#WAITING for the day their bigotry will be accepted again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrssimply · 1 year

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For the advent prompts, and keeping it in theme with xmas, how about Johnny/Kerry spending their first xmas together? It can get spicy or not, your choice :)

Dear Anon, thank you for prompting me! I really, really loved writing this one. Well, I loved writing every one of them, but this one, like always when I write about them when they were young, has a particular feeling. I kept it sweet, as sweet as Johnny can be, and I really hope you'll enjoy this work I offer you.

The prompt was: "For the advent prompts, and keeping it in theme with xmas, how about Johnny/Kerry spending their first xmas together? It can get spicy or not, your choice :)"

Also, couldn't do a christmas themed challenge without a ref to Mariah Carey, so here it is.

10th: You

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All I want for Christmas is YOU

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Johnny doesn’t have a lot of memories from his family. He’s had two brothers a lot older than him, tough looking guys that had no time to waste for their whump of a little brother. His mother had been sick and died when he was young, and then it was just him and his father.

But he remembers christmas. Surrounded by catholics, the kind that used the bible to justify a lot of bad things they did, it was always an event. At the time, Johnny was too young to really perceive the rampant bigotry that held his community together, and anyway, the community wouldn’t last long.

His father was a handsome man, described as charming, made even more attractive by the grief of losing his wife and having to raise his third son by his lonesome. The neighbors invited them over often, and especially for Christmas because God forbid they would spend it all alone and miserable. In reality, Johnny and his father had a pretty normal life. Sure, it wasn’t filled with a lot of affectionate gestures or carefree laughter but Johnny doesn’t remember ever missing anything back then. The misery came later.

His father was hesitant to accept the neighbors’ invitations because he perceived it as pity and he was a proud man, who kept his emotions close to himself, a man of few words who thought actions spoke louder than words. But he’d also wanted Johnny to experience a real Christmas, and always spoke fondly of the ones he’d spent as a young boy. Another era, one long gone, brought back by nostalgia.

So, Johnny doesn’t have a lot of memories from his childhood but he remembers Christmas. The atmosphere, the lights, the songs, the gifts.

When he’s twenty, after the collapse, after rioters killed his father, after being left alone on the streets, after the nomads, after the army, after deserting, after the Pistis Sophia… After meeting Kerry and finding music again, Johnny has a moment of peace.

Winter in California is depressing because of the rain, which washes up the city by dragging along the mud, the pollution and the rats all over the streets. The city sort of makes an effort to establish a mood, but the emphasis is put on the marketing side of things rather than the spirit. The religious foundations of the celebration were dismissed long ago, but it is still sort of a family event, born, found or otherwise.

Just like for his father, it brings nostalgia, and Johnny finds himself sort of making plans with Kerry for the Eve.

---

It starts casually. Between two songs, or when they wait for the rest of the band to come into their squat, which they’re using for rehearsals, or just when bored at a bar, Johnny uses whatever paper he finds to make small “Lucky Stars” origamis. It’s a teamwork, because Johnny’s chrome arm isn’t made for such detailed work, so Kerry folds the paper and Johnny pinches the edges to make the little stars “puff out” and gain volume.

Ten days before Christmas, Kerry strings their little creations and they pin it to the wall. Nancy snorts when she sees it, says it’s cute, that they act like a married couple. Johnny ignores the look Kerry throws him, and gives Nancy the finger.

She brings fairy lights at their next rehearsal, says she doesn’t have any use for it and so Kerry adds it to their Christmas decor.

Johnny has also been busy gathering everything for a real Christmas: booze that he stole with Kerry’s help and that they’ve been dutifully not touching, weed Henry got him for cheap, and their whole dinner, which he’d charmed his way into being offered by a gall working at a fancy caterer. That was the hardest part ‘cause he had to date her for a week, and he was still officially dating her but thank god she was going to her parents for the end of the year celebrations. He’s gonna have to have to deal with that later. Right now he is rather proud of himself because they will have fancy duck with mashed potatoes and pretentious green beans “à la something french” for their Christmas dinner. Johnny also made a deal with the downstairs “neighbors”, who are also squatters but have an oven, so he could reheat the whole thing.

So he’s been busy, and while he’s been busy, Kerry has been too, only his preparations have consisted in finding a boyfriend that is apparently clingy as fuck and annoys Johnny to no end. Most of Kerry’s hook-ups are trash, most of them with big red flags, which means Johnny regularly has to beat them up. He still remembers one who’d slapped Kerry hard across the face in front of him, making his friend bleed, and the absolute rage that filled him as he destroyed the fucker.

The current stupid dick Kerry is riding is from a corpo family and apparently appalled by the misery in which his poor boyfriend lives. Johnny can see clearly in his game: Kerry is a charity project, taken on to make the guy feel good about himself. When the young rocker voiced his opinion, Kerry replied with a few choice words that hit too close to home and then slammed the door to their flat.

That was yesterday.

---

Johnny decided to act as if nothing happened, which is why he’s putting the last touch to his master plan as the clock reaches seven p.m. He’s rolling their first joint when his phone vibrates. It’s Kerry. It says “I’m spending the evening with Josh, don’t wait for me.”

Johnny puts the phone back on the table and finishes rolling the joint.

Fine.

It’s not like he cares, anyway.

There are plenty of things to do in Night City, especially on a night such as this. Lonely people are desperate for company, and even if they weren’t, the clubbing scene is always going full swing. Johnny could go to any average bar and flirt for a while with a chick, bring her here, woo her with fancy french duck and good stolen booze and have a great night.

Instead, he’s idly strumming his guitar, stoned as fuck because the joint he rolled was supposed to be shared. The duck is sitting in the cooler untouched and the fairy lights are flickering forlornly on the wall next to their strings of “Lucky Stars.”

On top of that, it’s raining again. So much for nostalgia.

It’s eleven now, and Johnny has drunk a good half of the stolen bourbon and has maybe half a song going on, when he hears keys in the lock they installed a while back.

When he comes into view, Kerry is drenched and panting, bending to catch his breath like he’s run from the cops.

“Fuck, you’re here. I thought you might have gone out,” is the first thing he says.

Johnny doesn’t reply, not sure what’s happening.

“I texted but you didn’t answer,” Kerry continues after an awkward pause. Johnny hasn’t checked his phone since Kerry’s message hours ago.

“I’m here,” he confirms uselessly.

“Yeah…”

The moment stretches, until Johnny leans back against the couch.

“I thought you were spending the night at Josh’s.”

Kerry snorts, rakes a hand through his hair and shakes out the water before sitting wearily on the couch.

“Yeah. Well, not anymore. I ditched him.”

Johnny stays silent, looks at Kerry to try and decipher if he just ditched the asshole for the night or permanently. His friend takes the bottle of bourbon and drinks straight from it.

“I’d rather be here, with you,” he says when he’s gulped three mouthfuls, before wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“So what, you ran back here?”

Kerry chuckles, something wistful. He’s shit at hiding his emotions, but in this instance, Johnny can’t read the look his best friend sends him. It makes his heart speed up for no reason, though.

“Pretty much,” the young man answers with a self deprecating smile.

Another long silence follows, Kerry’s hands twitch over his thighs, then he gestures at Johnny.

“You were playing?”

Suddenly, Johnny doesn’t want to share what he was composing, but he’s caught so he shrugs and says it was only old tunes.

Kerry buys it, gets up to change before coming back and retrieving his own instrument. Hands poised above the guitar, he looks expectantly at Johnny, waiting for him to start again.

It’s easy. This part has always been easy.

Everything else is complicated, but never this.

From old tunes, it evolves into a mad improv game, before they dive into christmas songs they half remember and desecrate happily. In between, they drink and smoke more of the good weed and everything seems funny and light, exactly how Johnny imagined it.

The blunt makes them fucking hungry, but it’s way too late to go downstairs and use the neighbors’ oven. They have a microwave, though, so they reheat the duck that way, even if Johnny is a bit disappointed because it will be less good. Kerry absolutely doesn’t care, he wolfs the whole thing down between appreciative moans.

“Fuck, how did you get that? It’s amazing…”

Johnny just winks at him and watches him eat, watches his long lashes draw shadows over his cheekbones when he savors another bite, watches his lips get greasy and it twists something in his gut that feels suspiciously like desire.

With the dishes, the girlfriend added a “bûche de Noël” which is another stupid french name for the traditional christmas chocolate cake. Johnny doesn’t really care for sweet things, but Kerry does. He can eat ice cream until he gets sick from it, can’t resist chocolate bars, and loves soda of all flavors. It turns him into some sort of over excited kitten, jumping around madly when they practice their songs, or starting fights he can’t finish.

Kerry is now eying Johnny’s own cake so the man pushes it toward him and smirks at the big smile he gets for his generosity. There is something obscene in watching Kerry eat cake, the way he licks the spoon after every bite, the way he tries (and fails) to slow down, how he trails his finger on the plate to be sure to get every last bite. Johnny’s mouth feels dry, so he drinks some more.

Filled to the brim, the young guitarist lies down with a sigh.

“I ate too much,” he says and Johnny only grunts, opening another bottle of alcohol, that one tequila.

“It was fucking good,” Kerry adds after a moment.

“Better than staying with Josh?” Johnny asks and he wants to hit himself for that. He sounds like a bitter suitor or something. Kerry hoists himself up to look at him and his expression says he’s trying very hard to not interpret Johnny’s words as jealousy.

“Yeah… Best Christmas I ever had…”

Johnny knows the Eurodynes didn’t celebrate Christmas. As such, Kerry doesn’t really have memories of the event like Johnny does, and his participation in this little party is entirely for his friend’s benefit.

“I broke up with him, ya know,” Kerry declares when Johnny stays silent, only drinking from the bottle. He makes grabby gestures so the twenty year old passes it to him. “I said I ditched him but, ya know, permanently.”

“I don’t really care, you do whatever you want, Ker.”

From the corner of his eyes, Johnny sees his friend’s wry smile.

“Yeah, I know… But —”

Johnny can tell something he won’t like is coming, and since he doesn’t want the night ruined by Kerry’s stupid ideas about romance and Johnny, he gets up.

“I got a gift.”

That shuts Kerry up alright, he looks surprised, then panicked.

“You said no gifts!” he bemoans, and Johnny gives him a shit eating grin. “You fucker, you did it on purpose!”

In truth, Johnny didn’t really plan it. He brought the thing and then worked hard on forgetting he’d done that. For a while he’d even thought about not giving it to Kerry but now it’s out and he has to go forward.

He drinks another shot of tequila, as if he needs courage and hates himself for feeling like this. In turn, it makes him angry at Kerry, who is the origin of all those feelings, so instead of handing him the box, he throws it at him. It hits Kerry in the chest before falling on his lap. The young man apparently doesn’t care, too enthralled by the garish orange and electric blue paper. He looks at it like he can’t believe the situation, then glances up at Johnny who is not looking at him, instead lighting up a cigarette to give himself countenance.

Kerry opens the package, discovers a simple box, but inside, there is a leather band with metal studs, something that will go perfectly with the rest of his rockerboy apparel.

It’s real leather, too, something Kerry instantly feels under his fingers as he takes it out of its box.

“Did you steal it?” he asks, because nowaday, that’s the kind of thing that costs and they don’t really swim in money, plus Johnny has the general tendency to steal things, as exhibited with the bourbon.

“‘course, wouldn’t spend an eddie on you,” Johnny drawls, finally looking his way. Kerry’s expression says he sees right through the lie and he can’t quite stop himself from smiling. He thumbs the band gently.

“Thanks.”

This is so awkward, Johnny can barely bear it. He suddenly wants to run, every alarm in his mind blaring up at him to just get out of this mess he’s created and what the fuck happened to him?!

“Help me put it on?” Kerry asks, handing him the bracelet. It closes with a buckle, so it’s not like Kerry couldn’t do it on his own, but this is symbolic and it doesn’t escape Johnny, who obeys like under a thrall.

Cigarette between his lips, he does it. He brushes his thumb over Kerry’s inner wrist, feels the goosebumps the cold touch of his chrome fingers raise on the brown skin, and then closes the leather band tight around his friend’s arm.

Through the uncomfort, something primal purrs inside his mind. Kerry is here tonight, not with his stupid ex-boyfriend. No, he’s here with Johnny, because he belongs here at his side, because the boy is Johnny’s already and the world should just know it.

Johnny turns to put his cigarette in the ashtray, still trying to parse through the mess of emotions he’s feeling when Kerry’s free hand catches his chin and holds him in place. Chapped lips crash against his, Kerry’s tongue swiping briefly against his parted mouth, and then finishing with a light bite before it’s over and the man leans back.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just —”

Johnny cuts him, gripping his jaw with both hands to give him back the kiss, delighting in the gasp Kerry lets out, that transforms into a moan when Johnny’s tongue brushes against his, when he turns their head to fit them better, to dive deeper until he’s claiming Kerry’s mouth entirely.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Johnny pants against Kerry’s mouth a few seconds later, “It doesn’t mean anything,” he insists and the other man nods dumbly.

Johnny looks him in the eye another long second before he dives back in. It’s dirty, wet and messy, Johnny keeps biting him, keeps pushing in, his grip over Kerry’s neck is harsh, like he wants to make sure his friend can’t escape. As if he would want to, when he’s a moaning mess, getting hard in his pants just from that kiss. He wants to push back, straddle Johnny’s lap and grind against him but he’s not sure he could get away with that so he takes what he can, what Johnny gives, which is a kiss like few Kerry has ever received.

Panting, Johnny slows down, but it’s like he can’t stop himself from extending the kiss. He gives light bites, short licks that make Kerry’s mouth tingle, brushes their lips together like he’s testing the difference in texture between them.

Finally he stops, closes his eyes and bumps their forehead together. A short wild laugh bubbles out of him, and his grip turns painful against his friend’s nape.

“Merry christmas,” he breathes.

Kerry doesn’t move, breathing hard and fast, still reeling from what just happened. Their gazes meet, too close, too open, too wild. Johnny can see his best-friend’s is trying to push back the hope shining in his eyes and it makes him relax slightly. For all his annoying traits, for all Kerry can be pushy and stubborn, he’s also really perceptive, especially about Johnny.

This was just a moment, nothing more, even if Kerry continues to yearn, he won’t push.

Johnny leans back, forces his fingers to relax and takes the bottle of tequila back. He doesn’t drink, though, his lips are still tingling.

“You know what we should do, now?”

Kerry shakes his head, blinks, swallows everything back and god it looks painful but he’s doing it and Johnny is so, so grateful for it even if he won’t admit it.

“We should go out and crash a party or two, maybe start a fight, make the cops work on this holy day,” he finishes with a sharp smile.

Kerry gives him a wavery one, but accepts.

It takes a minute or ten for the weird energy of the kiss to dissipate, but soon Johnny is harassing Kerry to move his ass because, apparently, if they’re going out, the man needs to redo his make-up or whatever. In the end he takes him by the wrist, the one with the leather band, and drags him out, ignoring his protests.

It’s fine, everything is fine. Whatever happened, Johnny blames it on the night, on the occasion, on the nostalgia and the souvenirs Christmas brings to him.

Tomorrow, it will be gone.

#silverdyne #kerry x johnny #kerry eurodyne #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #my writing #fic advent calendar

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bunicompost · 10 months

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London. Let’s chat. So immediately as I boarded the flight I expected an easy hour and forty minuet flight. Then they were there. Three obnoxious girls. Right behind me and my friend. Not only did they PURPOSELY kick the seats the whole time when my friend mentioned it they made fun of the request. Loudly imitating them and laughing. THEY CONTINUED. If anyone knows entitled girls in a dance competition in the UK area lmk. These girls yelled the whole time. They ruined the flight leaving us with a head ache and a need for 18+ liquor rules. Augh. They openly fetishized gay men and were rude and offensive even messing with the flight attendants. Ew. That’s disgusting. They left their shit everywhere. When we sped walked out the air vent they screamed offensive slurs they called my gay friend the f slur. As he confronted them they laughed and said it was fine cause it was a British thing. But they weren’t referring to a tasty snack of Marlboro reds. Anyways, we arrived and we’re stuck in transit for two hours. Then realizing that youth culture isn’t nearly as pervasive, we noticed everyone was in skinny jeans. We conduced this to the way that london silences it’s youth. In their culture never addressing oppression with the mind set of forget. Anyways we were made fun of by homophobic youth yet again. But we aren’t there yet. My friend and I gathered our currency in euros pounds and dollars. Like the dollar is worth more why can’t we use it everywhere. But like pay the debt of that to America so we can raise the debt Ceiling and actually fund stuff and have a not stupid universal currency, limiting this to the UK tho cause obvi not an option for other countries. So we decided to exchange but not one not two but 3 of the centers were closed. As someone visiting the country that was a hostile was to great us. Imagine having only dollars and trying to pay for a hotel to stay in need. Like I know it was an inconvenience for us but it could be someone’s housing or food for the day or night just saying. Make currency exchange accessible. We walked at least 2 miles with no luck. But our luck was only beginning. It started pouring and we couldn’t get inside our room. So we waited an hour out in the cold barley acquiring drinks; Smirnoff, which we could barely afford but you only lose once right? Yolo. Nah bitch. We had to walk in the rain again to finally get the key. After watching some amber lyn and complaining we walked out in a huff to go get salad meeting someone from our group. Salad was good. A blonde buzzcut boy kept staring and that’s when I realized we didn’t belong. On the walk home two men started laughing and making fun of us loudly for being cunty. Then it happens again ! Wtf london what’s with this homophobia. LET ME OPEN CARRY. But like let me be the only one I’m an American. A car drove past us in the rain and we yelled at it like our American spirit let’s us. But if your visiting london you have no rights cause their supposed liberal regime excludes the people in its sentiment. Instead of enacting social change. Weird asf why is it so bigoted I’m waiting. Call us annoying ugly Americans (not looks but personality and yeah guess our attitudes addressed the bigotry). But like get your shit together. Until you are having the changed fueled by the people instead of mediocre government you can’t expect any change from citizens. #saiditandimentit. Like America created the practice of the practice acceptance and they are adding pride flags without addressing the problem. To the people of london; I’m sure these are only isolated incidents and I do not hold this as the standard of the people living there (cause I believe in the people and progress) think of the people who represented your city today. Homophobes are our impression. I hope you help inform these people. London can heal. Be the change. Tbh for me Azelia Banks invented London. I wish I could say I wanted to be a British girl but like these homophobes put it to shame.

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lydia--pereira · 1 year

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general:

Name: Lydia Pereira Age: 30 years old Birthdate: Sept. 20th, 1992 ☼ Virgo ☾ Scorpio ↗ Sagittarius Born: Lockwood Springs, CO Occupation: Staff @ Mile High Aesthetics: PINTEREST. Likes: Anything women do, good tips, nice customers, two days off in a row, running marathons, rock climbing, to-do lists, unplanned parties Dislikes: Anything men do, rude customers, spencer jones’ face, her parents, bigotry, being called sweetheart or honey Good Qualities: Athletic, Forthright, Gallant Bad Qualities: Prankster, Reckless, Callous Orientation: Lesbian

diving deeper:

Lydia was born and raised in Southside, Lockwood Springs and she had fairly strict parents while she was growing up. Many of her school friends will remember Lydia arriving in school in one set of clothes and quickly running to the bathrooms to change into something more stylish. Her mother and father were religious and usually dragged her to church every Sunday against her will.

Lydia excelled more in sports than her academics, but she was a bright student too. She wasn't often a troublemaker but she was known to play a few pranks on teachers which got out of hand on a few occasions.

She always knew that she was different while she was growing up, when all her friends had crushes on boys in their school, she couldn't see the appeal. She figured it was just because they were stupid, but she later fell into a secret relationship with one of her close friends. Lydia knew she'd never be able to come out to her parents, and eventually broke the relationship off completely.

Lydia tried to bury this side of herself and ignore that it was there, figuring it was just a phase or she was being rebellious for the sake of it. She never dated another woman again, mostly out of fear of admitting to herself that she was gay.

After graduating, Lydia floated around from job to job. She's waited on tables, worked at the motel and the bed and breakfest. She's been behind Flanagan's bar and showed her face at laundromats and the like. Nothing has ever been the right fit as she grows bored easily.

In an attempt to cover up her sexuality, Lydia dated Spencer Jones. She was convinced that she'd be able to prove to herself and the world that she was straight but the relationship was a disaster. Not only was Spencer hung up on Cricket, Lydia was trying to build the perfect relationship just for the sake of her parents.

Eventually the two split which wasn't a surprise and the complete clash of their personalities means they weren't even able to remain friends. Lydia to this day doesn't much care for any of the Joneses either.

Lydia still isn't out of the closet but she knows she won't be able to keep the facade up for long. She's accepted herself but still has the fear of her family's reaction. She now works at Mile High and picks up bartend work during the off season. She's affiliated to the keepers simply because of the places she's worked and how close she was to a lot of the bikers growing up.

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hallow-witxh · 2 years

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Here comes the booooooy~

Hello!

Thank you for your patience with me as I work through my issues, and thank you all so much for keeping my blog active and alive. Though I've been absent and unwell both physically and mentally for some time, I'm ready to come back with a few changes to help preserve my sanity. I appreciate each of you more than you know!

Just as a quick review (and introduction to those new followers of mine); hi there! My name is Ander, and I've been a practicing green/herbal/kitchen witch and Pagan for the past several years. As of lately, I work closely with Aphrodite, Salacia, Melinoe, and as of very recently, Dionysus. Most of my posts are beginner-friendly information-based posts, as well as tips, ideas, and lists. I'm disabled and currently waiting for approval for SSDI, so I am frequently tired and may take some time to answer messages, asks, or comments. That being said, I am re-opening asks (no anon, as I have received more than a few nasty surprises) so feel free to reach out with questions or comments.

To get back into the groove of things, I will be reblogging a few of my older posts as I work on a wave of new posts. :)

As for changes, y'all can expect just a few things.

Instead of daily posts, each post will be scheduled for either every other day or every three days depending on my brainpower. Most of the time, I will write multiple posts and schedule them, so my replies to any comments, questions, or tags on posts may take a day or two.

Each post will have the same beginning tags, with a few more related to the specific post type at the end. This is for the sake of reaching more people's home page, making it easier to set up in my drafts, and keeping it all organized in my head. You are welcome to reblog without the tags, copy/paste the tags, or create your own.

If someone is causing trouble in the comments (again); tag me. I will delete their comments and block them.

As for reminders about my posts:

My Ko-Fi will be linked at the bottom of each post. You are never, ever required to tip/buy anything from it, but I appreciate the views and any help that may come through! There are also open commissions on there as well, as well as this post listing them if you don't want to go through Ko-Fi.

If you want to argue with me or someone else in my comments, take it to your DMs. No one wants to scroll through nasty messages.

That being said, if you see a mistake (information-wise, a typo, anything), you are welcome to point it out or ask about it POLITELY in the comments. Nastiness will result in your comments being deleted and you blocked.

This is a safe place for LGBTQ people. Any slurs, negative comments, or bigotry will not be tolerated here. I am a trans, queer person myself and I won't have people gatekeeping MY OWN PRACTICE because their mama didn't love them enough to teach them how to accept others for who they are.

Yes, there are trauma jokes in a few posts. Whoops.

If anyone has any questions, comments, ideas, or requests for certain content, please feel free to comment or send an ask. I am more than happy to research anything you may be needing to know.

Again, thank you all so much for keeping my blog active, and I'm so excited to be providing content for y'all again!

Love y'all lots. Thanks for having me <3

Support me on Ko-Fi or visit my store, Hallow Grove!

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nightswithkookmin · 2 years

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Alright I like you so I'll answer you as dispassionately as androidly possible.

When I started out my blog, I used to share a lot of theories about Kookmin- cuckoo stuff you know? Purely based on gut instincts and what others wrongfully termed oracle voodoo shit but really was just a combination of intuition, a basic knowledge of and understanding of human behavioral science and psycho analysis if you will.

I postulated, ever so eloquently might I add, how within a certain period I thought there were tensions within the group stemming from a disconnect in values especially between Jikook.

Like JK says now in his interview, he used to prioritize his wants over the collective of the group while JM had, to me, propensity to put the collective needs of the group above his own needs or the needs of jikook as a unit.

Jungkook was all about the rather dead than cool vibes. Personal happiness over anything else- even career. Cough. Cough. Yall say he's bold but really dude just risking his career cos he didn't care that much if he lost it💀

He's since that period gone through a phase of reevaluating his 'wants' and priorities and right now I tell you what- that man ain't playing with his job😊 love it for me and him.

With Jimin I felt, he placed a lot of value on his career made it front center- at the time i didn't understand why and even thought it was cos he was over ambitious but now I know from his interview that he just didn't know what else to do outside his career even on a day to day basis😭😭😭😭

And because he centered his career Kook's 'recklessness' was challenging to him in my opinion. He'd see him as childish unreasonable, reckless risking their careers yadda yadda yadda- you get the gist.

I called it his kumbaya attitude. Let's place the group first hold hands and walk into the sunset. Jungkook was all about the fuck kumbaya life😚

With this in mind, i always believed Jimin preferred to keep their relationship on a down low while JK couldn't care if they hid or not. Whew did I get ton of hate for this.

'How dare you. Jimin is not hiding shit Jungkook is the one who don't want to show the world they are real- no two year old the world is nuanced than that.

If the group want to keep any gay relationship a secret and often praise one member for being subservient and law abiding while the other is a pain in the EI ES ES common sense should tell you the one hiding is the one obeying the rules and making the group happy and not the rebel dumb ass. FREE JUNGKOOK

He was just a boy in love catching up to hyungs who were maturing at different paces yet set such a high standard and expectations pushing him to jump through phases and skip steps in order to match their energy 😭😭😭😭

He's maturing prematurely i said and yes I blamed Jimin and his cohorts 🤧

They failed him.

There's childishness and acting your age. He's the youngest dammit. He wasn't childish or immature to me. He was just acting his age and yall hyungs did dumber things when yall were his age don't let me pull receipts.

It's sad he's accepted this view of himself. I hope he doesn't internalize it. He's not a 30. But then again dating older people can have these consequences on you.

And as for Jimin he might have as well just said he's dating someone in BTS cos boy can't form functional relationships outside bts?? We been knew but

I've always said his attachment to Jungkook and even bts is borderline. Ain't no way this man having a healthy intimate relationship with anyone outside bts if he don't detach from Jungkook for one.

I recently talked about how he and kook are at the age they should be wanting to make themselves available to attract romantic interests- I'm sorry which girl wouldn't raise their brow at their man coming home with hickeys another man from work gave him.

Wait, was this not supposed to be a rant??

I think I'm supposed to be cussing people the fuck out for the bigotry that's traumatized me

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kats-kradle · 2 years

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Febuwhump day 23: “don’t leave”

Fandom: Poirot (Kenneth Branagh movies)

Whumpee: Bouc

Word count: 1,138

Notes: I (like a fool) went to see Death on the Nile again, and this is part of my attempts to heal from it again

(more notes/spoilers for Death on the Nile under the cut)

Notes continued: this is supposed to take place after Poirot reveals that Bouc’s mother hired him to investigate Rosalie (for the purposes of this story, they don’t find the maid’s body until the next day)

<><><><>

Poirot stroked his moustaches almost absentmindedly as he looked across the water at the sunset. The different pieces of evidence cycled through his mind: the scarf with bullet holes, even though there were scorch marks on Linnet’s temple, the disappearing and reappearing necklace, the missing tube of Carmichael Red... easily just a misplaced item, but it nagged at him from the back of him mind. Somehow, he knew it was connected—but how?

The sound of approaching footsteps broke into his musings. Bouc appeared around the corner, and slowed to a stop upon seeing the other man. A twinge of guilt flew through Poirot.

“Pardonne-moi,” he murmured. “I will go.”

“No,” Bouc said. He took an almost hesitant step forward. “I—I was looking for you.”

Poirot inclined his head and settled back down in the wicker chair. Bouc took the chair next to him and fidgeted with his shirt cuff for a moment or two before speaking.

“Rosalie’s sorry for what she said to you,” he said. “Well, not everything. But most of it.”

“I do not expect her to feel remorse for speaking the truth,” Poirot said quietly. A silence stretched out between them. It was tense and full of unspoken questions and accusations. The water lapped at the side of the boat. An osprey called out to its mate.

“Why did you do it?” Bouc asked, but cut Poirot off when the detective opened his mouth. “I know why,” he corrected himself, “but what I mean is... I need to hear it from you, in your own words, as my friend Poirot, and not the esteemed detective Poirot.”

Poirot sighed. He looked out at the golden sunlight being tossed by the ripples in the water. Bouc waited for his response.

“I admit that when your mother offered me the case, I accepted because part of me wished to see for myself the character of the woman that had won your affections,” Poirot confessed, “but from the moment I saw her, I knew that she would treat you well. And... selfishly, the prospect of seeing you again was one that pleased me.”

Bouc nodded and slumped back in his chair, like a deflating balloon. He looked out to the horizon with unseeing eyes as he ran a hand over his face. His brow furrowed in thought and cleared before becoming marred again. Poirot watched him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” he acknowledged.

“With you?” Bouc asked, throwing him and incredulous look. “You were just doing a job that you were hired for. No, it’s Mother I’m furious with. Your want to observe Rosalie was born from affection, but hers was born from bigotry.” He spat out the last word like it was a sour drink and slumped down further in his chair. They sat in silence for a moment or two, watching the sun sink lower and the birds swoop over the water.

“Your mother, she speaks quite critically of love,” Poirot noted carefully. “If it is not too forward for me to ask...”

Something in Bouc’s expression shifted in a way that made Poirot immediately wish he could take his question back, but it was quickly smoothed away under a mask that was almost convincing.

“My father—” Bouc stopped to collect his thoughts before he continued with a forced lightness to his tone. “I don’t remember much about him, really, but he was nasty when he was drunk. Drank too much, too. I suppose I’m like him in that regard.” He flashed a quick smile that was too tight and dropped too fast.

“He was abusive?” Poirot asked. The younger man gave a short jerk of a nod.

“Mother was alright dealing with him, until one day I was old enough to see she was scared when he was around. One thing led to another, I got between them, he clobbered me with a bottle across the head hard enough that it broke. Mother grabbed me and ran to my uncle’s place.” Bouc took Poirot’s hand and guided it to the back of his head. “I’ve still got the scar.”

Poirot felt the raised lines underneath his friend’s hair, and a silent rage for Bouc’s father simmered in him.

“How old were you?” he asked somberly as he removed his hand.

“Seven, I believe,” Bouc said with a careless air, but the way his jaw set told a different story. A sharp pang resonated in Poirot’s heart. “I inherited his dashing looks and fondness for drink, but not his aptitude for violence, thank God. Although I think Mother still worries that one day... sometimes I’m worried of the same thing,” Bouc admitted quietly. His gaze dropped to inspect the floor of the boat. “One day I’ll have one drink too many, my temper will blow, and then—”

“No, mon ami,” Poirot broke in firmly. “It is not in your nature. Even the drink could not convince you to turn against that.”

“You think so?” Bouc asked, his eyes lifting to meet the detective’s. They were open windows to his soul, scared and hopeful and sad all at once. Poirot found his friend’s hand with his own and gave it a squeeze.

“I know it to be true,” he assured. Bouc offered him a small smile—a real one, this time. “Your father, do you know if—”

“He died a few years ago,” Bouc said. “I know it’s awful of me, but after living for so many years afraid that I’d run into him again, it was a relief.”

“It is to be expected, after what you and your mother endured.”

Bouc’s smile turned false again before it slid off his face. Poirot frowned.

“What is the matter?” he asked. Bouc huffed a laugh and tried to pull an air of normality around himself that proved too heavy to hold for long.

“I just—everything she had to go through… I should’ve stepped in sooner,” Bouc murmured. “If I had just—”

“No,” Poirot cut him off. “You were only a child. Would you tell a boy who is seven, or younger than that, that it should be his duty to protect his mother from his own father?”

Bouc shook his head and blinked rapidly. The sunlight caught in the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

“You must forgive yourself for what was not your fault,” Poirot said gently. Bouc ducked his head and pressed and hand against his mouth as he tried to compose himself. Poirot moved to rise to give him privacy, but Bouc’s hand gripped his tightly.

“Don’t leave,” he choked out. “Please.”

Poirot covered the younger man’s hand with his other one as he sank back into the chair.

“I will not go anywhere, mon ami,” he promised.

#febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday23 #poirot #death on the nile #bouc #angst

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missvelvetsstuff · 2 years

Text

Little Bird

Chapter 4

Warning: swearing, Bucky still being a dick

Rika and Nat headed back to the compound and as they approached the conference room Thor and Loki approached

"Greetings Natasha, who is your lovely friend?" Loki asked.

Nat rolled her eyes "This is Rika, she might be joining the team. Rika this is Loki and his brother Thor."

Loki took Rika's hand and kissed it which made her giggle softly "I'm sure you will be a welcome addition to the team. I'm so very pleased to meet you"

Loki purred and Rika blushed purple.

"It's nice to meet you too, Loki" Rika replied, she smiled, until she heard scoffing behind her and turned to see Bucky looking between her and Loki, who was still holding her hand, like he could kill them both. Rika rolled her eyes and turned back to Loki and Thor.

Loki released her hand gently and Thor took it and kissed it too "I look forward to getting to know you My Lady"

Loki offered his arm to escort her into the conference room and pulled a seat out for her when they reached the table. The room was loud with everyone chatting while they wait for the meeting to begin. Bucky still glaring.

Nick Fury strode into the room and everyone quieted down.

"Is everyone here? Let's get this thing done. First order of business is the new girl. Rika, right? I'm Director Nick Fury. I've heard good things about you. Had a chat with Charles Xavier, who confirmed your story and Hank McCoy sent Bruce some info on your genetics and your parents. Hopefully that info will help us help you learn more about your abilities. I've met Wolverine and he is an asshole, we won't let him or Hydra get to you here. Based on everything we've learned and a discussion with Stark and Rogers I'm willing to offer you a probationary spot on the team"

Bucky scoffed loudly

"You have a problem with that Barnes? That's rhetorical, I don't care if you do and if she accepts you will have her back just like you would any other member of this team. Understood?"

Bucky nodded stiffly, glaring at Rika again, or still it's hard to tell if he ever stopped glaring at her.

Fury nodded "Good. Any other objections?" Everyone looked around when no one spoke up. "Good."

He turned to Rika "You accept?"

Rika spoke up "I appreciate the offer but I will need some time to get to know and trust the team before I would be willing to go into life or death situations."

Fury nods "That's logical, problem is we have a situation where your abilities would be very helpful. I need someone to infiltrate a Hydra 'party' where we have intel some major players will be. Your shifting makes you perfect for undercover work. According to the Captain you can fight as well as anyone else here. You game?"

Rika looked hesitant "Who else would be involved? I'll need some more details before I say yes."

Fury nodded "Understandable, I've been briefed on the troubles you have had here. Barnes will be involved but he has been made aware of the reality that any negative actions towards ANY team members that causes, or inaction that doesn't prevent, serious injury or death will be a violation of his pardon and he will be sent packing to the Raft with his pal Zemo. Isn't that right, Sargent Barnes?"

"Yes" Bucky grits out through clenched teeth.

Fury looks back at Rika "I understand your hesitation considering what you have been through but I'm on a clock. The party is in 3 days and they are trafficking mutants and weapons-"

"Same difference" Bucky snipes.

Fury snaps at him "Do we have a problem, Barnes? Would you like to have a problem with me? Because you will if you don't fix that attitude. I've heard about your bigotry and slurs and it will not be tolerated"

"No. No problem" Bucky grumbles

"Good, then shut the fuck up and pay attention." Fury laid out the plan, seemed simple enough get Rika into the party, have her distract the head honcho so someone can get into his office and download the details. The head will likely have a drive on his person so it would be a bonus of Rika could lift it off him.

"So, I'm a honeypot?" Rika questioned. Fury nodded. "Wouldn't Nat be more equipped for that?"

"Agent Romanoff is too well known. You can change your look on the fly, you know how to be covert or I would have heard of you before the team found you and I saw the footage of you taking down each super soldier so I know you can handle it. What i don't know is how are you with an accent?"

"I've lived with most of them so pretty good. I'm unsure of the future but I'll do this to help stop them from torturing and experimenting on more mutants. No one should have to go thru that."

Fury nodded "Thank you. You will be playing a Brazillian socialite, Adriana Moreira Who has been cooperating with us but isn't equipped for secret ops. You will spend some time with her on-site so You can learn her inflections and mannerisms."

"In 3 days? Thank goodness I have lived in Portugal and Brazil so speak the language and know the accent. Who's my date?"

Fury looks away from her, "Maybe date isn't the right term. More like your muscle, Adriana always has at least one bodyguard"

Rika looks suspicious "Date, bodyguard, whatever. Who is it?" Her voice getting louder at the end.

Fury pinched his nose "Sergeant Barnes will be your muscle, as the Winter Soldier. Nat will be sneaking around to get the computer files"

Rika rolled her eyes "Lucky for me I don't need anyone to protect me or I'd be fucked"

Fury sighed "You heard what I said to him, right? He won't leave you to die"

Rika shook her head "Except that killing me is very difficult. Capturing me and continuing with their experiments on me, to see if they can recreate my abilities, that's a much more concerning possibility to me."

Bucky looks at her and grits his teeth, eyes still flashing hatred "I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe"

Rika laughs "What, were you a Boy Scout or something? I have no reason to trust you. Just know that if you try to hurt me, I won't go down without a fight and I heal faster than you do." Rika looks towards Fury "So when do I meet Adriana?"

"When the meetings over, you can spend some time with her." Rika nodded and Fury went on with the details of the plan, floor plans of the site and a list of people expected to be there. Ophelia Sarkissian was a name Rika recognized. She had observed some of the experiments. Also knows as the Viper or Lady Hydra.

After the meeting Loki asked if Rika wanted to have dinner with him that evening and he was so charming she agreed to meet him in the common room at 6. Then Rika went to the detainment area and spoke with Adriana for a couple of hours. When she headed to the residential section she was already exhausted. She saw Loki waiting and walked up to him.

"I'm really tired from you know, everything and don't feel like keeping up appearances how about we order in and eat in my room."

Loki gently touched her face "Of course, Love. Lead the way"

The rest of the team was lounging around and only Steve noticed how Bucky glared at Rika and Loki as they walked away.

After dinner Steve followed him back to his room, Bucky looked at him "Can I do something for you?"

"Sure" Steve replied "but you might want to let me in so we can discuss this in private"

Steve came in and sat on the couch "I saw you glaring at Rika and Loki as they left. What's that all about?"

Bucky looked at Steve like he had grown another head "Really? You trust her with Loki? Who tried to take over the world"

"Well obviously she can defend herself" "What if they are conspiring to take us down?"

Steve shook his head "Just because you had bad experiences with a few mutants doesn't mean that Rika is bad. You can't just lump a whole group of people by the actions of a few and you can't hate people for being born different"

"Maybe I can't judge her except for oh wait, her mom and Magneto and their Hellfire Club or Brotherhood or whatever they call themselves, hurt and killed a lot of people. Her dad isn't much better even if he claims to be one of the good guys now. I mean he tried to kill his own kid and"

Steve interrupted "Yes, that kid that you are judging based on ignorant stereotypes and the actions of others of her kind. Even using that slur. Do you call Sam the n word when you get annoyed with him"

Bucky pales "Of course not but it's not the same."

"How is it different? Is blue skin too much for you? I'm really disappointed in you Buck." Steve left before he lost his temper.

Bucky sat and stewed for a bit. He knew his hatred was irrational but it was still there. As well as some other feelings that he wasn't interested in exploring.

He decided to take a walk to cool his head, the sun was down and Tony had really gone to great lengths to make a park like atmosphere outside.

As he was walking heard laughter, her laughter and Loki's, they walked past him like he wasn't there and he simply glared but he wasn't sure who it was aimed at anymore.

As they walked past Bucky, Loki spoke up "I know why he hates me but why is the sergeant glaring at you?"

Rika sighed "Because I'm a mutant and he thinks all mutants are evil. My mom caused a lot of problems but it was all with the intent of saving other mutants from the kind of trauma I went thru."

"Well that's just dumb but I don't expect much from the soldiers. I can sense something more from him than simple bigotry."

"I did beat him hand to hand in a couple of minutes." She shrugged

Loki laughed "Many Midgardian men do have that silly ego that can't handle strong women. Makes some feel inferior. But that's not it either. I might have to spend some time here to decipher the soldiers animosity. I simply won't allow him to antagonize you for how you were born"

Rika smiled "I'm glad I met you Loki. This has been nice but I do need to get some rest. Practice acting like Adriana and training are going to keep me pretty busy until this mission starts"

Loki grinned "Of course, my dear, a warrior must have their sleep." Loki kissed Rika on the forehead and bid her goodnite.

Bucky was laying in bed trying to still his thoughts. Steve's lecture, Fury's admonishment, the way Rika smelled and felt sitting on top of him. What?! He shook his head, where did that thought come from. He really needs some sleep.

He was on his back, feeling her wrapped around him, slowly riding him making such pretty noises he groaned. He could feel how deep he was every time she moved until he felt her squeezing him and then soaking him. He could feel his release building until he had to look up and see her, all of her. When he opened his eyes he was shocked to see it was Rika in all her blue and purple glory......he sat straight up, awake, drenched with his release all over the sheets.

Bucky shook his head, wet dreams like a damn teenager. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anytime soon so took a shower and headed to the common room for a snack. He could see someone was already in the kitchen and walked up to the bar.

"Couldn't sleep?" He heard Rika ask. "I have some leftovers from my dinner with Loki and I....." She trailed off when she saw who it was.

Bucky blushed furiously, remembering her from his dream and felt himself harden and twitch.

Then he heard her mention Loki and became enraged again. "No thanks, I don't care for sloppy seconds" and stormed off.

Rika shook her head and put the food back and took her tea to her room. She could live as long as Logan and never be able to figure Barnes out. The effort was starting to feel like an exercise in futility. Considering their shared experiences she thought he might understand but some people can't be reached or don't want to be. She resolved to put any feelings, good or bad, aside and stay completely professional with him. After she finished her tea, Rika drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

Rikas alarm went off at 5am but she felt like she had just fallen asleep. She took a shower to clear her head, dressed in some workout clothes , grabbed a banana and headed towards the gym to meet Nat. On the way there she saw Steve, Sam and Bucky obviously they just finished their morning run based on the smell and amount of sweat on them.

"Morning Steve, Sam" Rika sang out as she walked by without slowing down.

Sam laughed and watched her go "Damn Barnes, how did she not see your dumb ass there? You must have pissed her off"

Bucky scoffed "Like I give a fuck what Loki's pet mutie thinks of me."

Steve just shook his head and Sam glared at him. "What the fuck is up with the slurs? You're acting like more of a dick than normal Barnes. If I didn't know any better I'd think you like her but this ain't grade school and I'm not putting up with your bigotry anymore." And stalked off.

Steve just looked at him irritated "Really out here winning friends and influencing people, jerk. You better get it together before we leave on this mission. I wish there was someone Rika trusts that I could take and bench you. Anything happens to her and you'll wish Fury got to you first" and leaves Bucky alone in the kitchen.

@vicmc624 @nash-dara

#bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #james bucky barnes

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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

Text

Cheers (Elder Maxson)

Note: We’re assuming Sole is around the same age as Maxson in this; a middle-aged Sole with 19 year old Maxson is an iffy concept to me. Thank you to the Discord server for fixing my writers block! Also, weird analogies for 500, anyone? Mildly OOC Maxson.

CW: Potential death mention, abstract/rhetorical poisoning

It’s easy, Sole thinks at the end of the day, to drink poison. To tilt your head back and surrender to what may come, no matter what. It’s easy to allow yourself to be captured in the will of whatever's been mixed into your glass, slightly acidic, barely masked, and pretend to be unknowing. Knowing Elder Maxson has been like drinking poison, and so, they think it must be very easy to allow oneself to do so.

They’re staring into the wine that’s been handed to them, a deep plum color swirling in the foggy glass it’s been poured into. In another timeline, this wouldn’t be the last they’d share with him, and there was a much more content life waiting for them at the end of their internal battles. But they often told themself they weren’t one for wishful thinking, and with that, returned their attention to the man himself, who sat, quiet and contemplative, across from them.

On any other evening he’d be lounged across the plush cushions next to them, a sharp contrast to the usual appearance he showed every other member of the Brotherhood. There’d be a lazy grin on his face, a little too much wine wiping away the stern expression that’d been burned into the lines of his skin, and the two of them would be deep in the throws of a playful debate. Sole had lost that privilege, though.

Just as Maxson had lost the privilege of seeing them with their head tilted back, a laugh shaking their frame, delight taking over the weight of the world that they held between their strong shoulders. Two friends, or something more, turned strangers. What a twist. “Is this it?” Sole spoke up. Maxson had resumed his public facade, and they knew he wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.

“I suppose it is.”

The meeting of their gazes brought both of their internal battles to the forefront, images of warfields flashing between the pair. Sole clenched their jaw and tilted their head up, still trying to remain casual in the way they spun the wine in the glass. They didn’t dare take a sip; they wouldn’t put it past him to actually poison it, and as much as they cared for him, there was a reason the air was so tense.

Sole had made it into the Brotherhood a little shell shocked from their experiences with the Wasteland, looking for structure and someone to have their back as they fought to survive. Of course, the Brotherhood was much more than that, and didn’t hesitate to introduce their bigotry, disguised as defensive beliefs, as soon as Sole stepped through the doors to the Prydwen.

They were unsure at first of where they stood. Ever the scholar, they tried to remain neutral and stand back, observing, as they made their way through the beginnings of their Brotherhood experience. Other than Nick Valentine, they had never met a synth; maybe he was an exception, and the Brotherhood was right in the idea that they weren’t to be trusted. They’d found themself in the company of Elder Maxson more than once at this point, eager to look through the cracks of the mask he wore and get to know the man behind the ideology, the intense scowls, and the unwavering leadership. They’d begun to debate as a pastime, and slowly, as the tapestry of his beliefs came into full view, they found themself suffocated.

The threads were frayed, woven by generations beforehand. Maxson’s contributions were made for no reason other than that he was told it was right, to add strength to a fabric that only caused pain to those that were innocent. Sole found themself edging closer to the tapestry with a thread ripper and magnifying glass, wanting to take apart every argument and excuse and bring forward the man behind the brainwashing that the Brotherhood was so fond of, but it was too late. It seemed that the threads had been woven into his skin as well, leaving no person outside of his anti-synth ideology.

They needed time away, and after one particularly intense debate-turned-argument, they asked for it. Maxson knew what was happening as soon as they were hesitant to look him in the eye, and when they finally did, there was no vulnerability like he was once given access to. They were choking on the smell of his soap and aftershave, suffocating on the tenseness flooding the room, and needed to get away to think.

After a month in Sanctuary, listening to synths and humans alike recount their tales, their life experiences identical in the way that both types of people hurt and thrived, became overjoyed and mourned losses, Sole went to seek out answers. In the back alleys of Diamond City they heard whispers of an organization, and went to find the Railroad.

They had a long talk with Deacon, looking over his own tapestry with a magnifying glass, shielding their eyes from the reflective, joking threads, so they could see the life lessons hidden beneath. Despite how hard it was to access, they found his tapestry much warmer, if not a bit worn from how many had taken refuge under its fabric. Every time they dug in and pulled at the threads, trying to find a fatal flaw, it held together like no other. One month away and they knew what they had to do.

It was hard to return to the Brotherhood, knowing their days there were limited. They’d seen the people before the ideology, instead of the other way around, and once considered many of them friends. But at the end of the day, the ends of their tapestries were coming loose, and Sole could no longer justify sticking around. They were smarter than that.

Maybe it was obvious, and a little immature, but they avoided Maxson upon their return to the best of their abilities. He tried to reach out to them, calling them in for meetings, upon which they kept their answers short and didn’t give any information as to what they had been up to during their escapades away from the Prydwen. But at the end of his third try, when his expression changed from curious and a little hurt to hardened and stern, they knew he understood. They had their own tapestry now, and didn’t need the refuge of any others. Certainly not his.

So when he invited them to one last evening together, they accepted. There was nothing they weren’t prepared for as they walked through the doors to his quarters and settled down on the couch. It was easier than they expected it to be, but they supposed the time away had already given them the opportunity to sever any hesitancy they would’ve once held.

They found themself indifferent to the intense discomfort in the air that would’ve pinned them to their seat just a month ago. Their breath remained in their lungs, their hands didn’t shake. They tilted their glass and stared at the liquid inside before placing it on the table in front of them and folding their hands together in their lap. “I sincerely hope you don’t plan on doing anything stupid, Sole.” Maxson’s voice was harsh, biting. He sipped his own drink.

They found a small smile betraying their lack of fear of the man in front of them. With a light sigh they glanced out the window. “Arthur, please. Let’s not pretend you haven’t been picking apart my brain for the last few months in the name of getting to know each other. Do you really believe me to be stupid?”

“I didn’t. And then you left for a month and returned doubting Brotherhood ideals. It seems you still have time to prove me wrong.”

“I think we can both agree a resistance to brainwashing is the exact opposite of stupidity.”

Sole sighed and brushed the palms of their hands down their thighs. They stood with little hesitancy and made their way over to one of the windows that decorated the walls of Maxson’s quarters. The view was one of the few things they’d miss about the Prydwen.

Of course, they supposed they could understand how members of the Brotherhood became so out of touch with the Wasteland. Everything felt so untouchable from their perch in the sky, rocking gently in the light winds that flooded the ground with radiation. Staying, surrounded by the hivemind and far away from any contradicting opinions, would’ve been the death of any independent thought from Sole.

They would miss Arthur, not Maxson, and the way they thought they were two separate people just a few months ago. It was easy to pretend, when he had been less than sober and forgot everything he thought was his responsibility. His thoughts flowed more readily into speech; the first slip he had made was calling Sole beautiful as they leaned against that very window, looking up at the stars that almost appeared to be within reach from where they sat in the sky.

It had caught Sole by surprise, though they supposed it shouldn’t have. Yes, Arthur was in a position of power, arguably one of the highest in the Wasteland across the factions, but they had spent enough time with him at that point to know he fell victim to alcohol. Well, that’s what they pretended.

Arthur was no lightweight. They could see it in the way his movements still remained controlled in contrast to his words. It was an excuse, they’d realized, after just two nights, to say what was on his mind instead of what he had been taught to say.

Maybe that’s why they thought they could get to him at first. Unravel some of the tapestry that had dug deep into his skin and latched onto his mind. It seemed as if he wanted free of the Brotherhood mindset and the way everyone looked to him. It showed when they were together in the low lamplight of his quarters, alone in a space that didn’t allow for his facade, and he looked 19 again instead of aged beyond recognition.

His hand brushed across their cheek and they fought hard to keep their attention out the window; they wouldn’t let him exploit vulnerability that should’ve never been given in the first place. They were hyper aware of the placement of his hand, knowing that into two smooth motions they could be on the floor, dead. Instead, he hooked a finger under their chin, and they felt a kiss placed to their forehead. Then, he was out of their space and across the room, busying himself behind his desk with paperwork. They were dismissed, for the last time.

Just a week later, it was easier than expected for the words to spill out of their mouth and into Deacon’s ears. Descriptions of the Brotherhood’s guard shifts, the weakest point of their aircraft, protocols and every hidden weapon they knew about. They didn’t choke, didn’t waver. They had seen too much upon their return to the Railroad; synths injured from the hate the Brotherhood had spread, members fatally wounded when they jumped to defend. Sole had reveled too long in the privilege of ignorance and the company of a man who, despite being tragically indoctrinated, they could no longer lend sympathy to when they had to bear witness to the consequence of his actions.

Maxson’s last mistake was assuming that the silent goodbye they’d shared just one week earlier would be their last. Sole was ready to take a torch to his tapestry, and they were the last person he should’ve assumed was stupid enough to let him go easily.

#Potential part two?#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Angst #Elder Maxson #Oneshot #Imagine #Fanfiction #FF #Drabble

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santacarlahorrorshow · 3 years

Text

There’s a Bad Moon on the Rise (Ben Hanscom/Reader) (1/3)

Summary: You're Richie's twin sister and a member of the Losers' Club. When the other members all pack up and leave town, you elect to stay behind with Mike to wait for It to come back. After 27 years pass and Pennywise returns, will you and the other Losers be able to finally defeat him?

Pairing: Ben Hanscom/Reader; Richie Tozier & Reader; Background Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 6.2k

Author’s Note: This is finished at 16k. I decided to split it up into three parts to make it easier. If you enjoy this, then letting me know would make my day! If you’ve seen It: Chapter Two, then you know what you’re in store for regarding warnings...but with the added fun of some canon divergence!

Masterlist / Read on AO3

The summer of 1989 was one of the most terrifying and exhilarating times of your life.

Growing up, all you really had was your twin brother, and by extension, his group of friends. The girls at school never gave you the time of day, which was the way you preferred it, and most of the guys were completely disgusting.

By the time school let out in June of '89, your only plans involved hanging out with Richie and his friends while avoiding Henry Bowers and his gang if at all possible.

Of course, you didn't count on Pennywise.

The Losers’ Club rose and fell that summer all thanks to the clown who seemed hellbent on traumatizing you all for life.

You were used to the little group that consisted of you, Richie, Eddie, Stan, and Bill. You had grown used to their antics and usually had to be the first to talk them out of their more dangerous plans. Most days, they drove you absolutely crazy. You figured that was probably par for the course since you were the only girl among a group of boys.

Surprisingly enough, you got along with all of them. Richie was your twin and the person who knew you best. Out of anyone else in the world, you knew that if you had to, you would die for him. He could be a bit of a jackass, but he loved you in his own way.

Eddie was the worrier of the group. He was always the first to voice a concern, no matter how outlandish it might seem. You spent half your time with Eddie reassuring him that he was fine and the other half trying to get him out of his own head so he would actually enjoy his time with the group.

Stan was the other much-needed voice of reason for the group. Both of you had to work overtime to keep the others out of trouble and ended up bonding because of it. When you were just a little too done with the others, you looked to Stan to pick up where you left off. Richie liked to joke that maybe you were misplaced at birth and actually Stan's twin since you two were so alike at times.

And then there was Bill. He seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group, because everyone always turned to him for a plan. He was sweet and despite the tragedy he went through with Georgie, he always wanted to help.

He was also the one in the group that you had a giant crush on.

Crushing on one of your brother's best friends was inconvenient at best. Mostly, you were sure Bill only saw you as his best friend's sister and left it at that. At the very least, even if you wished he saw you as more, you could still always count on Bill to have your back.

So, while you were more than happy with the friends you had because of Richie, you couldn’t help but wonder if your little group would ever grow.

Fortunately, that summer, three more kids joined The Losers' Club.

Ben Hanscom, or Ben Handsome as you liked to call him, literally dropped right into your lives. He was shy and sweet and you found yourself gravitating towards him as time went on. He seemed to have a doomed crush on Beverly while you were totally miserable over your feelings for Bill. You spent many moments with Ben, both of you commiserating over the wreck that was your love lives.

After Ben joined the group, Beverly Marsh was soon to follow. She was funny and fierce and fearless. You couldn't help but admire the way she absolutely took no shit from any of the others and even managed to fit in with the group of misfits that made up The Losers' Club.

Mike Hanlon seemed to be the final piece of the puzzle you didn't even realize was missing until the infamous rock war against Henry Bowers and his gang. To your surprise, you and the other Losers managed to win, and it seemed the prize was Mike Hanlon. He was studious and calm in a way that leveled out the group. You were grateful for his presence when he joined, because he soon became your only anchor in the whirlwind that was soon to overtake your life.

You were glad for the friends you made that summer. Without them, you weren't sure if all of you would have survived. Pennywise would have come after one or all of you and without the others, you might not have made it.

Storming Neibolt House the first time was only the first fracture you experienced as a group, though. After Eddie broke his arm and everyone went their separate ways, you were scared about what it would do to you. As a group, you all stood a chance against Pennywise. But alone with only your brother to fall back on? You couldn't help but think that it would be oh-so-easy for Pennywise to take his revenge on you all.

You spent most nights terrified out of your mind that the shadows on the wall spelled your doom. The near-constant fear seemed to only help you bond with Richie more. You spent most nights in his bedroom, staying up until all hours of the night, and doing your best to not flinch at any and every strange noise.

You watched Richie slowly fall apart without the other Losers. You knew there was one in particular he was missing the most, but you didn't push him to talk about his feelings for Eddie. Derry in '89 wasn't the most welcoming place for what Richie was going through and Henry Bowers and his bigotry in no way made it better. All you could do was let Richie know you loved him and accepted him no matter what and he seemed to take solace in that.

The group didn't reunite until Beverly was taken by Pennywise.

Going back to Neibolt House to confront Pennywise felt like the most idiotic decision you had ever made, but it was your only choice if you wanted Beverly back. You were so terrified that she would be dead like the other missing kids, and even though you tried not to let fear rule your movements, it was hard not to jump at every shadow or errant noise down in the tunnels.

In the heat of the battle against Pennywise, when he flashed his several rows of sharp teeth your way, you almost hesitated. You could easily imagine those teeth tearing through your flesh and ripping you apart. It was Bill's voice urging you to swing at Pennywise that had you using the piece of wood in your hand to attempt to hurt Pennywise.

By the time Pennywise had managed to escape, you were exhausted. Stan was hurt. Beverly was acting odd. Bill had broken down after having to essentially kill Pennywise's borrowed form of Georgie. The rest of you were still shaken and terrified, but everything you suffered through only seemed to work in your favor afterwards. The group came back together and you couldn't help but think that you felt invincible. If you could go up against a murderous clown with your best friends, then there was absolutely nothing you couldn't do.

Despite everything you all went through and achieved that summer, it wasn't long before the group broke apart again. By the end of that summer, The Losers lost a member. It was a trend that would continue over the next few years until there were only two left in Derry.

Beverly was the first to leave. She promised to write, but something weird happened. Once Beverly left Derry, you didn't hear from her. You could tell it worried Bill and the others, but a part of you wondered if it wasn't for the best after everything Beverly had endured in Derry. If you could, you would have wanted to cut ties with the town as well. Although, you hated that she also seemed to be cutting ties with The Losers’ Club.

After Beverly, Ben's family left. And then Bill. And then Stan.

By the time it was only you, Richie, Mike, and Eddie, you started to wonder what the future held for all of you. You started to wonder if they were ever coming back.

Eddie and Richie planned on leaving for college, but you had known that you were going to hang back in Derry. You were going to stay with Mike and wait for It to return.

It was something both of you had decided on and while Mike insisted he would be fine on his own, you knew that it would be a very lonely existence to spend twenty-seven years in Derry just waiting for Pennywise to resurface. You knew that Mike would need someone to help him through the worst of it and while you knew it didn't have to fall to you, you also didn't notice anyone else sacrificing themselves.

It didn't make it any easier to say goodbye to Richie and Eddie once they finally left.

"Are you sure you don't want to get out of this shithole?" Richie was watching you as if he had half a mind to just shove you in his car and drive as far away as he could. "You don't have to stay."

"Yeah," you told him with a sad smile. "I kind of do."

"Well, I'll call," he assured you with a pat to your shoulder.

"Sure," you agreed. He wouldn't. He would forget. You were sure that was what happened when you left Derry. You just forgot. Forgot the town. Forgot the life you led there. Forgot everything.

If you forgot Pennywise, then how would you ever know to come back and try to finish the job? No, you would stay in the cursed town with Mike and wait. That was all you could really do.

You watched Richie go with a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach.

It wasn't so terrible at first. Pennywise wasn't around to terrorize the residents of Derry or making meals out of fearful children, so a sleepy contentment settled over the town. It was peaceful, but incredibly boring.

Mike managed to secure a job at Derry Public Library while you started working the check-in desk at The Derry Townhouse.

You found that even with Mike's company, you still felt incredibly lonely. You found yourself flipping through photo albums and wishing that Richie would call. You wanted to hear how Beverly was doing and if Bill was working on a new book. You wanted to ask Richie if he ever made a move on Eddie or if they went their separate ways. You wanted to see how Stan was doing and if Ben was making a name for himself as a renowned architect.

You never did, though. If the others didn't remember Derry, then maybe it was for the best.

You usually spent most nights having dinner with Mike. He was doing his best to research Derry's history and figure out Pennywise's origins. He figured if he could just figure out one weakness, then it would give you all a fighting chance when Pennywise inevitably came back to wreak havoc on Derry.

Despite how much you hated it, time wore on. Some years seemed to drag on while others flew by. It seemed like you were bringing Mike a sandwich at Derry Public Library when he mentioned forgetting his lunch at home in 2009 and then suddenly it was 2015 and you were starting to see Christmas decorations appear around town.

You were at the library one night in mid-December, waiting for Mike to finish shelving returns so you could eat dinner together. It was your turn to cook, so you were planning on making spaghetti and meatballs. Mike had already mentioned the leftover birthday cake in the staff breakroom that was up for grabs, so you were hoping to have some for dessert.

You were sitting at the front desk, scrolling through a news article about Richie adding more dates to his US tour, and trying to distract yourself from growling stomach. You felt a strange mix of grief and pride as you read the article. You were so proud of your brother, but you mourned the years you missed watching him grow in his career and as a person. There was an ache you got every time you checked up on the other Losers, but it was especially fierce when you came across any news about Richie. It seemed unnatural to have to go without your twin for nearly twenty-seven years and some days you didn't know if you could stand it anymore.

"You know what's coming, don't you? You know what has to happen?"

You startled at the sound of Mike's voice coming from just behind you. He was reading the article over your shoulder, a sad smile on his face when he looked to you.

You bit your lip before nodding your head. "They have to come back. They have to help us."

Over the years, you had both talked over the possibility that Pennywise would be back numerous times. You half-hoped the evil fucker wouldn't dare show his face as long as there were any Losers left in Derry to protect it, but you knew better. Your luck had always been rotten and it wouldn't be long before the murders and reports of missing people started featuring in the news again.

You had spent so much of your time with Mike trying to convince him that you didn't need to involve the others. Two was always better than none, and while you wanted to see your brother and friends again, you didn't want to risk their lives. Mike was adamant that they all had to come back, though. He insisted it wouldn't work otherwise.

Mike was incredibly vague about what he meant by that. You knew there was something he was hiding from you. It had to do with the research he had carefully hidden from you, prompting you to believe that there was something heading your way that was likely to kill you all. You hated that after all these years together, he still didn't fully trust you. He had only ever asked that you trust him. He claimed that whatever he had discovered was the ace in the hole you needed to defeat Pennywise.

You felt a sinking feeling in your gut with each day that passed during the year of 2016. You weren't sure when Pennywise would resurface, but you instinctively knew he would reappear during the summer. It only seemed fitting that the summer of 1989 started this strange and horrifying journey, so why shouldn't it be the summer of 2016 that would end it for good?

You thought it was morbid that you found yourself thinking that either you would die and Pennywise would continue his reign of terror, or you would somehow live and defeat him. With each passing day, Mike's confidence seemed to be infectious. You caught yourself thinking wistfully of a future away from Derry. You weren't sure where you would go or what you would do, but after so long spent trapped in the tiny town, all you knew was that you wanted out.

Even though you seemed to always be waiting for his return, Pennywise still managed to catch you by surprise. You were going over the books for the Townhouse, having managed to successfully buy it from the owner in 2014 when he decided he wanted to leave Derry, and bemoaning your choice to become a business owner, when the phone rang. You absently reached out to grab the receiver, frowning down at the numbers that you were sure had to be complete bullshit.

"Derry Townhouse," you muttered into the phone. "How can I help you?"

"He's back," Mike said, his words immediately sending a chill down your spine. "I need you to meet me right now."

You weren't really sure how you got from being on the phone with Mike to standing at his side, both of you struck speechless by the bloody message Pennywise had left behind for you to find.

"Come home," you muttered, feeling fear begin to settle deep within your gut. You tried to fight it off, knowing that was exactly the reaction Pennywise was looking for from you, but you couldn’t help it.

Mike sucked in a deep breath, as if steeling himself, before he put an arm around your shoulders. "Let's go back to the library," he suggested with a weight to his words that let you know what was coming.

Mike volunteered to make the calls. He seemed a lot more level-headed about what had to happen than you did. You felt like you were sentencing everyone you loved to die. You didn't know how Mike was able to stomach calling each and every former Loser and reminding them of the oath they had sworn in 1989.

Mike had always been resolute in doing what it took to survive, though. Trapping himself in Derry for twenty-seven years, with the memories and ghosts and fear, was more than enough proof of that.

When the last phone call was finished, Mike turned to offer you a grimace.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens now. But I think they'll show up. They have to," he added with a tone that told you he didn't fully believe that. "Do you have any open rooms at the Townhouse?"

You couldn't help but bark out a surprised laugh. "Business isn't exactly booming," you offered when Mike shot you a confused look. "I can house the Losers."

"Then all we have left to do is wait," Mike added with a wry twist to his lips that told you what he was thinking.

You had both done nothing but wait for the last twenty-seven years.

It was later that night, after you managed to drag yourself back home, when you got a phone call from a number you didn't recognize.

"Hello?"

"How the fuck did I forget I have a sister?"

You laughed, a smile on your face. "That's the magic of Derry," you said. "Hey, Richie. I've missed you."

"I think I've missed you too. Fuck," he hissed. "This is so fucking weird. I can remember Mom and Dad, but not you. How the fuck is that fair?"

"Mom and Dad eventually left. I never did." There was a heavy silence left on the line that made you mourn the easy communication you used to share with Richie. "How did you end up with my number?"

"When I stopped freaking the fuck out, I called Mike back and asked him for it. It's funny," he mused with a tone that suggested it was anything but funny to him. "I always felt like there was something missing, but I couldn't figure it out. Like there was someone there who should have been. I guess it was you," he offered with a sigh. "So, hey, you know I'm famous now?"

You felt a genuine smile break out on your face as Richie launched into telling you a story about an afterparty he once attended that resulted in him getting so wasted he accidentally threw up all over a former Spice Girl.

Later, as you were settling down in bed, you couldn't quite fight off the anxiety that had taken hold of you. If Richie came back to Derry, then Richie would have to fight Pennywise. You couldn't quite justify the idea of making your brother relive some of his worst memories, but you knew that it had to happen. If you believed Mike, and you did, then it would have to be all of you. It didn’t mean you had to like it, though.

You reached over to turn off the lamp on your nightstand, plunging your room into darkness.

Moonlight peeked around your bedroom curtains, lending you enough light to just see the outline of the other pieces of furniture in your room. You started to close your eyes, but you caught sight of something that looked out of place.

There was a figure standing just near the foot of your bed. You felt your breath hitch, a familiar thrill of terror coursing through you when the figure seemed to take a step closer. You heard a wheezing, rattling breath as a hand reached out to rest on the edge of the bed.

You gasped out a choked breath before you made yourself move, quickly turning on the lamp again. When you looked to the end of your bed to see that there wasn't actually anyone there, you let out a relieved breath. It had seemed so real and with Pennywise back, you couldn't help but wonder if this was It's doing.

You felt like a child when you left the lamp on, only managing to doze off every once in a while, before jerking back awake to hastily check and make sure no one was standing at the end of your bed.

You remembered the sleepless nights you suffered in ‘89 because of the same brand of fear you felt that night. There were nights when you swore there was someone else in your room while you were trying to sleep. Whether it was Pennywise’s demented giggle jolting you out of sleep or the feeling of fingers drifting over your ankle accompanied by the sound of a rasping, wheezing breath. You weren’t sure you actually got a full night of sleep that summer and you worried you were in store for the same now that Pennywise was around yet again.

You spent the next day booking rooms for the other members of the Losers’ Club and counting down the hours until you were all supposed to meet for dinner. You felt a nervous excitement at the idea of finally seeing everyone again. You weren't really sure how everyone would react to remembering Pennywise and the summer of 1989, but you were nearly relieved that it wouldn’t just be you and Mike any longer. It felt like you had been carrying around a terrible secret for years and now the burden would finally be lifted just the slightest bit from your shoulders.

When you got to Jade of the Orient, you had to sit in your car for a few moments and take deep breaths. You weren't sure why you were so nervous, but you couldn't help but fear that the group dinner was going to be disastrous. You didn't know how much the others remembered, but you were sure once the full effect of Derry began to hit them, it wasn't going to be pretty.

As you walked up to the restaurant, you noticed a man and a woman standing near the entrance. You felt a smile break out at the sight of the red hair on the woman. You knew instinctively who she was as you got closer.

"Beverly?" You couldn't help but ask as you considered her.

Beverly turned to look at you, her eyes narrowing for a split second as she attempted to recognize you, before her eyes went wide. "Y/N?"

"Yeah," you confirmed with a nod of your head as you moved to pull her into a hug.

"God, it's been so long," Beverly said as she pulled back. You noticed her look at the guy standing just behind her before she glanced back to you. "Ben," she mouthed with a tilt of her head, silently clueing you in to the man's identity.

"Ben Handsome," you started as you took a step away from Beverly. "Is that you?"

You noticed a blush spread across his cheeks before he ducked his head, suddenly sheepish. It was a gesture you recognized from childhood and you couldn't help but let out a pleased laugh as you moved to tug him into a hug as well.

"It's good to see you, Y/N," he murmured in your ear.

You pulled back and let yourself fully consider Ben. You couldn't help but think that he was remarkably handsome and you felt yourself blush when your eyes met his. His hands were on your shoulders and even though it was well past the moment when you should have stepped away, you felt nearly transfixed by him.

You were struggling to think of something to say, not sure if the moment was turning awkward or oddly heated, when you were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You glanced over to see Richie standing just a few feet away. "Well, you all look amazing," he observed as he studied you, Beverly, and Ben. "What the fuck happened to me?" He wondered with a self-deprecating tilt to his lips.

"Richie," you couldn't help but say as you practically flung yourself at your brother.

"Hey, Y/N," he said with a delighted chuckle before he brought his arms up to embrace you. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long," you agreed with a sigh as you pulled away from him. You stepped back so he could have his own little reunions with Bev and Ben as well.

"So, were you guys going to stand out here all night or are we going to get on with this impromptu Losers' Club meeting?" Richie asked after hugging Beverly and shaking hands with Ben. "You three looked kind of cozy out here," he added with a raised eyebrow in your direction.

You shook your head and turned towards the entrance to the restaurant. "Beep beep, Richie," you muttered before you pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Reuniting with Bill and Eddie felt just as bizarre and surreal as seeing Richie, Beverly, and Ben again for the first time. Your eyes kept seeking out the empty chair at the table, however. You wondered where Stan was, but like with every meeting of the Losers' Club, it quickly turned loud and chaotic.

Richie couldn't help but poke fun at Eddie and while you were onto him, it felt like you were able to breathe again after years of suffocating within Derry's walls. You had felt trapped for so long that you forgot what it was like to have almost everyone back with you again. You listened to everyone catch up, your eyes seeking out Bill from time to time. You could still feel the remnants of your childhood infatuation and a part of you wondered if you would ever be over him. You kept glancing to where a wedding band had recently resided on his left hand, surreptitiously reminding yourself that while Bill was recently divorced, it was unlikely that he would ever feel anything for you.

You focused on the little things that made you feel at peace for the first time in years. Mike's small, proud grin as he listened to Bill talk about his new book and the way Richie kept glancing at Eddie, as if he couldn't believe they were in the same room again. You also saw the spark of interest in Richie's eyes once Eddie mentioned he was separated and well on his way to a divorce.

You noticed the soft, private grins Beverly shot Bill and the way Ben kept watching Beverly with a reverence that told you his childhood crush was still in effect as well. You let their laughter wash over you as you ate and drank, your thoughts turning to Stan more and more often as the evening wore on and he failed to appear.

"So, Y/N," Ben started as he leaned forward in his seat, focusing on you. "What have you been doing all these years?" You knew he was trying to deflect after Richie had embarrassed him by calling him hot, so you decided to have mercy on him.

"I, uh," you started before taking a sip of your drink. "I've been running Derry Townhouse for the past few years."

"You own that shithole?" Richie asked with incredulity in his tone.

You rolled your eyes before reaching across Beverly to pinch Richie's arm. "Yes," you answered. "And since you're all staying there for free, I'd like a little more gratitude."

"Thanks, Y/N," you heard Ben pipe up before the rest of the Losers toasted to you.

You had fooled yourself into thinking it might be a nice, uneventful reunion, but you should have known better. Pennywise had to take the first shot at the Losers' Club through the most disturbing and grotesque display.

The Pennywise bomb had just been dropped on the rest of the Losers right before the fortune cookies were dropped off at your table. Mike had reminded them of the oath they had all sworn and while Richie had attempted to lighten the mood a bit, you knew that everyone was well on their way to freaking out.

Once Eddie pointed out that his fortune was just one word printed on the small slip of paper, you realized that none of your fortune cookies actually contained a typical fortune.

After you deciphered the message from the fortune cookies, an ominous warning about Stan's fate that read 'I Guess Stanley Could Not Cut It,' chaos erupted from the bowl of unopened fortune cookies in the middle of the table.

You barely had time to process the fact that you were all being attacked by nightmarish monstrosities when you felt a hand wrap around your bicep, quickly pulling you away from the table. You looked over to see Mike, his eyes wide and frightened, as if he too had allowed himself to forget for a moment why you had been forced to call the Losers back to Derry.

It wasn't long before there were horrifying creatures flying about the room, knocking into the light fixtures and diving towards you all.

You heard Eddie scream and glanced over to see Ben trying to shield Eddie from something attempting take a bite out of him. Richie yelled Eddie's name, concern and fear clear in his voice. You only had a moment to make sure your brother was safe before something big and terrifying and screeching flew right into you.

"Fuck!" You blurted as you tried to ward off whatever was trying to sink its talons into your forearm.

You felt an arm around your waist before someone spun you away from the threat. You were suddenly facing the wall while someone stood at your back, shouting as they tried to face the creature that was just attacking you. You were panting for breath, not sure if it was out of fear or the adrenaline crashing over you, as you turned to see it was Bill who had saved you.

"Y/N! You okay?" You heard Richie ask, but you didn't get much of a chance to respond before Mike picked up a chair and began to smash it over the middle of the table in an attempt to destroy the rest of the fortune cookies, insisting that what you were all seeing wasn't actually real.

You were all more than a little jumpy as you finally gathered outside Jade of the Orient. After the hilariously inappropriate way Richie had yelled at a kid, forgetting for a moment a line from his own comedy routine, you were more than ready to crawl into bed and forget everything.

You didn't even realize that Beverly was trying to get in touch with Stan, because you were so distracted by the way everyone else was freaking out. Richie and Eddie were yelling at Mike for lying to everyone by conveniently forgetting to mention Pennywise when he called everyone home while Ben and Bill seemed to be silently trying to process everything that had just happened.

Mike was doing his best to keep everyone from skipping town when Beverly turned to face the rest of you, her phone held to her ear. She quickly put the call on speaker, allowing all of you to hear who was on the other line.

It wasn't until you heard Stan's wife confirm that Stan was dead that you realized all of your worst fears were coming true. The Losers' Club hadn't even had an opportunity to really face Pennywise and one of you was already gone.

You were barely aware of the fact that you were struggling to breathe. Stan couldn't be dead. Stan was always the shared voice of reason with you and one of the first to try to talk some sense into the Losers’ Club. He was Stan. Steady and dependable and sarcastic as hell. And he was dead.

"Mike," you called, tears starting to track down your face. "Did we kill Stan?" You whispered as you rounded on him, your breath stuttering in your chest at the thought. "When we called him, did we kill him? Did we do this? Is it our fault?" You could no longer justify calling everyone to ask them to return to Derry. Stan was dead and you couldn’t help but feel like it was all because you weren’t capable of facing Pennywise by yourself. Your fear of getting everyone you loved killed was washing over you and stealing your breath away.

"Y/N, no," Mike murmured before he moved to pull you into his arms. You only had a moment to rest your head on his shoulder, the tears flowing freely as guilt threatened to overwhelm you, before you were tugged out of Mike's hold.

"Hey, what the fuck did you do to my sister?" You heard Richie ask as he pulled you into a hug.

"Yeah, fuckwad, why are you making Y/N cry?" Eddie jumped in. His specific brand of indignation in his tone had you laughing somewhat hysterically into Richie's shoulder.

"He didn't do anything," you assured them as you finally managed to calm down. “I’m just upset about Stan.” You knew that what you were feeling in that moment was just going to give Pennywise nightmare fuel against you later. How was he going to twist this to haunt you? You shuddered at the thought before you patted Richie on the shoulder and stepped back. "I'm okay," you managed to say as you reached up to hastily wipe away the tears still tracking down your cheeks.

You felt someone place a hand on your shoulder and you looked back to see Beverly standing there. You noticed the tears welling in her eyes and the haunted expression on her face and knew that Stan's death was hitting her just as hard.

"Come on, Y/N," Richie pleaded as he pulled your attention back towards him. "Let's just get the fuck out of this shitty town."

"I’m not going anywhere, Richie. I live here," you reminded him with a helpless shrug of your shoulders.

"Well, you're moving," he told you as if it was that easy. He let out an incredulous laugh as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. He looked like he was trying to resist the urge to reach out and grab your arm, as if he was toying with the idea of dragging you out of Derry if he had to. "I can't believe I let you stay here," he muttered.

"I had to," you argued with a shake of your head. "I couldn't leave Mike alone all these years."

Richie snorted before he rolled his eyes. "Just, come on," he insisted as he nodded over towards his car. "You too, Eduardo. Let's go."

"Yeah, I'm right there with you," Eddie agreed as he made a break for his car.

"I drove myself here," you reminded Richie when he seemed like he was about to herd you towards his car.

"Fine. Fuck," Richie sighed as he glanced away. "Meet us at the Townhouse," he conceded before he took off across the parking lot.

You turned and met Mike's gaze, silently asking what you should do now.

"I've got him if you've got them," Mike said as he nodded over towards Bill. "There's something I've got to show him. But we'll see you at the Townhouse."

"Yeah, okay," you allowed with a grimace.

"Y/N," Mike called before you could fully turn away from him. He pulled you into a hug, letting you rest your weight on him for a moment.

"It was Stan, Mike," you muttered into his shoulder. "Stan."

"I know," Mike soothed as he pulled you closer for a brief moment. "We're going to kill It this time. We'll make It pay. But we can't do that if the rest of us don't band together."

"Yeah," you sighed, understanding what he was telling you to do. You had to go to the Townhouse and make sure none of the Losers were trying to skip town.

"Y/N," Mike called again just as you were reaching your car. "Thanks," he said when you turned to look at him. "I really couldn't imagine doing any of this without you."

You offered him a weak smile and a nod before you got behind the wheel of your car.

If you cried all the way to the Townhouse, mourning Stan and wishing that you could go back in time and stop Mike from calling him, then no one had to know but you.

#it: chapter two #it 2019 #ben hanscom x reader #richie tozier & reader #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #reader insert #it #it imagine #reader imagine #the losers club #the losers x reader #reader insert fanfiction #it fanfiction

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rae-is-typing · 4 years

Text

kicked out

Description: You’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community, but your mother is a part of a religion that hates the LGBTQ+ community. You come out and she kicks you out. Tony helps.

Characters: reader, reader’s mother, Tony Stark, mention of Peter Parker

Reader is gender neutral!

Warnings: homophobia, transphobia, general hate towards those in the LGBTQ+ community, intense bigotry, being kicked out, anxiety attack

Disclaimers: This one shot is not meant to be one about hating religion. This piece was loosely based on my own internal struggle with myself and the religion I was raised in. I’ve also never dealt with direct backlash because of my identity. I’m not out yet and I have no desire to be out yet. This is the worst case scenario I would be facing if I did come out.

I tried to make the religion and the identity as ambiguous as possible to make it a little more universal, but this one shot definitely points to the identity being gay, queer, bi, or pan, so I’m sorry I didn’t make it anymore neutral.

If you have a problem with this fic or the way it was written, I urge you to message me. We can have a conversation about where I went wrong and how I can learn from the experience and do better in the future.

Word count: 2k

The Avengers love you, plain and simple. How could they not grow to love the adorable teen they let into their unconventional family? (If Tony had his way, he would legally adopt you in a heartbeat.) Unfortunately for Tony, you had a mom. She was a pretty good one, she fed you, clothed you and supported you in most things you did. You moved to New York together when your father died. Your mother was also very religious. You were born and raised in the church your mother and father were raised in. You never had a problem with it; the people were amazing, the community was like a big family, you grew up with all the youth, and, most importantly, felt loved and safe. You rallied together against what they claimed to be of the devil. That included people in the LGBT+ community. When you grew up, you realized how you truly feel about people of your sex, and how you feel about people of the same sex. It started slowly. You began to accept that part of yourself when you met someone like you. He was nice, compassionate, accepting of others and helped everyone he could. He was one of the best people you’ve ever met. He was nothing like what you’re mother and religion told you LGBTQ+ people were like. What had really convinced you that the LGBTQ+ are real people was when one of your closest friends came out. You accepted them, they were not only in the same boat as you (not that you were ready to tell anyone), they were one of you. But not everyone thought so. You saw it whenever you went to church and they were at the meetings. It didn’t make sense to you. They were one of you, right? So they got a pass. Apparently not. You knew through the disappointed and judgemental eyes burning with disgust. It made you sick and only further solidified your resolve to stay in the closet. You soon learned it was easier said than done. Whenever you wanted to avoid the rallies, you chickened out and went, too afraid to disappoint your friends and mother. You always stuck to the standards and tried to be the perfect child your mother always wanted. It was exhausting. Admittedly, you saw the difference between your congregation, and the Avengers when you first met them. They were the first people you could truly be yourself with. As cheesy as it sounds, it was evident. They encouraged your individuality and loved you because of your personality and your abilities.

You could talk to them, and you did. You told Peter first. He hugged you and told you that he’s bisexual and hasn’t come out to May yet.

You told Tony about yourself a week later. He smiled at you, wrapped an arm around you and told you he was proud of you for discovering yourself and beginning to accept that part of you. It was something you didn’t expect, not that it wasn’t welcome. You were on top of the world for a couple weeks, thankful that some of the most important people in your life loved you still. But as of late, your thoughts about yourself have been killing your spirit. You were so tired of pretending. The toll it took on you was obvious to everyone that didn’t know you as the perfect sheep. The people that were worried the most were the Avengers. You were at the tower a lot more than usual, not that they were complaining. It was just odd. You hesitated when they asked you simple questions, spaced out a lot more, ate less and claimed you felt sick almost every other day. They’d share concerned glances and tried to talk with you, but you’d brush it off and used school, drama or headaches to excuse your strange behaviour. It worked- for a while. Then you stopped going to the tower completely. It wasn’t your fault. Your mother heard you say one positive thing about the LGBTQ+ community and freaked out. She went off saying that it was the Avengers corrupting you and that she never should have let you take the Stark internship in the first place, and so much more. You had never heard her yell so much in your life, it was terrifying. She stopped letting you go out, you were only allowed to go to School and Church, took away all forms of technology and outside communication.

You were going crazy, there was no way you could keep living like this. So, you told her. You finally told her what you are, how you felt and why she shouldn’t make decisions for you when you were perfectly capable of making them yourself. You had waited a couple weeks, so you thought she’d be more level headed. But, you were wrong. She freaked out more than before.

You knew for a fact that it was worse than before because she kicked you out.

You were shocked, confused and most of all hurt. You’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community, but she was still your mother.

“What?” You asked, confusion lacing you voice.

“You heard me, get out. Get out of my house.” Your mom stated firmly, disgust obvious in her voice.

“You can’t do this, I’m your child!”

“Not anymore. You have until I get back, get you stuff and get out!” She shouted, walking out and slamming the door.

You sat on the couch until her words sank in. Your mother is kicking you out.

I’m homeless now. Where am I going to go? What am I going to tell my friends, what am I going to tell Peter? What am I going to tell Tony? What am I going to do? I can’t do it on my own. I can’t do it. I can’t…

Your breathing sped up, your heart races, and waves of nausea hit you hard.

Nevertheless, you got up and searched for your phone. As soon as you found it, you eagerly dialled in his personal number and called. He didn’t answer. You wanted to cry, you tried again with no answer. You plugged in your phone, put your head in your hands and sobbed.

Moments later, your phone rang. It was Tony.

“Tony,” You breathed out.

“Y/N! Where’ve you been, kid? It’s not as fun here without you.” His tone was light and relieved now that he could talk to you and make sure you’re okay.

“Tony, my mom, she- I- I wouldn’t have called if I had another option, I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Whoa, hey, slow down and take a deep breath, Y/N.” His tone changed from fun to concerned in an instant. “What happened with your mom?”

“I-I told- I told her about me and that- that I- and she- Tony I can’t- she- I don’t-” You’re crying hard, unable to form coherent sentences and unable to breathe properly.

“Y/N, where are you?” Tony asked.

“H-home.”

“I’m coming over, stay on the line with me sweetheart, can you do that?”

“Ye-eah.”

As promised, you didn’t hang up until Tony was standing in front of you- Iron Man suit and all. He immediately pulled you in his arms when he got the suit off and began to calm you down.

“Can you tell me what happened now, kid?”

“She kicked me out.” You spoke into his chest.

“She what?” Tony growled. How could a mother be so cruel? Anger flooded his veins, how could someone turn away from their child for simply being honest with themselves?

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have called you if I had any other option. Please don’t be mad, I’m so sorry.” You bury your face in his chest, wanting this day to be a bad dream.

“It’s good you called me, Y/N. I’m not mad, not at you.” Tony held you in his arms, cradling your head against his chest and rubbing an arm up and down your back. There’s no hesitation, he knows that he needs to be there for you. “You’re staying with me.”

“W-what?”

“My dear, you are coming back to the tower. You will be sleeping, eating, doing your homework, socializing, and living with me and the rest of us at my tower. Okay?”

You can only nod, too overwhelmed to speak while clutching the back of Tony’s shirt like it was the only thing that was keeping you alive. He kept rubbing your back and letting you cry into his chest. Right now, his comfort doesn’t matter to him, not when his kid is crying in his arms.

It seems, though, that he’s the only one that heard the door begin to open.

Tony grips your forearm and steps in front of you. Your mother opens the door with puffy red eyes and dried tears on her face. She looks genuinely sad for what she had to do, but that look of sadness dissipates when she sees Tony and you standing in her living room.

“What are you doing here?” She hisses. “What is that doing here?"

"Y/N, go to your room and pack what you want to take.” Tony’s voice is even and strong. You hesitate, tears still streaming down your face, fingers still clutching Tony’s clothes like you were a toddler hiding from another adult. “Y/N, now.”

You turn briskly, running down the small hallway and into your room. You lock the door, rip your suitcase from your closet and stuff all of your sentimental items first before your favorite clothes.

Their voices are easily heard through the thin apartment walls. You hear Tony defending you and your mom berating you.

“That thing is not my child. I did not raise a sinner!”

“Y/N is a human being with a name that you gave them. You are their mother, mothers are supposed to love their children, not throw them out like yesterday’s garbage.”

You’ve never heard Tony this angry.

I shouldn’t have called him, he’s mad, she’s mad, I made her mad, she hates me she hates she hates me she hates me

You grabbed a pillow and cried in earnest into it, managing to cover your ears as well as your mouth to muffle your sobs and the voices coming through the walls.

A knock at your door makes you jump and hold your breath.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you ready to go?” Tony says. You can hear the anger that was in his voice, even if he’s trying to stay as calm as he can for you.

“Yeah,” you croak, wiping your face. You grab the bag and open the door. Tony is shaking with fury, but he wraps an arm around you and walks you to the living room. Your mother says nothing to you as she sits on the couch with a prideful look on her face. “We’re flying back to the tower so I need you to hold on tightly and do not let go under any circumstances.”

You nod at the instructions and Tony suits up. The quiet mechanical sounds are music to your ears. He places an arm on the middle of your back and hooks one under your knees. He hoists you up easily, the bag resting your chest and held tightly by you.

Tony flies slower and lower than usual, keeping you in mind. You have one arm around his neck and the other holding the bag to your chest. He lands on a balcony to one of the top floors and carries you inside. Placing you on the ground with care, he holds your shoulders and assures himself you’re stable. He takes off the suit and walks you to a room.

“You can stay here for now. I’ll talk with Pepper and the team about what happened. I’ll only tell them that you’re staying for awhile. You can tell them the other news when you’re ready.”

You nod. He closes the door and you sit on the bed, staring at the wall.

A feeling of deep longing grows in your chest, along with feelings of rejection and pain. Your head drops to your hands and all you can do is cry.

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