter to focus on guiding the newcomers and volunteered to look after you himself. You found yourself leaning on Mr. Lehnsherr for support as you limped through the portal and back to your own world.

“Y’know what I can’t stop thinking about?” says Peter.

“Hmm?”

He turns to grin at you. “Your strawberry rhubarb pie.”

“I know I canned some of that this summer,” you say. “Do I have any left…?”

“If you don’t, one of the students has plant manipulation powers. I’m just sayin’.”

You laugh, and the conversation goes on in much the same vein - talking about a hundred little things that don’t matter.

Westview isn’t brought up, and neither are witches and magic. Nobody mentions Wanda and her twin sons in the room down the hall.

Peter hadn’t been able to give very clear answers to Hank’s questions about his experience. He said that it was all pretty blurry, and chalked up to a side-effect of that weird mind-control necklace thing.

You aren’t sure whether this is cause for worry or not.

The conversation with Peter has been fading in and out for a while now. Typical sleepover experience, really. Silence for a few minutes, and then a bit of banter, and a scattered response here and there, and then more silence.

It’s… It’s actually been silent for a while now. And when did your eyes close, anyway?

You look at the clock to see that over an hour has passed since you last checked the time. But you’re awake now, and you find that you’re not tired anymore. Moonlight streams through the windows, falling across Peter’s bed. He’s still sleeping, thank goodness.

At first you think that the sudden sense of reassurance is just because Peter’s getting some rest. He’s had quite the experience, after all. But there’s more to it than that. You realize that you’re just glad that Peter’s home and safe.

You haven’t really thought about it before, but part of you had always seen Peter as, well, sort of invincible. He’s clever, and capable, and impossibly fast. He can outpace an explosion. He can redirect bullets as easy as breathing. Nothing outside of a godlike entity or an otherworldly power had been able to touch him.

But you can’t stop thinking about this other man – this Pietro. He was fast, too, and he was probably just as capable. That didn’t prevent him from being shot to death while saving the lives of two other people.

Odd coincidental similarities aside, Peter and Pietro aren’t the same. You know this. And yet… You’ve already almost lost Peter once.

In Westview, once you’d found yourself abruptly separated from Vision, you’d realized that you were in way over your head. There was something sinister going on, and you had no idea whether Peter’s kidnapping was a part of it, or if it was something else entirely.

You’d wandered the streets, trying your best to look like you were supposed to be there. At first glance, everything seemed normal. But the more you looked, the more things just felt… off.

It seemed to be summer, but there were no kids at the pool, or in the park, or riding their bikes up and down the block. All the cars looked just a little too shiny and new for a small town. All the yards were too perfectly manicured. Every single person wore well-coordinated outfits. It all felt staged.

Down the block, you noticed a mailbox labeled with the name “Vision,” and-

You hesitated. Maybe best not to go barging in, right? Leaning against a streetlight, you pretended to rummage for something in your bag while you kept an eye on the house. Again, the oddly regimented behavior continued. People walked past the house at intervals that seemed random at first, but weren’t quite. It was more like they were spaced out intentionally to seem random.

Aside from that bit of weirdness, nothing unusual had happened. You hadn’t seen any trace of Peter in your wanderings. This Vision guy was your only lead. Steeling yourself, you started walking down the street, intent on knocking on that door and figuring out the rest from there.

And that’s when somebody clamped a hand over your mouth and twisted your arm, pinning it behind your back. Before you had a chance to struggle or even scream, the scenery in front of you blurred and darkened.

You blinked. The world was still again. You were in a dark, oddly-shaped room. It might’ve been hexagonal, but you couldn’t move to look around. The person who’d grabbed you was still holding you immobile.

“So, they sent another one in, huh?” said an unfamiliar voice. “You’d think they would’ve learned by now, but that’s military types for you.”

The speaker stepped into view. It was a woman – middle-aged and dark-haired. She wasn’t worried like Vision had been, nor was she blithely serene like the other people you’d seen. Her presence was commanding, unconcerned. There was something about the way she sized you up that unsettled you.

“I’ve got it from here, thank you,” said the woman.

The other person released you, and you immediately felt some strange energy wind around you. It tightened around your wrists and ankles, binding them fast, and yanked you several inches into the air.

“Who are you? Let me go!” You struggled to free yourself, but you couldn’t budge the restraints even an inch. Even your powers seemed to glance off them ineffectually.

The woman raised an eyebrow.

“Now that’s interesting,” she said. “How did you manage to get into Westview with your personality intact? Even he was calling himself ‘Ralph’ at first. You’re not with S.W.O.R.D., are you? And I can tell already you’re not a witch. Let’s see…”

The woman made some complex gesture with her hands. A purple mist crept across your vision. You felt something wrapping itself around your mind – covering it like a net, humming like an electric current. You shook your head, trying to clear it away, but it clung like a spider web.

The professor. Just before you’d left, he placed some sort of psychic shielding around your mind, just in case. He wasn’t sure what sort of dangers you’d be facing. You doubt this was what he’d been anticipating, but whatever this woman was trying to do to you, the shield resisted it.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. You felt the web’s grip on your mind tighten, vice-like. At first it was just uncomfortable, but the pressure increased until it was a stranglehold on your consciousness. The edges of your field of vision started to go gray. There was a pounding in your head, a ringing in your ears. You tried to scream.

You couldn’t breathe.

And then its hold released, leaving you gasping for air. If you hadn’t been suspended in midair like that, you would’ve collapsed. The woman watched you with something like fury in her eyes.

“What are you?” she demanded.

Dazed, you blurted out an answer. “I’m nothing. I’m nobody. I’m just trying to find my friend.”

You nearly ignored the movement in the corner of your eye as you tried to pull yourself together. You’d honestly forgotten that there was somebody else in the room. You looked up, and-

Your blood ran cold.

“Peter!”

He was there. He was alright! He-

No. No, he wasn’t. Something was wrong.

Peter watched you with the blank, nonchalant gaze of a stranger.

“Sorry, babe,” he said, shrugging. “Peter’s not here right now.”

“Wha… What did you do to him?!”

You wrenched uselessly at the restraints and Peter… he actually laughed.

“What, him?” said the woman. “He’s fine. I needed a replacement Pietro, and he was the best I could do on short notice.”

She eyed him critically, reaching up to adjust his hair like some sort of demented stage mom.

“Get your hands off him!” you snarled. “And who the hell is Pietro?”

The woman laughed incredulously. “You’re really not from around here, are you? You followed him from that other reality, and- Oh. Oh… I see it now. Oh, that’s too adorable. You’re in love with him.”

Her laugh turned into something that was almost a cackle, and Peter joined in. You felt sick.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do to this town, but Peter’s got nothing to do with it. Let him go.”

“What I’m trying to do-? Oh, pumpkin, you have no idea what you stumbled into.” The woman shook her head in feigned sympathy. “Sorry, but I’m not done with my Fietro yet. And as for you… I won’t be able to get rid of you, but I can’t have you running around getting in my way. I’ll just have to put you someplace for safekeeping, and I know just the spot.”

The woman raised her hand again, and smiled menacingly at you.

“You can try to tell them who you really are,” she said, “But I wouldn’t count on anybody believing you where you’re going. Buh-bye, hon!”

Movement in the room catches your attention, drawing you out of your reminiscing.

Peter stirs in his sleep. He reaches out for a moment, and then his hand falls back onto his chest. He exhales heavily – not quite a sigh – and is still once again.

Then, his hand moves restlessly towards his throat, fingers gripping at nothing like he’s trying to pull at the collar of his shirt, or-

“No, please,” he mumbles, “Please…”

Your knee is stiff from being motionless for so long. It just about gives way under you as you scramble to Peter’s side. You stumble, falling rather than sitting on the edge of the bed.

You catch Peter’s hand in yours and smooth his hair back from his forehead.

“Peter?” You’re surprised at how frantic your voice sounds. “Peter, wake up!”

Peter snaps awake with a gasp. He yanks his hand free of yours, scrambling to push himself back towards the headboard and staring wildly around the room.

You hold up your hands where he can see them, careful not to reach towards him at all. “It’s okay! It’s okay. It’s just me.”

“You…?” Peter stares at you for a moment, as though trying to remember where he is. “Listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but can you tell me something only you would know? Anything. Please.”

For a second, your mind goes blank. Something only you would know? You’d spent enough time with Peter that there has to be…

You’ve got it.

You look Peter in the eyes, giving him a little smile. “Who else would know that you’re my hummingbird?”

Peter’s laugh is brief, but genuine. You’d called him that once as a joke – saying that it’d be a fitting codename with his speed, attitude, and love of sugar – and it’d since become your teasing pet name for him. You’d never said it in front of anyone else, though. You may only use it to get a rise out of him, but you never wanted it to become an embarrassing nickname for him or anything.

Peter’s initial panic is replaced by an apologetic smile, but you’re certain that his heart is still racing.

“Thanks. And I’m sorry,” he says. “Bad dreams, y’know?”

“No kidding. You wanna talk about it?”

“I…” Peter looks away, frowning slightly. “I can’t say I actually remember what I was dreaming about, to be honest.”

If you were unsure before, you’re definitely starting to worry now. You make up your mind to talk to Hank and the professor about Peter’s memory lapses. Maybe it’s nothing, but for your own peace of mind, at least…

Still, you don’t want to let on to Peter that you’re worried about him.

“Are you gonna be okay?” you ask. “Need me to get you anything?”

Peter musters up a grin. “Oh, I’ll be fine. And there’s no way I’d send you off to get anything for me with your knee all messed up. But… would you mind staying a little longer? Or you don’t have to leave at all. I mean, it’s already late, and it’s pretty cold out there.”

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you say, smiling gently. “You just lay back down, alright?”

Peter nods. Once he’s resettled himself under the covers, you lean down to kiss him.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you, too.”

Peter reaches over to hold your hand. He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes again.

That Peter falls back asleep within the hour is a testament to how wore out he must be. As for yourself, you remember seeing the horizon brightening outside the window before you finally drift off.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fanfiction #x men fanfiction #wandavision fanfic #(I mean... it’s both and neither)#who ordered the angst? ... nobody?#well have it anyway. it’s on the house

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anarchist-billy · 3 years

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“Not now, Billy!” He’s five years old the first time his father says those words to him, the first time he hears that voice, raised and dripping with irritation. Billy snaps his mouth shut, fingers curling around the paper in his hand, crumpling the edges. He just wanted to show off the drawing he made at kindergarten, wanted to see his father’s eyes light up as he praised him for how good it was - the way his teacher had. His mom is at the stove, stirring the soup she’s made them for dinner, and she thinks she’s being ignored, but Billy sees the roll of her eyes as she glances back at them. She doesn’t say anything, just goes back to stirring.

Not now, Billy

“Get away, you weirdo!” Caleb Parker is Billy’s best friend in third grade. Or was. Billy’s pretty sure best friends don’t yell at each other in front of everyone at recess. He’s pretty sure they don’t push each other, either. But Caleb’s hands connect with his chest with enough force to knock him onto his butt. Billy sits in the mud, blinking up at Caleb’s retreating back, the laughter of their classmates mingling with the rushing of blood in his ears. His cheeks feel too hot, like they’re going to burn off of his face. He gets up, swiping furiously at the tears that start falling from his eyes, and runs for the door of their classroom. His teacher doesn’t say anything as he rushes past his desk, out into the hall, and into the bathroom. He runs into a stall and slams the door shut behind him, pressing his face against the cool metal. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. Caleb’s been his best friend since first grade. Just the day before they’d gone to the park across from Caleb’s house, played tag and competed to see who was best at the monkey bars. Caleb won. And when they sat side-by-side on the swings, Caleb had reached out and taken Billy’s hand. It was the first time anyone had held Billy’s hand, aside from adults when they crossed the street or his mom at the grocery store. Billy had been surprised at how different it felt - Caleb’s hand was warm, despite how chilly the Autumn day was, and Billy wished he’d never have to let go. Billy just tried to say hello, like he always did. And Caleb pushed him, looked at him like he was discarded gum on the bottom of his shoe.

Get away, you weirdo

“I can’t stay here anymore,” the words are hushed, wet, accompanied by labored sniffling. “I just…god, Syl, I can’t fucking breathe.” Billy’s ten years old, sitting on the other side of the kitchen wall, TV turned low in front of him as he doodles in the margins of his math homework. It’s not the first time he’s overheard a conversation between his mom and someone named Sylvia. Some faceless woman his mom never talks about, just whispers to over the phone when his father’s not around, fingers nervously toying with the chord. It is the first time he’s heard her say those particular words, though. The first time he’s heard the tears in her voice. The first time she doesn’t join him in the living room afterwards. The next morning he wakes up to his father throwing her records at the wall, and when he slips past him to check their bedroom, he sees the open, empty drawers of her dresser, the absence of her toothbrush by the sink. She didn’t take him with her.

I can’t fucking breathe

“You let a guy suck your dick one time and suddenly he thinks you owe him something, like some needy little bitch.” Billy’s fifteen years old. He’s not supposed to be hearing this, but the smugness in Jeffrey Humbert’s voice sends rage searing through his chest. Jeffrey had practically begged Billy to suck his dick at the party over the weekend. He wasn’t even drunk or high like most guys are when they ask him for it. And Billy agreed to it, cause he liked the attention, however fleeting it was. Problem was, Billy actually liked Jeffrey a little more than he liked most guys who asked. So maybe it meant more to him than it should have. And maybe he was an idiot for thinking this time would be different, this time Jeffrey would reciprocate, wouldn’t pretend he didn’t know Billy from Adam afterwards. Billy wouldn’t be making that mistake again. He slammed his locker shut, relishing in the sharp silence that followed, and turned the corner, coming face to face with Jeffrey and two other boys from their PE class. The two other boys look nervous, but Jeffrey looks unbothered, the smugness still showing in his expression. That’s his mistake. Billy gets up in his space, reaches a hand down to cup his dick through his gym shorts and squeeze, hard. Jeffrey lets out a whimper, tensing with the pain. “Keep talking, asshole,” Billy snarls right in his face. “You’ll learn, I’m pretty good at talking, too.” And talk is exactly what Billy does. He learns the art of talking shit after that, spreading rumors, weaving intricate stories that have everyone around him wrapped around his finger. He relishes in the attention of it all. Relishes in the way no one can touch him. No one knows the truth lying just under the surface - that it’s all a facade. Control the narrative so it can’t control you.

Like some needy little bitch

“Jesus, do you ever stop talking?” Harrington’s a pretty guy. One of the prettiest Billy’s ever seen. And Billy’s got him right where he wants him - at arm’s length. Harrington hates him, just like Billy designed. He doesn’t have a clue about the way Billy’s eyes track him through the halls at school. The way Billy plies Tommy with beer in order to get more information, figure out what makes Harrington tick, what pisses him off, how he can keep up this game he’s playing. He doesn’t know about how Billy lies awake late at night sometimes, thinking about those perfect lips - thinking first about what it would feel like to get them around his dick, until his thoughts drift to more dangerous territory…What those lips would feel like against his own. How that tongue, which pokes out when Steve’s concentrating really hard in class, would taste. How his skin would taste. How his voice would sound, all high and breathy when Billy touches him in all the right places. Billy talks shit, taunts and mocks, and makes as much ruckus as he can, desperate to keep Steve in that sweet, safe spot. And Steve behaves. For a time.

Jesus, do you ever stop talking

“Stay.” Billy lifts his head from where he’s bent over, searching for his shirt on the floor, and meets Steve’s soft, imploring gaze. He doesn’t move, doesn’t think he can. Everything inside of him is telling him it’s a trap. Or maybe he misheard the word. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a moment of weakness, and it was going to cost him everything. There’s a buzzing in his head, white noise that’s telling him to get out while he still can. But then Steve’s warm fingers brush over his ribcage, curling around his waist, tugging until Billy gives in. He lets himself be drawn back into bed, back under the covers. “Sleep better when you’re here.” Steve whispers against the back of his neck, breath tickling the skin there before his lips press against it; comforting in a way Billy never imagined he’d experience.

Stay

“No, I like it when you’re like this.” Steve’s cheeks are pink as he ducks his head, as if trying to hide from Billy’s gaze - but Billy doesn’t miss it. He wonders if he could feel the heat of them, if he was brave enough to reach out and touch. Steve’s sitting beside his hospital bed, listening to him ramble about all the music he can’t wait to listen to when he can go home, back to his stereo and his extensive collection of tapes. “Like this?” Billy asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “Talking about stuff you love,” Steve answers, a little quieter this time, but he meets Billy’s gaze again, and he smiles. “Oh.” Billy says, a bit dumbly. And then it’s his turn to blush, looking down at his lap, where he’s picking at the dead skin around his fingers. Wetness gathers at the corners of his eyes, and closes his eyes to try and keep it from spreading. Steve’s hands reach out then, covering his hands, stopping him. And Billy can’t help smiling, just the tiniest bit, as he turns his hand over and threads his fingers with Steve’s.

I like it when you’re like this

#harringrove #i can't tell if this feels complete #or as emotionally impactful as i want it to #but i'm sick of thinking about it #and writing is like pulling teeth these days #so this is the best i've got to offer #brought to you by the song Smother by Daughter on repeat for several hours

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woppy-my-beloved · 3 years

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Aint that just the way that life goes down? Colonel Beckett x Amy Barrett

Original Plot: In 2015 Colonel Beckett Travels back in time to the year 2001 to stop a Plauge happening in 2009 by eliminating patiient Zero (Amy Barrett) and trades his life in for hers. Making sure the plauge never happens however he dies in the year 2001

Alternate Universe: Where Colonel Beckett survived and managed to go back to his own time. But the plauge never happend. TW: Mentions of Plauge/Global Pandemic/Drunk Driving

It was a rainy day, I slowly walk through the streets of New York while looking around I see all kinds of people hiding around me and children playing in puddles of water. These are the days like today when I think back to 15 years ago when I lost my husband Billy, to a drunk driver I had lost the love of my life. The night that I lost Billy I can still very well remember, coming home from work and getting dinner ready until I heard a knock on the door. Finally Billy was home i thought, concerts were always untill the late hours. But once when I opened the door, I was greeted by two uniformed police officers, not knowing at first that they were coming to tell me the news of Billy. The news they told me then dropped like a bomb. Billy never came home, never

“Mom, Mom! Come on or we'll be late! ” Said Bobby, our son. Yes, you will be surprised, two nights before Billy passed away I became pregnant with Bobby, Billy never knew he had a son. He looks just like his father, and he shares his love for music, he studies at the same music school that Billy used to go to, piano to be precise. “Mom come on now! Don't hesitate, I have to be there on time I want to speak to Catherine before the concert! ” "I'm already coming to you Bobby, just relax." I said with a chuckle. The concert is a collaboration with the other branch of the music school, Bobby's pen pal Catherine happened to be there too. In fith grade they got to know each other through a penfriend project through their school. Since then they have always kept in touch with each other, Catherine mostly lives in Chicago, but since her parents divorced 3 years ago, Catherine can be found with her father during vacations in New York. However just the way life is, it seems like the universe just doesn't want them to meet. And the concert was the perfect reason to see each other in person for the first time.

When we arrive at the doors I see the familiar faces from 15 years ago. I used to come here with Billy so often, until his death since then I did not dare to go to this place, everything reminded me of him. I lost just about all my friends after Billy's death, I pushed them away, I just didn't want to anymore. I had lost the love of my life.

Four months after Billy's death, little by little I came back to enjoy life again, I slowly started working and decided to go to the cinema after work. Until the universe played a game with me and decided to let someone dump their coffee on me. I decided to go home that evening, but just before I got home I heard a loud bang. When I looked back I saw him lying on the floor. Beckett his name was Colonel Beckett. He had been hit by a car driving in reverse and did not want to go to hospital at all costs. At that moment panic struck me, when I saw him lying there I only thought of someone, Billy. God, that image of Beckett laying on the floor in pain has haunted me for months. Only later did I make the connection that that moment again caused the memories to surface. I took him to my house so he could rest, he insisted he didn't want to go to the hospital.

Once at home I was able to take care of him, Beckett stumbled to the chair and sat down with difficulty. He just managed to take off his shirt, when I looked at his body I saw the bruises from the impact, and a few scars. Beckett didn't say much about himself. He had been in the military, special forces to be precise. He was hiding something, he was trying to keep himself together and distant, and little got through to him.His mind was elsewhere. “What are you some kind of tough guy?” I said. “Not so tough,” he replied.

Looking at his wounds I just couldn’t help it but wanting to help him. I think it’s because I wish I could’ve done this to Billy. Had he come home and I was able to take care of him. “Here i got you a shirt.” I said to him wile holding up one of Billy’s old shirts. “I’m kind of hungry would you like to have some food?”

He looked at me, still tense from our earlier conversation, I just couldn’t point what was wrong with him. “Well the delivery guy must’ve tought we were having a party.” “I haven’t eaten Chinese in quite a while” He said looking at his plate. “Well Beckett this place is really good.” I said and smiled. I felt some tension in the room. “So you from around here? Or don’t you like talking to me.” While taking a bite, Beckett looked at me and replied. “Chicago” “Oh Chicago is nice, my husband Billy had a recital there. He didn’t get paid but exposure was always nice.” I stood up and reached for the cabinet where I got out this freamed picture of Billy. “This is my husband Billy, he passed away 4 months ago, drunk driver.” I walked over to Beckett and showed him the photo.

“So are you married?” I asked him. He looked at me, took a small pause and said. “I was married once. She died.” Well there it was... He had lost someone too. Great Amy this is why you should be more carefull around other people! “How did she die?” I asked looking at him, not sure if I asked the right question. “ She was sick and there wasn’t any cure.” I looked at him and felt inmense guilt coming over me. “I’m sorry Beckett... Sometimes you forget in your own grief that other people go through these things too.”

He had lost his wife to an illness, and no cure was available, from then on I realized I was not alone in the grief of losing a loved one. Once I told Beckett about Billy, he seemed to open up more to me. For the first time since Billy's death, I felt alive again, and I saw that in Beckett. He was sitting at the piano playing what he had made up himself, it was sad but beautiful. He told me he hadn't played Sarah since his wife died. And suddenly there he was, sitting at the piano, so focused but also so dreamy. We had more in common than we thought.

“What’s that piece called.” I looked at him. “Ah a little improv” He said while looking at the piano. “What happend to the drunk driver that killed your husband. The moment he asled that the music stopped and he turned to look at me. “ Oh he is fine i said, looking down.” I didn’t end up killing him like I planned to.” He looked at me with this confused look. “I wanted to buy a gun and take him out.” I said looking at him, thinking back of the man who killed Billy. “What made you stop?” He asked looking directly at me. “It wouldn’t bring Billy back”.

Beckett seemed rushed, as if he couldn't rest. He even offered to stay the night on the couch that night and went to my doctor's appointment the next day. That day was so weird, and it was tense, it was different. That look in his eyes was a look with a mission, he didn't want to tell it at first until he panicked to get me away from the clinic.

“Beckett you have to tell me what is going on!” “Amy I can’t” He yelled back, there was something going on and I just needed to know. “Beckett please tell it to me!” He looked at me defeated and took me aside. He pulled out this little thing with a screen and showed me a video.I saw people scared, bodies, bodies laying everwhere. Beckett came from the year 2015, a year where there was a global plague all over the world, and I was the instigator. Me Amy Barrett a young woman from New York. I was the one who hurt him and millions of others so much. I had the misfortune to come in contact with 2 DNA fragments that started all of this.

“You’re patient Zero Amy” Beckett looked at me. Fear ran through my body, what is this? This can’t even be possible!

Fear got into my body and I decided to run, from that moment on it clicked. He was there to kill me! Before I knew it Beckett came up to me and pulled me close to him. He looked at me, and I expected hate, I expected him to kill me at that point, but he wasn't angry. He took me in his arms and comforted me. He wanted to protect me, me the one who made sure he lost his wife! I felt so immensely guilty. Beckett, on the other hand, held me and said it would be okay. His arms around me, that kiss on my forehead. He couldn't, he decided to spare me. He chose to stay with me so that I could not come into contact with the two other DNA fragments. My doctor was one of them.

From that moment on, it clicked. Beckett’s hostility towards me, the way he reacted so cold. He was sent to kill me. But he didn’t. Somehow he didn’t hate me for the things I had done.

At my appartment he later came clean about everything. “So why didn’t you kill me.” I asked him. “ Why didn’t you kill the guy that hurt your husband?” That was the sentence that send him over the edge. That got him to change his mind he spared me because he knew that we were going through the same kind of grief.

“So we changed the history?” Ï said to him. He turned around and laughed a little bit. “What do you want? A medal?” he grinned. “Well a pat on the back would be nice.” I said looking at him. We later heard a knock on the door,upon opening it was an unfamilar face to me. But for Becket it was not, it was his colleauge, who came to check in on him when he didn’t return. And he had good news the plauge never happend!

I looked over at Beckett and I saw a sigh of relief coming down his face. He was going to get his wife back. And it was time for us to say goodbye. We looked at eachother knowing that this was going to be the last we were ever gonna see of eachother ever again. “ Well Beckett.. I want to thank you.” “It was nice meeting you.” I said wanting to go in for a hug but I decided not to.. I know it sounds strange but it felt that I was loosing someone important to me again. “It was nice to meet you as well Amy.” We looked at eachother and knew it was okay. It was time for him to go.

That was the last time I saw or heard of him

“Mom!” I looked up and heard Bobby’s voice coming to me. “Yes darling.” I looked at him totally unaware that I had dozed off for a second in my own thoughts. “Catherine is here she would like to meet you.” I walked with Bobby to one of the tables and I saw a young brunette standing there smiling at us. I smiled back at her and shook her hand. “Hi My name is Amy Barrett nice to meet you.” “Nice to meet you Miss Barrett my namce is Catherine, it’s so nice to meet you and Bobby finally.” She looked at Bobby with a smile and the two of them looked at eachother like this wasn’t the first meeting for the two of them. “Catherine honey, where are you?” I heard a raspy voice coming from down the hall. Catherine looked behind her for a second and said: “Over here dad!” and as I looked in her direction I saw a tall handsome man heading my way. He looked familair, he had short brown curly hair and blue eyes that looked like you could get lost in them forever. When our eyes locked It hit me. It was him... Colonel Beckett.

#Michael Rooker #Patient Zero #The Outer Limits #Amy Barrett x Colonel Beckett #Colonel Beckett #Amy Barrett

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 3 years

Text

Auld Lang Syne (Jack x Rin)

Word Count: 3200

Warnings: None! Complete fluff.

A/N: inspired by @magic-multicolored-miracle winter prompts. New Year's kiss. o one asked for it 🤣 This is a sequel to "I'm A Creep" <-- Found here

She came to this little bookstore as many days a week as time allowed. Maybe it was becoming a bit obsessive, Rin’s constant reasons to spend hours there instead of a library. There was a collection of unread novels piling up on the coffee table of her council flat off the high street. Any excuse to be nearby

With the holidays fast approaching, her catering job kept her busier than ever. The constant flirting and serving and pleasing executives and drunk administratives and book editors and bankers managed to fend off the memories of the last time she ended up in the psych hospital. That and plenty of time made everything slow down and spread out over days instead of the constant hours she once spent. Her senses now and then brought Jack back to her like the waves in his mental pond crashing over her. She would be taken off guard for just a moment or two, but the parties kept them back at bay.

Two months in the psych hospital was all they spent together. A month that seeped into her dreams and waking moments for half a year after Rin was released. How she and Jack never spoke again after that night. He grinned awkwardly in her direction during their next group therapy session. Squinting his eyes like he was trying to place where he knew her from, but that was part of her gift. Sometimes, they woke up from a dream and forgot she was ever apart of them.

Before Rin could blink, Emma had come to take Jack home. Emma who smiled fondly at the “barking” girl with scarred hands who carried the flame of hope from her heart to her brother. At least that's what she communicated to Rin as they brushed fingertips on the way out. Jack was safe. He was loved. Emma would make sure he could handle the world without messages and the dead people who plagued him for so long. A few more days, and Rin was dropped back out in the world too.

Still, as the song goes, she learned to muddle through somehow. It had been a rather peculiar stretch of time Rin had gone without thinking of his unearthly eyes or that mass of dark curls on her neck and chest as they.. A bell over a door she didn't remember stepping in broke her out of the reverie.

Rin found herself inside a small shop with shelves eight or nine feet high. That musty smell of tangible books invaded her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. With eyes closed, she put her hand on the first row she could find and melted into the memories imprinted on them. She was struck by an unexpected wave, but instead of drowning she rode it to shore. There was a squeaky creak that often accompanies a wheel and just knew someone was on one of those ladders that glided across the shelves.

“You alright, loov?” that Yorkshire accent filled Rin’s ears and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “You look like you've seen a ghost,” he chuckled at a joke he felt only he understood.

He was a few feet above her when she finally opened her eyes. He dipped precariously from the ladder like he was swinging from a rope on a pirate ship. Those eyes shining brightly as they reflected the white lights decorating the store. Rin didn’t need to touch him to know he was happy. She could see it on his face as he smiled in her direction. Even in hospital she never knew he had dimples.

“Jack,” it came out before she could help herself.

He arched an eyebrow curiously in her direction. Head tilted in thought. Then looking down at his name tag he puffed air out of his nostrils “Right,” he tapped it “Forgot I was wearing this.”

Rin’s shoulders sagged in defeat, then unexpectedly “Have any Dickens?”

What the hell, she chided herself.

“Do we also have tea in the Queen’s country?” he teased. Rin’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. “sometimes we forget all the books we've read. I've forgotten loads since I was sick a few years back. Lived rough then was in hospital while. Dunno why I said that.”

“I think we tell strangers our secrets because we’ll never have to see them again,” Rin spoke softly.

“If you never come back, I was a bad salesman. Always looking for repeats.” Was.. he flirting? “Any Dickens will do?”

“Oliver Twist?” Rin signed and closed her eyes. Her face was on fire. You've had sex with this bloke, and he's got no bloody clue.

“Oi! I like Edwin Drood best. Old man dropped dead right in the middle of it all. Never got a proper ending. Ever been on one of these?” Jack gestured towards the ladder. Rin shook her head so he opened an arm. “Hop on with us then!”

“You give all the girls a ride?” Rin found her voice. She climbed up and settled herself against Jack’s body. Her naked hand closed over his; she felt a jolt go through his chest which tensed in response.

“Not- Not usually?” he stammered and tightened his grip around Rin’s waist as they slid along the shelves. “Do we know each other from somewhere? You just feel familiar. Dunno why I'm thinking of a bird.” Jack spoke more to himself.

“Well, actually, name is Wren-”

He cut her off, “But your brother couldn't say it right, so everyone calls you Rin.”

Jack’s body relaxed into the young woman’s. Maybe it was reflex, but he cautiously buried his face in her hair and inhaled.

Rin swallowed a smile, and found little ways to touch him that day. Little ways to touch exposed parts of Jack everytime she visited the store. Innocent explanations for their hands lingering when he handed her the twentieth book she didn't need. To flirtatiously brush the curls away from his forehead as he leaned over the counter when they talked.

And almost every single time Jack leaned into it. Reciprocated. Started remembering little parts of Rin from their time in section. Not the big messy memories, just bursts from time to time. She was ok with that. She would take him anyway she could.

Now here she was, two days before Christmas with her hands on the ornaments in the shop window. She had something wrapped in brown paper in her purse and was biding her time as Jack helped the customers buying last minute gifts.

Soon it was her turn, and Rin placed the gift on the counter simultaneously with Jack doing likewise. There was unexpected laughter, the way Jack's tapered off into a giggle from a loud outburst. Infectious as it was, Rin joined in.

“If we got each other identical presents, you're coming to mine for New Year’s,” it wasn't a question. “Emma and her partner know you somehow. Must be from around the visitor’s during..” His voice trailed off.

“Our time in the nuthouse?” Rin offered.

Jack leaned over and brushed his nose against Rin’s cheek out of the blue. They lingered momentarily, before he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I've done that before,” another assertion as his verdant gaze settled on Rin’s lips.

Picking up the package, Rin shoved it playfully into Jack’s chest so that he was forced back. “Open your gift!”

“Fine!”

Jack mimicked her tone as he tore into the wrapping paper at the same Rin dove into hers. They both held up books simultaneously and fell into a fit of giggles.

“OLIVER TWIST!”

“EDWIN DROOD?!”

In unison: “FIRST EDITION?!”

“I can't believe I never knew how much you loved books,” Rin was blunt.

“I'm not sure how much we spoke for you to find out.” Jack hugged the book tightly to his chest. “I'm not sure how much I spoke to anyone outside of group and therapy.”

Rin took one of her million chances when she placed the palm of her hand against Jack’s cheek. He relaxed into the touch, eyes closed and sighed contentedly. Under the surface he was warm and bright like the Christmas lights. She wouldn't let herself pass any further than the happy memories. Impassioned ones of mouths and hands and fingertips and hugs.

Perhaps it was the particular sensation Rin spread out from herself to Jack that triggered a reaction. One of him leaning across the countertop to bring their lips together in a chaste kiss that lingered longer than it should have.

Jack recovered and righted himself before apologizing. He was compelled in the moment out of gratitude. “Meet us here on New Year’s, yeah? So we don't have to be alone.”

“You've got family, Jack.” Rin reminded him.

“So we don't have to be alone for the New Year,” he only repeated. It was a date.

------

Rin took the early shift on New Year’s Eve so she could tear out and get ready. The nerves coiled in her stomach as she scrambled to fix hair that wouldn't fall right or apply make-up that made her resemble a street walker. She sighed, defeated, and told herself this was all she could give.

Still Jack threw a large grin in her direction as he closed up the shop. He wolf whistled and Rin felt her face catch fire.

“Aren't you a stunner?” he pecked her cheek and gave the woman before him a spin. She loved the way it came out sounding like “stoonah.”

“You got a big date or something?” he teased before taking her by the hand.

“I needed extra money for the holiday so I thought I'd hang around a street corner. Fifty quid and a warm cot, I'll do whatever you like” Rin shrugged and winked coyly.

Jack rolled his eyes, but his demeanor changed as he traced the network of scars on the back of her hand so delicately Rin felt tears in her eyes. She swiped at them swiftly hoping he thought it was the chilled breeze.

“Dunno why I did tha,” he dropped the hand abruptly and buried his own in a jacket pocket. “Not my place to touch (tooch) you when you didn't ask.”

Uncomfortable silence.

“does anyone else work here besides you?” Rin gestured towards the store as they started walking, she assumed, to Emma’s house.

“Sometimes Emma and Billy. Only when I get too overwhelmed.”

Rin linked her arm with Jack's to break the weird tension. “Do you manage it?”

“I own it. Why need a job? Maybe a bit of a conflict if the boss has a bit of a flirt with the shopgirl innit?”

“OWN IT?!”

Jack laughed, “Not bad for a nutter who talks to dead people and was not long for Big Issue. Why do I say this shit to you?!”

“I'm like a truth serum?” she offered.

They wound their way through a lovely neighbor with houses no one Rin knew could afford. She remembered Jack’s brother-in-law was a lawyer. He told her his sister left him not long after he got out. Had to be spousal support and a settlement, but she didn't prod.

“I helped someone a while back. Someone kinda connected. Well-known, I guess? I tried to sort out his missus when she tried suicide.”

“It didn't work in the end.”

“At first. It's how I got sectioned. The voices. His voice. She was ok for a bit. His family sent me letters. They figured I knew something. What I knew got them a conviction. I got a reward. Doesn’t always feel like one if everyone’s dead now does (dooz) it?”

It was Rin’s turn to lace her fingers with Jack's. “You helped someone's family find peace. Sometimes that's enough even if you kinda lose yourself in the process. Look I let what I can do almost kill me. That’s what put me in hospital.” She held up the gashed scar along her wrist. “But that gave me yo-” Rin swallowed the word. “I got to use my gift one last time. And he's happy! Even if he forgets who I am.”

“Who could ever forget you, love?”

They were quiet the rest of the journey.

-----

Rin sat on the edge of the pool as her feet dangled in the bath warm water. Her brain flashed back to the lake where she experienced Jack drowning in his own mind. Bogged down by medication he didn't need while the dead clung to him. Then they had surfaced, she nearly torn apart by the ghosts Jack fought with. Bellowed that he was no longer their messenger. They tried to take her as compensation.

Now false water filled Rin’s lungs as a fake grin spread across her cheeks. The chlorine and tropical air made her nauseous, ready to vomit. Of all the things Jack could have suggested they do, swimming at 11pm would not have ever crossed her mind.

“There was a kid, lived here before Emma, died right. Mean little bastard too. Suppose dying like that might get a kid angry as long as he was tied to it.”

Jack stood on the pool’s edge, toes curled around the stone. His face went a bit dark as he narrowed his eyes in the direction of something Rin couldn't see in the opposite corner. He clenched his fists. She knew it was a silent standoff between Jack, and most likely, the dead boy.

It was only a flash of his old self before Jack snapped to. He grinned like the Cheshire cat as he undid his jeans and tore his sweater off. Then headfirst into the deep end leaving Rin to squeal.

“WHAT are you doing?!” she yelled as he bolted towards her underwater.

“Dunno fancied a swim. It's rather lovely water considering it's January. Plus,” he pointed towards the ceiling, “Look up.”

Rin followed his finger and gazed upwards. A large glass window spread the night sky before them. Millions of stars shone through, stars she never really bothered searching for. She was overwhelmed by other people's emotions, literally, that she never had a quiet moment to herself so that she COULD look up.

“Don't you wanna to join me?” Jack’s question was rather coy as he side-stroked back and forth.

Rin shook her head, “I'll sit here and watch.” She glanced down at the wine bottle she nearly forget, “And drink.” So they did.

Now her anxiety was churning her stomach. A coat of alcohol warmed her further than just the temperature of the pool room. Her chest was tight with lack of oxygen as she struggled to not cry. So she focused on the long, thin body completely relaxed on the water's surface. What a lovely distraction it was.

Jack floated along lazily on his back, boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. That secret part of him Rin had not seen in two years clearly visible. Now her face grew flush with desire and the memory of how good it felt for once to be touched by a man because he cared about her. How they made each other sing.

Jack must have sensed something because he righted himself and swam towards her. Those hands on her calves and knees to part them slightly so he can stand between them. He was silent as he reached for the bottle of wine.

“Rin, be honest,” his voice filled the silence of the room. “Can you swim?”

Rin's heart pounded so loudly in her ears that Jack was muffled. The way he looked at her, desire emanated from him. There was a disconnect between his brain and body. Those hands on her thighs remembered exploring her but the rest of him didn't. They lingered between innocence and the verge of obscenity. If he wanted, Rin would have sex with him while a houseful of people partied and danced within ear shot.

“i can swim!”

Jack pushed off the wall and splashed her in the process. “Do you think I'm sexy?” he was drunk. Head tilted as the wet curls clung to his face.

“A blind person would think you're sexy. You're taking the piss because I won't get in.”

“Of course I am! Come on. I'll hold you?” he raised an eyebrow. “It's almost midnight. I want to be with you when it is.”

“We're together enough, Jack”

“No!” he waved his hands. “I want to hold you.I don't know why, I know I have before? I feel like there's just this.. Ever since you came to the store it’s been like trying to remember a dream I had once. And some part of me is saying you know how to help because you've done it before?”

Realization spread across Jack's face, “Rin, am I the one who forgot you?”

“It happens sometimes. I think.. I think my abilities shut off a part of people who no longer need me or want me?” she shrugged it off.

“How could I not want you?”

It was such an innocent thing to ask. One Rin had asked herself every time someone used her. Her parents turned her into a sideshow freak for their religion. Men and their sick desires that she tapped into. Even she didn't want herself most of the time.

But Jack had been alone. Left to his own devices and literally haunted. Rin never needed to touch him to know how sad he had been when he first was sectioned. It emanated from him. He knew about self isolation and mistrust. And especially about gifts that would ruin you if they could.

There wasn't a thought left. Spurned on by the purity of his question, Rin hurried out of her clothes and eased herself into the pool. She swam as quickly as her body allowed before throwing herself in Jack's waiting arms.

Their arms and legs tangled together in the water. Rin wrapped herself around Jack's hips, her arms draped across broad shoulders. She twisted her fingers up in his hair and let her body meld into his.

Jack held Rin's head in his hands. Their foreheads pressed together as he nudged the tip of his nose along her face. Careful, at first,

to only brush his lips on her cheeks and eyelids. Then the countdown started.

Everyone in the house started counting down excitedly, and Jack stopped being cautious. It was cliché how their mouths found one another hungrily as the guests screamed Happy New Year! How Rin's empathic touch sent a wave of electricity that visibly shocked Jack's body as they began to sing. As if she plugged his body into his brain and there was a spark that brought him to life.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

For days of Auld Lang Syne

They relaxed into one another. Their kisses became languid but no less passionate. Everyone stormed the pool around them, splashing and laughing and hollering. Emma drunkenly interrupted the couples’ warring lips and tongues.

“Took you fucking long enough,” she teased her baby brother. “I kept hoping this would happen.”

Rin buried her face in Jack's chest as he held her tight. That bright fire that flowed from Emma to her and Rin to Jack back in hospital took root again in this house and pool.

“Me too.”

We’ll take o cup of kindness yet

For days of auld lang syne

#robert sheehan #jack #the messenger #robert sheehan character fics #jack x rin

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rankdisasster · 5 years

Text

sixteen

Billy Hargrove x fem reader

“A fic where you and billy are exes, you've not seen him for a while bc you go to different schools. Billy sees you with a guy all over each other in town and goes to a party that night to blow off steam but you're there with your new bf. You and the boyfriend break up at the party because he was being a dick. You go off with billy and spend the night with him” requested by anonymous.

word count: 4,147

warning(s): swearing

a/n: was gonna split this into two chapters bc of how long it is, but I figured why not. this turned out lighter and funnier than I originally thought. oh and I made the reader and Billy nineteen going on twenty. love the idea anon, thank you! tell me in my asks if you guys like longer fics cause I can stretch all mine out. I personally love long ones. let me know! also left the reader’s asshole bf nameless on purpose, you can put in any douchey name you want.

—

If anybody were to tell Billy what he would’ve seen when he went on an innocent trip to the supermarket to pick up his favorite frozen burritos, he would’ve ditched the frozen food and just order in a pizza for himself instead. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the shock, then the disappointment, and not to mention the utter fucking disgust of seeing you play Happy Housewife picking up groceries with a boy holding onto you by your hip. You were laughing with the tall handsome stranger, pointing at the sprinkled donuts as if there was something hilarious or entertaining about them.

Billy had originally been strolling through the aisles at ease, happy to get out of the house and go do something besides work, class, or going to the gym. Becoming a young adult for Billy meant chores like grocery shopping, and attending community college as a fresh start, also working at the car place down the street from town. He’d been doing good for a change, and it was a different feeling for him. Usually something (or in this case someone) would have him kicking and screaming his way back to his old self. Back when he was never anything but angry, sat around and blamed the world and refused to properly deal with his feelings, or think over his actions. However, college started and he met new people, strived to better himself not just physically but mentally. He even ditched his regular tough guy workout diet, replacing the protein shakes once in awhile and grabbing a case of colorful mouth-watering mini cupcakes for himself instead. He was hoping to treat himself because he deserved it, but this is what the world would rather graciously gift him: his ex girlfriend pawing at some douchey delinquent right in front of his face.

Billy reacted quick, almost embarrassingly quick, hiding himself behind the nearest corner with his back to the wall, his treats still sitting in the grocery basket as he cautiously peeked around to see if you were coming closer in his direction. Seeing as though you weren’t there anymore, he thanked his lucky stars and at last minute grabbed a bucket of vanilla ice cream from the nearest freezer section, because he fucking can, thank you very much. That’s what seeing “the one that got away” sucking face with somebody else at the store had done to the poor boy. The blonde anxiously tiptoed around the perimeter of the store, looking for your hair or that guy’s ugly face. After his target seemed to have vanished in thin air, thankfully, Billy sighed in deep relief and ran a hand over his suddenly warm face, coming down from the mini panic attack that you just unknowingly put him through. He thought you’d ditch Hawkins like you always said you would, find a better home to break more boys’ hearts and get a degree somewhere fancy. But then again, Billy remembers that there’s a lot of things you said you would do and ended up not doing.

“Hi, thank you for shopping with us. Would this be all for you today?” The kind middle aged woman behind the cash register asked. Billy scratched his head before forgetting if Max asked for anything or not, then decided whatever munchies she wanted could wait for next time. But first Billy needed to find another fucking store to shop at now, feeling like this place made Hell look like a playground with you and lover boy waltzing around, having a jolly time.

“Um, d’you think we could get this over with? ‘M kinda in a hurry here,” Billy laughs out of his anxiety, seeing the cashier woman take her time ringing him up. He squeamishly reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a few bucks then handed them over. She took the bills and slided them into the register one by one after scanning all of his items.

“Of course, sir. Would you like your receipt in the bag, or —?” Billy nodded his head and rushed to grab his bagged goodies before his name got called by a voice he never wanted to hear again.

“Billy?”

Holy mother of God.

Billy slowly turned around as if he were a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and there you were. He didn’t want to make it obvious that he was checking you out, seeing if you’ve changed a lot or just a little since three and a half years ago. And you did. You matured quite a bit, got a new hairstyle that suits you, and you have a cute outfit on with your usual style that hasn’t changed drastically since you were sixteen. Billy remembers all your adorable band tees you’d wear, and he also remembers yanking them off of you when he took you to his room. But he probably shouldn’t think about that right now, not with you and your new boyfriend right in front of him.

“Uh... hey,” he breathes out, clearing his throat and straightening out his jacket, even smoothing out his hair like an idiot as if it wasn’t too late to already. As if he still cared what you think of him and his appearance. You raised your brows at him and grinned like it was fucking amusing to see him get so worked up and uncomfortable, still a bitch, then grabbed a hold of the man’s coat and gave it a tug to signal him for his attention. The tall, dark handsome man looks over at Billy as you greet him.

“Hey there, stranger. It’s been a few,” you greet him as if he were an old colleague or some bullshit, not at all like an ex who’s heart you smashed to pieces. It’s unsettling to Billy, and he knows something is up, like you’re not completely being real, not acting like yourself. Even if it’s been a few years, there’s no way in hell you could have tossed your whole personality out the window. “Babe, this is Billy. He’s an old family friend of mine,” you introduce the two boys and they shake hands, your boyfriend’s grip much tighter and Billy’s more hesitant. What the fuck is happening?

“What’re you up to these days?” You inquire, probably faking interest in how he turned out after high school. Billy knows he doesn’t have it in him to stand another second of this conversation, and when shit hits the fan, he bolts.

“You know, sorry but I really gotta go. This was great, uh. Nice seeing you Y/N, and nice meeting you Amigo, ” he snatches his groceries before all but running out of the store, nearly knocking his head into the automatic opening door on the way out, recovering quickly. Leaving your boyfriend confused and you feeling somewhat lonely, suddenly wishing to be sixteen and by his side again.

—

“Family friend? What the fuck was that!” Billy punched the steering wheel before he strapped on his seatbelt and threw his comfort food in the backseat. He can’t believe you, that you’d call him a family friend after all you two had been through. You were the first girl he ever actually found himself liking, and after you transferred to another school and dropped him like trash, you had since been the last girl he ever trusted, too. It was early 1983 when Billy was finally getting the attention from girls he wanted and having the time of his life in his second year of high school. You came around and made the first move asking him out, even calling the shots on what to do when you first started messing around, like the drunk on sex and hormones teenagers you were. You stood out amongst the other girls, he noticed it immediately and thought it would be fun to have a partner he could try out all the stuff he’d wanted to do. Practice was what he had called it, for when the time comes that his performance in bed actually mattered, since he was just a kid that went no further than second base before in his short life.

Things took a turn, and looking back now Billy should’ve seen it coming. Catching feelings and spending an awful lot of time together made him weak, made him more vulnerable than he’d ever been before. You fell for him too, or maybe you just said that to appease him, Billy doesn’t know anymore and gets a headache when he tries putting the puzzle together. Always missing what the point of it all was. Meeting him, smiling at him and making the boy feel special, feel like a real man even at the tender age of sixteen. Teaching him how to fuck, how to make love, how to give head that could make a girl scream and beg for more, more, more. More importantly teaching him that it’s healthy to talk to people about how he feels, listening to others in return. Then out of nowhere, dropping Billy like a fly when you moved and never calling him back after you promised him you would. Like it meant nothing to you.

He had so much he wanted to say to you but you were untouchable. He didn’t know your new address to write you, couldn’t for the life of him look your family up in the phone book either. He’d never felt so hopeless, so alone. And it was a stab in the back that you never lived up to your word, promising you’d keep in contact with him and never forget about him. The then sixteen-year-old cried hard in his pillow every night for weeks wondering what went wrong to have you not even try to keep in contact. And to do that, to shove him away in a drawer labeled nothing by calling him a family friend... fuck.

Billy snaps out of the painful flashback and refuses to let any tears out. If he didn’t deserve an explanation or some type of closure, then you didn’t deserve any of his tears. He rubbed his eyes as he sped home, then almost forgets the bags of frozen food in the back with how distracted he had gotten. When he made it into the house, he heated up two of his favorite frozen burritos in the microwave and ate all his sorrow away.

As Billy finished up his greasy deliciousness, he wiped his hands off on his already dirty jeans and answered the telephone attached to the wall that obnoxiously rang. It was Tommy on the line, saying something about some banger being thrown tonight. Just like that, a lightbulb lit up in Billy’s head.

Hell yeah.

Getting drunk, dancing drunk, burying all his feelings in some college girl’s pussy and chugging vodka sounded heavenly. Anything to forget the feelings and thoughts he had that slowly but surely started coming back up to the surface about Y/N.

—

Pretending to have a good time when you’d rather be home asleep is exhausting. The day dragged on with your boyfriend taking you place after place, spending penny after penny on you in hopes to buy your love, your affection, and your time. You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair in distress as lover boy decided to take you to another party you weren’t too keen on attending. Drinking sucked and made you sick, your boyfriend hated when you got stoned, so that ruled out all the fun of these get togethers. You tried to protest but he was insistent on going, it was no use; he had to have everything he wanted, and damn anything or anyone that got in his way.

“I’m serious. Give me the keys. You’ve had your fun, now I can drive you back to yours and you get your car from mine in the morning, alright?” you tried to ask nicely twice already, but he either ignored or refused you. He was passed tipsy already, slurring as he called you names and kept whining about how you never want to have any fun. When you try to take the keys from his back pocket he shoved you away then poured the remainder of his beer in your face. Absolutely humiliated with all eyes on you, you grabbed the nearest full drink not giving a shit who it belonged to and did the same, drenching his face in whatever sticky contents were in the solo cup and gave him the finger, running upstairs. Knowing lover boy he probably won’t even remember what happened tonight, beg for forgiveness, try to buy you back to him. Not happening this time.

Finding the nearest empty room upstairs to cry by yourself then clean off the stench of beer from your face and your clothes, you weren’t quite expecting your ex from three and a half years ago to come stumbling out of the restroom, the toilet flushing behind him as he still struggled to zip himself. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth too, looking about as “put together” as he did at the store. You laughed at the sight, classic Billy, and he snapped his head over to the sound and his cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth.

“You following me or something?” He asks, giving up on his belt and leaving it undone.

“Oh, actually I am. You caught me,” you replied, sarcasm blatant in your tone. You pulled the knobs to turn the sink on and cupped you’re hands to gather up a pool of water to wash your face that was still drenched in beer. Billy saw how disheveled you looked and wondered if it was because you were having a great time or a horrible time. Based on your attitude, he had to guess it wasn’t the ladder. “Is there anywhere you don’t smoke?” you ask, seeing as though he still smoked like a chimney even while taking a piss.

Billy chooses to ignore that, knowing you already had the answer to that question. Instead, he chooses to comment on your wet hair and beer stinking up your clothes. “Trouble in paradise?” He asks conversationally. You looked up at him and scoffed, giving him a glimpse of your ruined mascara now running down your cheeks.

“I’m not in paradise,” you answer vaguely, not wanting to bother him with the details. You just knew he wanted an I Told You So, but you were stubborn enough not give it to him.

“Sure seems like it,” he responds. You want to roll your eyes at the signature attitude he’s giving, but can’t help feeling odd by the fact that you two were alone in a room together and he still hadn’t put his belt on properly.

“You look like an idiot. Come here,” you beckon him with your finger and he doesn’t move a muscle, just staring at you with his sultry blue eyes. “Alright, have it your way. I’ll come to you, prick,” after taking four steps to meet him you yank his belt then strap it on the tightest hole possible, finishing up by lacing the strap through the belt loops. While pulling away, Billy meets your eyes and holds your stare, not even blinking before he snaps out of it and goes back to brat mode.

“Thanks, but I’m not a goddamn child anymore. And you stink like PBR.”

“Oooh, sick burn, dude. It was a Budlight, by the way. That all you have left in you?”

“No, I have more. You got time to hear ‘em?”

“Got all night.”

—

You and Billy stayed upstairs and got to catching up, also throwing immature insults like “you peaked at sixteen” and “at least I don’t smoke on the toilet.” When you both finally let up and started laughing at your past mistakes and not holding grudges because of them, that’s when the energy in the room took a turn and you now remember that this is the Billy you knew. The doofus in the supermarket that ran into the door. Now you both lay on the bed, the blonde boy propped up by the headboard still chainsmoking, and you on the other end of the bed with your feet in his lap. Billy’s heart sings with how much he missed this, missed talking and just fucking around with eachother. Not taking anything serious. It was one of the many favorite qualities he had about you.

“Shit, I can’t even believe you’re really here. Never thought I’d see you again,” he murmurs while looking down at you, playfully tickling your feet that were in front of him. You reacted by almost kicking him in the face with laughter, then demanded he knock it off to which he surrendered.

“Well, same goes for me I guess. I can’t believe you don’t even try buttoning your shirts,” you say as he laughs and hides his face in his hands, adorably self conscious. “It’s hot though, don’t get me wrong. I can forgive you for that,” you sit up and reach to tug on the collar of his red button up, before you suddenly remember how you got here in the first place. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Billy snaps his head up at the change in conversation, seeing as though you’re both getting to that point of the night. When you really start to talk about everything.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

You keep your eyes trained on him and scoot further up the bed right next to him before taking his cigarette from his mouth and giving it a drag yourself.

“Can you take me home?”

Billy turns his body towards yours and wraps one arm over your shoulder, as if protecting you. “I don’t know where you live anymore,” he rubs your back and let’s you lean your head in his exposed chest.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” you whisper as he nods in understanding, taking his keys from his pocket and opening the bedroom door and opening it for you.

—

Billy drove you to his apartment and led you up to his room, which he kept much neater than he did back in the day. He even had a bookcase that was filled with the classics as well as a variety of horror novels. Posters of naked playboy women were removed and instead he now had his class schedule hung up along with metal bands and movie posters decorating the walls. His bed was unmade, but what made you laugh out loud was seeing three rolls of tissue that were crumbled up on his bedside table.

“What? I’m getting over a cold, you asshole.” He defended himself as he took off his shirt, not caring to tell you to leave as he changed. You had to double take when you saw the ink on his upper arm, where a cheesy old fashioned skull tattoo lay.

“You can’t be serious — this isn’t real. That cannot be real,” your eyes wide with disbelief and not asking for permission before trying to rub it off, expecting it to smudge.

“Nope. It’s totally real,” he goes on to tell you his experience going in and getting it on his eighteenth birthday after feeling extra rebellious. After his story was finished he realizes he forgot to ask if you’d even eaten dinner yet. “You hungry at all? Got these kickass frozen burritos, plenty to share,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you agree that they sound fantastic right about now. Billy leads you back downstairs to the kitchen and plopping a couple of them on a plate and heating them up in the microwave.

“Billy, can I tell you something?”

“Uh, sure. If you wanna ruin our meal then go for it,” Billy answers, burning his fingers on the hot plate when he tries taking it out. The boy hissed and cursed, holding his sensitive hand as if it were a wounded animal. Still sitting at the kitchen table, you roll your eyes at his stupidity and impatience then grab the oven mittens from a drawer and grab the plate for you two.

“It’s hot,” you say obviously, stopping him from taking a bite of the sizzling meal.

“Yeah, thanks for the heads up.”

“I’m serious. We’ve been avoiding it all night, but I know I hurt you when I didn’t keep in touch like I said—“

“Y/N, stop.”

“No. You need to understand-“

“I said stop.” he snaps, quickly transitioning to defense mode, vastly uncomfortable with the change in subject. It was silent for too long, and Billy didn’t want to wait any longer for the food to cool, taking a bite and spilling beans down his shirt. “Goddammit,” he grumbled before you took the lead and grabbed a napkin to clean his tank top.

“You need a bib,” you advise.

“You’re not my fucking mom, alright! You ask me to to take you back here, make me feel like a child. You’re the child. You are! Go back to your snobby little boy toy, why don’t you? Christ.” he rubs his eyes after finishing his tangent, talking more under his breath about how “unbelievable” you are, and taking another sloppy bite from the burrito but nevertheless passing the plate to you and offering you some.

“I’m not hungry anymore, and I dumped my ‘boy toy’ right when he dumped his Budlight on me.” you quote Billy’s nickname for your new ex, then your stomach interrupts you by rumbling. He looks at you and then the plate knowingly. With a sigh, you grab the burrito and take a few nibbles before wiping your hands. Billy starts to stomp back up to his room before calling your name, pausing at the top of the stairs.

“I’m going to the gym tomorrow, Max is sleeping over at her friend El’s. You don’t have to stay.”

—

Billy doesn’t know what made him clam up so fast. Maybe it was how you still treated him like he was stupid, or that you wouldn’t drop it and bring up the breakup when he thought he was actually having a nice night. As soon as he enters his room he throws a pillow across the room and pouts before laying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. He surges for his back up pack of smokes and lights one up, the nicotine relieving him of his anxiety. Eventually he had to get up again to take a piss and when he exited the bathroom, there you were, waiting for him.

“Can’t get rid of me, William.”

“Who got rid of who last time, huh?” He blows smoke in your face with a smirk, happy about the cleverness of his comeback. “I already forgave you. Don’t bother.” He told you, strolling back to his room with his smoke trailing behind him.

“I’m sorry for referring to you as a family friend. Honestly, if he were to hear anything different he would’ve hurt me and then he would’ve killed you.” Billy stopped and turned around to where you stand, seeing your eyes brimmed with tears as you held your chest, trying your hardest not to fall apart.

Tugging on his heart strings since he was sixteen, Billy can’t help but give in.

“Come here.”

You fall into his warm embrace, with “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I’m repeat and he shushes you while petting your hair, holding you tight.

“Y/N, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” he pleads, not standing it when you’re sad and especially when he was the cause of it.

“I left you and I didn’t talk to you ever again because I’m replaceable. You could’ve found any other girl or... or anybody to keep you company the rest of high school. But you spent it moping about losing me like the fucking idiot you are!” you laugh out loud, and it wasn’t humorous. Billy leads you in his room and ashes his cigarette without taking his hands off you.

“Listen. No, listen to me. Shut the fuck up. I didn’t mope about just any girl, and I don’t ever cry and bitch about her leaving me unless she meant the fucking world to me,” he takes your head in his hands, wanting to make you understand.

“I still love you. Even if you smoke on the toilet and do all the other weird shit you do,” you smile as you sniffle, embaressed about getting his shirt wet. Billy assured you that it didn’t matter then pulls you close to his lips.

“And I love you, even if you still reek like PBR.”

“It was a Budlight that was thrown at me, actually.”

“Shut up.”

And now Billy can say he’s never been more grateful he went to the supermarket for his favorite frozen burritos that morning.

—

sorry this sooo long but the idea was just too cute for it to be a small basic one shot!!

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove imagine

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

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New Bums Interview: Married Couple Vibe

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Unlike the mathematical approach of Six Organs of Admittance or the wound jangly pop of Skygreen Leopards, Ben Chasny and Donovan Quinn’s New Bums is like its name: contemporary slacker vibes, loose playing, easy, gorgeous tunes. The band’s first record, Voices in a Rented Room, came out in 2014, and almost immediately afterwards, they started recording its follow-up. It wouldn’t be released until this March, as the more layered but just as lackadaisical Last Time I Saw Grace (Drag City). Both Chasny and Quinn write songs, and each plays off the other one’s style as much as presenting their own. For instance, on the energetic “Oblieration Time”, which juxtaposes soloing and acoustic strumming, Chasny attempted to write lyrics like Quinn. As for Quinn’s lyrics, more generally, Chasny’s instrumentation shifts them. “One of the great things about songwriting [is] the way the lyrics come across versus what they actually mean,” Quinn said on a Zoom call earlier this year with me and Chasny. “The same words can be funny, sad, [or] ironic depending on the instrumentation behind [them]. It’s really fun to see what Ben does.” Chasny agrees that instrumentation matters, not citing a general philosophy but rather a YouTube video with almost 10 million views that overlays a scene of Darth Vader visiting the Death Star with a snippet of Spandau Ballet’s “True”.

Indeed, the buddy quality of New Bums shines through when they’re in the same room--even a virtual one. They laugh and play with each other and finish each other’s sentences, having been friends for a long time. But such a laid-back feeling wouldn’t be possible without each member’s distinct personalities. Chasny, knowing I was set to interview Chris Corsano later that day about his and Bill Orcutt’s excellent Made Out Of Sound, had me communicate an inside joke to Corsano, with whom he shares a band, Rangda. (The joke? Telling Corsano that he should make a pack of beats called “Chris Corsano’s Breakbeats,” to which Corsano cackled and replied, “You’ve been talking to Chasny.”) Chasny’s also self-deprecating: “I’m not a very good violin player, but the last song has me on the violin,” he shrugs about Last Time’s “Follow Them Up the Slope”. And he forgets the titles of the songs, facetiously chalking it up to the album’s lyrical themes of decay. Quinn, simply, is humble and go-with-the-flow.

Underneath it all are some serious aesthetic and instrumental chops from the both of them, a mix of guitars, harmonium (the circular “So Long, Kus”), violin, and keyboards. Opener “Billy, God Damn” is twangy and layered. “Onward to Devastation” features tasty riffing following the lilting folk of “Marlene Left California”. “Wild Dogs” shimmers, while “Hermitage Song” stuns with deep string textures. All in all, Chasny and Quinn talk about these songs with the same exuberance they do their other projects, or music by Corsano and Orcutt, or even legendary records by 90′s German drone artists. Music fans make music makers, and music bums never fade.

Read my conversation with them below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: What’s unique about Last Time I Saw Grace as compared to Voices in a Rented Room?

Donovan Quinn: I think both of the records come from the same place. A buddy record is the way I would put it, where it grew out of me and Ben in a room, playing two guitars, talking about ideas and records we admired. This one, we built the songs up a little bit more, added some layers to the songs with overdubs, and really added some depth to a lot of the compositions with vocal and guitar work and different synths, whereas the first one we tried to keep it as barebones as possible.

Ben Chasny: Yeah. I would say the first one was more slopdog, like a mutt running wild, and this one isn’t showdog level, but trimming up the dog a little bit, teaching it a couple tricks.

SILY: Maybe album 3 will be showdog.

BC: Yeah. I think it’ll probably take a poop right in front of everybody, but it will still be up there.

SILY: Those layers are what I noticed from the get-go, on [opener] “Billy. God Damn”. Is that why you decided to have it first on the record and release it ahead of time?

BC: We ran through a number of sequences on the record. It just felt like a good one to start out with. There are definitely more vocal layers on this than the other record we did for sure.

DQ: Yeah, I don’t have a clear memory of recording a lot of these songs because we did it over a long period of time, and “Billy God Damn” is one of those songs. I think we put it first because it set a good tone for the rest of the record.

SILY: The sequencing definitely struck me. It goes back and forth between more up-tempo tracks like “Obliteration Time Two” and more lilting tracks like “Marlene Left California”. Is that something you had in mind when ultimately deciding on the order of the tracks?

BC: I think so, yeah, trying to balance it out without having one of the sides of the records being too much one direction.

SILY: I love records like this where the palate is mostly vocals and guitars but you throw in a wildcard like the harmonium, or the cello on “Street of Spies”. It makes those songs stand out.

DQ: “Street of Spies” has our buddy Jason Quever on cello who has a band called Papercuts. I work a lot with Jason and he was kind enough to put some cello on that one.

BC: He did the drums and some of the strings on the first record, too.

SILY: You could say the whole album has a loose quality, but on that song especially, you kept the false start and the countdown from the live recording.

DQ: We do like that kind of sketchbook vibe with our records.

BC: [laughs] I have a feeling I know what you’re gonna say, Donovan.

DQ: I’m not gonna say what you think I’m gonna say...Me and Ben have known each other for so long, it’s a married couple vibe where we know what the other person is gonna say or is thinking...With the way you can record records now, it’s pretty easy to really get things lined up and cleaned up. We thought with New Bums, it would be kind of a nice contrast to not do that, to keep things a little bit frayed.

SILY: It goes with the aesthetic suggested by the band name, too.

DQ: Yeah, exactly.

SILY: Did anything inspire the lyrics specifically?

DQ: Not anything specifically, but over time, both me and Ben writing, we kind of developed a sense of a type of record lyrically, and it seemed to be a lot of songs about decay and certain kinds of desperation. We built from that, not totally consciously, but everything seemed to gravitate towards it.

BC: I will say, when I wrote some of the lyrics to the song “Obliteration Time”, I was actually trying to write songs like Donovan’s band Skygreen Leopards, and I was hoping he would pick up on it. I was like, “Did you pick up on it?” He was like, “No, I didn’t at all.” That was what I was trying to do.

SILY: In some ways, you still have a ways to go in your marriage, then.

BC: Yeah, a lot of ways.

SILY: What were you going for on the first line of “Street of Spies”, “Who gives a fuck about clemency?”

DQ: You know, I don’t remember. And when we were listening back to different vocal takes, there was one that was so unusually angry for me that Ben was saying I sounded like Rage Against the Machine or something, so we changed it. I don’t know. It’s just meant to have the language contrast the mellow vibe of the song. I like that style when if you have a mellow song with lyrics that contradict that feel.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the album title?

BC: It’s a line [on the album]. When you listen to [the] song, you realize it’s the name of a woman, Grace, but in context on the front of the record, it has a different meaning, which we thought would be kind of fun. You listen to the record, and you realize, “Ah, I see what they’re talking about.”

DQ: That was kind of a last-minute title. I think we got lucky with it. It fits really well with the kind of themes developed in the record: decay, desperation, etc.

SILY: Is Grace a real person or just a character?

Both: Just a character.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the cover art?

BC: Donovan had the concept behind the art.

DQ: We were gonna see if anyone noticed this, but if you look at the first cover and the second cover, it’s basically the same elements, but we took things away. The first one has the two triangles, and it’s pictures of me and Ben, and this one doesn’t have any pictures. The idea is for every album to have the same basic design that takes elements away to eventually have nothing at all.

SILY: What are you gonna lose on the next one? One of the triangles?

BC: Possibly. That’s when I get kicked out of the band.

SILY: Or it’s self-titled, and you can use New Bums as the band and the title.

DQ: The other day, something cool happened that reminded me of the cover and the two triangles. It doesn’t totally work, but I did this video that heavily references ZZ Top. For the video, we bought a couple of ZZ Top magical keychains, and I was trying to open a box with it, but the fucking thing broke! But the two extreme points of the keys broke off, and what’s left looks a lot like the two triangles.

BC: The original record cover from the first record was based on one of my favorite records, pretty much a tribute to it, a band called The Black Vial. He did a record called Frozen Morning in maybe the mid-90s. He did 300 of them, this German guy, Liebried Loch. They were wrapped in black electric tape, and that’s what held the photograph on. This really gorgeous looking record, one of the most dark, depressing records I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s just droning on electric guitar on a practice amp, really distorted, singing songs like, “Black crows, flying no more!” We based the original artwork off that record and then modified it.

SILY: Have you thought about doing a live stream or socially distant show?

BC: We should try to figure out how to do it together. We still have to figure out Zoom. We may not do Zoom a lot. We’re more Google. We know technology.

SILY: You’re not Luddites?

BC: We have most of our meetings on Google Hangouts.

DQ: New Bums has a lot of meetings, and we spend a lot of time together, so it’s surprising it’s taken us 5 years to do two albums and two tours.

BC: We do have some great video footage from that tour a couple years back filmed at a bookstore in San Francisco called Adobe Books, and I think we’re gonna put that out for people to check out.

SILY: Were some of the songs from this record performed there?

BC: Yeah, we [did] “Cover Band”.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

DQ: I’ve been watching a lot of movies more than anything else. I have the Criterion Channel service, so I’ve been finding a lot of inspiration in that. I was just recommending the movie Close-up to Ben, if you want to feel that doing any kind of artistic endeavor might have some meaning, it’s worth it.

BC: I’ve been watching a lot of Poirot. That guy’s great. His relationship with Hastings is quite similar to Donovan and me, though I won’t say who is Poirot and who’s Hastings.

Last Time I Saw Grace by New Bums

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midwinterblinder · 5 years

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Will you help me?

Chapter 6: Pregnancies and abortions

Y/N spends the night staring at the ceiling of John’s old room. She’s very aware that Tommy is sleeping across the hall and doesn’t want to risk waking him with one of her nightmares, so she stays awake. She doesn’t have work tomorrow, so it won’t be a problem if she’s tired. She wonders if she would have been able to sleep if she wanted to with the noises around her. She can hear Arthur through the wall. He sounds like he’s having a nightmare and part of her wants to get up to help him but she’s not sure how she would be able to, so she stays where she is.

Across the hall, Tommy is staring up at the ceiling as well. He can’t use opium, because Y/N will be able to smell it, and he can’t go to sleep without it, because then the nightmares are even worse. He doesn’t want to worry her, so he stays awake.

The next morning Tommy comes downstairs to find Y/N sitting in the kitchen by herself. The kettle is on and she has spread out some of the food on the table, so everyone will be able to help themselves to breakfast as soon as they come in. “I see you still know the way around here.” He smiles as he recalls the times Y/N has made her way around the kitchen before.

At the sound of his voice, Y/N lowers the newspaper she’s reading and offers him a small smile. “Well, everything is still in the same place.” She says, but her smile falls as she sees the dark circles under Tommy’s eyes. “Did you not sleep well?” She asks and the concern on her face warms his heart, but the question has a completely different effect.

He wishes it could always be like this; her being there in the morning, them having breakfast together. But he also notices how exhausted she looks. “I could ask you the same.” He avoids her question as he takes a seat. “Is John’s bed not comfortable?”

Y/N keeps a close eye on Tommy as he focuses on a cigarette he just pulled out of his pocket. “It was fine, but you know what a light sleeper I am, and Arthur was having a tough night.” She says. She’s not really lying; she is a light sleeper and Arthur was making quite a bit of noise. Tommy doesn’t need to know that she didn’t even try to fall asleep. “You should eat something.” She quickly changes the subject as she pushes the bread in his direction. “You can’t live off cigarettes alone.” She adds as she stands up to get the kettle off the stove.

Tommy watches her move around the kitchen like she used to do as she prepares the tea and reaches out to get a slice of bread. It’s been a long time since he actually ate breakfast, usually he just starts the day with a cigarette and eats whatever is available when he gets hungry, but the domestic scene in front of him is enough to convince him to spend a little more time at the breakfast table.

After Tommy manages to calm the horse down after it got scared by the noise from the factories, he walks past The Garrison where he’s almost hit by the content of a bucket that Grace empties onto the street. She apologizes but he doesn’t quite believe it was an accident. She introduces herself, but he quickly lets her know that he knows who she is.

His jaw clenches when she asks him if she can sing in the pub, his mind going back to how upset Y/N was the other day. He ignores her question as an idea comes to mind. He could use her for his plans with Billy Kimber and get information about who she really is out of her at the same time if he plays things right. So he tells her to pick out a nice dress, so he can take her to the races, and then leaves her behind in confusion.

Y/N is sitting at her desk in the office of The Garrison when Polly bursts through the door. “He’s a fucking bastard!” She exclaims as she slams the door closed behind her. Y/N opens her mouth to ask what’s going on, but Polly doesn’t give her a chance. “You need to talk to him, he’ll listen to you.” She goes on as she paces around the office.

“What are you talking about, Polly?” Y/N asks as she watches the older woman. “What’s going on?” She’s fairly certain this is about Tommy, but why would her talking to him change anything? And what would she even talk to him about?

“Ada’s pregnant.” Polly announces as she stops in front of Y/N. She watches as Y/N’s eyes widen slightly at the news. “It’s Freddie’s, but he left town when the cops raided the place.” She goes on and she can tell that Y/N knew about Freddie and Ada, because unlike the news about Ada’s pregnancy hearing Freddie’s name doesn’t seem to surprise her. “Ada wanted Tommy to get a letter to Freddie, but he burned it.”

Y/N nods as she takes in the information. She knew about Ada and Freddie but had hoped Ada would be careful enough to avoid a situation like this. “What do you need me for though?” She asks as she furrows her eyebrows. “Tommy’s not going to listen to me, Polly.” She shakes her head at the older woman. Polly still seems to think that she has some kind of hold over Tommy, but she’s pretty sure that stopped a long time ago.

“He will.” Polly says as she looks down at Y/N, who is still sitting in her chair. “He hasn’t eaten breakfast since he came back from France. Then you appear in the kitchen in the morning and he’s been eating breakfast for three days now.” She says as she wonders how Y/N can doubt the hold she still has over Tommy. “You are the only reason we sometimes get glimpses of the Tommy from before the war. The Tommy who believed in love.” She goes on. “Talk to him.”

Y/N finds Tommy in the betting den behind a table covered in cash. His head rests in his hands but he lifts it at the sound of her footsteps. “You’re early.” He states as he straightens his back and tries to look like he’s fine. Y/N has been staying with them for three days now while her flat is being fixed up. It could have been done by now, but Tommy might be slowing down the process a little; his lack of sleep is worth seeing her every morning.

“Polly came to get me.” She tells him as she takes a seat across from him. Tommy nods in understanding as he looks down at the table, expecting another scolding. “Apparently you don’t believe in love anymore and I’m supposed to change that.” Y/N says as she keeps her eyes on him.

“It’s no good for Ada to bring a baby into the world alone.” Tommy says, but he doesn’t look up. “All Freddie sees in her is a chance at that bloody revolution of his, he doesn’t love her.” He adds as he finally looks her in the eye and she can see the turmoil of emotions in them. “I won’t let my sister throw away her life like that.”

“He does love her, Tom.” She says, and she hesitates for a moment but then reaches out to take one of his hands in hers in the hope of reassuring him. “And she loves him.” She adds. “If he knows she’s pregnant he’ll come back for her, you know he will.”

Tommy sighs as his eyes lock on their joined hands. His fingers carefully wrap around hers as he contemplates what to do. He doesn’t want his sister to ruin her life, but if Ada and Freddie truly love each other he doesn’t want to stand in the way of that. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A few days later Y/N finds herself in a room with Ada, who has been on edge for days now. Y/N’s flat is fixed and she’s living there again, but she doesn’t want to leave Ada alone in this situation, so she spends a lot of time with her. She remembers how alone she felt when she found out. Y/N tries to help, but she knows the only thing that’ll really help is if Freddie comes back. She hasn’t told Ada about Tommy’s promise to try and reach Freddie, so she wouldn’t get Ada’s hopes up. She hasn’t told Polly either, avoiding the older women whenever she tries to talk to her about it.

The companionable silence between Y/N and Ada is disturbed when Polly comes in. Polly very much doubts that Freddie will come back, especially now that Y/N won’t tell her how her talk with Tommy went. So she decides that she should take control of the situation. She tells Ada that she should get rid of the baby sooner rather than later. Y/N looks down as Polly says that she did it to herself when she was 16. “And I almost died. And he didn’t come back. They don’t. Why should they? You know the words; you’re a whore, the baby is a bastard. But there is no word for the man who doesn’t come back.” Polly tells her niece.

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut as Polly keeps talking about common sense and a woman in Cardiff who will do it. Polly’s confession brings up memories and her mind goes back to that horrible day in France, to all the blood and how awful she felt afterwards. Her hands clench into fists and it’s becoming difficult to breath as the memory comes back to her. Her eyes fill with tears that roll down her cheeks. She needs to get out, she needs air.

Polly and Ada exchange a confused look as they see Y/N stand up and make her way to the door. The look soon turns to concern as they notice her tears and Polly gives Ada’s shoulder a squeeze before she follows after Y/N. “Y/N?” She asks softly as they both stand in front of the house. Tears on both of their faces and it suddenly appears to Polly that Y/N might be upset over the same thing. But surely that can’t be true. “Did you-“ Polly starts as she steps closer, but she cuts herself off as the idea makes no sense.

Y/N covers her face with her hands, but nods as an answer to Polly’s unfinished question. She hears the older woman gasp and it only makes her cry harder, not caring that everyone can see her. She never wanted anyone to find out, but if anyone will understand it’s Polly. She’s been through the same thing. “I did it myself.” Y/N admits through her tears.

“But why?” Polly asks as she stares at the woman before her in disbelief. “Tommy would have married you on the spot, you didn’t have to do that.” She says as she tries to make sense of the situation. If Y/N had gotten pregnant Tommy would have married her, there’s no doubt in Polly’s mind about that.

“It-“ Y/N starts but cuts herself off again as she shakes her head. She knows she has to tell Polly the whole story now, but the truth still hurts. “It wasn’t his.” She manages to get out, her mind filling with images of that horrible man as he pushed her against the wall of one of the storage rooms in France. “I tried to get him off, but he was too strong.” She cries as she turns to the older woman, desperately wishing she will understand. “I didn’t want him to, Polly, I swear.”

Fresh tears appear in Polly’s eyes as she realizes what happened to Y/N. She’s so shocked that she doesn’t say anything for a while, which causes Y/N to panic. What if Polly hates her now? What if she tells Tommy? They will all hate her for this, she knows they will. This is exactly why she never wanted to tell them. Y/N is about to walk away, sure that Polly won’t want anything to do with her anymore, when Polly steps even closer and pulls her into her arms.

“I know, love, I know.” Polly’s voice sounds shaky as the two women cling to each other. “I’m so sorry.” Polly can’t hold back her tears anymore and they both stand there crying in each other’s arms.

Tags: @thinkingsofamadwoman @giftofdreams

#peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic

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stagekiller · 4 years

Text

@feltcalling said: billy, all this holiday stuff got me wantin'.... to ask...….. give us some lila headcanons puh-lease

me: dumps everything i was doing to respond to this

for our convenience I have divided the headcanons in three separate categories, starting from least to most sad and ending with a sweet one. :D

First of all: trigger warning for alcoholism and mentions of sexual/physical abuse. Here I wanna state that I personally don’t like demonizing Lila about what she did to the twins. Honestly, to me she reads more as one of those parents who are still children themselves, rather than a malicious woman who went out of her way to hurt her kids on purpose.

Second, let me start by saying I have this FC for Lila that suits my image of her PERFECTLY but I can’t find more pictures of the woman depicted, because she’s some Greek singer with a very small following. ( sCREams )

lukewarm sad:

Lila’s aesthetic is opulence. But because she’s poor as dirt, the stuff she chooses to ‘decorate’ her home with are usually really cheap bling bling that she finds at street bazaars. Because she’s very lonely and emotionally numb, she likes to fill her house with shiny things she can look at and delude herself with.

She wears really heavy perfume and accessorizes a lot ( her fingers are practically covered in rings at all times ) . Lila dresses in a very sexualized fashion, without any real sense of what’s aesthetically pleasing. Her clothes are cheap and sometimes... don’t really fit her. ( Jerome fatshames her on the regular for this ) A thing that says a lot about her psyche is that, even though she’s always enveloped in this ‘nice’, extravagant wrapping, her body is very neglected. She’s a bit on the plump side, but because of her age + malnutrition + lack of exercise, it makes her look wrinkly and lumpy ( yes she has neck wrinkles and that’s actually canon )

Lila will drink pretty much anything available and she often starts drinking in the morning. The smell of booze plus cologne is an especially revolting one, coupled with the fact she smokes as well. When she eats, it’s usually really low quality junk food, save for the times Zachary would bring something home from work for them.

Lila isn’t a horrible cook. When the twins were younger she could cook up a decent goulash. She knows some Russian ‘mom’ recipes, passed down from one generation to the other, but, as she grew up next to Zachary herself and he would most often take care of the kitchen, she’s not very experienced. As time goes by and she descends further in her addictions, Lila stops cooking or buying groceries all together and starts eating outside by herself, leaving no option for her sons but to learn how to prepare their own meals.

Lila and Sheba (the snake) spend a lot of time together during work and often in the house as well. It’s not unusual for Lila to have forgotten Sheba in the caravan and the snake to have nested in a pile of dirty laundry. Fortunately for everyone in that trailer Sheba has a very calm temper and is accustomed to humans handling her. Lila, despite being the one to handle her most, leaves the ‘gross’ parts ( such as feeding, cleaning the cage ) of being her owner to her sons instead.

pretty damn sad:

Contrary to popular belief, Lila doesn’t have an explosive temper. When she’s sober; she’s actually rather catatonic. She throws fits, of course, especially under the influence, but unless drunk she’s not likely to pick a fight. It is Jerome who antagonizes her 25/7 and Lila’s prefered method to deal with it has always been going to Zachary and crying about how horrible Jerome is so that Uncle Zach would reprimand him. However, she’s not above throwing things at him during her fits ( their caravan looks like a mess all the time ) and she’s been physically abusive towards both twins when they were younger. Growing up it became harder for her to beat Jerome up because he could fight back. But she can get creative sometimes, much like her brother, and, say, grab the clothing iron to slap him with.

Lila doesn’t refer to Jerome as her son. She’s stopped doing so ever since Jerome was in primary school. He calls him by his first name. When Jerome does something ( or Lila thinks he does something ) to Jeremiah, Lila tells him things along the lines of “ Stay away from my son! ” as if he’s a stranger. Jerome doesn’t call her mother either. Around other people he will most often refer to her as simply ‘her’ or with an insult and when addressing her he doesn’t use any particular name. Just ‘you’. She’s much closer with Jeremiah, however, probably because he doesn’t antagonize her.

really sad tbh:

She and Uncle Zachary are too close to each other, with Zachary being very controlling towards her ( a behavior Jerome later on displays towards his brother, in imitation ). But Lila, through the years, has developed a dependence on him. He is her big brother, who will take care of things for her when she’s in trouble etc etc. Zachary is also rather possessive of Lila; he likes to know the guys she sleeps with and has often acted as a pimp to her in the past. Clearly he doesn’t care about what she does to make ends meet, but he does stick his greasy hands in her earnings under the excuse of ‘she’s not responsible enough to handle them herself’.

In the past Cicero had not only shown her some genuine affection, he had also helped her financially. But there’s a darker side to that, because Lila wasn’t genuinely attracted to him. In a sense, he groomed her. And when she realized that, she felt deeply ashamed - though not ashamed enough to stop sleeping with him immediately. These days, however, she seems to avoid him as much as she can.

sweet :

One of the few ‘family traditions’ Lila has with her sons consists of gathering in front of the TV and watching soap operas together. Jerome and Jeremiah would most often be comfortably snuggled up together besides her as kids. Growing up, Miah would sit next to their mom as a separating barrier between her and Jerome. They don’t talk during the soaps, but they do call each other when the show starts. After Miah leaves the home, the tradition slowly begins to fade.

EDIT : forgot to mention that the soaps headcanon came up in a convo with @/craftedsanity. I don’t remember if it was him or me who came up with it, so, to give credit where credit is due we’re gonna say it was him. But it’s such a good headcanon I couldn’t help it and I’ve incorporated it to the backstory ok, don’t judge me I like bittersweet things. :D

#{ headcanons }#// fuck yeah i screamed i love writing backstory stuff ok #{ LilaValeska }#// THANKS FOR THE ASK APRIL ! :D

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louigender · 5 years

Text

When I Was Older- Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes x Holmes! Reader (eventually) Avengers x Sherlock

Summary: John Watson is one of Reader’s friends. Her other is a cat whom she found in the alley between two flats. Reader is a Holmes and a high functioning sociopath. The Avengers need the readers help as Moriarty has teamed up with Hydra. Takes place between season 3 and 4 (my favorite season) of Sherlock. Infinity War and Endgame never happened.

Series Warnings: blood, violence, angst, fluff, is Moriarty a warning?, death

A/N: Happy Memorial Day, mis amigos! Here’s chapter one of When I Was Older. This series was inspired by the song by Billie Eilish (love her) and I just rlly love Sherlock. Your feedback of the prologue warmed mi pequeño corazón! Without further ado, here’s the first chapter.

(A/N: i also changed the moodboard)

The quinjet rocked slightly as it flew through the air. Bucky sat, along with the other Avengers, strapped and in his uniform. Clint sat in the pilot seat, navigating. Steve and Tony were talking in hushed whispers, discussing the mission at hand.

They had gotten word of a Hydra base off the shore of England, Sutherland to be exact, and had suited up almost immediately. It was 9pm when they boarded the jet. Now it was close to midnight. Bucky had been riddled with nightmares the past week and was eager to finally get a good’s night rest.

“ETA: five minutes,” barked Clint.

Tony and Steve strapped themselves in their own seats, as Clint flipped switches preparing to land. The quinjet successfully made its descent and the team stood. Steve clipped the shield on his back and walked out. Bucky checked the ammo of his guns before walking down the ramp.

Rolling green hills, light golden colored sand and the salty aroma of sea water, along with the twinkling stars, almost calmed him. Almost. He quickly remembered why they were here and turned the safety off his guns. The team walked in a group, taking in their surroundings and watching out for danger. As they walked through a forest of trees,signs exclaimed ‘danger!’ and some with skulls and crossbones on them.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, scan the area,” ordered Tony.

“There seems to be seven active mines. I am recalculating the route to avoid them,” spike the AI.

A map of the forest with dots,Tony assumed as mines, and a path highlighted.

“Alright follow me.”

The team followed after him a single file line. The hairs on the back of their necks stood on end. Suddenly an explosion rang out, causing them all to flinch. They quickly looked at each other, making sure the other was safe, when they realized they didn’t set off the mine. Someone else did. Tony, Rhodey and Sam took off and flew above the trees to see what had caused the explosion.

“Jesus,” muttered Rhodes as he saw what was in front of him.

The Hydra based was gone, blown to bits. Bodies littered the ground, blood and limbs scattered as well. The tress surrounding the base were burnt and had parts of them blown away. A mine didn’t do this.

“You guys are gonna wanna see this.”

The rest of them quickly made their way to the base and stopped in their tracks. The odor of smoke and burnt flesh hung in the air. They scrunched their noses and walked through the rubble. Bucky looked at the scene in front of him. The mess of dead bodies and concrete made his stomach churn. As he took in what he saw, something caught his eye. Turning to the side he saw the only remaining wall, even thought half of it had been blown away.

“Um guys,” he spoke through the com, “I found something.”

The team quickly found him and Wanda gasped at what she saw. They stood in shock and horror. A man was hanging off the side of the wall by a metal pole in his chest. Written in blood and pieces of flesh was a message.

‘Get Holmes

-M’

Bucky sure wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

***

“You have been busy, haven’t you,” remarked Mycroft, behind his newspaper, with a little laugh. “Quite the busy little bee.” He put his paper down.

“Moriarty’s network, it took me two years to dismantle it,” You replied back as a man stood behind you, cutting your hair.

“You’re confident that you have?”

There goes brother Mycroft, doubting you again.

“The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle.”

“Yes. You got yourself in deep there with Baron Maupertius. Quite a scheme,” Mycroft joked.

“Colossal,” You muttered.

“Anyway. You’re safe now. A small ‘thank you’ wouldn’t go amiss.”

“What for?” You mindlessly asked.

“For wading in. In case you’ve forgotten, field work is not my natural milieu.”

Your brows furrowed. You raised a hand to the barber to tell him to stop and sat forward in the chair with a grunt. The Serbian man had done a number on you. “Wading in? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp,” You pointed out.

“I got you out,” defended Mycroft.

“No, I got me out.” You argued back. “Why didn’t you intervene sooner?”

“I couldn’t risk giving myself away, could I?” Mycroft said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “It would’ve ruined everything.”

“You were enjoying it,” You accused.

“Nonsense.”

“Definitely enjoying it.”

“Listen, do you have any idea what it was like,” began Mycroft, “(Y/N), going undercover? Smuggling my way into their ranks like that?”

You rolled your eyes.

“The noise, the people!”

You sat back in the chair with another grunt and allowed the barber to finish his work.

“I didn’t know you spoke Serbian,” You questioned.

“I didn’t. But the language has a Slavic root. Frequent Turkish and German loan- words. Took me a couple of hours,” shrugged Mycroft.

“Hmm, you’re slipping.”

An bitter smile crawled its way up Mycroft’s lips. “Middle age, sister mine. Comes to us all.”

The door opened and Anthea stepped through with your clothes in hand.

***

John stepped through 221B Baker Street with timid steps. He watched as dust hovered off the furniture and drifted through the air. You never liked it when people dusted. Memories of your adventures flooded his mind. He drew a breath in to compose himself. Mrs. Hudson came in and turned on the lights.

“I couldn’t face letting in out,” she said. Breaking John’s train of thought.

She walked over and drew the curtains, grimacing at the dirt. “She never liked me dusting.”

“No, I know,” he replied, thinking of the moment when you had a screaming match with Mrs. Hudson about her cleaning.

“Where’s Alyx?” John had also taking a liking to the cat. She reminded him of you.

“Oh, um, she ran away one night and never came back. I leave food out, but she never shows. So why now? What changed your mind?”

“Well, I’ve got some news,” John started.

“Oh god, is it serious,” asked Mrs. Hudson.

“What? No, no I’m not ill. I’ve, uh well, I’m...moving on.”

“You’re emigrating?”

“Nope. Uh, no, I’ve uh, I have met someone,” he explained.

“Oh! Ah, lovely,” gushed the elderly woman.

“Yeah. We’re getting married. Well, I’m going to ask, anyway.” The excitement was evident in his voice.

“So soon after (Y/N)?”

“Hm, well, yes.”

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. They turned around to see Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in the door way. Mrs. Hudson let out a surprised gasp and John’s eyebrows shot up.

“We hope we’re not intruding, but we, uh, need some help,” Steve shyly said.

“Is (Y/N) Holmes here by any chance?” Asked Tony.

The mention of your name mad them tense. Sadness creeped into their hearts.

“No, she’s not,” John told them.

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“She’s gone. As in, uh, dead,” croaked Mrs. Hudson.

This seemed to surprise the two super heroes. “Oh, we’re sorry. We didn’t know,” Steve apologized.

“We’ll be on our way. Sorry again,” Tony nodded his condolences and ushered him and Steve out the flat.

They stepped into the cab that had been waiting.

“So, what now?”

“I have no idea.”

***

“I need you to give this matter your full attention, (Y/N), is that quite clear?” Instructed your brother.

“What do you think of this shirt,” you asked you tucked the shirt in your dress pants.

“(Y/N)!”

“I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft. Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in. Feel every quiver of its beating heart.”

“One of our men died getting this information,” Anthea explained. “All the chatter, all the traffic concurs, there’s going to be a terrorist strike on London, a big one.”

“And what about John Watson,” you asked as you shrugged on your suit jacket.

Mycroft and Anthea shared a look.

“John?”

“Hmm. Have you seen him?”

“Oh yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips,” Mycroft said sarcastically.

You gave him a look before shifting your gaze to the mirror, buttoning your jacket.

“I’ve kept a weather eye on him, of course.”

Anthea handed you a file. You opened it. A slew of pictures, along with a few papers were inside.

“We haven’t been in touch at all to prepare him,” explained Mycroft.

You noticed a recent photo of John. He looked the same except he had a mustache on his upper lip. It certainly did not suit him.

“Well, we’ll have to get rid of that,” You said.

“We?”

“He looks ancient. I can’t be seen wandering around with an old man.” You set the file on Mycroft’s desk.

You sighed deeply, putting on the last touches on your outfit. You ran your hands through your hair. You always like it when it fell just past your shoulders. It felt good to be in your familiar clothes after being on the run for the past two years. “I think I’ll surprise John. He’ll be delighted.”

“You think so,” Mycroft doubted with a amused smile on face.

“Hmm, pop off to Baker Street, who knows, jump out of a cake,” you quipped.

“Baker Street? He isn’t there anymore.”

You turned to him, having an incredulous look on your face.

“Why would he be? It’s been two years. He’s got on with his life,” Mycroft explained.

“What life? I’ve been away,” You added.

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“Where’s he going to be tonight.”

“How should I know?”

“You always know,” you said with confidence.

“He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 St. Emilion, though I prefer the 2001,” told Mycroft.

“I think maybe I’ll just drop by. “

“You know, it is just possible that you won he welcomed,” Mycroft tried to reason to you.

You scoffed. “No, it isn’t. Now, where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“You know what.”

Anthea came in, your infamous coat in hand and collar popped. You smiled at the sight of your trusty coat. She helped putting it on and you stepped into your iconic black heels.

“Welcome back, Misses Holmes,” voiced Anthea.

“Thank you,” You fixed your newly cut hair and ran your hands down the coat.

You turned to Mycroft. “Blood.”

You walked out and for the first time in two years, you felt alive.

A/N: that’s it for the first chapter! It was actually longer than this but it was too long, so I broke it up into two chapters. I’ll be posting again later this week, so don’t worry.

Taglist:

@izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash

@rootcrop

#marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sherlock #sherlock x reader #bucky barnes #maddie’s works #john watson #tony stark

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breg21 · 5 years

Text

Ladynoir Month: Bad Luck Charm

@ladynoirjuly2019

Ao3 FFN

Here's part 2! And boy am I exhausted. I'm calling it a night, guys! I hope ya'll enjoy!

Adrien couldn't help but feel a tad of disappointment.

It was neither his, nor Ladybug's fault, really. He had been an emotional wreck the week before, and after they kissed, she comforted him the rest of the night, and for that, he was grateful, he had this amazing, caring partner, and even though they didn't officially become a couple that night, he knew they had all the tie in the world to figure everything out, and he couldn't wait. It was all going so great.

That was, of course, until the ground began to shake beneath his feet.

The look of horror on his teachers face chilled him to the bone, yet she was easily distracted so he took advantage of that fact crawling under his desk as to have the room to himself for what came next.

He put the phone up to his ear, only to hear his father's voicemail. "Come on. Pick up for once."

He pierced his head above the desk to see if everyone had fully evacuated. The classroom was left entirely empty yet there was a strange golden glow coming from the air vents. He didn't have time to worry about that. He jumped out of his hiding spot as he yelled.

"Plagg, claws out!"

The little creature swirl around him, materializing his suit in seconds.

With a heavy heart, Chat picked up his phone one last time.

--------------------------------------------------------

"Come on Lil' Bug, we've got some time to fix."

Ladybug looked at the future Bunix with all different levels of confusion. "What are you doing here?"

She placed a hand on Ladybug's shoulder, making sure that they kept walking the entire conversation. "Listen, long story short, I picked on a kid who was trying to lose some wieght, it was stupid, I was young, I know. Point is, he's the akuma right now, and because of my actions, his life goes down the drain big time. So, because of my massive regret for my actions, I thought I would come back and fix that mistake."

Ladybug smiled. "That's great, how can I help?"

Bunix grimace. "You already did and it ended terribly."

Ladybug couldn't tell which feeling was strong, her confusion about time travel of her anger for being insulted for something she hasn't done yet. "I'm sorry?"

Bunix crouched down, placing her hands on Ladybug's shoulders. "No need. It was entirely my fault and I'm here to correct my mistake of trying to correct my mistake."

Ladybug blinked a few times before trying to shake her head clear of her jumbled thoughts of the complexed explanation. "Let's just say I don't understand anything that you just said. What do we do from here?"

Bunix let out a slight grin. "Me, I do nothing, I already messed this day up enough, still not as bad as the darkest timeline." She shuddered. "Word of advice, never alter the timeline after 16 shots of Tequila. Man, those ships did not work."

Ladybug stared on, completely lost to the older woman's words. "Okay… What do I do?"

"Just do what you do best, jitter bug. Take names and kick butt. Speaking of which we should get moving, we have to meet up with your kitty in a couple minutes."

Ladybug's face went flat. "Don't call him that, please."

Not saying a word, they bolted out of the locker room and onto a nearby rooftop where they were soon greeted by Chat with a goofy smile on his lips. "What do we have today?"

She gave him a confused look, trying to signal just how weird their world was going to get with their bunny friend around.

"We know quite a bit actually. The victim has super strength and incredibly fast speed, but because they're not used to their new body type, they are super bad at aiming or controlling it."

Chat looked to Alix in a state of confusion. "How bad is this guy if you're here with us."

She gave him a playful smile. "Not too bad, just, you know, time travel stuff. And I'm definitely not your lucky charm, more like bad luck charm. Anyway, have fun you two." She gave them a very forceful pat on the back pushing them off the building entirely. "Sorry!" Bunix shouted from her spot above them. "I'm still not used to super strength."

The akuma turned to her and before any of them had a chance to blink the Akuma had broken through the building they were standing on.

Both Chat and Ladybug jumped to the nearest rooftop.

When they were in reach of the akuma, Chat took a swing at it, but missed. Over and over, he tried to throw punches, kicks, or anything that would work, but he always missed his reach by a few seconds. "Okay, he's fast." Chat let out as he did his best to catch his breath.

Ladybug nodded before she added, "Yeah, and apparently he doesn't like being called Billy either." She considered calling on her lucky charm and seeing if it could give them any insight as what to do next, but thought better of it knowing that her timmer might run out too soon if she did it then.

The two looked around in the rubble to see if anyone was hurt. Luckily, they found a condemned sign amongst the wreckage.

Ladybug continued to search for the future miraculous holder, but came up short in her findings. The fear held an iron grip on her spine, and started to slowly crawl all over her being."No sign of civilians but where's Alix?"

They felt the ground shake beneath them as a blur flashed before them wrapping them both in highly muscular arms.

Chat wiggled around in the akuma's grip, trying to break free, but realized his struggles were pointless. His hold was too strong. "This is not the kind of hug I needed today."

Ladybug reached for her yo-yo, her fingertips barely able to brush the surface of the weapon, before sending Chat a wink from the other arm. "I'll have to keep that in mind for later."

The akuma victim released them as their momentum sent them both crashing into a wall.

Chat spat out a piece of rubble that found its way into his mouth. "That is, if we're still physically able to give hugs."

She readied her yo-yo as she pointed to the extremely muscular man "Hey, there! Strong arm, you want another go or are you just too slow?"

As he planted his feet firmly in the ground, Ladybug tossed the other end of her yoyo to Chat, making sure she had her footing just right. "When he makes his charge, you pull as tight as you can and when I say throw, you throw it forward with all your might."

He gave her a shaky thumbs up.

Within moments the akuma victim took off toward them, right as Bunix jumped directly in front of the cable.

"Bunix, look out!" Chat shouted, but it was too late. The akuma and Bunix were bound tightly together unable to move.

Ladybug let out a small chuckle. "Hey look, Chat. I made a rabbit trap."

The street became dead quiet before Chat burst out laughing, having to hold his stomach at bay. She felt proud of her pun. "That was so good M'lady."

Bunix rolled her eyes before she started to squirm in her confines. "That's real cute and all, but can we please get me out of here?"

Ladybug took the dumbbells from Billy's hand, purifying the butterfly and returning things to normal.

As the Ladybugs scattered about the city, future Bunix went up to the large teen. "Listen, I have a little secret for you. That girl that made fun of you today is going through a really hard time. And that definitely doesn't give her an excuse as to why she said what she said, but she hasn't exactly found herself yet and she didn't mean to hurt you."

He looked up to her with shame on his face. "I didn't mean to react the way I did, I don't like the thought of hurting anybody. It's just...I've been working out for three months and it just doesn't get any easier. I guess when I hear her making fun of me, it just made me feel like I'm never making any progress."

Bunix shook her head. "You don't have any reason to be sorry. She needs to learn that her words hurt, and you didn't deserve any of it." The bunny superhero paused as she thought over a few things. "Hey, here's a tough thought. Go to her. Tell her how you feel. I know for a fact she has an excellent fitness regimen and could really use a friend right about now."

He gave her an odd smile. "How do you know this, are you her mom?"

Bunix's face nearly cracked at that. "Close, but no. I just know someone who's lost when I see them." She looked back to Ladybug and Chat. "And I know when someone has been found."

----------------------------------------------

With the akuma taken care, of Alix went back to her own time, finally leaving the two to their thoughts. The city below glistened in the golden hour of the sunset as the two once again took their place on the Eiffel tower.

Chat looked out onto the city as Ladybug scooched closer to him eventually bumping her knees against his in an effort to gain his attention.

A loose smile formed on his lips. "What's all this about M'lady?"

She placed a hand on his upper knee. "Alix was talking about how difficult it is as a time traveler not fixing the regrets she made in life and she also told me about how in trying to drastically fix a regret she had to redo this entire day. She also said something about 16 shots of Tequila, but I honestly didn't listen to that part."

Chat let out a little chuckle at that, and she couldn't help but join in. "Point is, I don't want us to have regrets with each other and while I'm still terrified, I think that's never really going to go away. Not fully at least and not knowing who I would be dating... I don't necessarily know if I want that feeling to go away."

His air was almost gone, and knew if he lost everything else, that if he still had her, in the end, he'd find ways for everything to be okay.

She booped his nose, drawing his attention back to her. "You've loved me practically since you first laid eyes on me and have fought tooth and claw to get a fair chance. While I know there's Hawkmoth, we can't let him define who we are. If I choose to be with you, then that's my choice, we may have to fight to keep each other safe but at the end of the day, there is nobody I'd rather have my partner."

He felt like he was choking on his own tongue as hope bubbled up in his chest. "Does… are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She laughed, and he swore that sound was gonna be the death of him someday. He really didn't mind that though. She scootched even closer and into his personal space and brushed her nose against his chin. "Yeah. That is, if you want still want to."

He yelped, and flashed to his feet, scooping her in his arms, and began to pepper her face with kisses, getting every inch of unmasked skin that his lips could possibly touch and it pulled beautiful giggles from her lips and he wanted to continue and just never stop.

He loved this girl. He loved her so much, and he got to keep her.

She pulled nack, but remained in his arms. Her face was slightly flushed all around and he thought he had died in that second, because she had to be an angle. "So, um." She started out, and giggled nervously, which made his eyebrow arch in confusion, because why was she nervous now. He didn't have to wait long for an answer. "Are.. are you gonna ask me?"

Oh, his brain lit up as realization came flying in. Oh.

She wanted him to ask her to be his, and he wanted that, truly he did. But the words fumbled in his mouth. He tried once, opening and closing his mouth. Twice, thrice, four times, but no matter how hard he tried, the stupid words would not tumble out.

He had been pining for this girl for so long, and it had been only a dream in his mind, and his nerves were just eating at him. They just didn't want to leave his mouth, and he knew why.

After so long of being rejected, even though he knew her answer already he was scared to be the one to take the step in their relationship. He had given her full rein, letting her have the space she needed and wanted, and letting her set them at the pave that she needed.

Which was great, because he knew he needed to respect her boundaries, and let her do what she needed to do have them a good relationship— friendship or otherwise— But now she was handing over everything to him, she was asking him to take one of the very important milestones between them in his hands.

He was terrified out of his mind.

And she noticed, as she always did. Her face softened as she inched forward. "Kitty," she breathed. Sweets. Sweets were all he could smell, and he wanted to taste. "I've been the one to make the first move in our relationship because you've been respecting my feelings. I've cared about you a long time— even before it was romantic— but you've cared about me for so much longer."

His breathing stopped, and he could feel his adam's apple bobble in his throat as she cupped his face as he contoured her argument. "Because that's what you deserve. You deserve the world, and I'd give it to you if I could."

Her smile was so bright. He wanted to kiss those happy lips. "That's why I want you to ask me. You've waited so long. Please. You should be the one to ask me."

He could tell she meant her words with the utmost sincerity, and who was he to refuse his lady? He didn't think he could if he tried, it'd hurt way too much. "Ladybug." He swallowed the pool of spit that had built up. "Will you please be mine?"

The forever part was silently implied.

She giggled, moving onto her tiptoes to press her lips onto his for a slow, sweet, lingering kiss that broke between smiles. Everything else ceases to exist after that. "Of course, kitty." Another kiss that was interrupted by their face eating grins. "You wanna know a secret though?"

Breathing on his own was becoming impossible, but she was sharing enough. In a daze, he asked, "What's that, bugaboo?"

Against his mouth, she whispered, "I already was."

*Slams fist on table* I demand more fluff. I love fluff. I live for fluff. Take that away from me, and you will not see a happy girl. You should be scared in fact. Anyways. Till tomorrow, guys! Lots of love!

#ladynoirjuly2019 #LadyNoir #ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug #love square

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mang0fruitblast · 6 years

Text

I’ll Never Leave You

Summary: “Frank,” she begins as she wipes her eyes and steadies her voice, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I’ve been feeling so alone lately without Matt and Foggy’s so occupied with Marci and work he doesn’t realize all that I’ve been going through. It’s made me feel better—and safe, just knowing you’re out there. I’m glad you sent the flowers. I was afraid—” she breaks off again. “I was afraid that the elevator was going to be the last time I saw you alive.”

Hesitantly, she looks into his eyes. In them, she can see a multitude of emotions, some she can read, some that make her shiver.

Frank sets down the wine glass and says tenderly, with purpose, his voice low and deep, “Karen, I’ll never leave you.”

Set right after The Punisher ends // Thanksgiving fluff

Note: So after years of mooching off everyone else with countless fandoms, I'm finally getting my shit together and writing something for once. This is my first fanfiction ever so I'd appreciate any comments about anything!! I intended this to be a one-shot, but if I get an idea for continuing it, I will!

Shoutout to @throwndownsilvergirl on tumblr for giving me the idea of a Thanksgiving fic

Also on ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12850413

It’s after 6 p.m. The meeting with Curtis and the other veterans is over now, and for the first time in a long time, Frank doesn’t have anywhere to go. He doesn’t have anything to do or anyone to see. He contemplates asking Curtis if he can join him and his family for their Thanksgiving meal, but he doesn’t want to barge in. Plus, he’s sure that Curtis is tired of his shit and all the violence that follows Frank wherever he goes.

For a brief moment, he considers Micro and his family, but then shakes his head. The Liebermans just got their father back; they want to spend time with him, not the murdering liar who had left their lives as abruptly as he entered them. Besides, Curtis and Micro, though he admires and is fond of them, are not who he wants to spend his Thanksgiving with.

He thinks about calling her. Karen Page. The woman who entered his life as he began his crusade as the Punisher and persisted in hearing his story in the hospital room. The woman who wasn’t afraid to point a gun at his face. The woman who was compassionate and would readily give her money to the homeless on the streets. The woman he was beginning to feel something real for. A feeling similar to what he felt for Maria but had since evaded him since her death.

But even though his fight is over, Frank is loath to reintroduce Karen in his life. He doesn’t want anyone, not one person, to know what she means to him and to use her to get to him. He would rather have both his eyes gouged out like Rawlins, have his face broken in a thousand places from glass on a carousel like Billy, be stabbed in the neck like Stein than let one hair on Karen’s head be touched by someone trying to reach him.

He thinks back to that night last year when Karen had that hand cannon pointed at his face. The way she held it, like she meant business, almost seemed that she’d used a weapon like that before. However, he didn’t think she’d actually use it, not on him, but he was proud of her for owning it and not being afraid of holding it. It was the first time he began to think of Karen a little differently. And that partly led to what he did next. He heard the faint click of safeties going off, and in that instant, he knew that unless he did something, what happened to his family would happen to Karen in a few seconds. He dove for her, shielded her, protected her. He didn’t know much about this woman, but he knew he had to make sure she didn’t get hurt.

Now, he knows a little better. She’s been trained more. She can take care of herself more. If he’s not involved in her life and if she stops trying to dig up the dirtiest of the dirty of Hell’s Kitchen, what she can do to protect herself will be enough. But he knows better. He knows that there’s no way she’ll stop doing what she’s doing, and he knows there’s no way he can stay away from her. Not anymore.

He wishes he could call her, but he can’t. He feels like he’s taken so much from her life and also she’s such an accommodating person that if he called her she would say “of course, Frank, come on over” even if she didn’t really want him there. He wants to be there with her, but he cares too much about her to be selfish and get what he wants without considering if it’s what she wants.

Quickly, he decides what to do. He goes to the nearest open grocery store and buys a dozen white roses. White roses, meaning pure. Karen, meaning pure. He’s not sure if she would agree with that meaning due to some hints she’s given about her past, but compared to him, Karen is as spotless and blameless as a baby lamb.

He asks the cashier for a spare piece of paper and a pen and hastily scrawls a note on it. “Karen. I’d like to see you, but I don’t know if you have plans or are in the mood to see anyone right now. If it’s okay for me to stop by, you know what to do with these.” He doesn’t sign it. She’ll know who they’re from.

He walks the now-familiar route to her apartment, places the flowers outside her door, and walks away as quickly as he can. Not expecting much, he crosses the street to another building and climbs to the roof, settling into his old sniper spot, the place where he’s kept an eye on her all this time. When he peers through the scope of his rifle to Karen’s apartment, to his shock, the flowers are already there, on her windowsill.

He grins, the first time he’s smiled since he can remember as he quickly packs up his rifle and heads back over to her apartment. Climbing the stairs for the second time this hour, anticipation lightens his heart. Roughly, he knocks on the door. He waits a moment, then says, “Karen, it’s me. You don’t need your weapon.”

Karen opens the door with a sheepish look on her face. She tucks the gun into the waistband of her sweatpants. “You can never be sure in this city. They were just saying on the news that a CIA agent named William Rawlins was brutally murdered and his killer is still at large.”

Frank misses the twinkle in her eye. “I had to, Karen. He killed my family. I had to.” His voice raises several levels in volume and Karen can hear the fervor with which he says it. It’s the same fervor she heard when he told her, by the river, that he couldn’t let the same thing happen to her.

“I know, Frank, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Here, come on in.” She takes a step back and opens the door wider to allow him and his huge artillery bag to fit through. He walks in and dumps his bag on the floor feeling awkward in Karen’s apartment. There’s so much her everywhere. He looks around. Worn copies of the Anne of Green Gables series lie on her bookshelf. On the stove, he can see a couple pots. The delicious smell of spaghetti sauce fills the air. Through the French doors leading to her bedroom, he can see that her bed is unmade, her work clothes on the floor, neglected since yesterday, when she threw them off as soon as she got home. When he looks back at Karen, she’s pouring red wine into two glasses. After she offers one to him and he accepts, she studies him.

He has a gash on the side of his head that’s healing, but still looks nasty. His breathing is a bit labored. Both his eyes are bruised. She wonders if this look, this perpetual state of injury, will ever end.

“Frank, is there something I don’t know about Rawlins? You look like you’ve taken a hit, which means since it’s you, you were probably hurt pretty badly. When are you going to take care of yourself?”

Frank just shrugs.

Karen knows that this means that he was, in fact, hurt pretty badly. She grows frustrated with him for continuously putting himself in these situations.

“Dammit, Frank, you could’ve died! You could’ve died and left me too!”

“Red died and you seem to be doing okay,” Frank mutters under his breath. He’s jealous of the blind crusader because he has Karen’s affection. Unfortunately, she hears him.

“Of course I’m not doing okay! One of the only friends I have in the world is dead! I’m trying to put on a brave face, to move through the stages of grief, but inside, I feel like I have no one to turn to besides you! And if you left me too, I don’t know what I’d do!” By this point, her voice has risen an octave and she’s practically crying.

“I don’t know what I’d do,” she repeats softly, as tears flood her eyes.

“Frank,” she begins as she wipes her eyes and steadies her voice, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I’ve been feeling so alone lately without Matt and Foggy’s so occupied with Marci and work he doesn’t realize all that I’ve been going through. It’s made me feel better—and safe, just knowing you’re out there. I’m glad you sent the flowers. I was afraid—” she breaks off again. “I was afraid that the elevator was going to be the last time I saw you alive.”

Hesitantly, she looks into his eyes. In them, she can see a multitude of emotions, some she can read, some that make her shiver.

Frank sets down the wine glass and says tenderly, with purpose, his voice low and deep, “Karen, I’ll never leave you.”

He hesitantly opens his arms and she falls into them, fitting as perfectly in them in this moment as she did in the moment after Lewis blew himself up and Frank had to pretend to hold her hostage, her back flush against him, to get away from the SWAT team. While her heart thrilled in that instant, there was too much anxiousness surrounding them that she couldn’t focus on the feeling. Now, they have all the time in the world, and she lingers, fully appreciating the fluttering in her stomach, the quickening of her heartbeat. She’s still nervous, though, about this thing, this feeling, between them, and after a minute, she awkwardly pulls away.

Frank senses the newfound tension between them and breaks it by asking, “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Oh, shit! My water is boiling!” Karen darts over to the stove, opens a box of spaghetti and dumps it unceremoniously into the pot. She takes the lid off the smaller saucepan, stirs the contents, blows on the spoon, and tastes the sauce. Nodding at herself, she again covers the pot, and turns around.

“So,” Frank begins with a half-smile on his face, “Spaghetti on Thanksgiving?”

Karen flushes slightly before she answers. “My grandma was Italian growing up, and she’d always make us spaghetti for special occasions. Usually Christmas and when someone requested it for their birthday. She was born in Italy, so it’s the real deal. It’s a day long process to make it, so when I’m up for it, I make a huge pot and freeze the sauce to defrost later when I want a little taste of home.”

Frank’s eyes soften as he hears this story. He realizes he doesn’t know much about Karen since she’s so private about her personal life, so he relishes this moment of revelation. He listens as she continues.

“I know it’s weird to have spaghetti on Thanksgiving, but I didn’t feel like doing a lot of cooking, and I could use the comfort it brings me.”

“No, it’s great!” Frank is quick to add. He can’t help but think of Maria and how making spaghetti was a big part of her family’s traditions too. He’s always considered himself a spaghetti snob since first tasting her sauce, but after smelling Karen’s apartment, he thinks that she could give Maria a run for her money in this regard, among others.

He resumes his thought in a teasing voice.

“I’m learning so much about you. You don’t like conforming to the traditional food eaten on holidays. You actually own sweatpants and t-shirts. What’s next, a hidden child I’ve never heard of?”

Karen giggles and with that, it’s like they’re old friends. They chat amicably as the pasta cooks and Karen pours them a second, then a third glass of wine. During dinner, Frank laughs more than he had since Maria, Lisa, and Frankie died.

After their meal, he helps her clean up the kitchen and dishes. They sit in Karen’s living room and pour the dregs of the wine bottle into their glasses. For a while, they just sit, enjoying each other’s company.

It’s nearing the end of the night. They can both sense what’s about to happen. Frank, trying to be the polite gentleman, thanks Karen for the wine and the food and begins to make his way to the door.

“Frank…” He turns, hopeful.

“Please, stay.” He does.

Frank falls asleep on the couch. He doesn’t want to push any boundaries. He wakes up in Karen’s bed. She’s tucked into him, their bodies gently curved together. He smiles and closes his eyes, then falls back asleep.

When Karen wakes up, she smiles too.

#first fanfic ever lmk what yall think!!#kastle #kastle fanfic #kastle fanfiction #the punisher #karen page #frank castle

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marnietm · 4 years

Text

full name : marlena elise fitzgerald

nicknames : marnie , mars , fitzy birthday : january 9 , 1998 ( age 22 years ) zodiac : capricorn birthplace : bloemendaal , netherlands hometown : bloemendaal , netherlands ( until 13 years ) & paris , france residence : lenox hill , manhattan , new york city , new york nationality : dutch , french & american ethnicity : dutch , french & belgian religion : catholic ( in name ) orientation : pansexual , panromantic languages spoken : german ( fluent ) , french ( fluent ) , english ( fluent )

family notoriety : grandfather ( paternal ) used the money from his families gold discovery to fund the second biggest international hospitality holding company to date known as fitzgerald corp . grandmother ( maternal ) a french duchess from the royal family that formerly ruled france & current prime minister of france making her the second woman to hold the office in the country . father : jürgen hans fitzgerald ( age 51 years ) was born in hamburg , germany to a businessman & author . the family moved to bloemendaal , netherlands when he was young as his father expanding his company . he went on the get a bachelors from the university of cambridge . after college he’d go back home to germany for a couple months where he’d meet the women he refers to as his soulmate . he’s always been rather busy as ceo of fitzgerald corp. but he made a point to be around his children as often as he could and enjoy the lavish life he & his family was afforded . mother : jeanne slyvie fitzgerald née lenoir ( age 47 years ) was born in toulouse , france to a noblewoman ( duchess ) & model . she followed her father’s footsteps and began modeling as a teen . inevitably moving to germany after highschool to live with her fashion designer boyfriend who she would later leave for his best friend . incredibly excited to be a mother when she turned up pregnant , she’s been a dedicated mother since her children were born & fills her free time with her charity foundation called the slyvie world foundation . brother : name tba fitzgerald ( age 22 years ) was born in bloemendaal . he shares the same parents as marnie and he also currently lives in new york city . pets : chocolate labrador retriever named billie , tan labradoodle named betty

education : the juilliard school degree : bachelors of fine arts in dance graduated : 2019 occupation : professional dancer affiliations : dutch national ballet ( 2003-2010 ) , paris opera ballet ( 2010-2015 ) , new york city ballet ( 2016-present ) , radio city rockettes ( 2019-present ) genres : ballet , modern & jazz

weight : 119 lbs height : 5′9″ hair color : blonde eye color : blue

positive traits : passionate , jocular , intelligent , charismatic , imaginative , observant , benevolent , high-spirited negative traits : querulous , thoughtless , selfish , foolhardy , insincere , grandiose , judgmental , histrionic likes : pop music , beaches , conspiracy theories , sports cars , sparkles , huge bath tubs , pearls , tulip bulbs of any color , complaining , 20th century novels , football , tea , seafood , shirley temples , yacht rides , makeup , cards against humanity , smoking , beyonce , powdered donuts , rainy nights , champagne fountains , laughing , ufc dislikes : video games , public transportation , bugs , coffee , drake , goodie-to-shoes , cold weather , bad fashion sense , dark liquor , remakes , being called a brat , taking medicine , long plane rides , sleep getting interrupted , misplacing things , low quality pictures hobbies : stealing exes hoodies , playing with makeup , ignoring text messages , shopping sprees , reading & writing , going over choreography for hours , facetiming her pets , staying out until 3am , pretending to listen to others , late night joy rides , suntanning , getting her photo taken character inspo : kourtney kardashian , chanel oberlin , nicole richie , elle woods , blair waldorf , naomi clark , regina george & gretchen wieners fashion inspo : romee strijd , emma stone , cher horowitz & fran fine aesthetics : perfectly manicured nails digging for cherries out of a spiked shirley temple , light snooze as a f.scott fitzgerald novel shields your face from the sun , stocking your side of the fridge with avocados , laughter so contagious , petite figure drunkenly sprawled across marble floor , high pitched screaming from across the house , a trail of crystallized tears , chanel bags lining the doorway , untied pointe shoes laying around the house

marlena fitzgerald ( she never really goes by marlena though , she even fills out paper work as marnie ) was born to jürgen & jeanne in 1998 just moments after her twin brother in bloemendaal , netherlands .

the daughter of two beloved public figures in their own rights . both coming from families riddled in success . it was only natural that she be raised with a silver spoon . there was also a certain spotlight that came with her families level of success . she had never thought of it as odd , until she realized her way of life was actually abnormal & other children weren’t getting their picture taken as they were hand-in-hand with their parents on the street . her parents were able to keep a level of normality in their children’s lives though , due to her mother being a stay-at-home mom ( or you could call her your typical housewife ) .

from a young age marnie had an almost obsessive liking for dance . her choreographer always raving to her parents about how quickly she could perfect a routine . it wasn’t until she was about nine years old that her parents realized this was turning into alot more than just a fun hobby for their daughter . ballet was taking up all of her time and what concerned them the most was she didn’t seem to care .

they inevitably decided to pull her from ballet in an attempt to get her to focus on having fun like the rest of the kids her age but marnie was anything but happy with them stripping her of what she loved , feeling like they just didn’t understand it . she would literally cry all night & throw tantrums all day . her bratty behavior soon getting her exactly what she wanted & her parents let her go back to her dance company less than a year after taking her out .

when she wasn’t at dance class or putting on talent shows at home she was at school & to many people’s surprise academics have always come pretty easy for marnie . she was a good student , a little chatty but who isn’t ? there were times she felt left out when it came to her friends who would sent time going to arcades or having sleepovers & she could rarely join because of how focused she was on dance .

when she was thirteen the paris opera ballet was in contact with her mom after she’d posted a routine of marnie’s onto youtube . after a couple flights in and out of france her parents had come to an agreement to move the family for the sake of their daughters future career .

the move was masked in excitement for marnie purely due to her going to the best ballet company in the world , but she was actually pretty nervous to start over somewhere new & also held a bit of pressure on her shoulders to continue to take ballet as seriously because after all her family had moved countries for her .

as she grew older she was able to see the world for what is was , especially the ballet world . she started to lie alot to get what she wanted because if she told people what they wanted to hear , they would give her what she wanted . her favorite lie of all was that she was a virgin when she wasn’t . to this day , she’ll throw that one out there to see if someone will fall for it .

she became a professional ballerina at the age of fifteen .

coming out of highschool she only applied to one school . sure that based on her abilities she would get in but also confident that if she didn’t get in there was nowhere else she had much care to attend . the school was julliard , after three stellar auditions she was accepted and enrolled into the schools dance program . the move to america was one marnie had always wanted to do , so to say she was eighteen years old , wide eyed & eager would be an understatement .

it all became a little overwhelming for marnie & she kinda of just over indulged in everything . she was partying alot , trying new drugs & over all just getting into to things she would’ve never done back home with the watchful eye of her parents on her . it wasn’t until her standing at julliard started to waver due to her behavior that she started to settle down a little . it was around this time that she met a u.s representative at one of her performances & started seeing him . he helped her get back on the right foot with her school with his particular pull but soon after they split ways .

secret check !! so basically she got jealous of the u.s rep she was seeing , seeing another girl soon after her and threatened if he didn’t end this asap that she’d make a statement about how they had an affair which would not only put a damper on his marriage but also his political career due to him being a staunch ( religious ) republican . after she realized that she could get him to easily do as she said ... she may or may not have gotten a little power hungry & kind of just throws her weight around to get him to do things she wants him to here & there . he’s not the only one she’s doing this to though , she recently had an affair with a member of the parliament in the uk and basically blackmailed them with their affair after it ended to ensure certain things slide with her dads company in the uk & she follows through with marnie’s asks in fear that both her husband will find out about her affair but also it come out that she’s not all that straight if marnie were to go to the press . basically she’s the worst kind of hook up , especially if you have some sort of power .

she’s a soiled brat but don’t call her that she’ll have a fit because according to her she has way more layers than that broad stroke . she’s a drama queen when it comes down to it , like big time . she’s perfected the craft of throwing tantrums . flashback to chanel oberlin on the golf course in scream queen fake crying & stomping her feet ? yeah that’s marnie .

also on the flip side of that she’s very chad in scream queens . catch her like “ i can’t date a garbage person “ to someone because they’re not popular enough for her liking .

when she isn’t being a total nightmare though , she’s actually really fun to be around ? she’s playful & loves to keep the party alive . she’s the kind of person who is smiling most of the time and really just wants the vibes to stay positive .

very chatty girl . victim of foot-in-mouth syndrome , big time . she doesn’t try to be disloyal & spill people’s secrets but she can’t help herself . if she has piping hot tea she’s gonna spill it because she doesn’t wanna burn herself .

she is extremely focused when it comes to dance . as of late she’s been a little more neurotic about things than usual because her name has been thrown out into the prima ballerina talks & that’s been her absolute goal for as long as she can remember & she’d also be one of if not the youngest prima ballerina in the world if she was given the honor within the next couple of years or so .

also she’s incredibly intelligent . very deep thinker , despite people often trying to put her into the box of being a ditzy blonde .

very observant girl , who loves to people watch but her observations can sometimes get muddled when she starts judging people a little too hard core .

last but not least , she’s a light weight and very aware of it but still will drink until she can’t feel her body on the right night

#* 🩰 ᵗʰᵃᵗˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸᵇᵒʸ ˢʰⁱᵗ / 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 . INTRO .

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