#and starting daily writing on that scene felt a bit like throwing me and everyone else into the deep end after chilling in a kiddy pool | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

halfmoonaria · 5 days ago

Text

what i can’t say

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara wants the only person she can’t have, but she’ll do whatever it takes to change that —even if it means risking everything.

word count: 10.7k

author’s note: yall don’t forget to wish me a happy birthday this friday on the 22nd!

Tara wasn't used to hearing the word "no."

Growing up, she'd mastered the art of getting exactly what she wanted, whether it was a toy, a treat, or just a little more attention.

All it took was a well-timed look, a hint of a pout, or a small scene in a public place—not that she ever felt bad about it. After all, it always worked, and it always felt worth it.

But more than any toy or treat, Tara always seemed to have what she wanted most: you.

Her best friend since... well, since you both were small enough to think scraped knees were the end of the world. You'd been there from the start, the friend who laughed with her, who stood by her through every phase and whim.

Tara didn't have to beg or throw a fit to keep you close. You just were. It was like you were woven into each other's lives, and if anyone asked, she'd say you'd always be there—like you were something she'd managed to keep just for herself.

If anyone asked, Tara couldn't quite recall a time before you.

You were there in every memory that mattered, the friend who understood her quirks, finished her sentences, and knew every dream she'd ever had.

You were inseparable, not just in the way kids cling to each other, but in the way people do when they know they'll never quite find someone who gets them like this again.

You shared everything with your clothes, midnight snacks, and every embarrassing crush you'd ever had.

You laughed together about the silly things you thought were love back then, sharing conversations about who you'd marry someday and who had the best smile.

Although. Tara was always a little quieter during these talks, listening more than sharing, and you never thought much of it. That was just Tara, after all, always keeping a bit of herself back, tucked away in her own mind.

But when it came to your middle school crush, she never missed a chance to tease you, brushing him off as if he wasn't as special as you seemed to think.

She'd laugh and tell you he wasn't as funny as you made him out to be, or that his smile really wasn't anything to write home about.

To you, it was just typical Tara, always finding a way to poke holes in the things you liked.

You didn't notice how her smile faltered when you gushed over him or how her gaze turned a little sharper, though even she didn't fully understand why.

It left her with an uneasy feeling, the kind she could never quite explain, that made her want to change the subject whenever she could.

And as time passed during this time, it seemed like your crush only grew, and so did the way you talked about him.

No matter how many times Tara brushed off your comments or tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, you still lit up whenever his name came up.

Brian.

Brian slipped into conversations almost daily, whether it was about the way he made everyone laugh in class or how he'd held the door for you that morning. And each time you brought him up, Tara felt a pang of irritation she couldn't quite explain.

She never told you how much she despised Brian, but the feeling ran deep. It gnawed at her whenever you mentioned him, and even though she tried to brush it off, she found herself disliking him more and more.

The worst part was, she couldn't understand why. It wasn't like you weren't allowed to like a boy—that was just part of life, after all.

Whenever she hinted at her frustration with her mom, she'd hear the same thing: it was normal, fun even, to have a crush, and Tara would experience it too someday.

But she hadn't. She'd never felt that way about any boy in your grade, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she should.

It confused her, and in a way, it confused you too. You'd always laughed off the fact that Tara never seemed to "crush" the way you did, teasing her about how she'd figure it out someday.

But whenever you'd gush over Brian, Tara would just sit quietly, trying to ignore the strange knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten with every word you said.

Time went on, and those middle school crushes never quite faded.

Brian only seemed to grow more attractive, transitioning from the shy boy you liked to someone who was effortlessly charming, with a confidence that made everyone notice him.

Back then, you'd have called him "cute," but now, there were new words—hot, gorgeous—terms that made Tara roll her eyes every time they left your mouth.

But you still felt that rush of excitement when he was around, that same giddiness you'd had since you were ten, only now it felt a little more real.

Tara, on the other hand, hadn't changed much when it came to relationships.

While others around you both dated, broke up, and fell in love, she stayed quietly distant, brushing off questions and teasing about why she never seemed interested in anyone.

The truth was, she didn't really know why herself. There was a part of her that felt left out when you gushed about Brian, when your other friends talked about crushes or brought dates to dances. She tried to tell herself that she just wasn't interested yet, that maybe someday she'd feel what everyone else seemed to.

But as the years went by, Tara started to realize that maybe she was different—and she couldn't shake the strange sense of frustration that came with that realization, especially whenever Brian was mentioned.

Somewhere along the way, as high school turned into something more serious, so did her thoughts about you.

Tara didn't want to admit it at first—not to herself, not to anyone. The idea crept up quietly, unexpected and unwanted, like some shadow she couldn't shake.

The way you'd laugh at something silly, the familiar warmth of your hand in hers, or the way her heart would skip when you'd throw an arm around her shoulders. It all made sense now, but it was a sense she desperately didn't want.

When the realization hit her, it was like she couldn't breathe.

There was this tiny voice in her mind that whispered, almost cruelly, You're in love with her. Tara's immediate reaction was to shut it down, to deny it with everything she had. This couldn't be right. She wasn't in love with you.

That wasn't what best friends did. She told herself she was just confused, that maybe it was normal to feel this strongly about someone you'd known your entire life.

But every time she saw you look at Brian—every time you said his name with that sparkle in your eyes—it felt like a punch to the gut, and there was no denying it anymore.

The more she tried to reason with herself, the clearer it became. And that terrified her.

She couldn't let herself feel this way about you. You were her best friend, the person who knew her better than anyone else.

The idea of telling you—of you finding out and looking at her with pity, or worse, disgust—made her stomach twist. She could already imagine the awkward smile, the way you might back away, laugh it off, or even leave her behind. It would shatter her, and she knew that.

And so, she decided then and there that this secret would stay with her.

She'd lock it away, bury it so deep that even she could forget about it someday. Telling anyone—even her parents—wasn't an option.

Not only did she fear their reaction, but she knew they wouldn't understand. To them, you were her friend, nothing more, and the thought of losing you, or of anyone making her feel like her love was wrong, was enough to keep her quiet.

But keeping quiet wasn't easy. The secret felt like it was burning a hole through her, consuming her thoughts and leaving her frustrated in ways she couldn't explain.

She wanted to be around you, but every moment with you felt like a reminder of what she could never have, and it only made the ache grow stronger.

She was angry, scared, and hopelessly in love with the one person she could never tell.

So she became skilled at hiding the depth of her feelings, putting on a mask that had somehow become part of her daily life.

She played her role well, acting like nothing had changed between you both.

At school, she kept her gaze casual, listening to you talk as if she didn't want to lose herself in the way your lips moved.

During sleepovers, she'd lie next to you, forcing herself to focus on anything but the warmth of your arm just inches from hers.

And at parties, now that you were both old enough to go, she'd laugh and dance alongside you, all while pretending her stomach wasn't in knots from the way you looked at her under dim lights, a playful grin lighting up your face.

It was like living with a constant tug-of-war inside her, balancing between wanting to be near you and needing to keep her heart steady.

She'd perfected the art of nonchalance, even when you made it nearly impossible. When you got excited about something—eyes wide, laughing about some small victory—Tara would have to swallow down the urge to reach out, to brush a strand of hair from your face or lean in just a little closer.

The hardest moments were the little things, the 'normal' things, like when you'd give her an easy, carefree compliment, your eyes warm and sincere.

She'd feel the blush rise to her cheeks, and she'd quickly look away or laugh it off, hoping you didn't notice the way her voice wavered.

And when you held her hands, like you always did, squeezing them to give her a little boost of courage, she'd act as though it didn't send her heart racing, as though she wasn't fighting the impulse to hold on tighter.

Every smile you threw her way, every moment you lingered too close, she had to act like it didn't make her insides flip.

She trained herself to respond with that same easy smile, to pretend she didn't feel like the air had been knocked out of her whenever you looked at her like she was the only one in the room.

It was a constant game of pretending, a battle against herself that she had to win every single day.

And as much as she tried to hide it, each touch, each laugh, each simple, familiar look left her more tangled in her own emotions.

She tried to tell herself that these things were just... normal. Friends did these things all the time, she told herself, even if everything in her felt far from normal.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, her resolve was starting to crack. She couldn't help but notice her jealousy flare up when she saw you talking to other people, especially Brian.

Then, one Tuesday at lunch, you dropped a bombshell that flipped her world just a bit more.

She leaned back, half-focused on your conversation with the others at the table, when she saw you walking toward her with a grin so bright it felt like it could light up the whole room.

Tara felt her heart jump at the sight, her thoughts immediately swept into the excitement that was clearly radiating off of you.

You barely took your seat before bursting with excitement. "Tara!"

Tara's smile matched yours, though a part of her already felt a small pang of unease. But she pushed it aside and leaned in eagerly, mirroring your excitement. "What happened?"

You practically glowed as you told her, "He sat next to me in class today." Tara's chest tightened, but she held her expression steady, keeping that casual, easy smile.

She already knew who you meant—you didn't even have to say his name. It was in the way your voice softened, how your eyes sparkled with excitement she rarely saw except when you were really, really happy.

She couldn't stand the sight of it. Seeing you so... in love, so giddy, felt like a punch she wasn't ready for.

You practically glowed, your whole personality seeming to shift as if you were that younger version of yourself again, like back in middle school when every new crush filled you with wide-eyed excitement.

Except now, it wasn't an innocent schoolgirl crush; it was real, and you were already slipping further from her reach with each passing second.

Tara kept smiling, but inside, every bit of her was tangled up in knots.

You'd never look at her like that. Never talk about her with that bubbly, uncontainable happiness. The thought clawed at her, a reminder she could never push away.

She was your best friend, sure, but she'd never be the person who made your cheeks flush or your heart race. And somehow, knowing that made it even harder to keep that same easy smile on her face.

"And?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't betray her, even as she felt a knot forming. She listened as you recounted every word, every laugh you'd shared with him in that class.

Then you dropped the real news, your eyes sparkling. Your grin only widened. "And then, right before class ended, he asked me to go with him to that party next weekend."

Tara's heart sank, yet she barely let the smile slip. She forced herself to open her mouth in surprise, eyes wide, like she was just as thrilled as you were. "Really?" she said, trying to sound as shocked and happy as you seemed, her voice just a bit too bright. "Did you... did you say yes?"

Of course you did. Tara felt stupid for even considering asking you that question.

But you didn't seem to mind, you just nodded eagerly, your whole face lighting up. "Obviously!"

"Oh, wow. That's... that's great, actually," she said, her voice a little too steady, but it was the best she could manage.

Inside, though, she was unraveling. You were actually going with him. It shouldn't have been such a shock—after all, this was what you wanted, right?

But knowing that you'd be there, dressed up, all smiles and laughter... with him... felt like a lead weight sinking in her chest.

She could already picture it, the two of you in some dimly lit room with music thumping, Ethan leaning in close to say something to make you laugh, you smiling up at him like he was the only person in the world.

The thought of it made her throat tighten, her mind racing with feelings she didn't even want to name.

"Are you excited?" she asked, her voice coming out just barely above a whisper. She hoped you wouldn't notice how strained it sounded, how much effort it took just to ask.

You nodded, your smile impossibly bright. "Yeah, I mean... I didn't think he even noticed me like that, you know? But now... maybe he does."

The way you said it—hopeful, almost in disbelief—cut deeper than she wanted to admit. Maybe he does. Those three words stayed in her head, echoing louder with each second.

She was supposed to be happy for you, and maybe part of her was, but mostly, she just felt hollow.

Because even though you'd never know it, she'd been looking at you the way you were looking at him, longing for that same chance to mean something more to you. And now she was faced with the awful reality that she might never get that chance.

Swallowing down the bitterness, she forced a tight-lipped smile. "You'll have a great time, I'm sure."

But even as she said it, a part of her was already wondering if she'd do something she'd regret. The thought of watching you fall for someone else—someone who wasn't her—was more than she could stand.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she'd do almost anything to keep you from slipping away.

Your eyes brightened again. "You should come with us!"

Tara's heart twisted at the invitation, feeling both flattered and devastated. Of course you'd want her there, being the good friend you were—unaware of what it did to her to see you light up over someone else.

Forcing herself to stay casual, she shrugged, managing a small playful smirk. "I'm not exactly great at third-wheeling."

Her voice sounded steady enough, but inside, it felt like she was clinging to the last threads of composure.

She couldn't stand the thought of watching you fall for him right in front of her, yet the idea of saying no, of letting you go without her... that hurt, too.

Maybe if she was there, she could stop whatever was beginning to grow between you and him. Just maybe, she thought, she'd find a way to keep you by her side, where you'd always belonged.

Her mind spun, the smile on her face frozen, all she could focus on was the sinking realization that she might actually lose you.

Until now, she'd convinced herself that her feelings for you were something she could handle, something she'd eventually learn to live with. But now, with Brian's name hanging between you, that quiet acceptance shattered.

She could see the way this might unfold, each painful step already clear in her mind.

She'd watched enough romance movies to know how these things went, and as much as she wanted to push the thoughts away, they crept in, vivid and unrelenting.

First, you'd go to the party together, and maybe he'd make you laugh so much that you'd find yourself leaning in, your hand brushing his.

She could already picture the two of you on future dates—sharing secrets over a quiet dinner or standing too close on some sidewalk, your face lit up in a way that made her stomach twist with envy.

And worse, she could imagine what might happen after those dates, how one day soon he'd reach for your hand, and you wouldn't hesitate to hold his back.

She didn't want to picture it, but the thought seeped into her mind anyway, filling her with a fierce, unfamiliar ache.

The image of you wrapped up in his arms, whispering into his ear, or—even worse—laughing with that same joy you always shared with her, but this time meant for him, made her chest feel hollow.

The thought kept spiraling, her mind betraying her with scenes she couldn't bear to picture.

You, with Brian, alone, closer than she'd ever be, maybe even leaning in for a kiss.

She imagined his hand brushing your cheek, the two of you getting so lost in each other that you forgot everyone else around you—including her.

The jealousy was sharp, hotter than anything she'd felt before.

She hated the way it took over, the way it made her feel small and powerless, like she was losing something that had never even been hers to begin with.

And then, a terrible, aching thought hit her: she might never get to be close to you in that way.

She might never get to be the person who held you, who kissed you, who made you laugh like that.

It wasn't just about watching you fall for someone else—it was the crushing realization that you might never look at her the way you looked at him.

Maybe it would be better if she came along?

The idea took a root in Tara's mind, an unexpected, half-formed plan that both excited and unsettled her.

If she went to the party with you and Brian, it might give her a chance to keep things from moving forward between you two.

She could play it off as tagging along to "keep an eye" on you, to make sure you had fun—and stay close enough to step in if Brian tried anything. It was risky, maybe even a little desperate, but what choice did she have?

At least if she was there, she'd know exactly what was happening. She wouldn't have to lie awake later, imagining him whispering things in your ear, pulling you close, stealing the attention she wanted only for herself.

She could keep you safe from all that, and maybe, if she was careful enough, find subtle ways to draw your attention back to her, where it belonged.

In her mind, it sounded almost justified. A "protective friend" sticking close to make sure you were all right. But the truth simmered beneath that excuse—she knew this was more than friendship, that she wanted to keep you to herself in ways you might never understand.

If Brian was going to try to win you over, he'd have to do it with her there, watching his every move, ready to swoop in the second things started looking too cozy.

And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to make sure that night ended with you still hers—still looking at her with that easy, trusting smile that had always been her anchor.

Her chest tightened at the thought of it, the chance to stay close to you a little longer, to stave off the reality she dreaded.

If you didn't have the chance to fall for him—if she could prevent that—maybe she'd finally have the time and courage to make you see her the way she saw you.

You nudged her lightly, snapping Tara out of her thoughts, leaning in with that familiar, hopeful smile that always made it so hard to say no to you. "Come on, Tara. It'll be fun—just this once. Please?"

Tara's chest tightened at the way you looked at her, like her answer actually mattered to you. It made something inside her ache, the way your face lit up with excitement, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in her mind.

She should've said no. She wanted to say no.

But the thought of watching you leave without her—without knowing what might happen between you and Brian—made her stomach twist painfully.

And now, thanks to the idea she'd let herself entertain earlier, the thought of staying home didn't feel like an option anymore.

That plan, desperate and reckless as it was, had already taken root, and no matter how much a small part of her whispered it wasn't right, she couldn't let it go.

What if she stayed behind and missed her chance to stop something from blossoming between the two of you? What if she sat in her room, alone, while you fell for him right in front of everyone? The mere idea made her skin crawl.

But going wasn't any better. If she went, she'd have to watch you fawn over him, maybe even see you with him. And that thought was enough to make her want to bolt from the room. Yet here you were, looking at her like her presence actually mattered.

But why? Did you think she needed convincing, or was there some part of you that truly wanted her by your side? Her stomach churned at the thought.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her shirt as she tried to keep her expression neutral. If she said no, you'd go without her, and that stung more than she wanted to admit. But if she said yes...

Her mind spun with the possibilities. She didn't even know what she'd do if she went—how far she was willing to take this twisted plan of hers. But what she did know, with a growing certainty, was that she couldn't stay behind. Not when the thought of Brian pulling you closer was enough to make her chest burn with jealousy.

Your face shifted slightly, your brows knitting together when she didn't answer right away.

"Tara," you pressed gently, your voice dipping into that teasing tone you always used when you were trying to coax her into something. "Come on," you pressed again, your grin widening when she hesitated. "You have to come. It won't be the same without you."

It won't be the same without you.

Those words sealed it, though not in the way you meant them to. Something twisted and desperate bloomed in her chest, making her pulse quicken.

You didn't even realize it, but you were giving her exactly what she wanted: a reason to stay close. A reason to be where she could see you—and control what happened between you and Brian.

"Fine," she said at last, forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But don't complain when I tell you it sucks."

The way your entire face lit up at her answer sent an ache through her chest. Her stomach fluttered against her will, a mix of longing and guilt tangling together in a way that made it hard to breathe. She hated how much it affected her, how happy you seemed just because she'd agreed to go.

She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on something across the room, anything to avoid the way your joy sent another wave of guilt and longing through her.

She knew it wasn't right—none of this was. But she couldn't let it go. Not when her plan had already started to take shape. Not when the thought of Brian having you was enough to make her reckless.

Because no matter how hard she tried to tell herself this was just a party, just a stupid night out, deep down, she knew she wasn't going for the music or the fun.

She was going because if Brian thought he was going to win you over tonight, he was dead wrong.

___

"What about this one?"

Tara looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of your bed, her gaze drawn to the shimmering fabric you held up against yourself. It was a short, fitted dress, one you'd clearly been saving for a moment like this.

The way Tara sat there, watching you flit around the room, sifting through piles of clothes you'd pulled from your closet.

It reminded her of when you were younger, back when the two of you would raid your moms' closets, parading around in oversized heels and dresses that pooled around your feet. You'd giggle uncontrollably, striking exaggerated poses in front of the mirror.

But this wasn't dress-up anymore.

Now, the clothes were your own—real, grown-up outfits that fit you perfectly, accentuating curves and edges Tara wasn't sure she was supposed to notice. It wasn't just playtime; this was your life now. And tonight, you weren't dressing up for laughs or pretend tea parties.

You were dressing up for him.

Her eyes flickered briefly over the dress before settling on your face. You were beaming, the excitement practically radiating off you as you turned to the mirror, holding the dress against your body.

She should've said something. A simple "looks great" or even a teasing "a bit much, don't you think?" would've worked, but the words caught in her throat.

It wasn't the dress—it was the way your whole body hummed with energy, the way your smile was just a little too wide, your movements a little too quick. Tara saw it all, and it was like watching you wear your feelings on your sleeve.

The way you twirled the dress in front of the mirror, the way your hands moved restlessly as you smoothed down imaginary creases—it was all too familiar. She knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn't say it out loud.

Did Brian? She doubted it.

He didn't know the little things, like how your voice got higher when you were nervous or how you couldn't stand still when you were excited. He didn't know the way your lips pressed together when you were thinking too hard about something or the way your shoulders tensed when you wanted something to go perfectly.

He didn't know you, not like she did.

"What do you think?" you asked again, snapping her out of her thoughts. You turned, holding the dress out at arm's length, giving her a better look. "Too much? Not enough?"

Tara forced a smile, her heart twisting as she watched you. "I think it's... nice," she said carefully, her voice steady even as her stomach churned.

Nice. The word felt like a betrayal. It didn't come close to how she really felt—how beautiful you looked, how much she wished those bright eyes were sparkling for her instead of someone else.

"You think Brian'll like it?" you asked, your tone innocent, but the question struck Tara like a punch.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of your comforter. She wanted to tell you Brian didn't deserve you, that he wouldn't know how to appreciate all the little things that made you you. But instead, she kept her tone casual, masking the storm inside her.

"I mean... yeah," she said after a pause. "It's hard not to like you in anything."

Your grin widened, lighting up the room in a way that made her stomach flutter. You didn't notice the tightness in her smile, the way her eyes lingered on you for just a second too long.

"You're the best." you said, turning back to the mirror.

Tara's chest tightened, a quiet ache settling beneath her ribs. She glanced away, forcing a small smile as she leaned back on her hands.

She let her fingers dug slightly into the comforter as she watched you move across the room again, this time heading toward your closet. You sifted through the hangers with an almost frantic energy, pulling out one piece of clothing after another until something caught your eye.

"This," you announced, holding up a sleek black skirt and a tiny top with delicate lace accents.

Tara blinked, her focus shifting from the faint hum of her own thoughts to the outfit in your hands. The skirt was just short enough to grab attention, and the top would clung to the curves in all the right places—your curves, she couldn't help but think.

Her stomach twisted again, but not with the same bitterness from earlier. No, this was something else entirely. She couldn't stop herself from picturing you in it, couldn't stop the way her mind immediately conjured the image of you standing there, all done up, looking effortlessly hot and completely out of her reach.

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away. "You're not wearing the dress?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Oh, I am," you replied with a grin, holding the outfit closer to her. "This is for you!"

Tara froze. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, her chest tightening as your words sank in.

She had been so caught up in watching you, so wrapped up in her own spiral of emotions, that she had momentarily forgotten she was actually going to this party.

"Me?" she echoed, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to act like the idea of dressing up didn't make her stomach drop.

You laughed softly, stepping closer to hold the outfit up against her frame. "Yeah, you! Come on, Tara, you can't just wear that." You half-pointed to her attire.

Tara's eyes darted to the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself in her usual hoodie and jeans.

She had planned on blending into the background tonight, just another shadow in the corner, but now you were holding out a version of herself she wasn't sure she wanted to confront.

"It's... a little much, don't you think?" she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric.

"Not at all," you said, undeterred. "Trust me, you'll look amazing.

The way you looked at her, so excited, so hopeful, made it impossible for her to argue. The truth was, she didn't want to blend into the background—not really. Not if it meant letting Brian win.

"Alright," she said finally, forcing a small smirk as she reached for the outfit.

You grinned, clearly thrilled, and the sight sent her heart fluttering all over again.

As she stood up to take the clothes in you, the weight of the night ahead settled on her shoulders again. She knew this wasn't about the clothes or the party. It was about you—about keeping you close, about holding onto the part of you that still felt like hers, even if it wasn't.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she was willing to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

Tara pulled the clothes from your hands, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary before she turned away.

She hesitated only briefly, her eyes darting to the bathroom door, but then she decided against it. It wasn't like this was anything new. You'd seen her change plenty of times before.

Slipping off her hoodie, she pulled the top over her head, the soft lace brushing against her skin in a way that felt oddly delicate, almost foreign.

The skirt followed, the fabric snug around her waist and flaring slightly at her hips. When she finally turned back toward you, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

It was strange. She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her right away—not entirely. The clothes fit her so well, so effortlessly, that she felt a flicker of something unexpected: pride.

She looked... pretty. Not in the same way you did, with your radiant energy that drew everyone in, but still. Pretty enough.

Her heart jumped a little at the thought of you seeing her like this, of you noticing her in the way she always noticed you. She didn't know why she wanted that so badly, but the hope curled tightly in her chest, warm and persistent.

You looked up from where you'd been smoothing out your own dress, and your reaction was immediate. Your eyes widened slightly, and then your face lit up in that effortless way that always made her stomach flutter.

"Tara, oh my god, you look so good," you said, your voice soft but genuine, carrying none of the over-the-top excitement you sometimes used when joking around. This was real.

Tara felt her cheeks warm under your gaze, her fingers automatically reaching to adjust the hem of the skirt, as if she could somehow shield herself from the weight of your words. She tried to play it off, shrugging casually. "It's just a skirt," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

"It's not just a skirt," you countered, stepping closer. "You look amazing. Seriously, this is perfect for you."

Your words were kind, almost too kind, and Tara wasn't sure how to process them. There was no teasing, no playful edge, just an earnestness that made her chest feel tight and achy.

She glanced away, pretending to focus on her reflection again, but the warmth of your approval lingered, sinking into her skin like the lace of the top.

She wanted to feel good about it, to let herself bask in the way you saw her, but the nagging thought that this wasn't for her—that it was all part of your excitement for Brian—kept her grounded.

Still, the way you smiled at her, so unreserved and so entirely you, made her feel something she hadn't in a long time: seen. She wished, just for a second, that you were saying all of this for the same reason she wished you would.

You spun on your heel, nearly tripping over the pile of discarded clothes strewn across the floor in your excitement. Tara's breath caught for a second, her hand twitching instinctively like she was about to reach for you, but you caught yourself, laughing it off as if nothing had happened.

"You need to clean your room before someone gets hurt," Tara muttered, though her tone held more amusement than annoyance.

You ignored her, too caught up in the moment as you reached your makeup table, rifling through your collection with a kind of chaotic precision.

Pulling out a palette, you held it up, the colors catching the light as you grinned at her. "What do you think? Want me to do your makeup?"

Your voice was so full of unfiltered excitement, your smile so wide it made her stomach flip. Tara hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her skirt as she glanced at the palette in your hands. She wasn't really the makeup type—not like you were—but the way you looked at her, like you were just waiting to make her feel special, made it impossible to say no.

"You don't have to," Tara said finally, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I want to!" you insisted, stepping closer, the palette still in hand. "Please, Tara? I promise I'll keep it simple. Just a little something to go with the outfit."

She sighed, feigning reluctance as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Fine."

You grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of her, gesturing for her to sit. "Alright, let's make you even more stunning."

Tara rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned forward.

___

The buzz of the party hit you as soon as you stepped through the door.

Music pulsed through the house, the bass vibrating in your chest as voices overlapped in a cacophony of laughter and shouted greetings.

People crowded the space—groups gathered near the kitchen, couples pressed close against walls, and a few brave souls danced in the living room, already letting loose despite how early it was in the night.

You glanced over at Tara, catching the way her shoulders stiffened slightly as the noise and energy enveloped her. She'd been quiet on the drive over, her fingers drumming against her thigh in a way that let you know her nerves were kicking in. But she'd never admit that, not to you.

"See?" you said brightly, bumping her shoulder with yours as you stepped further into the house. "I told you this would be fun."

Tara gave you a look, one that was half-skepticism and half-amusement, as she tugged at the hem of her skirt. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

Your laugh was warm and easy, a sound that somehow made the chaos of the party seem less overwhelming. You reached back to grab her hand, pulling her through the crowd as you made your way toward the kitchen. The feel of your fingers around hers made something in Tara's chest twist uncomfortably, though she forced herself to ignore it.

The kitchen was just as packed as the rest of the house, but you managed to snag two drinks from the counter, handing one to her with a grin. "Alright, party rule number one: stay hydrated."

Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cup in her hand. "This is definitely not water."

"Details." You waved her off, your playful smirk making her stomach flutter in that maddeningly familiar way.

Before she could respond, a voice called out from across the room. "Y/N! There you are!"

Tara's grip on her cup tightened as she followed your gaze, her stomach sinking when she saw him—Brian—making his way toward you. His smile was wide and easy, the kind of grin that would make anyone else swoon.

But Tara wasn't anyone else.

"Brian!" you said, your face lighting up in a way that made Tara's chest ache. She stepped back slightly, letting go of your hand as he drew closer, though her eyes never left you.

He didn't deserve that smile.

Brian's gaze flickered to her briefly, his smile faltering just a bit. "Tara, right?"

She nodded, her expression neutral as she took a sip of her drink. "That's me."

If he noticed the edge in her tone, he didn't comment on it, turning his attention back to you instead. "You look amazing," he said, his eyes raking over your dress in a way that made Tara's jaw tighten.

You beamed at him, clearly pleased by the compliment, and Tara had to look away, her hand gripping her cup so tightly she was surprised it didn't crack.

This was going to be a long night.

And it most definitely was.

As the night went on, the party only grew louder and more chaotic. People drifted in and out of the circle you, Tara, and Brian had settled into, friends of his joining the conversation with easy smiles and casual jokes.

You made a genuine effort to include Tara, always pulling her back in when she started to fade into the background, but it was clear who held your focus.

Brian.

He stood close to you, his arm brushing yours as he leaned in to talk over the music.

You didn't seem to notice—or maybe you did, and you didn't mind. Either way, the proximity between you two only seemed to grow as the minutes ticked by, and Tara couldn't stop watching.

Every time you laughed at something he said, her chest tightened just a little more.

You weren't doing it on purpose. Tara knew that. She knew you didn't notice the way her jaw clenched or how her fingers drummed against her cup.

You were just being you—kind, bubbly, and effortlessly charming. But watching you with Brian, seeing how much of your attention he was soaking up, felt like a slow, relentless sting.

She hadn't expected it to bother her this much.

At first, Tara tried to play along, chiming in when she could and taking small sips of her drink to distract herself.

But then Brian's friends started joining the conversation, their loud energy making it harder for her to keep up. You were still trying to include her, turning to her every so often to ask her opinion or flash her one of your brilliant smiles, but it wasn't enough.

Not when you lit up like a damn firework every time Brian said something that made you laugh.

Tara tipped back her cup, finishing it quicker than she probably should have. She wasn't much of a drinker to begin with—she never really liked how it made her feel—but tonight was different. Tonight, she needed the edge taken off.

"Want another?" you asked, noticing her empty cup.

She hesitated, but before she could respond, Brian offered. "I'll grab her one. Be right back."

She opened her mouth to say she didn't need another, but he was already walking away.

You smiled after him before turning back to Tara, your expression so full of effortless warmth it made her stomach churn. "You having fun?"

She forced a small nod, her grip tightening on the plastic cup. "Yeah. It's... fine."

You didn't notice the strain in her voice, too caught up in the energy of the party to catch on.

By the time Brian returned with her drink, she'd already decided she wasn't going to overthink it. She took it with a quiet "thanks" and drank just enough to feel the buzz set in. It wasn't much—maybe two drinks total—but Tara was short, and she always felt the effects quicker than most.

The alcohol didn't drown out her frustration, though.

Every laugh you gave Brian, every time you leaned in to whisper something to him, only seemed to magnify it.

And you? You were oblivious. Still trying to keep her in the conversation, pulling her in with the same ease you always had. But she could feel the gap widening.

Tara's foot tapped against the floor as she shifted her weight, her eyes flickering between you and Brian. She should've left, should've wandered off to another part of the house to escape this torturous little triangle, but she stayed.

Because if she left, she'd have to admit to herself why she couldn't handle this.

So instead, she took another sip of her drink and plastered on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You okay?" you asked, your voice cutting through her thoughts.

"Yeah," she said quickly, her words sharper than she intended. "I'm fine."

But she wasn't. And as the night wore on, that became harder and harder to hide.

And after an hour, or maybe even more.

The alcohol was definitely working its way through Tara's veins. She could feel it, the familiar warmth spreading through her chest, making her limbs feel looser but her thoughts louder.

The edges of the room blurred ever so slightly, but her focus on you was sharp as ever, almost painfully so.

You were giggling at something Brian said again, your hand brushing his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tara had been watching you both like a hawk all night, trying to play it cool, but the subtle touches, the shared smiles, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him—it was getting under her skin.

She clenched her jaw, tipping back the rest of her drink as if it might drown out the frustration bubbling inside her. But it didn't.

It wasn't just the alcohol making her feel reckless, though it didn't help. Tara was desperate.

Desperate to do something—anything—that might shift the balance back in her favor. But how? She wasn't like Brian. She didn't have easy jokes or effortless charm. And she wasn't like you, all soft laughter and open smiles.

So she sat there, stewing in her own silence, searching for an opening she couldn't find.

Then she turned her head for just a moment.

A distraction—a loud burst of laughter from somewhere across the room. She glanced over, barely processing the source, and when she looked back...

Her heart stopped.

You and Brian were kissing.

It wasn't shy or hesitant. It was full and unguarded, like something out of the movies. His hands rested lightly on your waist, your fingers clutching the front of his shirt as though you were afraid to let go.

Tara's first thought wasn't sadness. It wasn't heartbreak or even surprise.

It was rage.

Her body went rigid, the plastic cup in her hand creaking under the force of her grip.

Because of course this wasn't a problem.

Why would it be?

You weren't hers. You'd never been hers. You were allowed to kiss boys, especially the boy you'd been crushing on for as long as she could remember. It wasn't like you were breaking some unspoken rule. She had no claim to you, no right to feel betrayed or blindsided.

But God, it felt like a betrayal.

Her rational mind tried to reason with her, repeating the same useless mantra: This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem.

But the other side of her mind—the side that had been clawing its way to the surface all night—was screaming the opposite.

It was a problem. A huge one.

The anger burned through her like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought as it spread. It started in her chest, hot and heavy, before curling into her throat and setting her teeth on edge. Her nails dug into the soft plastic of her cup until it crumpled under her grip, a sharp crack breaking through the buzz of the party.

And still, she couldn't look away.

She hated it. Hated the way his hands touched you so easily, like he'd earned that right. Hated the way you kissed him back like you'd been waiting for this your whole life. Hated how he got to have what she wanted so desperately without even knowing how much it mattered.

Her breaths came quicker, each one catching in her chest as if she couldn't quite fill her lungs. The alcohol amplified everything, stripping her bare of the filters she usually relied on. Every raw, unspoken feeling she'd buried for years was rising to the surface now, and there was no stopping it.

She wanted to scream.

To grab you and pull you away, to tell Brian to get his hands off you, to do something.

But she didn't.

Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she hated what she was seeing, there was a part of her—a small, quiet, agonizing part—that whispered:

You're not supposed to feel like this.

So instead, Tara sat there, her body tense and trembling, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. She didn't even realize she'd crumpled her cup until the sticky remnants of her drink dripped onto her lap.

And still, she couldn't look away.

Eventually you pulled back from Brian, cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol coursing through your system.

A small, almost dazed laugh escaped your lips as you glanced at him, then turned to find Tara in the crowd. She hadn't moved from where she'd been watching, her posture stiff and her eyes fixed on some indistinct point on the wall—anywhere but you.

When your gaze landed on her, your smile widened, bright and unrestrained, like you hadn't just set her entire world on fire.

Tara's chest tightened, the molten frustration inside her bubbling hotter with every passing second. She couldn't stop her thoughts, couldn't silence the storm brewing in her mind.

You stumbled a little as you reached her, still grinning like a fool, your energy infectious to everyone but Tara. You leaned close, tipping forward on your toes, your voice loud but slurred enough to betray your tipsy state.

"I think he kissed me," you said, as if it hadn't been entirely mutual.

Tara felt something snap.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms so hard she half-expected to draw blood.

She couldn't speak, couldn't trust herself to even try. If she opened her mouth, she was sure she'd yell or say something she couldn't take back. Worse, she might cry—and that wasn't an option.

Her silence stretched on, but you didn't seem to notice. You were too lost in your own world, your thoughts spinning with the buzz of the alcohol and the remnants of Brian's touch. Tara's silence didn't matter, because you filled the space with another easy laugh, leaning closer so she could hear you over the pounding music.

"I need to use the bathroom," you said, your lips brushing near her ear. The warmth of your breath made her stomach twist. "Wanna come?"

Tara's mind scrambled for an excuse, her mouth dry as she fought the urge to say something reckless.

"No," she said finally, forcing her voice to sound casual, detached. "I think I'm good down here."

It wasn't true. She wasn't good down here, or anywhere else in the universe at that moment.

You gave her a light shrug, your expression still full of that easy joy that made her want to scream. "Okay! Be right back!"

You disappeared into the crowd, weaving your way toward the bathroom, leaving Tara standing there alone.

The second you were out of sight, she exhaled sharply, her hands shaking as she reached for another drink she didn't need.

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the anger, or the ache of jealousy threatening to overwhelm her. Maybe it was all three, swirling into something she couldn't control.

But one thing was clear—she couldn't keep this up. Not tonight. Not with you and Brian. Not with her chest full of feelings she couldn't name and didn't want to face.

Tara's eyes burned as they landed on Brian, standing not far from where you'd left him. His posture was easy, relaxed—too relaxed.

He stood there like nothing had happened, chatting casually with a couple of his friends, his hand lifting a red cup to his lips like this was just another night. Like he hadn't just kissed you.

The most beautiful girl on the planet.

Tara felt her stomach twist painfully, her grip tightening around the drink in her hand. How could he be so unbothered? So unaffected? He wasn't grinning ear to ear, wasn't puffing out his chest or gushing about how lucky he was.

He wasn't laughing with joy or smirking proudly like any sane person would if they'd just kissed you.

How was he not telling everyone in earshot about what had happened? How was he not reeling from the fact that you—you, with your blinding smile and endless energy—had given him even a second of your time, let alone your lips?

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as she stared at him, her anger bubbling hotter with every second he stayed calm. Her hands itched to grab him by the collar, to shake him and demand he act like he understood the weight of what had just happened.

Did he even realize how lucky he was?

Did he know how many people in that room—how many people in general—would kill to be in his place? To have even the tiniest fraction of your attention, let alone that?

Her vision blurred, and it wasn't from the alcohol. Her chest felt like it was about to implode, like something inside her was trying desperately to escape, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep it together.

Brian's laughter snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. He was laughing at something one of his friends said, his expression light, carefree—unbothered.

Tara nearly saw red.

She downed the rest of her drink in one go, the sharp burn doing nothing to dull the fury roaring in her chest. How could he be like this? How could he act so normal, so indifferent, after kissing you?

How could he not be overwhelmed by the fact that you'd chosen him, even for a fleeting moment?

It was insulting. Infuriating.

She wanted to march over there, to grab him and make him feel the way she was feeling. She wanted him to hurt, to ache, to boil with jealousy the way she was.

But she couldn't.

Because none of this was his fault.

The real issue—the one she didn't want to admit—wasn't Brian. It was the simple, heartbreaking truth that he could kiss you without consequence.

He could have you.

Tara wasn't sure what happened next.

What she was thinking when it happened, or if she was even thinking at all. Maybe it was the anger—burning hot and uncontrollable—making her body move before her brain could catch up. Or maybe it was the alcohol, buzzing in her veins and drowning out every voice in her head that might've told her to stop.

All she knew was that one second she was standing there, glaring at Brian like he'd committed some unforgivable sin, and the next, she was storming toward him.

His friends noticed her first, their chatter faltering as they shifted awkwardly under her sharp glare. But Brian, oblivious as ever, didn't see her coming. He was mid-sentence, that stupidly calm look still plastered on his face, when Tara grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

The movement was forceful enough to knock the air out of both of them, and before he could even process what was happening—before she could process what was happening—she pressed her lips against his.

It wasn't soft.

It wasn't sweet.

It was messy, rough, and fueled by a cocktail of rage and desperation. Her hands fisted his shirt tightly, holding him in place, her nails biting into the fabric. Brian stiffened for a second, shocked, but then his hands hovered awkwardly near her waist, unsure of what to do.

Tara didn't care. She didn't care about his reaction, about his hesitation.

Because this wasn't about him.

It wasn't about his stupid, clueless face or the fact that he'd kissed you without giving it a second thought. It wasn't about him being unbothered or unaffected.

This was about her.

Her anger, her frustration, her absolute inability to sit there for another second and watch him act like kissing you was nothing.

The kiss deepened as her grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him even closer. She wanted to erase the memory of you from his lips, to replace it with her own. To make him feel something, anything, the way she was feeling.

But it wasn't working.

If anything, the kiss only made it worse.

Because no matter how hard she pressed, no matter how desperate her movements were, it didn't feel right.

It didn't feel like you.

And that thought was like a punch to the gut.

Brian made a soft, surprised noise against her lips, his hands finally settling on her hips, but it only made her angrier. How dare he hesitate now? How dare he act so unsure, like he didn't know exactly what he wanted when he'd so easily taken you from her just minutes ago?

Her chest heaved as she pulled back slightly, her lips still brushing against his, her heart pounding in her ears.

His wide eyes stared at her, confused and more than a little alarmed. "Tara—" his voice laced with bewilderment, but she silenced him with another kiss, pressing harder, needing to cut him off.

She didn't want to hear his voice. She didn't want to hear him try to make sense of this, because she didn't have an explanation. This wasn't about him.

It wasn't about you either—not entirely, at least.

It was about her. About the way she felt like she was unraveling, about how every smile you gave Brian felt like another thread being yanked loose, every laugh you shared with him felt like a blow to the chest.

She didn't know how to make it stop, and the only thing her mind could come up with was this. She didn't have to think when she was kissing Brian. Didn't have to feel the jagged ache of watching you be so happy with someone else.

This wasn't about him.

But it was all she could do to stop herself from falling apart completely.

And Tara wasn't sure what was happening anymore.

Brian hadn't pushed her away. He hadn't stopped her, hadn't hesitated for even a moment after that first surprised noise.

No, he'd leaned into it. He'd kissed her back with the kind of intent that only made her angrier, made the fire in her chest blaze so hot she thought she might combust right there.

Because it wasn't supposed to go like this.

His hands slid from her hips, pulling her closer, pressing her tighter against him, and she hated it. Hated the way he responded like this was exactly what he wanted, hated the way he kissed her back like she wasn't just a replacement for you.

And worse than anything, she hated herself for not stopping it.

His hands moved lower, gripping her ass, pulling her even closer, and she felt herself clench her fists tighter into the fabric of his shirt.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol buzzing in her veins, numbing her better judgment, or if it was the anger still consuming her every thought, but she didn't do anything to stop him.

She should've.

But she didn't.

Because in this moment, it wasn't about him. It wasn't even about you. It was about the chaos she felt boiling in her chest, about the way she felt like she was spiraling further and further out of control.

Brian murmured something against her lips—she didn't catch it, didn't even try to—but his hands stayed firm on her, guiding her, pulling her toward the stairs.

And she let him.

Every step felt like she was wading through quicksand, her mind shouting at her to stop, to push him away, to pull herself together. But her body wasn't listening. She didn't know if it was the heat of his hands on her or the fog of alcohol clouding her better judgment, but she let him lead her.

Because stopping meant facing the truth. And Tara wasn't ready to do that.

Not yet.

She'd barely registered how they ended up in the room. One second, she was being pulled up the stairs, Brian's hand gripping hers tightly, and the next, they were in a dimly lit bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her heart was racing, but not from excitement. There was no thrill, no anticipation, just a gnawing sense of wrongness she couldn't shake. Yet she didn't stop it. She didn't stop him as his hands found her waist, as his lips trailed down her neck. She didn't stop herself from responding, from letting this spiral further than it ever should have.

It was mechanical, empty, and every moment felt like it was happening to someone else. Brian's touch wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't what she wanted. His lips weren't the ones she craved, his hands didn't spark anything but an aching hollowness inside her.

And yet, she let it happen.

Because, for a fleeting second, it felt like power. Like control. Like maybe, just maybe, if she could take this from him—take you from him in some twisted, nonsensical way—it would hurt less.

But it didn't.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word she barely heard, only drove the knife deeper into her chest.

When it was over, the silence was deafening. Tara lay there, staring at the ceiling, her body still and her mind racing. Brian shifted beside her, saying something she didn't hear, and the sound of his voice made her stomach twist. She felt nauseous, disgusted—not with him, but with herself.

What had she done?

Her chest tightened as she fought to keep her breathing steady, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over. It hadn't helped. It hadn't made anything better. If anything, it had only made everything worse.

Because no matter what she did, no matter how far she went, it would never be enough to make her stop wanting you.

Afterwards Tara laid still, the dim light of the room casting shadows that felt too heavy, too oppressive.

Brian was beside her, breathing evening out as if nothing monumental had just happened. As if this was just another casual moment in his life.

Her mind, however, wouldn't stop.

It wasn't Brian she was thinking about—not the way he'd touched her, not the way he'd looked at her. No, every thought clawed its way back to you.

She pictured you in the bathroom, probably still staring at yourself in the mirror, giddy and flushed. She could almost see your smile, so wide it was infectious, and the way you'd probably tilt your head, trying to relive every second of that kiss.

You'd been dreaming of that moment since second grade, scribbling his name in the margins of your notebooks and lighting up every time he was near. Tara could already imagine how you'd be practically glowing, heart racing with excitement as you ran your fingers over your lips, trying to make the feeling last.

She wanted to hate you for it. But she couldn't. She never could.

You'd come out of that bathroom with a smile so bright it could light up the whole house, your hopeful eyes scanning the crowd as you made your way back to the spot you'd all been standing. And what would you find?

Nothing.

Tara wasn't there. Brian wasn't there.

She could imagine how your smile would falter, confusion settling in as you looked around, searching for the two people who were supposed to be waiting for you. How long would it take for the excitement to drain from your face? How quickly would hope turn to disappointment?

The thought was like a knife twisting in her gut.

And yet, she still couldn't make sense of why she'd done this. Why she'd let it happen. Because it didn't feel like she'd won anything. She hadn't taken Brian away from you. If anything, she'd stolen something from herself—something she could never get back.

Her chest tightened as the realization hit her like a freight train. She hadn't wanted him. She hadn't wanted this.

She'd wanted you.

And now she'd ruined everything.

#jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter #ask #sam carpenter x reader

430 notes · View notes

hayleygray08 · 4 years ago

Text

You are my home.

Introduction: this is my first writing on here. Bare with me.

Summary: you are a new member of the team after tony finds you in a hydra raid. You are shy, reserved, and not very talkative at first until you realize the team is not going to hurt you. Once comfortable you show them your powers and fall for a certain super soldier, again.

I used google translate for words in Russian, so if the words are wrong. I apologize.

In my writing, no one is dead.

Pairing: bucky x reader, everyone else is platonic.

Genre: fluff, anguish, mentions of torture, blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am crouched in the conner,on the floor of my cell waiting for the guards to come get me. My daily training. More like torture.

They make me train as hard as I can and if they think I am slaking, I get a few thousand jolts of electricity shot through my body. Or even a few punches.

Yesterday was one of the worst days so far, that I can remember. I was getting random images flash inside my head, almost from a past life from what I saw, which made me loose focus quite a bit. In return the men who watch me train were heavy with the electricity jolts and even harder punches, anywhere they could land on my body. So, I was not looking forward to today's training.

I don't have a clock or windows in my cell but I knew every time they would come to get me. Like my body knew the exact moment every day. So when that time came and I was still in my cell I was growing a little worry. They are never late, sometimes early, but never late. Just then a siren rang out and the lights dimmed then went red. Was that the alarm for an intruder? How is that possible?

As a million thoughts ran through my head at what could possibly cause the alarm to go off. A very vivid picture or memory came to me and played on repeat. It looked to be the 40's, on a dock or a pier, I was laughing and looking out at the water. There were two guys with me. One was small, blonde hair, blue eyes, and had a small smile on his face. The second was bigger then the first, had brown hair, bright blue eyes, and laughing with me. Why do they look familiar? Why do I have two names on the tip of my tongue? Who are they? Just as I was about to say those names my cell door was blown off and there was a cloud of dust.

As the dust settles and I can properly see, there is a man in a red and gold suit of metal. He walks towards me as he says "Cap we got someone here. She looks no older then 24, covered in bruises, and looks terrified.""Yes, I'll make sure to get her out.""No, I can't tell if she is dangerous." He sighs and crouches down so he can look me in the eyes.

"Hi, I am Tony Stark, and I am going to take you away from here." Tony says and offers me a hand. I take it cautiously and follow him out the door and eventually outside.

Once we made it outside I take a deep breath. It felt so good to get clean air. I don't even remember the last time I was outside. Must have been years. I had to shield my eyes, it was so bright out. I didnt notice more people joining us. I was to busy looking at my hands and arms. Was I always this pale? I look up at the guy who took me away, Tony, and then darkness.

Tony catches me before I could hit the floor and runs into the jet. He lays be on a table and Bruce starts an examination. Nobody dared bother him. Nat hands Tony a flash drive and sits back down with the others.

While I was unconscious and now in the medbay at the compound, I was getting more images. Some are to fast to register what it was and some stayed a good while showing me a life I do not remember, but wish I did. Also things I did, hurting people, a chair, and training. It was all to much. To much pain, suffering, lose. I could feel myself have a panic attack. Which alerted everyone.

I jolted up into a sitting position clenching my chest and taking big gasps of air. My heart monitor going off like crazy. I looked around frantically, not recognizing where I was. I tried to rip out the Iv's but a pinching sensation in my shoulder makes me stop. I look up and see a women, before I am unconscious again.

Meanwhile in the common area Tony, Steve, Natasha, Wanda, Sam, Clint, Vision, Bucky, Bruce, Thor, Loki, Scott, and Peter all sat around looking at my file.

"Her name is y/n, y/ln. She was born in 1918, lived in Brooklyn, New York. Was taken by Hydra in 1946 while she was working on a S.H.I.E.L.D mission. Hasn't been seen since. Until about 2001 when she was spotted riding a motorcycle from a crime scene. Looked to be an assassination. Then again in 2003, 2005, 2007, 2012 and the last time in 2014. So the last time was 7 years ago. It shows she was trained like the winter soldier, but never met one another. But her powers got out of control and they have been training her to keep them in control since 2014. She has assassinated 6 men, 4 women, 2 children, and 1 hydra agent in a training gone wrong on that one." Tony reads outloud to everyone.

Steve and Bucky look at each other with a look in their eyes, as if they can't believe it. Then Tony brings up a picture of me for the group to see. Everyone gasps as a few photos show up. One is me, Steve, and Bucky at Coney Island. Then one of me and Bucky smiling at each other. Then there is one of me and Peggy Carter. Once all pictures are shown, all eyes are on Steve and Bucky.

"You know her?" Asked Natasha. Everyone silently asking the same thing.

"Yes, we know her. She was our friend. She grew up with us. She was our best friend. And a little more to Bucky." Steve answers quietly, looking at Bucky. It has been 78 years since he has seen her.

As they tell the others about me and what they remember, I am waking up again at the medbay. This time more calm. The nurses and doctors where asking me questions but I wouldn't answer them. They could tell they were not going to get anywhere with me, they called Tony and Bruce. I still would not talk to them.

How could I trust them? I don't even know them. For all I know they could be Hydra as well. With all these images popping up I don't even know what to believe anymore. Both men were throwing question after question at me. I didnt know how to answer. Or if I even should. Once they realized they were not going to get anywhere they left.

By the time I got the okay from the doctors, I was put inside a cell. Something I am all to familiar with. But this one was clean, had a comfortable bed, running water, and was warm. All the walls were glass and I could see people standing around watching me. Two I kinda recognized due to the images that I get. Each one would ask a question, each time I just stared ahead.

"We want to help you." A women with red and blonde hair spoke up after a few minutes of silence. I laughed.

"You want to help me? You don't even know me. How can you help me?" I responded quietly.

"Wanda has some powers and is able to look inside your head. Put the pieces together for you. Help you remember." The same women responded looking at another women with red hhai. I am guessing is Wanda.

"We read your file, y/n, let us help you remember the things they have taken from you." Tony says as he walks around. I don't respond, just look at everyone.

They gave up after 3 hours of silence from me and them asking questions. They leave me alone until a few days later. For those days they would bring me food, check to see if I am okay, then leave. It was Wanda, Tony, Bruce, and Steve that came a few days later. I watch them as they open the door to my cell and take a seat on a bench.

"If you are okay with this, we would like to try something. It does involve bringing back everything Hydra took from you. It might be painfull. But we think you should have the choice in remembering your life."Tony speaks up after a few minutes of silence.

Do I trust these people to try and help me? Do I even want the help? To remember all the pain I have caused and I life I will never get back.

I look at the four people in front of me and when I looked at the blonde man named Steve a memory came to me. It was just us two in a tent that looked to be on a base of some sort. He was the way he is now bigger then the other one I have seen. As if he grew or got on steroids. He was telling me about someone but it was fuzzy but I had this feeling of sadness.

I take a big breath in and look at them. "What do I have to lose? Not like I am going anywhere anytime soon." I tell them as I look at my hands.

I didnt see Tony nod at the door but did hear it open. I look up to see a young girl, with a different wardrobe then the others. She smiles kindly at me as she sits next to Wanda.

"Hi, my name is Shuri. I am from Wakanda and I can help you remember." I just stare at her.

"How long will this take?" I ask quietly.

"Depends on the damage they have caused for you to forget everything. Could be a few days, weeks, months. If you have trigger words. We will make.."

"Trigger words? What does that mean?" I interrupt her.

"Words that change you into a different person. Like they did witht he winter soldier. When we got the files from the base you were held in, shows you do have some." Tony says to me.

"Oh, so then I guess we should start this thing." I tell them. They did not expect me to say that.

They step out of my cell and start to say 6 words in Russian.

"девять- nine"

"машина-car"

"цветок-flower"

At this word I started to feel a crawling sensation run across my skin. I started to blink rapidly, my vision was getting foggy.

"слива-plum"

"банан-banana"

Now I'm rolling my shoulders, flexing my hands, shaking my head. That crawling sensation is getting thicker, heavier.

"рок-rock"

Once that last word was said I stand up, look at them with a blank expression, and cock my head to the side a little. "готов подчин��ться- ready to comply."

They ready the words and I am me again. Well the shell of me that I know. I sit on the bed and take deep breaths. I did not like the feeling of having no control.

They watch me before they leave me alone for a little bit. I don't remember those words but it felt like my body did and it hurt badly.

As i sit and then pace and sit again for I don't know how long, everyone else is in the common area trying to figure out what to do next.

"Her words are different from Bucky's, why?" Same asks as they watch me in my cell.

"They made the words unique for that person. Hers are more girly because she is a girl and what she likes. They make it so only one person gets triggered and not all at once." Bucky says with a frown.

As they continue to talk and see the next step. I am going a little crazy in my cell. I started to throw everything that I could, I tried breaking the walls, the floor. I was screaming, crying, and bleeding. No one knew of my powers because it was not put in any files. So when I fall to my knees and scream everything shuts down and I pass out.

Once the lights were out, they were up and running to my cell. As people in the building were trying to get the power back on.

When they get to me I was laying on the floor and covered in some weird goo. That started right as I hit the floor. Bruce went to check if I was okay and when he tried to check my pulse he got shocked. He steps away and goes to the others.

"This is not in her file, didnt show if she had powers or not. Why would they do that?" Natasha says as the nurses come in hazmat suits.

"Because she is more dangerous then we thought." Steve says sadly.

*********

That is part 1. Possibly a part two.

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #the avengers #bucky barnes imagine #marvel

51 notes · View notes

writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

Text

the feeling that we’re meeting // sirius black

Summary: Sirius Black has never liked the reader and this he made known. Maybe it’s because she’s a Slytherin. Maybe it was the bat-bogey hex. Strange, though, how things change with a war in full throttle.

Request: hello :) can i have an angst to fluff w sirius pls? (slowburn) post-hogwarts a few years where y/n was one of the main targets along w snape for james’ and sirius’ ridiculing and bullying, and they were just dreadful to her (she was in slytherin) :( but then a few years after hogwarts she joins the order and sirius acts just rlly immature and mean to her but then slowly starts falling for her as he starts noticing little aspects of her personality :) and at the end can there be like a fluffy cuddling scene where she asks him why he was so nasty to her and he talks ab how guilty and sorry he is :) ty babe!

A/N: I liked this request tbh bc it’s so important to remember that sirius is a brill character bc he’s so realistic with his equal good and bad traits – I was a bit liberal with canon context but I can’t say I don’t enjoy a world with James and Lily alive :) Also I listened to ‘For the First Time’ by The Script when I was writing and I agree

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: female!reader, drinking, death eater parents, innuendo I suppose, also long af, injury, parental abuse, battle, deaths

Every time you tiptoed down the stairs of number twelve Grimmauld Place, you had to remind yourself that the war was far more important than whatever colour you’d like to dye Sirius Black’s hair. You considered pink, but thought better of it when you realised, he’d probably enjoy it.

It had been months, but you remembered the first time you set foot into the Black family home like it was yesterday. Following Dumbledore through the strange threshold, your nerves climbing as you heard the strangely familiar voices of the boys that had tormented you till you cried from the other room, you found yourself pulling at your sleeves, desperate to be anywhere else. The silence that fell as you stepped out from behind the Head of the Order was suffocating, and you could feel all eyes were on you. Biting the bullet, you glanced up from the crusty carpet, facing people you’d never wanted to see again. You recognised them all despite the years passed, standing together equally unenthused to see you. Remus was taller, impossibly, than you remembered him and Lily’s face was all angles now. Sirius’s hair was longer and styled differently, more like a muggle’s, but James still had the same half-broken glasses, and Peter the same child-like roundness to his cheeks.

“This, as I’m sure you know,” Dumbledore began, crossing his arms over his front. “Is Y/N-“

“Dumbledore, Sir,” James interjected, his tone as incredulous as his expression.

“You can’t be serious!”

You exhaled sharply from your nose at Sirius’ words, dipping your head when it seemed no one else saw the irony.

“Y/N is an excellent witch and she’ll be an excellent addition to the Order.”

“Sir,” Sirius huffed, shooting you a glare before stepping forward towards Dumbledore. “Her parents are death eaters; you can’t possibly trust her.”

“Remind me, Sirius,” you said, your voice echoing in the room for the first time. “What was tattooed on your brother’s arm.”

Although you were entirely correct, you felt a pang of guilt at the hurt that flashed in his eyes before the ever-familiar Black scowl creased his brow. Dumbledore’s presence beside you suddenly felt less and less comforting.

“She was always excellent in Charms,” Remus said gently. You faced him sharply, surprised to see his eyes so apologetic.

“And Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Lily’s tone was light and you were oddly pleased to see a smile on her face. You hoped that meant you would have at least one friend here.

“I wonder bloody why,” Sirius muttered, storming past you into the kitchen, shoulder hitting yours. You clenched your jaw, biting your lip to avoid saying something you’d reject.

“I hope you will treat Miss Y/N with the respect all allies deserve in this time. She’s risking her life to spy for us. You are all aware of what she’s put on the line for this,” Dumbledore said, an air of finality to his tone before he left you there, in the lion’s den, alone.

“Well,” Lily said, standing up from the armchair she’d been nestled into. She offered you a calloused and freckled hand with a smile. “Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix.”

It didn’t take long for the older members of the Order to trust you; they didn’t care about petty squabbles and rivalries, only the information you could provide. The story, however, wasn’t the same with your old Gryffindor pals. Lily, you accepted with equal parts hesitance and glee, was a fast friend. She had got into the habit of asking you how you were daily and offering you tea in the mornings. Sometimes, after a long mission, you found yourself talking into the night with her.

“Wait, wait,” you said, hand sloppily gripping the stem of an old wine glass you’d found in the cupboards. “You and Potter are married?”

She giggled at your response, leaning her elbow on the armchair next to her as she careened forward, the carpet crunching at the shift.

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling brightly. “I was just as surprised as you, at first, but he-“ a hiccup escaped her lips, earning a round of laughter from you both. “He’s a sweet guy. A tosser, by all means, but loyal and brave and kind.”

You’d never considered James Potter any of those things at Hogwarts, but now, in the real world, you found yourself slowly warming up to him.

“He’s changed, you know,” she said earnestly, suddenly a lot soberer than you felt. “They all have.”

You pursed your lips, taking another sip of the dark wine in your glass.

“Sirius hasn’t.”

She sighed, rubbing her eye with the knuckle of her thumb.

“He’s always hated me.”

Speaking of the devil, a familiar shadow appeared in the doorway before you could carry on your conversation. Sirius stared at you for a moment, his dark eyes locked on your face. He swallowed, mouth curling downwards slightly as he looked at your messy hair and casual position, sat in a place he’d hated for years. Something stirred in his chest and his expression shifted ever so slightly, but before you could question it, he disappeared up the stairs. You huffed, shaking your head as you turned back to Lily.

“See?”

It wasn’t another twenty minutes before James walked in, an amused grin playing on his lips at his wife’s tipsy state.

“C’mon, love. Let’s get you to bed,” he said, gently taking Lily’s arm to lift her up.

“Wow,” she said, whispering very loudly to you. “James Potter with a good idea; there’s a first.”

“Oi!” he laughed, poking her in the ribs and catching the wine glass before she could throw it onto the floor. It would’ve been a shame, you thought sarcastically, if someone ruined such a lovely carpet. He turned to you then, still smiling.

“Cheers, Y/N.”

He shot you a wink before escorting Lily upstairs, her drunk rambling fading the further away they got. You chuckled under your breath, pleased that maybe you weren’t such an outcast as you took another sip. Your mood soured dramatically, though, as you remembered the time, not exactly excited to be returning to your parents.

The next week, you had a few days between missions. Although you probably should’ve been resting at home like everyone else was, Remus included, you ended up on all fours in the Black family living room, pulling up carpet. Remus sat in the armchair at the other end of the room, a newspaper in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. Occasionally, he’d throw a teasing remark at you or ask for help with a tricky crossword clue, but mostly the silence that settled between you was comfortable. You were halfway across the room, surprised you hadn’t thrown up yet at the awful stains on the underside of the carpet, specifically avoiding the one that looked like blood.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked you from the doorway. You looked up, blowing a loose strand of hair from your face as you met Sirius’ eyes. You frowned, sitting back on your feet, carpet still in your hands.

“The laundry,” you replied dryly, a smile tugging at your lips to hear Remus snort into his mug.

“My mother loved this carpet,” he said, a strange look on his face. If you hadn’t known him better, you would’ve mistaken it for approval.

“And a charming family keepsake it is.”

He stared at you for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. You doubted whether destroying the carpet without asking him was such a good idea.

“Thank you.”

Without giving you a second to process, he turned left, the front door slamming not a second later. With wide eyes and your jaw on the floor, you looked to Remus, who seemed just as surprised as you.

“Did that just happen?”

He nodded slowly, his brows drawing together. You hummed, matching his frown before you started pulling roughly at the carpet and he returned to his paper.

“Six letter word for a muggle screenplay?”

You didn’t think that much more about Sirius’ gratitude in the next few days, too busy with keeping your lies straight and the war to waste time on why you hated each other. You did notice, despite yourself, that he seemed gradually less and less opposed to your presence. His conversations seemed to dry up less when you entered a room, his glare settled on you less often in Order meetings. As things got more and more difficult at home, the pressure from your parents to get the dark mark growing, it was the small things that helped.

“Y/N,” Peter said one morning, crossing his arms on the breakfast table. You’d warmed to Peter; he was always a little lost, a little wayward. It made you smile most of the time and you couldn’t help the motherly instinct you felt toward him, despite your similarity in age.

“Do you have a spare towel?”

“Why? What did you do with yours?”

A blush covered his cheeks and immediately you found that you really did not want to hear his answer.

“Yeah, I’ll fetch it,” you said, moving to exit the kitchen with a great deal of haste. You’d stayed at the headquarters a few times after hard or early morning missions and Sirius, despite your history, had been kind enough to give you towels to use. You’d been sure, though, that Kreacher, the house-elf, was behind that.

You hadn’t anticipated seeing Sirius in the corridor, muttering to himself as he stood next to the velvet curtain on the wall. His arms were full of what could only be described as junk, the nail of an old bed-frame catching on the fabric. He didn’t notice you behind him as he struggled and with a decidedly irritated yank, he pulled the wooden post free. However, much to his chagrin, and everyone in the house’s eardrums, the curtains fell loose and an extortionately loud screeching filled the air.

“This house is full of blood traitors! Mudbloods!” it hissed, echoing through all the rooms. Seeing Sirius’ arms full, you bent down next to him and gripped the metal rod of the curtain, eager to put it back into place. He jumped a little when he saw you, stumbling out the way slightly, his eyebrows threading together as the high-pitched shouting continued. You took one look at the ugly, yellowing woman in the portrait and shoved the curtain in front of her face, hoping you’d never see it again. It took some jiggling, but soon the portrait was covered and you could only hear rustling behind the fabric, muzzled yells rattling the frame.

“A charming woman, your Mother was. I’m surprised you don’t leave the curtains open all the time,” you said, a distasteful expression tainting your features. Sirius looked at you for a moment, his jaw clenching slightly.

“It’s okay,” you said, smiling a little. “You can laugh.”

He didn’t, but the slight upward curve of his lip didn’t escape you.

“Did you ever have the pleasure to meet her in the flesh?” he asked. Your brows raised at the first real question he’d asked you since you joined the Order.

“No, sadly not,” you crossed your arms and leant on the door. “My parents spoke highly of her, though, which is never the best sign.”

He only nodded, standing awkwardly for a moment before turning to leave. You blinked, before remembering where you’d been going.

“Sirius,” you began, the light tone not suiting his name in your mouth. “Do you have spare towels? Peter-“

Sirius smirked, a strangely handsome expression on him.

“Peter dropped chocolate frogs all over his again,” he huffed, shaking his head. “Just ask Kreacher.”

You barely paid attention to him leaving as you wandered upstairs, in search of the grumpy house-elf. You were pleased to know that Peter’s towel hadn’t been ruined by something more suspect than chocolate, but you couldn’t deny that you were even more pleased that you’d finally had an interaction with Sirius that didn’t involve a row.

Your next interaction, though, was less than ideal. You stumbled toward twelve Grimmauld place with a throbbing headache and shaky legs. Your parents had not been kind when they discovered your treachery, your place in the Order; you were lucky to escape with your life. That’s all you could tell yourself as you dragged yourself up the steps, knocking loudly on the door. It was just your luck for Sirius, of all people, to open it. His expression was at first worried before he realised it was you and a frown settled on his features. As you looked down, trying to concentrate on the swaying floor, you didn’t notice the concern that returned upon seeing your injuries.

“What the blood-“ he began, grunting slightly as you collapsed into him, no longer able to keep your body upright.

You woke the next day in a clean bed with a dull headache. The house-elf shuffling around your room had garnered your attention, and you blinked at him as he placed towels, sheets and clothes in a pile next to the bed.

“Kreacher?” you asked, your voice sore in your throat. “Why am I here?”

“You’re a blood trait-“

You shot him a dry look.

“I mean, how did I get here? Why are you putting clothes out?”

The house-elf sighed, a grizzly sound.

“Master Sirius ordered me to,” he said gruffly. “Said you shall be living here.”

“Oh.”

You frowned, barely registering Kreacher as he made to leave.

“Thank you,” you called after him, earning a grumble in response.

You and Sirius never spoke about the fact that you were now living in the Order Headquarters, in his house, but you never forgot the kindness he showed you. It was a strange feeling, to be grateful to Sirius Black, especially after everything he’d done to you as a student. The topic of your parents didn’t even come up until the night before a particularly difficult mission planning to infiltrate a meeting of death eaters.

“Lily,” you said, sitting on the counter in the kitchen with the others dotted around, even Sirius. “I don’t know if I should come on this mission.”

“What?” Remus asked, placing the chocolate he’d been aiming from his mouth down on the tablecloth.

“I was useful to the Order when I knew things and now,” your voice broke slightly at the memory of the last time you’d seen your parents. “Now I have no information and I might have to… I might have to fight the people that raised me tonight and they don’t have any qualms about killing me or any of you where we stand.”

“Exactly!” James said, moving his arm from the back of Lily’s chair to rest his elbows on the table. “They don’t care about killing us. They killed Gideon and Fabien. You saw what they did to Frank and Alice.”

Your chest tightened. Frank and Alice had always been kind to you; now they were at St. Mungo’s.

“Information or not,” Sirius said, surprising everyone. “You’re a good fighter; we need that.”

The silence that followed his words made you feel like you were missing something as you stared at him, seeing his eyes soft for the first time.

“Sirius is right,” Lily said, nodding. “We have to do all we can; you know that more than most of us.”

The mission had been horrendous.

It had been a bloodbath of proportions you’d never seen before. You’d lost Benjy and Caradoc and Dorcas; people you looked up to. You’d expected losses in a war, you weren’t stupid, but you’d never anticipated the weight behind a spell thrown by your own parents. Despite your own casualties, you’d taken out six death eaters and despite yourself, you were glad your parents weren’t among them. The journey back to the house was a quiet one: Lily busied herself with James’ broken arm and Remus wiped the blood from Sirius’ forehead, dabbing delicately at the cut above his eyebrow. You all disbanded when you got inside, tired and aching, disappearing into your rooms with heavy hearts.

You couldn’t sleep, though, too haunted by the flashes that appeared behind your eyes. It must’ve been past midnight when you tiptoed downstairs, more desperate than ever to not agitate the portrait. You didn’t notice Sirius in the kitchen until you’d shut the door behind you, jumping out of your skin to see him sat there with a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, lifting his glass and taking a swig. You’d come down for tea, but the idea of numbing your senses appealed. He must’ve noticed the way your eyes lingered on his glass and without a word, he reached behind him to grab another, pouring you a liberal shot. You sat down almost tentatively, fingers gliding around the edges of the glass.

He watched with an amused smile as you downed the whole thing, wincing at the burn before you rested it back on the table. He filled it again immediately.

“Rough night.”

“Indeed,” you said, rubbing your eyes and sighing. “I never thought we’d be here.”

He raised an eyebrow, stretching the bandage on his forehead as his lips pressed against the rim of the glass.

“Me and you,” you laughed a little. “Drinking together.”

“Not something I’d have bet on,” he muttered, laughing too. Your smiles both faded as you looked at each other, though, across the plastic gingham table cloth.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

The question tumbled from your lips before you could stop it.

“I don’t hate you.”

You shot him a very dry glance. He shook his head and sighed, putting his glass down a little too loudly before running a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but you.

“You’re a pureblood Slytherin,” he said, running his hands over his face. “And I hated it. I hated anyone that reminded me of this place. And you- you were everything my parents wanted me to be: smart, loyal… dark, I thought.”

You nodded, sipping your drink quietly.

“You were an easy target, too, for a pillock like me. Didn’t have that many friends-“

“That was because they were all stuck-up death eaters.”

“I know that now. It didn’t matter then, though. I was a kid, though, and I thought it was just kids’ stuff-“

“You know, that time you exploded my cauldron in the final Potions exam, I cried for a whole week.”

He had the good sense to look guilty for a second before amusement lifted his cheeks.

“You did bat-bogey hex me for that.”

Your cheeks heated up at the memory, your fingers fiddling with the glass more.

“Which is entirely illegal.”

You smiled, pressed your lips together as you shook your head. It all seemed so long ago; so childish, now. You leant your elbows on the table, resting your chin on your interlocked fingers.

“It was a good shot, though,” you mused, enjoying the way his lips spread into a dazzling grin.

“A bloody good shot,” he laughed. He leant back slowly, tilting his head to the side and biting his top lip. The mood dropped again as he stared at you.

“What?”

“I’m really sorry.”

You wanted to take the piss, but something about his tone or the look in his eyes trapped your words in your throat. You just watched as he stood up, moving towards the sink.

“I made your life hell because I hated my own,” he said, pressing his hands to the counter, leaning forward. “It wasn’t fair. I’m not surprised you hated me, I deserved it.”

You stood up slowly, softly stepping toward him.

“I did hate you,” you said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I hated you for so long it was all I could think about. Even here, I hated seeing your face.”

He turned to you, expression hard and tears sparkling in his eyes.

“I’m not sure if I do anymore.”

He turned around slowly to lean back on the counter as your hand slid down his arm. He caught it gently in his, surprising you.

“I want you to forgive me,” he whispered, staring at you so intensely a lump formed in your throat. You felt like you’d never even met this Sirius before.

“I-“

“I want to earn your forgiveness.”

You were at a loss for words as you looked at him, frozen in place. His hand was warm in your own and you couldn’t, for a moment, think about anything else. You bit your lip and nodded, stepping towards him gently.

“I’d like that.”

You leant into him, your side pressing against his, enjoying his warmth and the new feeling in your chest. You’d been in the war so long you forgot what real life felt like. You felt his hand hover around you nervously before it settled against your back, his hand resting on the counter next to you. And there, with the moonlight pouring in behind you, is where you stood till the sunrise peeked over the horizon; your hands clasped together with Sirius’ arm at your back, silent as you both felt a hope you’d not felt in a good few years.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@loveisblindness

@decadentwastelandtrash

@xinyourdreamsx

@brainlesspasta

@hariosborn

#Sirius Black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter #writing #imagine

471 notes · View notes

sohin-ace · 4 years ago

Text

Joseph - Hug

That fic is a year old, I never wanted to post it. You can see my old writing style, how nostalgic.

Hugs. Everybody loves them. You didn't know what brought you to become such an affectionate little dork, but you just ended up being one.

Whether it was friends or family, or sometimes even mere acquaintances, when you hit if off really well and felt at ease with someone, you became fairly touchy-feely.

Most of the time it didn't bother people around you. If they weren't comfortable with your affection, you would just stop without taking offense. Thankfully you didn't have much trouble with it. You just loved hugs and embraces and you felt like everyone needed some warmth every once in a while.

You had known Ceasar for the longest time and you both hugged each other on a regular basis, mostly for greetings, but also for any occasions, really. There wasn't any reasons needed for it, this man was affectionate as well and was always up for a nice, sweet hold.

You have known each other for years and he practically saw you as a little sister. You really loved and respected the blond with all your heart, and your relationship was strong and pure.

When he introduced you to Joseph Joestar for the first time, he was a bit hesitant, scared even, of how that scoundrel would treat his cute, little innocent Y/N. Ceasar only told you to be especially careful around him for now without really explaining why.

But as time passed, you grew to become very attached to the Joestar too. It was nothing close to the bond you had with Ceasar, for sure, but there still was a little something going on between you two that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Joseph made you feel many types of way, but especially nervous. For some reason you felt particularly shy around him, which was unusual for you, as you were a pretty open and sociable person.

You never had any sort of trouble getting along with people, but Joseph just somehow knew how to make you stutter and choke on your own words. Not that he was unkind or intimidating to you, no, it was much more different than that.

Yes, you were painfully in love with Joseph Joestar. But honestly, who could blame you for crushing on the guy?

He was tall, handsome, charming, insanely funny and despite his dumb demeanor, he actually was quite clever. His voice was music to your ears, and his eyes... You couldn't stop dreaming about his eyes.

The tropical ocean in his eyes made you travel so far nobody could ever bring you out of your daze.

But this deep love for him was actually the reason you couldn't be as affectionate with him as you were with the others, as contradictory as it sounded. The shyness that overcame you every time he was around prevented you from being too handsy with him or even just coming too close. This was uncharacteristic of you, but you couldn't help it.

You'd have no problems kissing Suzie Q all over her face, caressing Lisa Lisa's hair or leaning on Ceasar's shoulders when you were sleepy. But Joseph? You just wouldn't dare touch him.

What if he found it weird, or rejected you, or was disgusted by it, maybe? What if you died on the spot from respiratory failure because of your heart beating way faster than it healthily should be?

You couldn't touch him like that out of nowhere, right? You didn't know the guy enough to be this affectionate yet. Or so you told yourself to reassure your own worries.

But one day, Joseph felt particularly jealous. Everyone including him had noticed how differently you seemed to treat him compared to everyone else. He didn't understand why you acted so physically distant around him when you two actually got along so well.

Even when he was the one to try and initiate anything physical with you, even something as small as wrapping an arm around your shoulder, you wouldn't reciprocate at all.

This drove him to the edge. Did you not like him at all? He even thought that maybe Ceasar had 'brainwashed' you and put some ideas in your head that made you fear him.

He could only imagine his italian friend telling you things like "Be careful Y/N, men are wolves." and, "Don't stay alone with Jojo, you can never know what happens." as well as, "If he tries to do anything to you, call me. blah blah blah."

That thought alone drove the Joestar nuts. Like he was one to talk about defending women from pervs.

However, everything changed one specific afternoon. Ceasar and Joseph had just finished a hard day of Hamon training, and you came at the door to welcome them home.

"Welcome back, boys! How was training today?" you greeted, beaming a sweet smile.

"Ah it was good, Jojo still needs to focus, he's way behind." Ceasar said a bit tiredly as he rubbed his shoulder and went to sit down on the couch.

"Hey! Watch it floosie, don't start." Joseph retorted offended and you giggled a bit at the two bickering, as they usually did.

"Jojo, go sit down with Ceasar, you must be tired. I'll make you some tea." You warmly proposed to your friend and he nodded, sitting on one of the couches opposite the blonde.

As you turned around and were about to leave, Ceasar silently gestured you to approach him, to which you obliged, wondering what he wanted.

You came in front of him, and he suddenly grabbed your hand to pull you close. He then wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his head on your chest, sighing delighfully as he did.

You were used to it and knew when he did this, it meant he was truly exhausted. You just let him rest like this and brought your hands to caress his blonde locks softly, craddling his head.

Jojo clenched his teeth and clicked his tongue as he was beyond frustrated with the scene before him. He could throw up at what he was currently witnessing.

He knew you two were close but who does this guy think he is? He was constantly out there calling you 'little sister' or 'sorellina' every single day of the week and yet he still acted like a pervert with you? Yikes.

"What the hell is wrong with this dude? You just have to put your hands on every woman you see! Fucking gross!" Joseph snarled at the italian man.

Ceasar slowly moved his head to the side to glare at Joseph, visibly annoyed. "What's your problem, Jojo? Can't I embrace my little tesorina in peace?"

"Why you gotta be all over her like that, just let her go, man! Can you imagine if I did the same?" Joseph argued, clearly grossed out and jealous at how clingy the blonde acted towards you.

Ceasar jolted at the mere thought. He released his grip on you and put his full, angry attention to Joseph.

"Don't you dare even think about it, Joestar!" the blonde growled.

"Huuuuuh?" Joseph raised a teasing eyebrow, "What's that? You don't like the idea of another guy touching her?"

"You'll make her uncomfortable!" Ceasar defended back.

"Oh yeah? Well it's not up to you to decide that." Joseph smirked and got up abruptly. "Y/N!" He called out.

"Y-yes?" You stuttered, overwhelmed by the whole ordeal. What even was happening?

He suddenly opened his arms wide, suggesting one thing only. Ceasar was fuming and got up as well, preventing you from approaching Joseph.

"Y/N don't, he's just being immature as always."

"Shut up playboy, she's not your girl, if she wants to hug me she will, whether you like it or not!"

You started to get tired of all the bickering. All of this for just a hug? The only reason you weren't physical with Joseph was because you were too shy and love-struck with him to do so, why did it have to end up in a stupid fight?

"I mean... If Jojo really wants to... I don't see why not..." You said as you try to swallow your own cowardness.

"Y/N..." Ceasar trailed off, concerned.

This man needed to calm down, you thought to yourself. You patted his arm and smiled reassuringly at the blonde.

"Ceasar, it's fine! It's just Jojo, it's not like he's a creepy stranger or something." you sheepishly said and he clicked his tongue in response, clearly not convinced. "Here, look, it's nothing at all!"

You slowly walked towards Joseph who started giggling excitedly like a little boy. Finally, he waited for this moment for so long.

Gently, you brought yourself into his broad chest, face getting warmer and warmer by the second, as you carefully wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head onto him.

He instantly reciprocated by caging you in his strong arms, sighing in delight. You were so small compared to him it was beyond adorable and he swore he could actually squeal right now.

Before he could fully immerse himself into your warmth he felt you flinch a little then instantly move your hands upwards on his upper back. If you weren't already flustered and blushing like crazy, now it was even worse.

As you went to hug him, you underestimated your height difference and put your hands all over his bare waist. Poor you, you had completely forgotten the man wore crop tops on the daily and how dare you touch someone's skin so indecently?

Startled by the feeling of his warm skin, you immediately brought your hands up to a more appropriate and most importantly, clothed part of his back, hoping he didn't mind or notice your little mishap.

It was really a small detail, but you cared a lot. You buried your face more into his chest, embarrassed by your own actions, your heart was pounding so hard it would put Afro beat to shame.

How wrong, you thought to yourself, you hated to touch people's skin. Them wearing revealing clothes didn't make it okay to be this intimate, that is what you swore by.

Both him and Ceasar seemed to notice it. You weren't subtle at all. Ceasar knew how much of a respectful person you were, even if you were pretty touchy, you would never invade someone's personal space or privacy.

You would always make sure they were okay with whatever ministrations you'd give them and of course, you wouldn't dare be inappropriate, especially towards the opposite sex.

Ceasar always appreciated this thoughtful and attentive side of you and thought your pure innocence had to be protected at all cost. But of course, one idiot still decided to tease you about it.

"Hmm? What's wrong Y/N-chan? You just did something very naughty right there~" he said with a smug grin and you perked up, gasping.

"I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry Jojo!" you moved away from him just a little bit to look at his face, concern evident on your features.

He smirked widely at your flustered state. He loved to see your cute reactions and how embarrassed you would become for such trivial reasons as insignificant as accidently touching his bare skin. It was extremely funny to him.

He squeezed your body even closer against his, feeling all your curves pressed against him and bathing in your sweet scent as he leaned down slightly.

He could feel your heart beat quicken, your blushing face was a sight to behold, and he was having the time of his life.

If he knew hugging you alone was this much fun he wouldn't have waited for Ceasar's permission at all, not that the Italian was even okay with it in the first place.

Something told him to stop there before he could break you, but glancing up at Ceasar's fuming expression just made him want to push the teasing further.

"Hmmm~" He purred close to your reddening ear, "Your boobs feel nice, Y/N-chan~"

Okay. That was it for Ceasar. One American will die tonight.

In the corner of your eyes you saw a flash of orange electric energy come at full speed towards you and Joseph. You quickly released him and ducked to the right, only for Joseph to take the hit of Ceasar's Hamon-filled punch right in the face, sending him flying.

"CEASAR!!!" You cried in shock.

"DON'T EVER TOUCH MY BABY ANGEL EVER AGAIN YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD!!!"

Joseph held his bloody nose and laughed obnoxiously at the angry blonde, pointing at him accusingly.

"Hehehe, now I understand why you only keep her to yourself, Ceasar, you horn dog! 'Little sister', my ass!"

Ceasar snapped and dashed towards him as Joseph got up and sprinted down the hallway, with no regrets whatsoever.

On the other hand, you stayed back, still overwhelmed by what just transpired. Even if it wasn't how you imagined it, it felt nice to hold the man of your dreams close to you.

You rubbed your arms, trying to savor the fading feeling of his own strong ones wrapped around you protectively. Your heart jumped in your chest and you grinned to yourself like a schoolgirl.

You were eager to do it again, but maybe this time, out of Ceasar's brotherly sight.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #writing #jojo #x reader #reader insert #jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 2 #part 2 #battle tendency #joseph joestar x reader #joseph x reader #joseph joestar

82 notes · View notes

jumukus · 4 years ago

Text

A3! Translation: Spring Troupe’s Interview From Documentary Book’s “Moment of Spring”

Translation under the cut.

First of all, while looking at the photos on the cover, please tell us what happened on the day you took them.

Sakuya: It was a frame of the Spring Troupe's spring!

Chikage: I wonder if Sakuya was holding Hina dolls in his photo.

Citron: Oh, I know that! Isn't that the thing that was born while chirping after you kept it warm for three days and three nights?

Tsuzuru: It's not that "Hina."

Itaru: It's a different Hina.

Masumi: ...These ugly Hina dolls are put in the theater lobby.

Sakuya: Wow, Masumi-kun! You sure have a sharp eye.

Masumi: It’s because Director and I helped decorate them there.

Sakuya: Oh, I see. To tell you the truth, it was all due to Manager saying that the theater lobby felt kind of empty. And given that it's March, we decided to decorate the lobby with Hina Festival-themed items.

Tsuzuru: Not to mention that a lot of the audience members are girls.

Chikage: The Masumi in this photo… Was he about to give a present to Director?

Itaru: That expression is exclusive for Director only. He's so easy to read.

Tsuzuru: If I remember correctly, this was taken during White Day. I remember seeing him grinning ear to ear while staring at the present in our room.

Masumi: I was imagining Director's reaction after I gave her that present. I was sure she'd be surprised but at the same time so happy she couldn't stop laughing… Then, she'd blissfully say, "Thank you. I'll treasure it."

Itaru: Surprised but so happy she couldn't stop laughing?

Citron: Now I'm curious about what your present is!

Sakuya: So was she happy about the present?

Masumi: Not telling. It was a memory that only me and Director share.

Citron: Aw, Masumi is a cheapskate~.

Sakuya: Meanwhile… things seemed to be lively in Tsuzuru-kun's photo!

Tsuzuru: My brothers started fighting when I was making sakura mochi for our cherry blossom viewing. I know I should've just left them be since they're always fighting, but… I couldn't help but speak out.

Chikage: You're truly a natural born big brother, handling this kind of thing by reflexes.

Citron: Is that a carnation you were holding, Itaru?

Masumi: For mother's day?

Itaru: Yep. I was planning to buy flowers and stop by my home. My sister apparently predicted this and asked me to buy her sweets. I was talking to her in the photo. They're all very popular stores that can have people waiting in line. But well, they have pretty tolerable prices…

Masumi: Looking at your expression, you should have found some excuses to refuse her.

Itaru: You could say that because you don't how my sister is when she's mad…

Citron: I want to meet Itaru's rumored sister one day!

Masumi: ...Citron's pose looked weird in this one.

Sakuya: Whoa, the bamboo shoots are big!

Citron: I call it, "ever-growing bamboo shoots" pose~. The greengrocer uncle from the shopping district gave those fine bamboo shoots to me!

Tsuzuru: You really are the idol of the shopping district… As long as Citron-san is here, looks like we don't need to worry about hunger issue. It's already been taken care of without us knowing.

Itaru: Last one is senpai… Huh? Is it really okay to have your photo like this? You were in the middle of doing some dangerous side jobs in this one, right?

Chikage: What do you take me for? As you can see, I was making a helmet with origami.

Masumi: I saw this helmet in the theater lobby. It was so symmetrical and terrifyingly well-made.

Tsuzuru: It felt like that helmet brought out Chikage-san's personality.

Citron: We all were enjoying spring and taking a very blissful shot!

Sakuya: That's right! Spring is indeed such a lovely season!

Then, as we looked back at your plays up until the sixth one, please tell us an event that left the most impression on you.

Citron: It would take forever, you know! We have a loooot of memories together, though I think the turning point of Spring Troupe was during our debut and fourth play.

Tsuzuru: During our debut play, we were all still beginners in theater and were still figuring out everything. Chikage-san joined us during our fourth play and we became a six-member group… I've gotta admit we underwent a major change as a troupe that time.

Sakuya: In addition, it was during the preparation for these two plays that we slept on the stage together!

Tsuzuru: The first time we did it was because Yuzo-san roasted us so bad, so we decided to sleep onstage to understand the play better. During our fourth play, we already invited Chikage-san but since he had work to do, we couldn't do it...

Masumi: But when we headed to the theater for our morning practice, these two were sleeping. Thus, I slept too.

Itaru: We were so noisy at that time so I figured you'd wake up soon, but… you sure slept like a log, huh, senpai?

Chikage: I still woke up in the end since your snoring was too loud, though.

Itaru: Seriously?

Masumi: You do look like the type who snores loudly.

Chikage: Joking aside… back then, I was surprised when I woke up and found you all there.

Citron: Oh, so our prank was a big success in the end! I wanna throw another slumber party with you all~.

Sakuya: Me too! I want to chat about a lot of things with you all!

Masumi: About love?

Itaru: I have a feeling Masumi's gonna monopolize that talk.

Tsuzuru: Heck yeah…

Chikage: That sounds fun. Why not?

Now that all of you have experienced becoming the leading actors, please tell us what kind of roles or performance you want to have.

Chikage: Since we have Tsuzuru here, it wouldn't hurt to say whatever we want, right?

Tsuzuru: You have a point, and it can also be a motivation to act. For the time being, I'd like to hear what you want to do...

Citron: In that case, I wanna appear in a Japanese style play!

Itaru: ...Ah, in that case, don't you think adding fantasy element to the play will be cool? Like a youkai-themed play.

Tsuzuru: Some amazing suggestions came right at the very beginning… But well, given that we rarely deliver a Japanese style play, I think it may turn good.

Masumi: Then, I want to take on a knight role. Obviously, the one playing the princess will be--.

Tsuzuru: Since we already have KniRoun that had similar sense, I don't think we'll do that now.

Masumi: If so--.

Tsuzuru: Not a bridegroom role. If we're going to do a play set at a wedding hall, then we'll also have one of Spring Troupe members crossdress to play the bride.

Chikage: Tsuzuru crossdressing, huh… That's kind of new.

Sakuya: It may fit him, surprisingly.

Tsuzuru: Why me!? I'm banning you all from raising random flags!

Citron: Do you have any roles you want to play, Chikage?

Chikage: A role I want to play, huh… Since I've only performed three plays at the moment, there's nothing in particular.

Itaru: How about taking a non-glasses character once more? All of your characters are wearing glasses except Gawain.

Masumi: Playing a glasses character once per two plays?

Sakuya: But I feel like Chikage-san can pull of any kind of characters!

Tsuzuru: Well, yeah. Since you're good at stage combat… I think giving you another role with lots of action will be a great idea.

Chikage: Exercising is one of my fortes, so I'll do my best if you give me one. How about you, Sakuya?

Sakuya: ...It's not really a role, but I want to deliver a play with everyone in the theater troupe someday!

Itaru: That means the main cast will consist of 24 people.

Citron: Oh, it sounds very fun! I want to do it too!

Masumi: I support that idea. That way, we'll have less lines. Tsuzuru will probably die, though.

Itaru: That'll be Tsuzuru's posthumous work…

Tsuzuru: Please stop saying things that will bring bad luck like that! I do admit I feel like the Sanzu River comes into view, though! ...But well, I want to do that too one day. I have a feeling I can write a piece that I've never written until this day.

Sakuya: Whoa… I'm already looking forward to see what kind of characters and story that you'll come up with!

Chikage: So can I expect this piece to be your masterpiece?

Itaru: This'll be a piece that continues to be handed down in Japan's theater industry.

Citron: Non, non! It'll be a piece that easily sweeps the top categories at International Theater Awards.

Tsuzuru: H-Hey, I haven't even started writing it! Please stop raising the bar!

I'd also like to ask about your personal stories. Given that this book is dedicated to "Moments of Spring Troupe", can you tell us what kind of thing that is currently popular within your troupe?

Itaru: If I have to choose, I think it's Zahra's board game--the one that Prince Tangerine gave us as a souvenir during the sixth play.

Masumi: The game requires each of us to cultivate the uninhabited islands in Zahra, develop it and do some tradings.

Sakuya: The player with the most territories will be declared the winner at the end of the game! The game is so interesting that it has become our daily routine to play it once we're done with rehearsals!

Citron: I'm glad that everyone is enjoying the game! I also have a game that I'd like to recommend to you all, you see! I'll have Guy get it next time!

Chikage: Last time I checked there's also a game in which you become a spices merchant and get rich, right? I'm a little bit curious about that one.

Tsuzuru: No, I don't think the Zahra Kingdom has that kind of ga--.

Citron: I expected no less from Chikage! You even know that game! OK, I'll have them send that too!

Itaru: Wow, it does exist…

Last but not least, please send a message to the fans who are always supporting Spring Troupe.

Sakuya: On behalf of Spring Troupe… I'd like to thank you all for always supporting us! Before we knew it, we already held six plays. It was all thanks to your support that we were able to deliver this number of plays. Even if it's only one, we'll be happy if you have scenes or lines from our plays that are unforgettable to you. For our next play, we promise to give everything we can to deliver a beautiful performance to you all. Therefore--

Spring Troupe: Thank you for your continuous support!

T/N:

*Hina doll shares the same kanji as chick (雛) hence the misunderstanding.

**For those who don't know, Hina Festival is usually held on March 3.

***In Japanese myths, the Sanzu River is a river that people are said to cross on the seventh day after their death.

#a3!#a3! translation #spring troupe #sakuya sakuma #masumi usui #tsuzuru minagi #itaru chigasaki #citron #chikage utsuki

257 notes · View notes

mammonslefttoe · 5 years ago

Text

One Brain Cell Theories: Chapter 17 & 18

There are a few things that may confirm my suspicions and the new chapters have reinforced it.

SPOILERS AHEAD, please click at your own risk and any input/more theories are welcome! I’m going to try and make this a series.

This is also a relatively long read so grab some snacks! We diving in boys!!

(This is one of my many theories. One day, I’ll be able to write down what’s happening in my head.)

TLDR; HUNNY we have to talk about the other human

A few things to remember before I dive in:

Solomon has a pact with Barbatos. Solomon has a ring of wisdom and is known to make a pact with larger and more powerful demons. We all know he lowkey wants a pact with Lucifer.

Lucifer told us not to trust Solomon in Chapter 2

There’s a possibility Barbatos has tried to poison us with tea, a Mandragora blend. Mandragora has the potential to be fatal, one of the most notable symptoms are hyperactivity and hallucinations.

When Barbatos sent us back in time, we found out he is extremely OP. He even has the power to look into the past and future.

Okay now onwards to the only viable explanation I can think of: Barbatos and Solomon are scheming a takeover. (or this really is a messed up “prove yourself” challenge from Diavolo)

Let’s begin to when shit started to get real.

A sorta shortened (?) recap of everything that has happened thus far, please feel free to skip if you don’t need it:

After almost confessing your love to Lucifer and dying in the process Belphie comes down the stairs and its the big reveal, everyone essentially gasps in shock. Beel, Belph, and MC run away to Luke’s joint only to get busted by Dia & Barbatos and they drag away Belphie to throw him in jail for treason (and its implied he gon’ die). Lost and afraid, Beel and MC run back to the House of Lamentation. There we have a really heartfelt scene with all the demon boys and we are determined to storm into Dia’s castle and solve the situation.

Arriving at Dia’s castle, the pair say they were expecting us. Lucifer stood up to Diavolo & he says please, LOUD AUDIENCE GASP. No matter how much we try to reason, the only way Belphie will be released is if MC goes back into the past alone and figure out who actually opening Belphie’s door. No reason is truly given to this. Diavolo explains that Barbatos has multiple abilities, some of this includes viewing the past & future and, most importantly, time travel.

As we continue to Barbatos’ room, he is super happy (and creepy) but gives us a very dire warning - do not interact with the past in any way or it will alternate the current timeline. This includes speaking to anyone or being involved in any type of action. If we want to come back to the present, we have to go through the same door that we end up entering through. Then off we go and we land in the middle of Mammon’s room with ALL OF THE BROTHERS sans Lucifer and Belphie. And things go haywire.

As we are running to go up to the attic, we are forced to hide in Lilith’s room, where we have a flashback (or hallucination) of playing hide and seek. Flashback Levi reminds us to go find Belphie. During this time, it is revealed that MC may have been the one to open Belphie’s door and tldr; Belphie kills MC.

As we lay dying, we are somehow saved by Lilith (our long lost aunt twice removed apparently) and we are outside of our own body...in another one. Dia and Barbatos stroll in saying they knew this would happen & Barbatos did us a favor and revived us using an alternate timeline MC (what). Everyone is pumped we have like 1/10,000,000 genes related to human Lillith and this is their closure.

Everything seems to be looking up and MC patches things up between Belphie and the other brothers. They throw her a joint party with Diavolo’s birthday party & give her the sweetest gifts. At the end of Chapter 18, Belphie creates a pact with MC.

This is all fine and dandy but...is it really?

A few things really popped out during these two recent chapters:

Belphie is by our side the entire two chapters. Whether this is supposed to signify a new start or something else, it isn’t entirely clear.

Beel and Belph are the only ones that text us during this time. Belphie texts us after every chapter moment.

Solomon runs into Belph and MC while shopping, randomly asking Belph if he plans on making a pact with MC. Then brazenly offers to make a pact with him instead. Belph refuses vehemently but looks at MC for a reaction. Solomon notices this.

As Belph gives us a gift of himself (lol same), he mentions how he’s doing this for us and not because of Lilith.

In the game itself, there’s a completely different game style. MC has more options to speak and the dialogue options have become more brazen. Almost as if...this is a different personality (or could signify MC is more comfortable with them in general). It felt off playing the last two chapters though, for me at least.

Now onwards to the theory: Solomon is our main antagonist.

In Chapter 2, we are formally introduced to Solomon, the other exchange student. Although the interaction is rushed, we can sense out two things: he’s insanely smart and he’s already comfortable around demons. As he runs off to class, MC runs into Lucifer and we learn a bit more about this mystery boy.

Apparently, Solomon is a wizard and has a ring of wisdom, which makes him incredibly dangerous. He has pacts with more than 70 demons (I think the exact number was 78 but I might be wrong). Among these demons are Asmodeus and Barbatos. At the end of Lucifer’s explanation, he adds that MC shouldn’t trust Solomon.

Historically and culturally, Solomon is most known as the “Wise King.” He is also regarded as a fantastical figure, someone who is known to have powers over both angels and demons.

“According to the Rabbinical literature, on account of his modest request for wisdom only, Solomon was rewarded with riches and an unprecedented glorious realm, which extended over the upper world inhabited by the angels and over the whole of the terrestrial globe with all its inhabitants, including all the beasts, fowl, and reptiles, as well as the demons and spirits. His control over the demons, spirits, and animals augmented his splendor, the demons bringing him precious stones, besides water from distant countries to irrigate his exotic plants. The beasts and fowl of their own accord entered the kitchen of Solomon's palace, so that they might be used as food for him, and extravagant meals for him were prepared daily by each of his 700 wives and 300 concubines, with the thought that perhaps the king would feast that day in her house.”

Additionally, he was given a ring, known as the “Seal of Solomon,” which gave him the ability to trap demons under his control.

A magic ring called the "Seal of Solomon" was supposedly given to Solomon and gave him power over demons or Jinn. The magical symbol said to have been on the Seal of Solomon which made it efficacious is often considered to be the Star of David. Asmodeus, king of demons, was one day, according to the classical Rabbis, captured by Benaiah (my note: Benaiah is a human, he was a soldier that helped Solomon rise to power) using the ring, and was forced to remain in Solomon's service. The Seal of Solomon, in some legends known as the Ring of Aandaleeb, was a highly sought after symbol of power. In several legends, different groups or individuals attempted to steal it or attain it in some manner.

And this is a potential plot in our story.

MC is, of course, the main protagonist of the story. We typically are. But there was never a clear antagonist. Or maybe he was playing along with our situation, a wolf in sheep's clothing?

We all know Levi’s strangely long anime names are a strange foreshadowing of the future. We have:

Though all titles seem to have a connection with our current plot, I’m going to focus on the first one, which seems to have the most implications regarding our current situation. I also have a sneaking suspicion that the second image with the two titles might be a backstory for Barbatos but that’s another story that I cannot fully prove yet. The third title also refers to a legend regarding Asmo and Solomon.

The first title seems...has quite obvious implications when recounting the events of chapters 15 - 18. Halfway through our journey, here we are, thrust into an alternate timeline, alone and scared but we end up making a pact with...our sixth demon? And this isn’t just a regular demon, this is one of the deadly sins. So now we have 6/7 demon brothers under our power, some of the most powerful demons in Devildom. It’s alarming how quickly MC is able to gain the trust of these demons, effectively creating pacts in the course of...maybe a few months?

What alarms me the most is how fast Belphie turned from, quite literally, killing us to making a pact with us in a course of 3 chapters. This brings me to my first suspicion in SoloBarb’s plot: This timeline is the only timeline where MC is able to make a pact with Belphie. All other timelines do not reflect this. This placement was 100% intentional from the start.

It is a known fact that Barbatos is able to view time and its events. It’s revealed this extends to alternate timelines when saving MC. If he is this powerful, wouldn’t he be able to simply look back in the past and find out who opened Belph’s door without the need for MC? This would be the easiest and most direct solution.

SIDENOTE: Keep in mind, part of the reason Barbatos could not stop the Belphie situation from happening is due to Diavolo’s restriction. Barbatos states that “Diavolo has forbidden him from using his powers freely.” HOWEVER, it then leads to the question: who really has the most control over Barbatos, Diavolo or Solomon? Traditionally, when pacts are made, it means that the demon is completely under the control of the individual but does it outweigh an authority figure? In my opinion, Solomon technically has the most power fo Barbatos. Solomon’s pact with Barbatos = a magically restrictive bond while Diavolo’s rule over Barbatos = a matter of respect of authority. There is no physically restrictive bond Diavolo has on Barbatos.

Also considering how cunning Solomon is, he could have easily manipulated Diavolo into this entire plan as well.

In addition, Solomon’s strangely direct question, asking Belphie if he was going to make a pact with MC, was alarming. It was as if he was proving his own theory: the demon brothers will make a pact with MC and never him. He seemed almost satisfied with this answer and didn’t seem to protest against it too much. Couple this with Solomon’s constant approval when MC makes pacts with the demon brothers during her stay, its...disconcerting.

Omg he even says “If you change your mind” what kind of creepy

If we consider all of this, it truly does seem as if Solomon is our potential antagonist. It seems to me that everything is pointing at him. He’s quiet enough for us to overlook and disregard as a side character, though he seems to have a certain unnerving edge to him. My god, the demons are even wary of him. If that wasn’t the biggest tip-off, idk what is.

Also physically, we have yet to hear his entire backstory in the game or have a chapter dedicated to him. So far, in terms of side characters, we have ample interaction with Diavolo and Luke (still waiting on Simeon) but no deep dives into Solomon and Barbatos. (Which means >.> we’ll get them in later chapters)

This brings me to the next question: so how is MC a chess piece in his plot?

Hey, remember that RANDOM moment Solomon lent out his power during Diavolo’s house party. AND NO ONE QUESTIONED IT. Honestly, what the hell was that all about?

In regards to this, why did he do this? Some answers include: he did it for shits and giggles, he wanted to test out the theory of us having powerful magic in our bloodline, or he wanted a test run. Yeah. You heard me. A test run.

Prior to this, MC was unable to truly summon a demon on their own. The most she could do was give out a pretty strong verbal command and the demon (Mammon lol) must carry it out. However, MC cannot fully utilize the pact’s potential due to her lack of innate magic ability.

This is both an affirmation and leverage for Solomon’s situation. On one end, it’s confirmed that MC has huge magic potential and can properly use it when needed. On the other end, this can be a bargaining tool for the future...

Which could lead to a large plot development: Once MC gains all seven pacts (c’mon, it is going to be impossible to not make a pact with Lucifer), what will they use it for?

MY PREDICTION: Solomon will attempt to manipulate MC into his control. Magic is powerful in this game but so are humans. A human was the reason Lilith was going to be punished by God. Solomon, a human, has power and control over 70+ demons. Belphegor was set on destroying only the human world. MC has pacts with the, arguably, the strongest demons in Devildom who are also formerly fallen angels.

From what I’ve seen so far, nothing is more powerful than a pact. And nothing is more powerful than human manipulation.

What will he use MC’s powers for? ...I have a sneaking feeling it might be to overthrow Diavolo based on Solomon’s cultural legend. Solomon famously has power over Asmo, the king of demons. Of course, we know the Asmo in our game is not the king but Diavolo is. Obey me! has a funny way of interpreting these legends in a unique way. Who knows if they split up Asmo into two different entities.

but who tf really knows what’s going on

BUT

I guess we’ll have to see what happens in later chapters. Of course, this is all really a far fetch theory but there seem to be so many underlying connections to Solomon in the game. I mean ffs, he’s the only other human here and he’s SOLOMON. The very character itself is so suspicious.

THIS ENTIRE THING COULD ALSO BE A MESSED UP CHALLENGE FROM DIAVOLO

OR SOME CRAZY HALLUCINATION CAUSED BY BARBATOS GIVING US THAT SUS TEA BLEND

But tbh who really knows what’s happening. The only confirmed thing is that we’re still on this alternate timeline (that MC totally messed up) and we haven’t returned to our OG timeline. lucifer please pick me up I’m scared

If you made it this far, you are SUCH A TROOP. I hope this actually has a consistent flow and it makes sense. If you have any questions or observations I didn’t include please feel free to message me! I’m open to discussion!

A big s/o to wikipedia for the quick info on Solomon (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solomon#Seal_of_Solomon) and a thank you to @the-orizon for the screenshots & amazing info! Love you!

636 notes · View notes

ammalythic · 4 years ago

Text

The diary of a Norwegian troll

[Sorry for my bad English, I'm French. I do my best]

My oldest memories date from my 5 years.

I remember my last year of kindergarten. During this period, I had a "click" compared to other children my age. I quickly felt out of step. First of all because my way of defending myself was very childish but also because I was a clumsy, hypersensitive, anxious, nervous, anxious, obsessive, maybe even having a certain dyspraxia. I was diagnosed much later with Asperger's.

It is true that, since my elementary school, I have always had the role of the "scapegoat". I couldn't integrate myself. They called me "the plague". I was the contagious beast that you should never approach.

I do not know the exact origin of these mockery (which lasted until college). I have always been stigmatized by others without ever really understanding why. I wasn’t an unhappy kid though, it was just like that and that’s all, "fatality". Sometimes I was jealous of well-integrated people but nothing more.

Many children have been subjected to bullying at school. Many children have been stigmatized, described as "bizarre" or "different". And, while this is absolutely terrible, other children have experienced sexual assault. Not all of them, however, began to identify as creatures. No, in reality, something happened in my head. In fact, I began to consider myself "non-human." Maybe because of the stigma, maybe because of the disgust of the human being, or whatever.

After all, in my stories, humans always played the role of villains. At that time, I was already clearly saying to myself "I am not a human". I thought I was some kind of alien sent to Earth, on a mission or something like that. It must, among other things, explain my difference from other kids. I don't know if I really believed it, but I know I wanted to believe it. I thought I was close to Adi / Adibou, an alien character from a French video game / children's series.

I remember, at the end of the lessons, I explained to my "best friend" that my father secretly built a rocket to bring me back to my real planet.

In primary school, I started to read many fictions. Harry Potter being my favorite (especially fantastic creatures). I read about witches, fairies, vampires, dragons and werewolves. I felt like they could understand me better than anyone.

I particularly liked the comic strip "Witch". In this fiction, there is a “Metamonde” named “Méridian” populated by “hideous” but nice creatures. I felt good reading these stories and made up my life there, accompanied by these benevolent monsters.

My favorite scene was obviously the one where the professor turns into a monster: her true form.

So I saw my creatures like this: Often green/brown skin, troll or elf ears, triangles on the coat, fangs, claws, often horns and a long tail.

I invented for them a new way of life, more wild and animal (because in this book, the beings of Méridian live as in the Middle Ages). I was this kind of alien from an alternative world, I also saw myself with a lion or cat tail. My imaginary diet consisted of insects, snakes, fruits and berries.

I saw myself living in a cave or a burrow (or a house like that of the Barbapapas / Teletubbies) and I developed a passion for digging in the ground. Listening to the song “dig a tunnel” (The Lion King 3), watching “The Magic School bus” or reading “My adventure under the ground” (French children's book) giving me real well-being and a feeling of inexplicable complicity with the characters. So, my aliens liked to play in the mud, get dirty, dig, collect insects and molluscs, just like me.

youtube

Our way of life was simple, a bit like Peter Pan's “lost boys”. The group behaviors were mainly animal (body, ear and tail position) and play and behave like animals (in one of my “fictions”, I said that the aliens bit their tails to play) .

youtube

Mine wore a simple loincloth, clothes didn't matter (just like for me in "real life".)

I remember a few anecdotes about my aliens: I imagined their daily life before sleeping or whenever I had time.

I don't prefer to go into details. I just remember that I had two imaginary best friends and I visualized them in our world as soon as possible. We had a special treasure, made up of spiders, snakes, insects, bones, feathers and snake molts, something that wicked human villains. My creatures could speak "human" but it was extremely painful for them.

Subsequently, I invented all kinds of stories of humans "not quite human" but these "aliens" were the first.

When I was 9 years old, I started to lock myself up mentally, to live only in my head. I discussed my creatures with my friends, my need to see them, to imagine their suffering as an outlet One of the girls spoke about it - at school - in the canteen, in front of all the students. I was so ashamed that I erased my texts with white corrector before tearing them up and throwing them in the trash (something I bitterly regret today).

Right after entering school, I reconciled with my mental critters and tried to accept them. During an alien-themed drawing assignment, I was shocked to see myself having a bad grade when I had a strong feeling of having shown the "absolute truth".

I also created a fiction about my aliens, to explain on the internet how they exist. Then I was ashamed, I was afraid of mockery, so I erased everything (I'm even more disappointed now).

When I was 12, I experienced the most incredible trip, that of visiting Norway. I saw the troll figurines, the songs, the landscapes and it was a revelation: I was also a troll, from the start! Everything matched: The physical, the way of living, the habitat, the food, the animality ... EVERYTHING! I later had this strong feeling of having an invisible tail and ears that only trolls could also see.

Small comparison between the creature of my 5 years and that with which I identify myself today:

Then, over time, I moved away from the trolls, I developed - badly influenced by "friends" - that I had to be a much more powerful and fierce creature, like a vampire or a werewolf. I was lost, turning sometimes to angels, sometimes to wizards: I was magic and non-human, it was obvious.

Screen capture from one of my blogs in 2011 (in French)

Translation : “I always felt a little different from others but for me all the weird phenomena I was going through were part of me! I thought everyone was like this! Then one day, I realized that what was happening to me was strange. I was a little panicked and asked on the internet if it was okay to act like this. Two people made me understand that no and that I should not worry because after all, I have always been like this and learning who I am will not change anything. For about a month, they didn't explain the basics to me, what to do and what not to do. Then, little by little, I tried to manage on my own, continuing to ask them for advice from time to time.” (2011)

Translation : “I’m a creature of the night, half animal half human “ (2011)

Traduction : "I am very close to nature, the forest is my favorite place. I feel close to plants and animals, maybe even more than human beings, I think. I am more animal than human." (2011) "I feel different from other humans, I feel more like a 'forest human'. I feel constantly connected with nature and animals. I feel closer to animals (especially wolves and foxes) than men. Sometimes I feel like I can go so far as to lose control: I attack, I bite, I claw. Humans probably see me as a monster. " (2011)

See the movie Twilight played on my animality (I was young, too). And many people tried to convince me that I was an overpowered werewolf ...

Then I discovered the otherkins community in 2012, after very long researches to discover myself, I was disturbed by this resemblance. I then turned to therianthropy and the European badger, abandoning this "troll" side that was also in me ...

So today, I search over and over for ancient writings that would have survived. I'm trying to find bridles from my non-human childhood.

The troll must also be seen as a pillar of my existence. A pillar that, unfortunately, that I absolutely don’t assume ...

18 notes · View notes

heyhihellowhatsup0 · 4 years ago

Text

Tangled Webs - Chapter Five (Peter Parker x Reader)

Dark Webs Masterlist | Tangled Webs Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, language, Smut (smut in this chapter!), Topics of death and depression, PTSD, more angst, violence, a bit more fluff and smut than the last series? Somewhat ignoring the MCU timeline due to mature content

Word Count: 5922

Summary: After doing your best to walk on eggshells around Peter, you finally reach the boiling point as you and him face (most) of your drama head on...

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to post! But trust me, I think this chapter is worth it! There’s a lot of angst but some smut as well so I hope you guys enjoy this! I’m nervous af so please let me know what you guys think! Your sweet words and comments always make me smile! (Also I found this .gif on google, so if you made it, or know who did, let me know and I will credit!) Thank you xx -N

Local deli, ‘Delmars Delicatessen,’ was robbed early yesterday morning, leaving the owner minorly injured. Sources say the burglar managed to steal over $25,000 in cash from a cash safe in the back room. Officials have no word on how the burglars were aware of such a safe in the first place but suspects as of late are currently former employees.

The only identification of the potential burglar is that it was female. The woman who robbed the store managed to stun the owner with a taser and left him on the floor as she cracked the code to his safe and left him.

Spider-Man was not on scene during the robbery, making it the first actual successful burglary since the start of these random acts. Officials stated that the webbed avenger was off securing the Hudson River from a potential attack; making the burglary an open opportunity.

The Queensboro Police Department announced that they will be on high alert in the area in regards to catching the female burglar. The descriptions of the woman are currently nondescript, as she was wearing a blask mask and had no distinctive marks.

The previous five attempted burglaries within the Queensboro and Forest Hill area were all brought in to authorities by Queens’ very own, Spider-Man. There has been no comment or any sort of proclamation by any authority that any or all of these burglaries are related. However, locals have taken to believe that they are and are doing whatever they can to feel safe.

Spider-Man has released an exclusive statement with The Daily Globe saying he will be on a watch of his own to capture this masked woman in order to bring her in.

You tensed as you stared at the cover story with a wary look. You never had to write a news story about yourself before and it wasn’t a good look at that. You felt as if you were about to throw up and the worst thing was that Peter had no idea you wrote this about yourself.

A bad thing was done. A really bad thing. And you were the one responsible. You hurt a man who has never done any harm to you. A man who always treated you and Peter well whenever you went to visit him and his shop. And what you did to him last night was completely unforgivable.

You weren’t in control and you knew that. But it was still your body and you had to take responsibility for your body. Your hands being the only ones who put that mask over your eyes last night. Your feet being the ones who ran all the way to Delmars before it opened. Your fingers pushing the trigger of your taser gun to stun Mr. Delmar right into his side. Your leg being the one that kicked the safe open with your new strength, grabbing everything inside and using the same exact legs to run out of there before the sun came up.

You did as you were told but it was still you. And now because of that, you were wanted.

It wasn’t surprising that when Peter came home, he came home with a story for you to write. He just had no idea it was your story. He knew you needed a story for the Daily Globe and were doing so well covering these random robberies, he wanted you to spread the word to everyone in the city. It resonated with Peter a lot and you could tell how much this hurt him seeing his friend going through something like this. All because of you.

Peter wanted to find this person, you. He came home with such defeat, which was why he wanted you to write this story so badly. To scare the one who robbed Delmars that Spider-Man was looking for you. And he wasn’t going to rest until he brought you to justice.

You were also a reporter and you had a job to do. You couldn’t stop writing about the news because you were the news. And you had a reputation to uphold so you knew you couldn’t lie about what Peter had seen, that wouldn’t help anybody. The only thing you could do was withhold information that only Peter knew. The information Peter found out that the authorities wouldn’t believe. The corrupt or cons going on that Peter brought to justice.

And now you were part of that category, weren’t you?

You could barely even look at the article, or Peter reading it from across the table as he sipped on his coffee. The look on his face was something that he was proud of you, but you knew that if he knew the truth that he would be nothing but disgusted and horrified by you.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t tell him either. You couldn’t risk it after learning what Octavious would do to Peter if he found out. You already had so much blood on your hands as it was, Peter’s sure as hell wasn’t going to be one of them. Throughout all of this, you had to keep him safe no matter what.

Your hand went to your chest, holding your spider-web pendant against your palm as you watched Peter’s reaction as he continued to read, “I hope I covered everything,” you told him with an unsteady voice.

“You said it better than I did,” Peter told you, giving you a somewhat sigh of relief as he put the article down and gave you a proud smile. There wasn’t anything for him to be proud of though as you sat there awkwardly as he leaned over to kiss you cheek to let you know how he felt, “This is going to nail that woman to the wall, I know it,” he added lowly.

Nearly choking on your coffee, you let out an awkward laugh as you nodded your head. How could you even respond to something like that without sounding suspicious? Or without Octavious listening in and threatening you again that he would kill Peter. Because you knew he’d be listening in.

“Peter, are you sure that this was a good idea? How do you know that whoever this woman was hasn’t already fled the country? Or how do you know that she isn’t looking for you too?” you tried. You knew Peter could sometimes let things get to him a bit quicker when they were so personal to him. And you were hoping to maybe knock some sense into him to stand down a bit while you waited for Octavious to finish using you for whatever he needed you.

Peter scoffed as he grabbed his EDITH glasses, flashing you a cocky smile, “Y/N, please. I’ve seen her type thousands of times. The day I can’t handle an armed robber is the day I really do retire and go to that lake house,” he said to you as he tipped his head close to yours and captured your bottom lip.

Kissing him back, you tried not to make it obvious how nervous you were with him finding out the truth. What if he figured it out on his own? There was no way in hell that you could lie to him about it if he did. You worried about Peter constantly and now you were worried about him even more because you were afraid that you were going to hurt him. Both emotionally and physically.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N,” Peter answered as he pulled away from the kiss, pecking your lips once more before he started heading down to the gym to practice, “Like I say, I’m just your henchman, right?” he laughed into another kiss as he slid his EDITH glasses up the bridge of your nose.

You mustered up a nod, “Love you,” you told Peter as you sent him towards the elevator to head out for the afternoon, leaving you face to face with the hack job of an article you had written.

It stared back at you like it had fangs and red eyes, like it was evil. And suddenly, you felt that way about yourself. Rereading the words you used to describe yourself; you read over again how many people were looking for you and how severely you hurt Mr. Delmar. And you had no idea what that sweet man had anything to do with Octavious’ plan.

What else was he going to have you do? Or who else was he going to have you hurt? You had a horrible feeling he wasn’t going to be done with you any time soon and that made you feel even more sick. Not to mention, based off the transmission you weren’t supposed to receive the other night during Peter’s mission, you knew Octavious wasn’t working alone; and there were things, bad things, that he didn’t want you hearing. At least not yet.

After staring at the paper for so long, you grabbed it and ripped it in half, flinging it across the room as if it were confetti. You couldn’t look at the mess you made anymore because the thoughts of what was going to happen next were too upsetting. You knew it would be inevitable before the next and you were only getting stronger. You didn’t know what you were capable of anymore.

“You did a stupendous job, sweetheart,” Octavious’ voice came through giddily. His happy-go-lucky tone made you even more sick to your stomach as you got up from your chair with fury.

“The money is yours, just get out of my head,” you told him, beginning to march up towards the lab to get his cash out of the safe. You needed out of this...whatever it was. And you were hoping the money would be enough.

“It’s not that simple. And you’re just what I need to finish this, so we’re not done quite yet,” Octavious chuckled in your head, which only made you want to cry right then and there.

It was then when you realized he wasn’t ever planning on letting you go. Not even if you were done. You were strong and capable of a lot and he knew that now. And because he knew that, he was turning you into his own personalized weapon. Because he’d never get caught when it came to you. And even if you got caught, they’d never find the chip in your head that traced back to him. Octavious would get off scot free and find someone else to manipulate.

You knew Octavious wasn’t acting alone. There was someone else, maybe a partner or even a puppet master of his own that was calling these shots. You knew you weren’t his first test subject but you didn’t know what happened to the others. Did they get killed? Or did the microchips not take like yours did? Maybe it made them sick? There had to be a reason why Octavious was keeping you over the rest, it was because you were the only success story thus far.

“Then you gotta tell me who else I’m working for,” you demanded as you unlocked the lab, heading over to your secret stash. Opening the safe as you saw the entire motherlode staring right back at you. Your mask, the loads upon loads of cash, and your unopened bottles. Everything you had been dying to get rid of.

“Do you really think you have power over me, sweetheart?” Octavious said as he suddenly forced you to lean into the safe and grab the bottle, “You’re nothing without me. You’re his proxy who writes little articles about what he wants while you drink away the pain. Thanks to me, I’m making you something,” he told you as he let go of you.

You slammed the bottle down on the floor, taking a step away from it, “What do you want with Peter? He’s no use to you and you have to know that I don’t control him,” you tried again as you tried to fight back the tears once again.

But Doctor Octavious laughed maniacally as you remained seated on the floor, staring down at the bottle that was beginning to look more and more appetizing the more you stared at it. But you knew Octavious wasn’t the one making you crave it right now, that was coming from you.

The stress and anxiety was eating at you bit by bit. Needing something so badly to take some of your pain away, even just temporarily. Fighting with your brain and going back and forth, hearing Peter’s voice in the back of your head. You knew you should refrain yourself, that’s what you wanted overall. You turned your head away from the bottle, fighting with your vision to not look at the temptation that was before you.

“I beg to differ. There’s a lot of things that worthless little spider would be willing to do for you and I’d bet money on it…” he threatened as he fixed your vision back onto the bottle, making you begin to unscrew the cap, “And I know what you’d do to keep him alive, right? So have a drink and let’s have a toast to your amazing work the other night and to many more!” he cheered in your voice.

Only he wasn’t forcing you to drink it. But he knew you would. It was a threat if you didn’t, otherwise he would kill Peter. That was his leverage over your head, knowing you would keep your mouth shut and comply with whatever he wanted because you were trying to save Peter.

Closing your eyes, you brought the rim of the bottle to your lips as the harsh scent ran up your nostrils. Scrunching your nose up with a whimper, you took a quick swig before you placed it back down on the floor. Wiping your mouth of the alcohol, you hoped that would be enough to appease Octavious to just leave you alone.

“Good girl,” he told you as you tried to relax your body a bit as you curled up near the safe as tears began running down your cheeks. Knowing perfectly well that with Doctor Octavious or whoever else in your brain, there was no relaxing. Not now, not ever.

There was silence and for a moment you thought Octavious had departed for the time being but you still felt his presence. He was just observing now, haunting you, reminding you that he could. At any given time, he could just pay you a visit or worse, take control of you.

Because he had full control over you because you were scared he’d hurt Peter. And you’d do anything, rob anything you had to if it meant Peter was unharmed. And Octavious was well aware of that and he was determined to use it against you at any moment like this.

“Now finish it,” he told you as he disconnected from your device. Automatically feeling a difference in your head, feeling a bit lighter as you sank into the floor; now clutching the bottle in your hand.

————

Peter deactivated his suit, catching his breath as he looked at the success statistics KAREN and EDITH had relayed for him after the last simulation had come to an end. He couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of the numbers that were displayed for him. It wasn't that long ago that Peter was failing simulation after simulation and he was glad that he was getting stronger and becoming a better fighter like he used to be.

Strong like the old Peter…

Walking towards the exit, he noticed Agent Kent standing by the door with a smile. Peter shook his head as he removed his mask from his head, “You know it's dangerous to be in here while I’m running simulations, right?” Peter told him with a joking voice as he gave him a high-five.

“Did you just win all of those simulations on the hardest level?” Kent asked Peter with an impressed voice. He watched as Peter nodded his head, walking past him to grab a towel to dry off, “Remind me to check to make sure they’re programmed correctly,” he teased Peter with a nudge.

“I programmed them, they better be,” Peter retorted with a smug look. He was feeling good about himself, “Got to be ready next time that lady thief comes by again. I’m on a high alert for her,” he told Kent with a knowing look.

Kent shook his head with a laugh, “Meeting tomorrow was moved to 8 am, don’t be late,” he told Peter as he walked down the hall towards his quarters on one of the lower floors. Great, an early meeting to talk about what else was fucked up in this city, Peter thought as he headed into the elevator, pressing your floor as he rode it back up.

But Peter didn’t want to think about how fucked up the city or the world was right now. He knew plenty of how the world was. Right now, he just wanted to get back to his floor. His own tiny haven in this enormous tower with little to no privacy. Even when he was practicing, somebody found him. He never truly had a moment just to himself. Not as Spider-Man.

The thoughts in Peter’s mind went blank as he felt the goose bumps beginning to raise on his arms as the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stuck out. Something was off as he stepped foot into your apartment, and he could tell right away that it had something to do with you.

Calling your name, Peter dropped his gym bag onto the floor and walked towards the bedroom, trying to find you as quickly as possible. He stopped in his tracks when he got a whiff of what was coming from the kitchen.

He turned his head and saw you standing by the stove, slicing some vegetables as you smiled up at him, “I’m making a frittata,” you told him quietly, trying to function as best as you could and hoping that the smell of the food was masking the other scents you knew Peter was bound to detect.

There was something off and Peter could sense it. But he couldn’t figure out what it was. Nodding his head he smiled back at you as he came behind you in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, kissing your cheek in the process.

“Do you smell that?” Peter asked as he stood in front of the sink curiously. The same hairs still sticking up like something was wrong.

“The frittata?” you asked him, trying to keep yourself composed as you looked at him with the same blank expression.

Peter shook his head as he looked around, “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said warily as he looked around more, “I can’t tell what it is…” he trailed off as he walked into the other room to try to investigate.

“Stand down, tiger,” you snorted as he brought the vegetables into the frying pan to simmer for a bit as you cleaned your hands off, “A bit paranoid are we?” you offered again.

You could sense Peter’s paranoia and it was making you nervous. Mainly because you knew you were the reason he was detecting something was wrong, and you knew you weren’t going to be able to hide it from him. It was making your stomach do back flips, making you nauseous as the smell of the frittata you were making went through your nostrils while the alcohol you annihilated earlier was bound to resurface.

Before you knew it, your hand was over your mouth as you ran to the bathroom, pushing Peter to the side as you hovered over the toilet, emptying your stomach out as you heaved into it. Peter came up behind you, holding your hair back as he motioned his hand gently against your back to try and relax you.

Peter looked away from it as you slowly began to pull yourself away and clean your face in the sink. But he saw the clear liquid that was purged out and he knew the hairs on his neck were standing because you were the one who was in trouble.

“Y/N…” Peter bit his lip as he pulled your hair out of the way as you washed your face. You knew where he was going with it and you couldn’t face that truth right now. You just couldn’t.

“No, Peter,” you shot him down as you splashed some water on your face before you rinsed your mouth out, “Don’t start,” you warned him, hoping that would keep him from continuing the conversation. But who were you kidding? If the tables were turned you knew you wouldn’t either. In fact, you didn’t when it was Peter drinking excessively.

Of course, this time it was because you were forced to by Doctor Octavious. You just couldn’t tell Peter that otherwise he would get killed. So now, you had no choice but to act like you did this willingly.

“I have to, Y/N,” Peter answered lowly as he followed you out of the bathroom again, “I...I can’t be around you like this,” he finally said the words. The words he never thought he would say because he never thought he would need to. But he needed to.

Peter knew this was dangerous. You needed help but he couldn’t force you right now. And he also knew he couldn’t be around you when you were drinking so much. It broke his heart and he cared so much right now but you needed to care about yourself too, and you weren’t. But Peter needed you to so he wouldn’t fall apart either, as selfish as that sounded. And maybe you needed more of a push to get to that point to better yourself.

“What? You’re going to break up with me over this? When you drank, you threw me against the wall in a chokehold, Peter,” you reminded him vividly, still clearly not in your best state of mind. But Peter’s threat not only hurt you, it scared you immensely. The idea of losing him because of you was something you couldn’t deal with, not now or ever.

Peter winced at the thought. Those were his most dark and troubling times. And even though he took responsibility and was grateful every moment of every day you forgave him, he still had a hard time forgiving himself for what he put you through. It was hard reliving those memories and he tried not to so he could live in the present, with you. But right now, your present was beginning to look a lot like Peter’s past.

“I never said I was dumping you, I would never leave you. But I think you may need some time alone to figure out what you need,” Peter tried again, a bit more sternly but his eyes were filled with concern for you, “This isn’t you, Y/N,” he told you as he softened his tone.

You shook your head and scoffed at him, feeling your head getting heated as Peter started again, “Really, Peter? You’re one to talk about not being yourself,” you bit your lip as you pivoted in his direction.

“Me?” Peter asked monotonously, licking his lips as he saw all of the anger in your eyes. Peter really didn’t want this to turn into a fight. But it always did because you were still in denial. And Peter knew the only one who could make you see your truth was you, so until you did, it was an argument each and every time.

And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could watch you do this to yourself. Allowing his group therapy peer’s advice to look a little more intriguing.

“Yes. You’ve been acting like a completely different person lately,” you snapped back, trying to keep your tone level like Peter’s as you continued, “You asked me to move to a lake house upstate because you couldn’t stand the city and then acted as if it never even happened, Peter,” you reminded him of that incident and how the both of you were guilty for never actually talking about it again.

“You said no and the idea clearly upset you. I didn’t want to make you more upset by begging you to move. What did you want me to do, Y/N?” Peter asked you as he felt his throat beginning to feel dry. He hated fighting like this and he knew this wasn’t going to end well because now you were looking for a reason to blame Peter. He saw the signs all too well.

You didn’t know why you were so angry. You were hurt, and terrified of losing Peter, and you didn’t know what else to do. And now you were just letting out all of the things you had been bottling up over the last month or so, even though you knew that wasn’t fair. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system but you didn’t know how to turn it off.

“I don’t know. But the Peter I know wouldn’t have done anything of that,” you challenged him finally. The final nail in the coffin and you saw the look on Peter’s face, you knew that was an answer he was not expecting.

Because the old Peter was the one who you both hated. The one who put you in harm’s way and pushed you away until there was barely anything left. The old Peter was aggressive and hurt you in more ways he wasn’t proud of. So it took Peter by surprise hearing you say that. Maybe it was out of anger or to get a rise out of him, but you were both saying things you didn’t necessarily mean right now and he knew he needed to stop.

Peter walked over towards the kitchen and turned the stove off, seeing everything starting to burn. He shook his head as he cleaned off some of the utensils to focus his stress elsewhere, “Did you want me to shout at you like I used to? Kill someone?” Peter paused as he bit the inside of his lower lip, “Drink myself to death like you are because I’m angry?”

He was making his own blood boil when he spoke, clenching the glass in his hand as he accidentally shattered it, making you jump backwards, “I am angry, okay? I am! I’m angry every fucking day and all of this work I’m doing with my group is supposed to help me keep my anger from taking over again. So are you saying you don’t want that? You don’t like that I’m trying to do this for me and for you?!” he shouted as he looked down at the shattered glass on the floor.

Silence filled the room between the two of you as you inched yourself a bit closer to Peter, standing in front of the island as you looked into his soft brown eyes. Of course, you were so proud of Peter and how far he had come these months. And you knew he didn’t do this for you, he did it for him which was the most proud you could get.

Peter was trying to get you down the same path he was and you saw that and you were glad he cared about you so much. But how Peter was the last few weeks, and possibly months, was a very shut down version. Trying to push you to therapy, and then when you declined, he would act like nothing had happened. Not the Peter you were used to at all.

And maybe that was on you. Maybe you pushed him to shut down here and there. But Peter was a fighter, and so were you. So it always surprised you when you got to these boiling points. And this was a point neither of you reached until just now. Both of you feeling scared and upset, and you had no idea what was going to happen next. But neither of you could stop.

“No. I want you, Peter, I do,” you told him as you took another step closer to him, “But you just seem so….different. Like lately you’ve just been Peter Parker without Peter Parker,” you told him in a small voice as you tried to catch his gaze, but his focus was on the wall.

It was everything Peter didn’t want to hear. He knew he wasn’t the same Peter but he was accepting that. He thought after everything that had happened, you would too. But maybe it was because of the things that were troubling you that it was making you question and challenge Peter in return.

Balling his hand into a fist, Peter had enough as he suddenly drove it right into the wall in front of his face. He saw you jump backward as you gasped at the loud bang. Pulling his hand out of the wall, his cut up hand now covered in blood was splayed against the wall as he steadied his breath.

“That Peter Parker?” he finally asked you without looking your way. He knew he took it too far, and he was ashamed that he did that. Especially in front of you. He hadn’t lost his cool like that in months, and certainly not in front of you. He never wanted to blow up in front of you like that again. He was so embarrassed for letting his anger get to him for even a second.

You swallowed thickly as silence filled the room between the two of you. Blinking slowly, you nodded your head before you grabbed Peter by his arm and pulled him towards you as you crashed your lips against his. Pulling him closer as you began to feel him return your kiss.

Both of you were still angry and reeling, but for now you just wanted to be close to each other. You were both shaken by Peter’s words and your actions, and for now the intimacy between you both was all that mattered. A temporary fix for your laundry list of problems that neither of you knew how to fix.

Peter pushed you against the wall as he rolled his lips over yours with lust and desire. Craning your neck to the side as he moved his lips down to your neck, finding your sweet spot right away. Picking you up swiftly, you wrapped your legs around his waist in between his sloppy and slightly aggressive kisses. Bringing your arms to the nape of your neck to hold yourself up as Peter’s fingers began traveling to your waist.

His fingers tucked underneath your jeans as he pushed them off, dropping them to the floor as his lips found yours once more. Your pent up anger for each other building between you both as you helped him shake his sweatpants off; your breath heavy and ragged as the fire between you both grew.

The back of your head hit the wall as Peter began to tease your entrance, your free hand raising up to his chest to feel his heartbeat. Both of your senses on high alert as you looked into Peter’s eyes as you located his heart. Listening to the thuds, your way of finding your Peter in there as your eyes began fluttering closed while you pushed Peter into you.

Peter grabbed you by the leg gently and thrust in to you slowly. Placing his free hand against the wall to support you both as he pushed himself into you further. Hearing you let out a soft whimper as you moved your hips into him a bit faster, your hands running through the curls on the back of his neck.

Grunting into your ear, Peter found your lips again. Your tongues searching for each other as your thrusts intensified, your whimpers and moans vibrating against your lips. He found your hands and laced your fingers into his against the wall as he moved his hips faster into you, letting his senses take over as he continued.

Peter cussed under his breath as he ran a hand up your bare leg and against your inner thigh. As you clenched around his length, your body burning with each and every motion as you bit your lip, beginning to feel all of the sensations take control as you gripped Peter firmly.

You held onto Peter’s hand as he began to circle you slowly with his fingers, making you moan louder as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your edge. Your bodies forming a rhythm together as your kisses grew sloppy and more desperate for each other, the neediness for being close still apparent amongst the two of you.

Circling you faster, Peter kept thrusting into you as your whimpers together grew more and more. He could sense how close you were from how tense your body was getting, and he was letting all of his aggression out with you. He knew he wasn’t far behind as he found your lips again. Moaning into his kiss as he pushed you both to your edges.

Finally reaching your highs together as you cried out Peter’s name and he collapsed into the nape of your neck. Shaking and vibrating underneath Peter as his hips continued into you as he began moaning into your sensitive skin. Everything felt so intense as you began to open your eyes, slowly coming down from your intoxicating state.

Peter took a breath as he slowly brought you back down to the earth. Pushing the hair out of your face he reached over and kissed your lips again. This time it felt different from moments earlier, it was more loving, tender even. You can feel how much he loved and cared for you in the kiss as you returned the same thing to him as he lifted you into his arms.

Carrying you into the bedroom, he knew you both needed to sleep this off. He placed you down on the bed in the darkness, crawling over to his side of the bed without even needing the light on. He pulled the covers up over the two of you and found his place in between your arms as he kissed your bare shoulder.

The two of you didn’t speak, the silence spoke for itself as you both let the exhaustion from earlier take over.

It wasn’t until you woke up in the middle of the night that you felt Peter get out of bed. Only you didn��t feel it, you sensed it. You rubbed your eyes as they adjusted to the darkness and crawled towards the edge of the bed, seeing Peter by the balcony window.

Holding his gym bag over his back…

Taglist: @missmulti @hazmyheart @lauras-collection @osterfield-holland-andcompany @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @farfromhazreads @detroitbydark @mcuassemble @blahhhhhhhaaa @lonikje @beiroviski @ruefulposts @rebekkah4766 @desir-ae @kayla-m1996 @averyfosterthoughts @unicorn-princess-1999 @asmilinghopelessromantic @itsjusttor @whatareyouhidingpeter @when-marvellous-things-happen @mannien @lilostif16 @u-rrose @jillanaholland @ninjalex1d @dee-rosemary @baby-unidorn @astoldbydanid @honey-sea @fallingforfics @lulueliott24 @mikalaka @babebenhardy @coni-martina @geniousparker @captainemrys @mktravelbuggie @underoosmarvel @pluckypete @hollandfanficlove @lookalivefrosty @lightmelikeacigarette @msmarvel-19 @averyfosterthoughts @parker-holland-osterfield @thwip-it-real-good @shirukitsune @justanotherusername80 @jillanaholland @dangerdolns @jwolfesblog @jjayyc @sad-thinker-over @ifilosemyselfagain @axisnpalma @sunflxwer99 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @bookgirlunicorn @kfcyum @thenoddingbunny-blog @buzzbuzzitsmeagainbitch @herondale-snow-carstairs @marvelobsessedteenager @samallbee @unlimitedd @dramaholic18 @softholand @panicattheeverywherekid @emotionally-unstable23 @quackeroos @unbelievableholland @the-crazy-fanfictionist @holyhumorliteraturelight @shayminisshiny @spideyyeet @katiekinzs @fanficparker @peachyxholland @ifntelyinspirit @rubberducky-jrr @xguardgirlx @hollandstea @t-holland2080 @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @selfcarecap @localfangirlx @xxpeachyxo @hazardosterfield @xstarbae @justanotherusername80 @halfblood-princess-505 @photoshopart15 @spiderbibby @the-fandom-life-forever @thinkoutsidethebex

#peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tom holland x you #spiderman #spiderman x reader #tangled webs #heyhihellowhatsup0

108 notes · View notes

bungou-stray-dingus · 5 years ago

Note

hey!! could you do the non ability innocent s/o scenario but with fukuzawa and mori? (Ps I just binged all of your writing I love it so much 🥺💗)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! YOU’RE AMAZING!!

IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, WORK HAS ME BACK AT IT AGAIN.

LOVE YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Fukuzawa

You were perfect to him, and for him. He first saw you sitting on a park bench, all the stray cats were flocked around you as you handed treats out to each of them. He saw you every day doing the exact same thing, and it was always the same cats. He had overheard you talking to the cats in a soft sweet voice as you passed out the treats. He decided that he would join you one day after watching you do this for two weeks. (It took him that long to build up the courage to talk to you. Silver Wolf is good with the blade but not with the words with woman.)

You were shy, slightly awkward, your cheeks would turn the most beautiful shade of pink whenever he sat next to you, and the blush wouldn’t fade until he left. The two of you bonded, conversations went from the cats that you were feeding, to personal lives, dreams and wishes.

You had been dating for about five months, and he still thought you were just as stunning as the first day he saw you. You were still shy and soft spoken, the dictionary definition of pure innocence. He’d come visit you after work, and his eyes would light up, seeing you curled up on the couch with your cats, Mochi, Mimi, and Mogi, watching funny cat videos on your tv.

Your cheeks would still turn a bright red whenever you’d see him, covering your face with your hands to hide your smile. You were just too much, you had to be protected at all costs. In his eyes you were the most precious thing on the earth, next to cats.

He didn’t think you were weak, he just thought that you were too sweet to put up a fight, and he always feared that you would end up in a bad situation because of your sweetness, it would be taken as weakness by people who could take advantage of you and you’d get hurt.

You were walking to your spot one afternoon, meeting up with the local stray cats to hand out their daily treats when you saw a group of men surrounding one. They were throwing things at the little ball of fluff, and they had it circled so it couldn’t run away. Your heart sank, but you saw red. Your fists were balled up, and you stomped over to where the men were standing around, laughing at the tiny creature in the center. You swing at one of the men, hitting him square in the jaw. He staggered back as the other men started shouting at you. You seemed to black out, not remembering anything but throwing punches, kicking and scratching these men who found it somehow amusing to torture a poor defenseless animal.

When the cops showed up you were sitting on the bench, the cats surrounding you as you fed them their treats. Your knuckles were red from the hits and you had blood from one of the men under your nails from the scratches. There were tiny blood splatters on the ground from the man who’s nose was bleeding. They were standing around, glaring at you as they explained to the cops “what happened”.

“May I ask something?” You called to the cop who was questioning the men. He sighed and walked over to you, nodding for you to continue. “Would you be able to get in touch with the Armed Detective Agency Director, Fukuzawa Yukichi?”

“I’m sorry, this is no case for the ADA ma’am.” The cop said, turning back to the men to continue his questions. You sighed and pulled out your phone, calling Fukuzawa yourself. He came as soon as possible, eyeing the scene in horror. He saw the blood on the ground and ran over to you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“What happened?” He asked you in a hushed voice. The cop eyed him, confused about the presidents interest in such a minor situation.

“They were messing with the kitten. I couldn’t let them do it.” You said, and he nodded.

“So you’re not hurt?” He asked, just to be sure that you were alright.

“I’m fine. Are you mad that I fought them?”

“Of course not. I’ll handle this.” He was serious as ever when he walked over to where the cop was standing, jotting down notes on a notepad. You couldn’t hear him, but his mouth was moving quickly as he motioned his hands between you, the men, and the cats on the ground in front of you.

Fukuzawa took you away from the area before you could figure out what happened to the men. He was quiet as the two of you walked down the street towards the agency building, but once you got inside and into his office his questions were endless.

“I didn’t know you could fight.” “When did you learn how to do that?” “Why did you never tell me you could fight like that?” “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” “It’s just so strange, I never would have thought you had it in you. You’re sure you don’t have an ability?”

“I’m sure. I’m fine. I didn’t learn how to do it, I didn’t even know I could fight like that. I just got really mad, and I blacked out and it happened.” You explained, your voice soft and sweet, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes wide and doe like, it made it hard for him to believe that it was you who beat the hell out of the men.

“Well, I’m proud of you, for defending the cat. Try to stay out of situations like that though, I don’t want you getting hurt. Alright?” He said, trying to stay serious, but when you smiled at him he couldn’t help but smile back.

He never brought up what happened, not around you at least. He talked about it with everyone at the agency. “Welcome Y/N, Defender of Stray Cats!” Dazai would call out whenever you walked in the door. Fukuzawa would just roll his eyes, but secretly he found it even more adorable, your little nickname. He even started using it.

You were Y/N, Defender of Cats, and he absolutely adored you.

Mori

Being Mori’s s/o meant watching Elise way more than you usually had when you were just his intern at the Port Mafia. She became something like your daughter, even though you knew she was just Mori’s ability, you absolutely adored her, and she loved you. Your almost motherly love towards Elise made Mori’s heart sore, he absolutely loved both you and Elise more than anything else.

He often watched you and Elise from his desk, you laying on your stomach on the floor coloring with Elise, talking about anything and everything that kept her interest. You would let her play with your hair, or put makeup on you. Mori enjoyed watching these moments between you and Elise. Your heart and your soul were so pure, he often wondered how you managed to get mixed up with the Port Mafia, somehow ending up with the boss of the organization. Everyone there had blood on their hands, their hearts and souls were tainted with the blood and carnage they had caused, you were like a bright light that shines brighter than anyone else there.

You’d often come into the office with gift wrapped boxes, laying them all in front of Elise before making your way over to Mori’s desk, standing behind him as he sat in his chair. He and you would both watch Elise open her gifts, and then you’d spend the rest of the day playing with the new toys you had bought her.

“You are so kind to my dear Elise, I’m so glad that we both have you.” Mori would often say, calling you over to him, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You never struck him as a violent person, especially when compared to the other members of the Port Mafia. You were sweeter than sugar, Mori’s complete opposite when it came to feelings, morals, values, sympathy... everything. He wouldn’t change anything about you though, you were the contrast in his life that he didn’t know he needed. He cherished you like a fine jewel, he would happily murder anyone that tried to take you away from him.

Mori, Elise, and you were out shopping one afternoon, it was kind of like a family day, at least that’s how you labeled it. He couldn’t help the wide grin that was plastered on his face, seeing you walk down the street a couple steps ahead, holding Elises hand as you window shopped. You’d point out little things that caught your eye, smiling down at Elise when she picked out something that she liked, he knew she would most likely have it the next day.

“I’m going to step in here for a second.” Mori said, walking into a clothing store to pick new dresses for Elise. She was dragged in by him and you decided to stay outside, knowing that if you went in you’d come out with double the dresses.

It was a nice afternoon, which is why you were completely shocked when a group of thugs cornered you, backing you up into a side alley. It was a dead end, you didn’t know what to do.

“Port Mafia garbage.” One of the thugs mumbled as he pulled out a switchblade. Your gulp was audible, and your entire body was shaking with fear.

“Your boss will be here soon, we’ll just keep you until then.” Another thug said, his arms crossed as he seemed to be enjoying the look of terror on your face.

Soon fear turned to worry, they were planning on hurting Mori... you couldn’t let it happen. “Please, I only have a little bit of money, but you can have it. Let me go.” You said, reaching into your purse. Your fingers brushed against the metal, it was the scalpel that you had saved in your purse. Mori has given it to you as a way to think of him, and at the time you were confused by the item, never finding a need for it, but he must have known something like this would happen. You silently thanked yourself that you hadn’t taken it out of your purse, until now.

You quickly pulled it out, moving too fast for any of the men to notice. You swiped it across the closest mans throat, the blood shot out onto your face. You were swift, finishing off the rest of the thugs in what felt like only a couple seconds. They all had their throats slit before they realized what was happening, they didn’t have time to run or scream. They didn’t even have time to think about what was happening before they were on the ground, choking on their own blood or bleeding out.

You stared wide eyed at the scene in front of you, dropping the scalpel to the ground by your feet. You couldn’t seem to move your eyes from the bodies that were strewn across the ground, the gurgling gasping breaths from one of the men seemed to echo in the empty alleyway.

“Oh my, someone is going to have to clean this up.” Your head whipped up at the sound of Moris voice. His eyes were glued to you, a grim smile on his face. The blood that was splattered on your face reminded him of himself when he murdered the president of the port mafia. In this moment you reminded him of himself, and he couldn’t be prouder.

“They were going to hurt you, I couldn’t let that happen.” You whispered, but Mori wasn’t listening. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug you’ve ever received from him.

“I’m so proud of you, my sweet sweet darling. You’ve done well.” He murmured into the top of your head.

He couldn’t get over the fact that you wiped out three grown men with just a scalpel, he couldn’t believe it. He knew you didn’t have an ability, but it didn’t stop him from thinking that you would make a great addition to the Black Lizards.

You weren’t as innocent as he believed, but that just made him adore you even more. You were an angel, his crazy angel.

346 notes · View notes

fucking-zawa-sensei · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Down Together

Tags: emotional hurt, pining

Pairing: erasermic

Notes:

You know everyone has been sending me prompts for adorable, fluffy, comforting contentl lately and I think you all forgot that I got my start writing red, hot, searing, painful pining fics.

So here's a little scene from something I'll probably never write.

For context: Mutual pining. Shouta is fiercely pining after Hizashi and using work as an excuse for why he isn't trying to date anyone, hiding the fact that he is heart broken on the daily by Hizashi's unrequited love. Hizashi, on the other hand, is hopelessly trying to find a relationship as real as the one he imagines he could have if Shouta ever felt the same about him.

Down Together

"Shit, Shouta," Hizashi sighs out heavily, scrubbing the palms of his hands across his face. "Sometimes I think you've got the right idea with the whole 'no time for romance thing.' It must be so much easier, avoiding all this heartache."

Hizashi lifts his head, dropping his hands down into his lap, and turns to look at Shouta with a sad smile.

In this moment, Shouta is relieved he's spent so long practicing the fine art of keeping his face impassive.

You're wrong.

"Yeah," Shouta agrees. "I guess I'm pretty lucky."

He watches the way Hizashi's eyes narrow just the tiniest bit, takes in every second they spend staring back at him, at how the bright red of the exit sign on the studio's back door soaks into each and every eyelash as the blond blinks.

Nothing about this was easy.

Hizashi laughs, but it's a bitter, exhausted sound.

"What I'd give to be you right now…" he mumbles out.

Something terrible is crawling up his throat. He's always been capable of keeping emotions at bay, stopping whatever this was from interfering.

But not now.

Shouta knows he needs to leave, needs to get out before he opens his mouth, before Hizashi expects a response.

You don't want to be me.

He's standing, abruptly, and Hizashi is staring up at him, eyes wide, from where they'd been sat together, leaning against the wall of the back alley. This isn't how this is supposed to go.

There's stained concrete beneath his feet and it's humid and his hair is sticking to the back of his neck and his throat is dry and the dumpster from the restaurant next door is making his stomach turn and he's wishing now he'd never checked his phone while on patrol.

This isn't how it was supposed to go.

I need you, Hizashi's text had said.

And because he's a fool, he'd come.

He'd dropped everything, mid-patrol. He'd been trailing this villain for months and he'd set fire to all his work.

Like so much else in his life, he's burned it all down for Hizashi.

Hizashi didn't need him.

He just needed someone.

"I have to go back to patrol," he says, his voice robotic, monotone.

Hizashi's eyes fall to the ground.

"Oh."

Everything in him says to sit back down, says this isn't over, says he can't leave Hizashi now, not like this, not while he’s hurting.

But he's holding his breath and the beads of sweat running down his back are only getting worse.

So for the first time in so long, he doesn't do what his mind begs for.

Hizashi's words almost don't reach him, as he turns, starts walking toward the entrance of the alley, back toward the street, back to air he hopes he can breathe.

"Sorry to bug you, Sho."

He makes it only a few feet past the corner before he's throwing up behind a dumpster that somehow impossibly smells worse than the first.

#erasermic #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #present mic #yamada hizashi #erasermic fanfiction

104 notes · View notes

lordseochangbin · 5 years ago

Text

seo changbin x reader— enemies to lovers, diss track au! fluff & angst

a/n: ok there were some points where i felt iffy but i LOVE this idea and omg i love this sm im 🥺

in your seventeen years of living, you never enjoyed the number of comparisons your parents made between you and the boy next door.

he was just a few years older than you were, always mocking you for still being underaged and leaving you to spit out bullshit such as “im 18!! if you count the time i spent in my mother’s womb!”

it’s like he purposely did it to rile you up, but of course you got him back everytime. changbin being the most “popular music major” at school made him very much secretive and since you two knew each other from a young age, you were his weakness. you held his secrets, his past. that’s what made you powerful in this relationship stirred up from hate and jealously.

that, and your ability to compose amazing music.

it was another day at the school’s music studio. the professor understood you and changbin had some sort of misunderstanding so it was a priority that you two never shared a room, but mistakes happen i suppose.

you sat on the black leather chair, rocking it back and forth as you found yourself lost in your thoughts. “what should i write this song about...” you thought to yourself, chewing a pen cap between your lips.

you replayed the music over and over again. it was beautifully composed and you were quite impressed with yourself, however it didn’t hit the voices nor the raps of any music majors so you decided to call it a draft.

your cursor lingered towards the “draft” button before the door could burst open, revealing a boy in his usual black tee, sweats and shoes.

“get out” you said with a stern voice, eyes focused on the screen as you could already tell who it was

“geez... okay okay. what are you working on dumbass?” he said, resting his hands on the headrest of your seat as you stared at the screen

“it’s none of your business changbin” you remarked, clicking the draft button before the track could auto-play

you quickly rushed to pause the song before changbin could grab your wrists, staring at the blank page who’s title matched the title of the track

“some shitty music this is” he smirked, slamming the pause button so hard it made you jump in your seat

“try listening to your own music” you said, shoving him to the side and hiding your lyric book

changbin grabbed the desk behind him to regain balance, hurrying over to you as he grabbed the book in your hand

“what’s this? hmm? your love songs about me?” he smirked

your pretend-gagged in your mouth, grabbing the book from his hand and slapping his arm with it.

“stop bothering me you prick!”

“stop bothering me you prick!! mehhh” he mocked, his voice in a high pitched tone as winced his eyes at you.

everyday went like this. was he destined to annoy you? destined to be the only fault in your life with no mercy. he just enjoyed the way you scrunched your nose, the way you punched his stomach, the way you kicked his shin. god, he loved making you angry and he loved seeing you struggle.

changbin dodged your book this time before you could wack him, and assuming he was done with his daily business you went back to your seat. forgetting everything that happened seconds ago before a sudden reminder could be heard tingling down your ear

“you know y/n, why can’t you just like me?” he asked, his finger teasingly caressing the side of your cheek

“every girl wants me, yet you... i just don’t get you” he continued, pointing at you to show how much “you stood out”

you rolled your eyes, not having any of it at the moment. but you had to admit it, your heart was beating out of your chest and something in you was telling you to go for it. he’s right there, just one inch away from his lips and you could-

“exactly, take a hint seo changbin. i can’t, and i won’t ever like you” you spat in his face, forcing him to seperate his hands from your heated cheeks.

“alright, alright chill” he said in a somewhat teasing voice, “but you know you want to be mine. ill make sure of it”

“me? with your cocky ass? bet”

“it’s not like i want to be with you either y/n” he said, leaning against the desk as you looked at you for any reaction. you were as still as a statue however, and this didn’t go unnoticed by changbin. in fact, he was a bit worried when he didn’t hear a response from you.

you simply blinked, your eyes drawn to the floor as his words transcript itself into your head. he never wanted to be with you, he never wanted to be with you.

“hey, y/n you good?” he said, nudging your shoulder a bit

you woke up from your sudden day dream before turning back to your computer and ignoring his presence as you always did. but changbin wasn’t finished, he pressed the play button to your recent track.

“stop it, i can’t figure out the lyrics to this yet” you said. changbin raised an eyebrow at your plain stated response before he could smirk

“ill help you out with that”

changbin waits for the beat to replay, his eyes looking directly into yours as he twirls your chair so you’re looking at nothing more than the “rap god of music school spearb”. your breath increases as you are forced to look at him in his place, where he paced back and forth thinking of lyrics before he could spit something out.

your eyes watched as changbin took over each beat, his hands moving around to fit syllables with notes and his eyes deadlocked on you to make sure you took down every word. yes, it was offensive. yes, it was beyond talented. yes, did he so fucking hot as he brushed his fingers through his hair, his eyes now on the roof as he tried to think of lyrics to continue. but what hit you the hardest was when he pointed out how cold-hearted you were in the middle of your rap.

to be clear, he said “hey y/n youre cold hearted, like elsa farted. ‘let it go’ when you’re around me,your period hasn’t started” (A/N: I AM SO SORRY SKSK I WANTED TO HAVE FUN WITH THIS LMFAOO)

these lyrics made you laugh at first, but when you realized what he meant it remained drilled in your head. as the song went on his lyrics become more and more serious, more and more meaningful. you sat back in your seat, not even paying attention to what he was saying. you just watched him. his every moment. you eyed him from top to bottom as your heart beat started to pace a little faster.

changbin poured his heart out in this moment. he wanted to let you know of these mixed feelings he was having. i mean, geez y/n, why were you always such a bitch to him? for no fucking reason? that’s why he decided to ignore his own feelings and bully you for now on. you hated him anyways. but as the song went on, he was tired of rapping about your imperfections (that he tried so hard to make up). he wanted to confess his love in words you could understand, and now that he had your attention he focused on doing just that. only until the music could stop.

“y/n... y/n? you pressed the pause button”

you turned around to find your elbow on the space bar. “oh.. oh! my bad i’m... oh what am i saying” you muttered to yourself before turning to him.

“get out!!” you said, standing up to push him out the door.

“okay, okay” changbin put both hands up in surrender

you shut the door in a hurry, your back slamming against it as you clutched onto your shirt. there was a burning pain there, it felt like your chest was collapsing upon itself. you never felt like this before. was it the fact that he was rapping about you? was it the insults? did it offend you THAT much? you rolled your eyes, your back slowly sliding down until your body met the floor as you finally met a steady heartbeat.

“it’s cause i like you, fucking idiot. and you call me cold-hearted?” you said, thinking back on his lyrics.

“we’ll see about that”

————-

a smug expression fit your mood as you walked down the halls, each step pulling you closer to lordseochangbin music school’s courtyard. changbin and his “rap” friends typically hung out around there and girls crowded them in awe of their looks.

your dark eye circles drooped down low, you spent all night in distress. did he not like you? he liked you? his words hurt your petty heart, to say the least. you wanted to come up with excuses to answer this burning feeling. what was this feeling?

it came down to feeling confused, amazed, happy, heartbroken. they all seemed jumbled up and all you could think about was throwing it into words. all night you focused on your new diss track dedicated to the one and only seo changbin. you wanted to show him you weren’t just bitching around when you said you hated him. you meant it. in all honesty you loved him, and all he did was bully you around for it.

god, to call you a bitch like that? that hit different. you pushed through the mob of girls, standing confidently before changbin as he looked up from his laptop to see you.

“y/n...” he said, unconsciously handing his laptop to jisung to give you his attention. his hands rested on his knees before he could stand up, the crowd tensing around you

“god, here goes the typical y/n and changbin stand-off. power of the two rap lyrical writers” someone said behind you.

yes it was a typical scene, you and changbin causing scenes everywhere around campus. but this one felt different. this scene felt like it would leave a rough patch.

“changbin, just wanted to return what you gave me last night” the vagueness in your words threw everyone off, including changbin’s friends

“what? a good night lyrics to complete your song?” he smirked, taking a daring step towards you.

the close proximity made you stutter a bit before you could take out your laptop from your backpack and expose a rough draft, something you found on changbin’s drive

“wait.. isn’t that my draft music?” he asked, his eyes glaring at the screen before turning back to you

“exactly, now im gonna give you a piece of your own medicine”

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

you slinged your backpack over your shoulder and you walked away from the crowd. god, that was embarrassing. it was different to say the least, the crowd cheered you on but their support didn’t matter. what mattered the most was the way changbin’s eyes glared at you the whole time. he didn’t bother to make out the words you were saying but he knew exactly what you were doing.

one thing changbin couldn’t get himself to realize was your motive? why were you literally spitting bars at his face?

he stared blankly as you left thinking not only did you attack his height, his rap style, and his skills-- you attacked his heart.

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

the next day he never came around to your studio. to ensure you weren’t sharing this time you checked the schedule for the booked room everyday but you never found his name. you knew he was around because of the gossip about him and his new single with his mates, but you never saw him on campus.

when summertime came around you were excited to come home as well, hoping to see the same boy next door but you were more than heartbroken to find out the seo family had moved out. his absence was a daily reminder of the mistake you made. you should’ve confessed way sooner.

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

a year passed before changbin could find himself backstage, his palms sweaty from the nervousness that had been piling over him these past few days. it was a small debut, but he knew every one of his fans were anticipating this.

you, on the other hand, had no idea what was going down until a group of girls jumped ahead of you in the lunch line.

“hey y/n! you didn’t hear about 3racha’s debut? i guess changbin was debuting first after all” the girl giggled. your mouth dropped at the sudden statement.

“changbin.. he’s..he’s debuting?!”

“yeah! his stage is tonight!” the other girl replied, “do you wanna join? i have an extra ticket”

you grabbed the palm of the girl’s hands, giving it a squeeze in gratitude. “wow, thank you. thank you dude”

“you welcome” the two girls smiled before you could exchange numbers.

today was the special day, huh? you thought to yourself. it was the day he always teased you about, the typical “just wait till i’m famous, then you’ll like me!” he always bragged

you laughed like an idiot just thinking about it.

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

later that day you decided to pass some time on twitter, searching changbin in the small text box in order to get any information on his debut. luckily, the tag was filled with posts and articles about 3racha. you learned a couple things from this which explained so much about the past year. his disappearance: he was transdered into a popular company called jyp, which was the same company he was debuting in. the company building was also 200 miles away, which may have explained why the seo family had moved. it seemed all too coincidental however, but only left one spot blank in your unfilled answer sheet. why did he never say goodbye? (a/n: bruh “never say goodbye” is the lyrics to the stray kids ost that changbin helped write... anyways continue)

you jumped into a taxi with the two girls, all bubbly and giggly as you chit-chatted inside the car. the girls ensured you wore an outfit that was a bit out of your comfort zone, a red-shimmery bodycon dress that hugged your waist tight. your figure shined the most in this outfit, and earned the top topic in your conversation with the girls as you talked about the usual “where and how” you got your outfit.

200 miles, it took about two hours you supposed at the steady speed the taxi-driver went in. once two hours passed you couldn’t help but to ditch the conversation, a pit in your stomach slowly building as you anticipated changbin’s presence. what if he forgot about you? you thought about the question for a bit before concluding it would be best if he did forget about you.

you entered the club, finding a table nearby the stage. as the three of you got seated you noticed a face peek out behind the curtains. if it wasn’t the look on his face, god that look on his face. you could see his shocked expression as he looked at you eye-to-eye. he never expected to see you here, in fact it was the last thing that crossed his mind but instead of making him more nervous your presence made him feel more at ease, more at home.

three performances went by in a breeze, the crowd cheering on at certain parts that impressed even you. the lyrics were fun, having you jumping in your seat as swaying back and forth to the songs. but before you knew it the solo stages came on, changbin’s was up first.

the second he got on the stage his eyes scanned the crowd before they landed on you once again. a smug smirk fitted his face as the song started, chan and jisung looking over at changbin for the message that inspired the song lyrics.

“this one’s dedicated to the girl that broke my heart. there’s more to the story of course, and now that i think about it.. i think i should probably change my words up a bit” he laughed, taking chan and jisung by surprise before they could find you in the crowd as well.

“this song... it’s to the girl i loved.. and i hated the most. thank you for being there for me, whether you wanted to or not. thank you for.. dealing with my bullshit. for being my motivation and inspiration. you mean so much more than you’ll ever know, this one’s to you”

------

three minutes later you found yourself crying in the bathroom corner. you couldn’t tell if it was tears of joy or sadness. small sniffles was all changbin heard in the tiny room before he could knock on the door

“y/n, can i come in?”

“you would still come in even if i said no” you replied in the midst of tears, trying to wipe some off with your hand

“you’re right” changbin replied as he allowed the door to open by itself. he ran to you in a heartbeat, getting you on your feet and wiping the small droplets on your cheeks

“now why is my babygirl crying right now?” he laughed, leaning down to lock eyes with you

“did you really have to address me as babygirl?! seriously, you pervert!” you slapped his chest as you continued crying “i’m only three years younger, THREE” you pointed three fingers out as he softly grabbed your wrists, pulling you closer

“ it was all i could think of in the moment, i’m sorry love”

“i mean if i was there to help you-”

“are we seriously going to argue right now” changbin interrupted, resting his forehead against yours. there it was. your heart doing that funky thing again. god your brain cells were just squirming in disgust.. this feeling of excitement, love, yuck! it was disgusting! you thought. but deep down, you really loved seo changbin. with every breath you could never take back the fact that you loved seo changbin.

“no...i just missed you so much” you mumbled, a stutter in the midst as you could feel changbin’s hot breath with the close proximity

“then will you shut up and let me kiss you now? please?” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks before you could nod in approval

“did you brush your te-”

“i said shut up” changbin said with a smile before your lips could meet with his. you immediately fell into his hands, yours wrapping around his broad shoulders as he picked you up by your waist. your thighs met the cold stone counter-top of the bathroom, changbin fitting in between your legs as you pulled him in for another kiss. changbin leaned back to meet your eyes again, “you know how long i’ve been waiting to do that?” he gasped, trying to catch his breath

“im sure you can write a song about it” you chuckled

changbin looked at the mirror behind you before turning around to find his bags on the floor. “actually....”

he leaned down to find his laptop inside. “i kinda already did?”

#i use commas way too much #changbin #seo changbin #stray kids #3racha #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin fluff #changbin fluff #seo changbin soft hours #changbin angst #seo changbin angst #bang chan #bang chan stray kids #han jisung #jisung stray kids

290 notes · View notes

the-currian · 5 years ago

Note

I don't know if you do requests, but I really loved your yandere winter troupe headcannons, they sent chills down my spine, and I was wondering if you'd be open to doing a yandere headcannons for autumn troupe?

I don’t really consider my blog a request blog, but I will accept most requests that are sent my way!! Ask, and you shall receive lol I hope you like this one, too!!

A3! Autumn Troupe Yandere Headcanons

(No Azami because I’m only playing the English version and don’t have a good grasp of his character yet)

Banri Settsu

This guy is used to getting everything he wants – definitely a possessive-protective type.

Thus, unconsciously or not, he views you as his toy – a pretty little doll thing to do with as he pleases. Refers to you as his babydoll.

Intent on keeping his tough-guy image, but still with a need to keep you, his hand grips harshly against your waist when in public, his face contorted into a menacing scowl to let everyone know you belong to him. If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, a growl will reverberate from him through your body, followed by some curses as he glares at the offender.

If the offender is particularly aggressive and refuses to be driven off, he throws back the aggression tenfold by a passionate and heated assault on your lips until the goddamn person gets the memo and leaves.

In private he’s much more openly affectionate. If you try to leave his embrace, he won’t relent, only allowing it to end on his terms, scoffing at you because did you forget who he is and what he is capable of?

Sakyo Furuichi

Probably the most dangerous of the whole troupe – if not the whole company.

Sakyo is busy with yakuza-related business but has the power and resources to watch over you. Through this, he is able to learn anything and everything he can about you.

He used this to give you gifts offhandedly, saying things like “It seemed like something you would like.” when giving you things that were exactly what you wanted. You find it intriguing at first, wondering how he always seems to know what’s exactly on your mind.

Really good at manipulation. “I know I can’t be with you that often, but I’m really trying here. Going into this relationship you told me you didn’t mind my profession. What’s changed? Are you disgusted by me now? About my lifestyle?”

Stages a kidnapping with his gang to make you become dependent on him. He takes you to a hideout secluded from your normal day-to-day life. Whenever you probe a bit too much, he brushes you off with “It’s just until the danger passes.” “It’s for your own safety.” “I don’t want to see you get hurt. I just love you so much.”

And it works. You believe him.

However, that doesn’t mean that you don’t get antsy while in seclusion, and you end up attempting some things that Sakyo would definitely not approve of. Somehow, your plans always get thwarted by one of Sakyo’s associates or Sakyo himself dropping by at inopportune times. To be honest, he finds it adorable that you think you can escape him.

Sakoda is the tattletale. He shadows you whenever Sakyo himself can’t. Doesn’t mind the Sakyo’s behavior at all; as long as the boss is happy, right? Is definitely Sakyo’s worst enabler.

Omi Fushimi

The two of you start out as friends. Gradually you spent more and more time together until you grew closer. Both of you became attached to one another but you hadn’t realized just how attached Omi would be.

He asks you to be the subject of his pictures for his photography club. His members sung their praises, but Omi didn’t care for them much as he realized he didn’t like that the other guys in the club were talking about you. When they ask him if you could be their subject he gives them a flat ‘no’, storming out of the club room.

((lol as soon I finished writing that bullet I realized it’s literally this but in a more sinister context:))

It becomes an insidious obsession for him. Having impromptu photo shoots with you, taking candids of you on dates, until one day…

When you get back home you discover pictures of you in some quite intimate situations when you were all by yourself. Sometimes, they are accompanied by notes on the back. Never let anyone else see you like this. You’re mine. You should be more careful with your windows, darling.

Does not tolerate admirers at all. Does not engage. Picks you up like a potato sack or a blushing bride, depending on his mood, to carry you away from those villains.

Treats you like a queen. Truly, madly in love with you. He sincerely just wants to love you. Showers you with love and affection.

He is incapable of blaming you for anything you say or do against him.

He’s usually calm and collected, but if you intentionally draw out his anger to the breaking point, he may just strike you (he’s not called the Mad Wolf for nothing)

After that incident he closes himself off from you for awhile, apologizing on a daily basis. Even when you reassure him that it’s alright and it wasn’t his fault - it was yours - he doesn’t accept that; it haunts him for a long time.

Taichi Nanao

At first, Taichi is content with watching you from afar – watching from the sidelines. He never felt worthy enough for you. He’s always dreamed of romance and doesn’t want to screw it up.

That all changed one day when he noticed someone was taking up too much of your time for you to be comfortable, so he decides to confront them.

You just so happened to be passing by, stopping out of curiosity when you heard your name come up. You come across what seems to be Taichi reprimanding a guy that’s been approaching you a lot lately.

‘Serves him right,’ you think, ‘The poor guy doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.’

“Stay away! They’re mine, not yours! I love them, but even I wouldn’t dare take up too much of her time like that, you creep!”

In hindsight, perhaps you should have seen this coming.

Oblivious of the future to come, you break up the fight and pull Taichi aside, confessing your feelings for him, thanking him for standing up for you.

“R-really?” Taichi beams, tears coming to his eyes. “I promise to never let you go! You’ll see, I’ll become a man worthy of you!”

When you start dating he stops stalking you in favor of bombarding you with texts and calls – he always wants to know where you are, who you’re with, when he can see you next.

This boys craves attention – he’s like a puppy, really. He desperately seeks opportunities to be physically close to you.

Manipulates you into staying with him by sabotaging your image in public, causing a scene. (Hey, if he could sabotage the Autumn troupe, what’s stopping him with you?)

“That was really low of you to use me like that just so you could get in with the Mankai company.” “W-what are you talking about? I didn’t use you!” “Why would you do that? Am I not good enough?” Taichi chuckles ruefully. “Then again, I should’ve expected this, huh? I’m never good enough. It was sill of me to think that maybe you would be different–“ “Taichi, I do care! Please, please don’t say that!” “Really? Actions speak louder than words. You’re gonna have to do better than that. Show me.”

Juza Hyodo

Ordinarily chill. He just wants to see you happy. Whatever you need, he’ll go lengths for you. …Anything.

Physically rough with outsiders. If you’re ever threatened he will become ruthlessly protective. No amount of you pleading or crying will stop him from exacting revenge on the perpetrator. And at the end of it, he’ll pull you into his arms, stroking your hair, ignorant of the fact that he’s smearing blood in it because all that matters is that you’re safe.

He won’t restrict you from going outside but he makes sure that you’re firmly at his side, having you in his grip to keep you protected but more to let everyone know that you’re his.

Boy has a terrifying aura and he definitely knows how to use it.

If you ever confront him about his behavior, he’ll simply stare at you with a piercing gaze, getting you to drop it. If you are particularly persistent he’ll tug you into his embrace, hoping to distract you.

If you still refuse, pushing him away, he will give into his anger. Although he would never physically harm you, he’s not against threatening you into submission. His tall frame looms over you and he growls your name in a commanding voice as he traps you between a wall and his threatening stature, practically crushing you against it. Still, any crying or pleading from you is met with a threatening silence, and despite your stammers of fear he continues this until he is able to calm down.

#reply #ask #a3!#a3! actor training game #a3! act! addict! actors!#yandere #yandere headcanons #autumn troupe #banri settsu #a3! banri #sakyo furuichi #omi fushimi #taichi nanao #juza hyodo

91 notes · View notes

rikumorimachisgirl · 5 years ago

Text

So, I started writing this Mystic Messenger fic last year but lost the inspiration to continue. I finally finished it today, so I hope you like it.

Oh, and I commissioned this lovely artwork from @hydeine last year, too. I said I'd tag her when I finally post the fic. I suppose today's the day. Here we go...

Title: Strawberry Pancakes

Pairing: Jumin Han x OC (Iris)

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,665

Author's notes: Some of the scenes were faithful to the game.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mystic Messenger, but I own the idea of this fanfic.

It started with pancakes. Those thick, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth fluffy stove-top cakes that both of them - apparently - were both fond of.

The first time they talked about it got him into a spot of trouble. Over an utterly dull lunch date with his father and his latest conquest, amidst the rich ambiance of the Michelin star restaurant where only the who's who in society were spotted, Jumin Han chose to indulge in a little tête-à-tête of his own at the RFA chat room with her.

Her. Iris - RFA's accidental member, unofficial party organizer, everyone’s cheerleader, and about the only other person who resonates with him. Jumin quietly as he waited for her to respond to his last message. Over the last twenty minutes, they have gone from talking about Elizabeth the 3rd’s grooming habits to his favorite breakfast food.

| ‘I like chocolate chip pancakes.’ He felt his lips stretch sideways as he read her message. It was strange, he thought, how he's been joining the chat room more often since she joined. In the two weeks that they've been chatting, he felt closer to her than he's ever been with anyone in his life.

| ‘I figured you would.’ He typed and sent.

|’Huh?’

|’You seem like the type who'd indulge in something with high sugar content early in the morning.’

|’That was a lucky guess, Jumin.’

|’But I don't believe in luck.’

|’Oh, and I suppose you think you've got me all figured out already? If you're so smart, tell me what I’m thinking at the moment.’ He smirked at her cheeky response.

| ‘Iris, I'd like to remind you that I’m a businessman, not a fortune teller. If you’d like me to infer based on our conversation though, I'd say you're thinking that I like buttermilk pancakes, to which the answer is no. I prefer strawberry pancakes.’

Silence.

| ‘Am I really that predictable?’ Her message finally came in two minutes later. He chuckled. In his mind, he imagined she probably would’ve pouted as she replied.

“You seem rather amused, son. Did something happen?”

The sound of his father's voice snapped him out of his daydream. The young executive silently cursed himself for carelessly dropping his guard. Clearing his throat, Jumin straightened up and ran a hand through his dark locks.

“My apologies, father. I had urgent business to take care of.” He tucked his phone in his pocket while wishing that Iris would understand why he hadn't gotten back to her.

“Judging by your smile, I take it that business is going well?”

It took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes at his father's new girlfriend. Glam Choi was it? And what was it that she did? Judging by how she managed to turn heads, he deduced she must be some kind of celebrity. Nothing special, he thought; after all, his father, the Chairman of the Board of C & R International, seemed to have dated them all - socialites, celebrities, models, beauty queens - some of whom were even a year or two his junior.

“Jumin? Are you all right, son?”

He silently cursed himself once more. While he was silently judging his father’s new girlfriend, he had once again dropped his guard and gave the older man the opportunity to call him out.

“My apologies.”

“That's twice you've apologized. My, what an interesting day it is indeed, ” the stately older man said curtly. “Is our company not to your liking, son? Please just bear with us for a few minutes more. After all, your assistant told me that you won't have an appointment in the next hour or so.”

Jumin took a deep breath and sighed. If he had only known his old man’s agenda was to introduce his new girlfriend, he would’ve begged off right away. God knows he’d much rather be eating pancakes with her now than having a full-course meal in this place. He shook the thought away for a moment. Now wasn't the time to dream of her. Fixing his grey eyes at his father and the young celebrity he decided to date, he feigned a smile. “Very well, father, you have my full attention until then.”

OoOoO

The second time they talked about pancakes was more of an afterthought. It happened right after their first kiss.

Their first kiss. The very thought of it still made his heart race. He remembered every little detail as if it were yesterday. He had Assistant Kang to thank for arranging everything for him. Thanks to his efficient employee’s quick thinking, he was able to meet Iris a week earlier than the rest of the RFA members, although if he had a chance to do it over, he wouldn't be as flustered as he was when he first laid eyes on her the night before.

He watched in awe as she stepped into the foyer. She was everything he’d imagined - slender and graceful, her brown hair cascaded down her back, and her dark brown eyes looked back at him with the same level of wonder.

“Jumin, i-it's so nice to finally meet you.”

He swore he’d never felt his heart beat faster than it did at that exact moment. ‘Get a grip, ’ he scolded himself, as he schooled his emotions before it got the better of him. He must not lose his footing, after all, he was Jumin Han - businessman, philanthropist, future CEO.

“You’re beautiful.” The words slipped from his mouth quite naturally, and he immediately regretted it when he saw her cheeks turn several shades redder.

“I’m sorry, ” he cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was that I hope you traveled safely. If I had known Assistant Kang was going to ask you over, I would’ve sent out my driver to pick you up.”

And then she smiled, and he knew right away that he was going to do whatever it takes to keep her.

“Who is this woman and what is she doing in your house?”

Jumin gazed at the shameless woman his father had been forcing him to marry and resisted the urge to throw her out of his penthouse himself.

“Sarah, please don't be like that. I'm Jumin's friend -”

“And what kind of friend comes a man's house alone? By the looks of it, you probably stayed the night, too!”

If Iris was the least bit upset at the insults hurled at her, she did not let it show. Unfortunately, he was far from being gracious.

“This is dragging on far longer than I expected. I'm actually quite surprised I hadn't thrown you out the door the minute you showed me that fake cat picture. My security will show you out.”

“What? No, you can't do that. I'm your fiancée,” Sarah cried out incredulously.

“Oh, please,” he said haughtily. “If you think that we'd gotten engaged just by exchanging a few words, you're clearly delusional.”

“So, you're choosing her over me?”

“I don't know why you're even asking,” the dashing Chief Director of C & R International said, as he turned his attention to the willowy brunette who stood quietly in the corner. Something about the way she looked at him urged him to come closer to her. With each step he took, the answer became clearer. He stopped in front of her and smiled. She was a good head shorter than him, and she looked adorable gazing up at him with those big brown eyes.

“It wasn't like I had another choice to start with,” Jumin finally said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Iris,” he whispered, as he lifted her chin and closed the gap between them. He could've sworn he felt a shock wave run through his body the minute his lips touched hers. Suddenly, the sound of Sarah's protests faded, and all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat - or was it hers? He really couldn't tell - but every single one of his senses zeroed-in on the beautiful woman in his arms.

Her lips were the softest he’d ever kissed - not that he’s had lots of experience - as a rule, he only kissed women because he needed to close deals with them and the kisses they shared were always cold. This, however, was different. As his mouth moved over hers, again and again, all he could think about were two things - how her kisses taste like strawberry pancakes, and that he could never get enough of her.

OoOoO

The third time they talked about pancakes was a memory guaranteed to make her blush almost immediately. He remembered vividly - Provence in July, a month after they'd gotten married. He promised to take her on an unforgettable honeymoon anywhere she wished. He thought she'd choose to go to Paris, Santorini, Milan, or even Ibiza, and he’d be happy to take her there; but instead, she chose to go to his newly-purchased winery so he could still oversee their daily operations while spending time with her and Elizabeth the 3rd.

That's so like her.

He woke up alone in bed one Sunday morning. Frustration marred his beautiful face as he ran his hand over her now-empty side of the bed, and found it still warm. She couldn't have been gone for long, he thought. And Elizabeth the 3rd, who usually enjoyed sleeping late, was not in the room as well. Still half-asleep, he forced one eye open to glance at the clock on her nightstand.

‘Six-thirty, ’ he groaned silently, as he rolled on to his back. What exactly could his wife be up to this early? Sighing, he rolled out of bed and left the room in search of the beautiful woman who disappeared from his side before he even got to kiss her good morning.

The house was quiet except for some movement coming from the kitchen. Raising an eyebrow, he quietly made his way to the large French country-style kitchen his wife loved so much and found himself entranced at the sight of the lovely brunette he now called wife, stirring something in the mixing bowl while their pet sat on the counter, looking curiously at her.

"I hope I get this right, Elizabeth the third, " she told the cat softly. "Jumin's pancakes always taste good, so I hope he'll like these."

Her innocent declaration made him gasp. She was making pancakes for him. And that realization made him pick up his feet and head over to where she was at.

"I see you both are up early."

"Jumin -, " she cried out in surprise, as she felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind. "Good morning, my love. I didn't expect you to be up so early."

"I could say the same about you, especially after we made love several times last night, " he responded, as he planted soft kisses on the side of her neck. Her cheeks turned red at the thought of their passionate night together, and he smiled, knowing how embarrassed she was. "You're blushing."

"I can't help it…, " she murmured. "And I think you've disappointed Elizabeth the third."

He watched their pristine white cat jump off the counter and saunter out of the kitchen. "I think she's just giving us some privacy. Don't worry, she'll be fine, " the dashing young businessman said as he stopped kissing her, but kept her in an embrace. "So, tell me what you're up to."

"I was going to make strawberry pancakes for you, " she started, her face still flushed. "But I'm not sure they're as good as the ones you make."

"Is that so?" He unwrapped his arms and moved closer to the counter where the mixing bowl was. "I suppose there's just one way to find out."

She watched in silence as he dipped his long and slender finger into the bowl and scooped up a tad bit of better. Carefully, he brought his finger near her lips, while watching her gently. "Say ahhh…, " he said and laughed at how dutifully his wife complied. "Well?"

"It's sweet…"

Cocking his head to one side, he smiled at her wryly. "Is that so?"

"Why don't you taste for yourself?"

His eyes twinkled with excitement, as she failed to realize how enticing her offer was. Cupping her face with his hands, he leaned forward and whispered, "I suppose I will, " before he ravished her mouth - and all of her body - over and over just like the night before.

The pancake batter was left untouched until later that day. And as she had placed ointment on the scratches she had left on his back, he feasted on the strawberry pancakes she had made just for him.

OoOoO

The fourth time they talked about pancakes was on Valentine's Day - the first of many they'll be spending together. He thought of many ways they could be celebrating this together and spent a lot of sleepless nights thinking of the perfect present for her. Never once did he think they'd be spending the day spooning her in bed, with one hand caressing her swollen belly.

Thirty-eight weeks. She had been carrying their first child for nearly nine months, and despite her growing belly and her slight weight gain, she continued to look even more beautiful.

"I really want pancakes, Jumin."

His hand stopped moving, and he raised an eyebrow at her upon hearing her request. "Darling, I asked you what you wanted for Valentine's…"

She snuggled closer to him as she felt his low voice vibrating on his chest. The gentle sound of his voice always soothed her and the baby, and she wanted to hear more of it today. "And I told you I want pancakes."

He frowned, feeling a little upset at her answer. In truth, she could have anything she wanted - jewelry, cars, all the designer items a woman could get her hands on - but all she wanted to for Valentine's was his home-cooked pancakes. "That's all you want?"

"That's all I want, " she hummed. A few seconds later, she felt the baby kick and the sensation made her giggle. "See? Even the baby wants pancakes."

"But the doctor said you should lay off sweets…" He should have known better than to speak those words because no sooner had he said them, she immediately turned to him with sad puppy eyes. He sighed. He knew at this point that he had lost to her once again - after all, he could never resist her - but he wanted to make her victory a little harder. "As I was saying, the doctor said…"

"But Jumin, I haven't had anything sweet since we found out I was pregnant, " she said, pouting. "And I'm really craving the strawberry pancakes you make."

"Will that make you happy?"

"Very much so."

Sighing again, he untangled himself from her and rolled out of bed. "All right. I suppose I can alter the recipe a little bit. You just lay there and rest, okay? I'll be back with your pancakes."

Elizabeth the third jumped from her bed and walked beside Jumin as he stepped out of the room. "How long do you think before she rolls out of bed and follows us?" He asked, glancing sideways at their precious feline as she mewled her response. "Ten minutes? That's too generous. She's been too fussy lately, but something tells me you're spot on, so we need to move fast."

And true to form, a very pregnant Mrs. Han waddled out of their room ten minutes later, enticed by the mouthwatering scent wafting from the kitchen.

"Those smell heavenly, " she said excitedly, as she made her way beside her husband and stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Thank you, Jumin, " she whispered before she waddled towards the cozy little breakfast nook she had designed for them.

He smiled, as he watched her walk away from him. She had no idea how happy she's made him, how lucky he was that she came into his life, and how thankful he was for all the many things that brought them closer together. Especially strawberry pancakes.

The end.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme jumin #jumin han #mm jumin #jumin x oc #mysme fanfic #iris writes #mm fanfic #mm jumin x oc #mysme jumin x oc

99 notes · View notes

smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Loser Like Me - Intern!Nolan Sorrento x Reader (Ready Player One)

GIF Credit: X @crawlingmist @mandy23b @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #MendoTagSquad

Babe you’re platinum all the way

Author’s Note: Before we even begin - Mini Series for sure! Also I’ve never seen anyone do this before me, so here we are!

I know by now if you’ve been following this blog for any length of time you know how much I love this man. With my heart and soul. However - there’s a particular scene in the movie I just... really don’t like. It’s the Intern scene. I won’t go into a whole lot of detail, but it hits me deep on a personal level, and I hate that it’s played for laughs. I thought it needed some ‘rectifying’! And came up with this little series. 😊 I really hope you enjoy taking this journey with Nolan, as much as you have my others!

Disclaimer: RPO characters/storyline not mine / whilst following what they did with him in the movie, some of this will be influenced by Lacero (because of course it will!)

I wanted to write a quick note about his age! I headcanon every Mendo that does not have a canon age as the same age Ben was when the movie was shot. So... For RPO that’s about 46/47. Making Nolan 47 in 2045. The intern scene takes place in 2025. Making Nolan, as stated in the fic, 27.

Premise: Nolan Sorrento has a head full of dreams that he’s sure will be actioned by the OASIS creators any day now. But fetching coffee is all anyone at Gregarious Games thinks Nolan is good at. Lucky for him, you see things a little differently...

Words: 6397

Warnings: In general - people being douches to Interns. / swearing

_____

Yeah, you may think that I'm a zero But hey, everyone you wanna be Probably started off like me You may say that I'm a freak show But hey, give it just a little time I bet you're gonna change your mind

All of the dirt you've been throwin' my way It ain't so hard to take, that's right 'Cause I know one day you'll be screaming my name And I'll just look away, that's right

Push me up against the locker And hey, all I do is shake it off I'll get you back when I'm your boss I'm not thinkin' 'bout you haters 'Cause, hey, I could be a superstar I'll see you when you wash my car

Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth So everyone can hear Hit me with the worst you've got and knock me down Baby, I don't care Keep it up and soon enough you'll figure out You wanna be, You wanna be A loser like me

---

The alarm went off at 6:40am. As it did every day – but Nolan Sorrento was already half way ready, and had to skid out of the bathroom to snap it off, before any of his neighbours complained again. Sometimes he just couldn’t sleep – and he felt it probably wiser to just get up and get on. Sorrento’s head was full of ideas, ideas that he knew would help him make it big someday. Hopefully right here where he worked, at Gregarious Games… once he got a job that wasn’t an internship, that was. And - when he wasn’t fetching coffee, or running papers, or trying to book meeting rooms and call other people that worked around the company as requested by those higher up - Nolan would sit with his notebook and plot out what his future would look like, and the tech he would use to get there, whether it be available right now, just within reach, or something that one day he’d be at the forefront of making. He dreamed, because right now that was all he could do. Nolan had a job and that was enough to be thankful for, he had his life… which was more than could be said for some people. Sweeping back into the bathroom he studied himself in the mirror for a moment with a small sigh. He liked to give himself a daily pep-talk, because there wasn’t anyone else that was going to do that for him either. ‘Okay, Nolan, you got this. For real this time – they’ll ask you to fetch coffee and then you can walk in and be like… Guys! Your OASIS project – what about if you did this-!? How can they not love it? Maybe they’ll bump you to tech? Maybe they’ll make you a partner!’ It hadn’t worked out for him so far, but he could dream – maybe today was the day! He gave himself a firm nod, running his hand through his thick dark blonde hair to neaten it (at least the highlights were going to look good once he got into proper lighting!) and then dashed from the bathroom again; throwing a suit jacket on – that didn’t match his outfit but was good enough – he looped his pass around his neck, grabbed his keys and his satchel before heading out of the door. No time for breakfast, he’d think about that later! First things first; getting into the office. It was still nerve wreaking for him to walk up to that office with coffee; it used to give him shakes just thinking about maybe getting the coffee order wrong, but now he knew he had that down. Nolan knew that Gregarious Games was on the verge of something not just great, but phenomenal. People all around the company treated it’s two founders like Gods, and Nolan knew exactly why – he was doing the same. They were creating the seemingly impossible; giving people an escape from the hell that everyone was living. The longer he was here, the more Nolan gained confidence – Morrow at least knew his name now, and he was also privy to the fact that not everyone got to interact with these two as much as he did. It came to the point where he actually liked being asked to fetch coffee for them, because he’d get to try out a new idea. “-What about this-?” “Maybe later, Nolan, thanks for the coffee…” “But I really think the OASIS could just use-” “Thanks, Nolan. Really, but it’s a busy time.” “Well maybe-” “Nolan…” Then he had to walk from the room with a deep breath and try not to get so disheartened. No matter, there would always be tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that… on into infinity. But Sorrento smiled gently, one day he’d come up with something that would be so mind-blowing they would have to listen to him! And he was getting close, he was sure of it. With that thought, he jogged back down the stairs, confidence sky high. “Oh-! Nolan-!” He turned to the voice calling him, “Yes?” “Could you come help me with something… I’m not exactly sure what I’ve done wrong on this presentation… I just can’t fix it…” “Sure-!” “OH. And, whilst you’re at it, would you mind picking up my printing? Thanks, Nolan!” He blinked several times watching them walk away passed the printer, and then sighed again – well, he still had a ways to go yet…

Nolan was aware that there were people in this company who didn’t like him, that thought he was strange. The pop culture he consumed was obscure at best, or... not obscure enough at worst. Nolan liked the modern stuff, the early millennium. The remnants of Y2K... where everyone lost their heads thinking computers and clocks would all stop working. Apparently, that wasn’t highly valued, and everyone thought that the 80s was where it was at. Nolan wasn’t sure of that himself, and thought maybe most of them were just posturing because that was the era that Halliday and Morrow were obsessed with. It made sense; they’d grown up in that time. Nolan was just far more nostalgic for things he’d grown up with - than a time he didn’t even really know.

Other people he figured didn’t like him for other reasons, but he’d never quite got the opportunity to find out what those were. Only that it felt a lot like being shoved up against a high school locker again. And he was 27. There were a couple in particular that liked to get physical; only this time they decided to do it when he was carrying two full cups of coffee. “Whoops-” “Shit! Sorry-!” As if he sounded anywhere near it. “It’s okay though right, that’s your job, you can just make more.” If he wasn’t already on a time limit, “And clear that up whilst you’re at it.” “What do you get a full employee badge for making coffee anyway?” “Oh no-! You read that wrong mate, it’s just an intern one.” “Ah-! Not permanent then? Coffee can’t be that good-!” “Less permanent now-!!!” Nolan bit his lips together, because he knew what would happen if he retaliated, these two were full time employees that (probably) had way more important jobs than he did. He knew which one of them was more likely to be walked out of the door after a confrontation, and he needed this.

“Do you two assholes want to leave him the fuck alone-!?” They all turned, to an impatient looking woman standing with her arms crossed. And this would be a moment that, although he didn’t know it yet, would go down in history in Nolan Sorrento’s life. For this was the moment he met you. You could not have been glaring at them both harder - and felt that for the man stuck in the middle, it was pretty fortunate that you walked by. “Y-Y/N-!” “Don’t give me that, why don’t you go bother someone else-!?” “But he-!” “Is trying to get coffee from point A to point B, I didn’t realise Gregarious games hired children these days that would be such a hindrance. Why don’t you get back to your desks and do your jobs-!?” They didn’t dare argue with you – skulking off, although muttering profusely. And Nolan was nearly speechless, but also realised there was coffee all over the floor: “Ah-! Ahhh-! Shoot-!” “No, no, no...!!” You moved towards him, hands gently pushing him back to standing; “I got this, you go make them again...!” “No, no, I can’t leave you to-” “Nolan, it’s okay... I got this...” He stopped suddenly; now he would know if he’d seen you before. He would. Nolan was good with things like that. He opened his mouth, but you ushered him back towards the kitchen; “I’ll help in a moment, just let me do this!”

Sorrento didn’t know what else to do but wait for you in the kitchen, by now he probably could have gone outside and got a coffee order, but in you walked, throwing away whatever you’d used to tidy up the spillage. “Good thing I like the smell of coffee...” You wiped your hands and turned to him, with a gentle smile; “Sorry about those guys. They’re self-entitled assholes who shouldn’t have the jobs that they do. Alas, I am not a hiring manager... are you alright?” “Oh, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” You nodded, “I can see that.” “F-forgive me, Y/N...” that is what they’d called you, “but...” “Oh; I’ve heard all about you - Nolan Sorrento. And your ideas!” He looked away for a moment, aware that he was blushing, “But also that you make one hell of a cup of coffee...” that just made him blush harder. “You also do a little bit of work in my department, so I’ve seen you around. I could use a mind like yours, y’know? Maybe I’ll have to get you in for experience...” You nodded to the half-made coffee; “I’ll help, if you teach me how the boys upstairs like it.” “Oh... y-yeah sure...” Nolan moved aside as you crossed the kitchen, “What’s your department?” “Technology. So, they do all the ideas and spec and testing, and my team codes it. We also run all diagnostics on errors, though the less we see of those the better!” “Your team-!?” “I like manage like 2 people, it’s nothing.” But Nolan was staring at you like all his wildest dreams had come true. “...Wow. That’s... that’s incredible-!” “If I could get the right people in my team, it’d be more so...” You eyed him curiously, “And somehow you’re only an intern?” “I’ll take what I can get.” You giggled “Until one of the big plans comes off?” “Yeah I guess...” That faint shade of pink was back “I admire that.” “What?” “The confidence to tell Halliday and Morrow your thoughts. The imagination it takes to have ideas like that. It’s cutting edge stuff, Nolan. I couldn’t do that - I am more... the girl who executes the idea. And turns your dream into a virtual reality... but I don’t have such a knack for original content.” You gave him another sweet smile that had him turning quickly back to the coffee; “Now why don’t you teach me how to do this - and I’ll explain why it’s a little late.” “Y-yeah... lets... do that!” ***

Overall Nolan was pretty harmless, he kept himself to himself and did every task that was asked of him. You made a point of finding him to say hello, and chat to him for a few minutes every time you passed his desk. And you noticed that when you approached him he always looked quiet and subdued, but by the time you moved on he was joyful and animated and it always hurt you to have to move on. Still the smile on his face didn’t fade after that. He was full of endless enthusiasm, and more importantly than that – something you felt Gregarious aught to be paying attention to – he was hungry, if work didn’t come to him he’d seek it out, Nolan certainly wasn’t afraid of doing that. Every so often he’d be walking by with someone and you’d catch a snippet of another great idea that filled his head – but more often than not was met with “That’s great, Nolan, but…” You were amazed to see this didn’t deter him; sure he’d look disappointed, but he didn’t give up. Sorrento’s attitude and personality intrigued you, and one afternoon when he was leaving for another coffee run, you made a point of walking with him. That soon became habit, as did joining him for lunch. It didn’t win you a lot of friends, and more often than not you’d be asked ‘What the hell are you thinking!?’ ‘Yeah, Y/N! You actually have talent!’ ‘Nolan Sorrento is never gonna amount to anything. He’s pushing 30 and all he does is make coffee.’ You didn’t understand why, or how, anyone in this office could pick on him. And why everyone just let them get away with it. Your defence of him was ruthless. “He’s a fucking INTERN, not a coffee boy – oh my god! It’s about time someone actually taught him something about the business. Nolan’s got a head full of ideas and if no one else is gonna utilize him, I fucking will – because it only takes one job ad or someone to recognise what he has and he’ll be off to IOI!” “They can have him.” “You know what, screw all of you! When Nolan’s running this place and you’re all begging for jobs, I hope to God he remembers what you did to him.”

Nolan was wasted here. But you didn’t want him to be wasted here; he was at times a little too unconventional for your game makers, given his little corner of pop culture (not that he’d opened up to you a lot about that, but occasionally you got a glimpse of it by what he referenced and laughed at), or a little too ‘business’ for your co-founders - monetization was practically a curse word… Yet Nolan had a mix of talent that barely anyone else in this company did, and no one was giving him a chance to use it. Worse still to you – an Intern, who should be learning everything the business has to offer and be given every opportunity to get stuck into it, was doing not a lot more than fetching and filing paperwork. And sure, you were younger than him, but you wanted to take this into your own hands.

“Hey!” A smile was already present on his face before he looked up; “Hey!” “You busy today?” You folded your arms on top of his desk divider; Nolan looked a little shifty; suspicious of you for a minute. “I mean, I got plenty to be getting on with…” You gave a disappointed sigh; “Aw, see I really needed your help with something.” “…Really!?” He wasn’t about to hide that shock – Nolan hadn’t done anything directly tech related for your department before, and that was your exact remit. “Yeah, but if you-” “No, no!” He stood, “I’d love to help, that’s what I’m here for, right?” You couldn’t help yourself, and giggled, “Did you just become un-busy?” “…Yeah. Yes, I think so.” Nolan placed his hands in his pockets with a grin, and waited for you to tell him what to do; “Awesome, let me show you around tech central!” You beckoned him to walk with you, “And for the record, no, I was pretty sure intern meant you were also here to learn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t teach you something. How’s your coding?” “Not a strong suit.” “What did you study?” “Uh… Business and economics… just touching on computing as a minor… why?” You turned back to him very nearly shocked; “At College!?” “Uhm. Yes?” He’s a College grad and we have him paper pushing, my God, no one is ever hearing the end of this! But you just nodded, “What’s the dream Nolan?” He became bashful, looking away from your face for a moment, as if he didn’t dream – or as if every dream he’d been working for was suddenly stupid; “Uh. I…” “C’mon, everyone has one…” You touched his arm delicately, “Hand on heart, ten years from now, when you’re close to 40, where do you wanna be?” Sorrento looked a little affronted by your close to 40 remark but held his tongue; “Uh. I guess, I’d like to be in charge of a company like this one.” “Good man, right answer.” You swept him into another room – a neat row of 5 desks on one side, and one on the other – no barriers between you – the single desk was covered with paperwork; in the centre a flashing image, highlighting what various coding pieces were about to address in game. You indicated for him to sit at a desk in the row of five, and joined him. “And you?” “None of my dreams are really to do with work…” You shook your head, “I mean, sure I’d like a couple of promotions but I’m kinda okay where I am – as long as I still love what I’m doing. I’d just like to help people, you know? And the OASIS might help people… So,” you breathed, “I’d like to make people happy, and I don’t know how measurable that is, but I think I’d feel pretty good in ten years’ time if I managed that!” Nolan watched you for a second, and your gentle smile, and wondered if you’d even realised that for him at least you’d already completed that goal. Maybe he’d keep that back, for now – but he knew that in ten years’ time he wanted to look back on this moment with you and say “I was your first! You might not know, but it was me!” *** You set him a series of tasks and challenges and, as you did so, explained his way through them, who they were for and the effect that doing them would have on the business or the OASIS itself. Your team kept to themselves but you’d let them do that for now, the group was a little insular and he was an outsider right now, they’d warm to him; you worked with nice guys – not like the assholes who behaved like grade schoolers. Every so often, performing your own tasks, you would ping Nolan a calendar invite. “…What’s that?” He would ask you, and you would tell him “Oh! That’s a meeting with the Head of Marketing… Finance… Engineering… PR and Communications… HR…”, the list was endless – but if you had to create an intern program for him for yourself, you damn well would. You were a little more social and a little more pushy, so you knew you could get him working in all the teams and on projects that actually meant something – starting with your own, then he’d have something to show for it. All he needed was a little boost and a shot to his confidence and Nolan would be away; it was already obvious that he believed in his ideas enough – now you wanted to give him the knowledge to back it all up, and finally let him use what he already knew.

By the end of the first day Nolan was a little worried that he hadn’t finished all the tasks you had set, and as your team packed up and left for the night, he looked nervous. “Nolan, you okay?” “…I mean I… I still have a few things to do- I-I’ll finish them, I guess I might just be a little late.” You sighed; “Nolan, you’re an intern, honey – you don’t get paid overtime, just finish them tomorrow – It’s fine.” “…T…Tomorrow.” He swivelled his chair to you but didn’t dare look hopeful, “You want me back?” “Yes, of course I want you back, I told you I need you right now! With all that’s going on so close to launch we’re getting stretched pretty thin, and what better place for you to get stuck in than the midst of all this! I mean you’re getting coffee for ‘em, might as well get your line of code in the finished product too, right?” You stood, slipping your jacket on, “That desk is empty, by the way. I don’t really like the idea of you sitting alone out there…” Blush dusted his cheeks again, “You sure they won’t mind?” You scoffed; “Nolan, by the end of the first week they won’t even notice you didn’t sit there before today! Now come on! Go home!” You were right of course, and by day three your team of two were saying good morning to him, and asking how his evening had been. It took Nolan a little while to answer, because he just wasn’t used to it. By the end of the first week it was ’We’re just heading out for coffee, would either of you like anything-!?’ which you liked, because yes, someone should be asking him which coffee he wanted instead of him fetching it. And by the end of week two you were all sitting together at lunch, and when everyone took a five-minute break, Nolan got to participate in office banter and shit talking. “Guys! May I remind you that our office doesn’t have a door-!” “Oh come on, Y/N! You out of all of us are the one most likely to go off on these idiots!” Nolan turned to you, “You do have a tendency to come back from meetings, throw your notebook down and proceed to tell us how much you hate everyone.” “OHHH!!” The other two started howling with laugher, “OH! He’s got ya, Y/N!” “First off I hate all of you! Second, I also hate that you’re all right-!” But you liked this, and you already knew it was doing wonders for him. Sure, from time to time people would swing by and ask if they could take him off you for a second, and he did still do the infamous coffee run; but you let him go at his own discretion. What you were happy to see, was that his old desk started clearing, and Nolan’s files and notes, and everything he’d had on it managed to find its way into your little side room. That’s when coffee started appearing on your desk every morning. Nolan was always in before you, and had clearly expertly memorised your coffee order. At first you thought it was a simple and sweet one off, but it kept happening. Upon telling him he really didn’t have to do it for you, Nolan would smile and say; “Oh! It’s really the least I can do. After all, look at all you’ve already done for me…” Still, you became grateful to see the cups, and as you sat contentedly with them before you started the day you always noticed him beaming out of the corner of your eye; you only liked to pretend you didn’t. About three weeks into Nolan’s stint with you, the project you had him working on was nearing completion, and your intern was fretting about if you’d have him move. “Nolan, you don’t need to panic – you can still sit with us, there’ll still be plenty for you to do here. Besides like I say, once we finish this everyone is going to want to work with you anyway – and seen as you’ve had most of the introductions, there will be things from them to work on – so you can get your holistic business overview!” He’d been through most of the meetings that you’d set up – and as you suspected, some of them weren’t even aware there was an intern to give any work to, leaving the program entirely in your hands. Your boss didn’t seem to mind too much, and it wasn’t interfering with what you were doing otherwise. Eventually you just let Nolan get on with the meetings himself, and given his background all you seemed to gain from it was positive feedback. ‘He’s great!’ ‘I know. But tell him that!’ You thought he was ready for his big break; and breaks didn’t come much bigger than this one; “Hey, Nolan, you’re on first name basis’ with Halliday and Morrow right?” He raised an eyebrow curiously, “Yeah, I guess.” “I got a feeling you know this project pretty damn well by now.” The two in the corner turned to give positive affirmation to this statement. “Uh huh?” He tipped his head, intrigued as to where this might be going – although the looks on their faces told you they already knew; “How’d you like to help me present it to them next week?” ***

If this was the chance that he had been waiting for, then it was huge. Nolan didn’t show it, not on his face, nor in his stance. He was two steps ahead of you on the presentation but he always asked if what he’d done was okay, and everything you told him to add or take out he considered very carefully. “You didn’t have to do this all yourself, you know.” “I just wanted to take pressure off the team. I dunno, if one person works on it, I guess it also looks a little more polished.” You let him have that, and what he created in the end was one of the best presentations you’d ever seen. Using space effectively, but also very minimalist. “Slides don’t matter so long as you explain them, that’s the backing. You’re the draw.” “Someone paid attention in class-!” He beamed at your recognition, “Yeah. I did.” So it was no surprise to you that he presented well. Except Nolan didn’t just present well, he presented to Halliday and Morrow like a professional – and at every moment you got, you allowed yourself to simply be in awe of him. Where was this man when everyone else was being a total jerk? The different between Nolan now commanding the room, and the soft-spoken intern who liked to float his ideas around desperately when given even the smallest margin of opportunity was staggering – they were poles apart and even his smile was confident. If this was a technique Sorrento had perfected, he was damn good at it – but part of you wanted to steal a little of that confidence and inject it into his personality. The presentation ended, and you both took questions; the more technical they became the further you were in your element, and you got to close out by yourself. It would have all been perfect, had someone not thrown in a comment about Nolan finally talking about someone elses ideas. You decided to let it go just this once, because you probably couldn’t have been prouder of him. Nolan had done much the same to you as you had been doing to him when it was your turn to do the talking – and with all your focus elsewhere he couldn’t help but stare at you. He could do it for an elongated period of time when he was standing here; with the type of smile on his face that he assumed you only saw in really sappy old movies. At first he thought it was just nerves, you were kind and sweet and friendly and for the first time since Nolan had started he felt really included in Gregarious. That was before you dragged him into your team, and he knew that from this project alone – and the way you continually alluded to his work even through this presentation – that you were getting him all the exposure he would need. But it wasn’t just a nervous disposition, it wasn’t just because you saw him and what he was capable of, but you made him smile. Really smile. And that smile was on his face from the minute he set about getting ready for work, to late at night as he was falling into bed. Even just looking at you now Nolan consciously realised how much he did think about you – how much more you made him enjoy work. You’d done so much for him and he realised he wasn’t even sure the right way to go about thanking you. Still, Nolan wasn’t so sure he just wanted to thank you. Would you even be interested in being anything more than friends with him? – that just came with the risk of losing you completely. And for a second that hurt, because Nolan couldn’t. He couldn’t risk it. Not even when he felt this strongly; saying anything jeopardised his happiness. Right now, he couldn’t afford that. Even if you said ‘just friends’ - surely things could never be the same… It made his question answering a little distracted, but then, even you seemed a little unfocused until you got into your stride; then his smile came back, and Nolan got to watch you do what you did best. *** You left the room and immediately punched the air “YES! YES! NOLAN! YOU DID IT!!!” You shook his arm, “Oh my god-! You were so good!” You were elated; not only had he been particularly commended on his effort, but several people in the room had already asked if he could help them in their areas. Nolan accepted them all, of course, because he knew as well as you did that once he had all the tools and proved himself, those ideas in his head were one step closer to being a reality. And then maybe Halliday and Morrow would finally put them to use in the OASIS. One step at a time Nolan – he breathed – you made it this far but you have a little while to go. Your dreams have to wait a little longer, but… she gets it, finally someone gets it! Nolan laughed nervously, “Yeah it… it was pretty great-! It felt good, for sure. And you were impeccable, I need to brush up on my technicalities.” “You’ll get there. But you-! Where did that come from? How do you even present like that!? You gotta teach me, I’m not a natural presenter at all.” Nolan wasn’t one for letting you compliment him without continuously fielding them back. You both had to compromise and take credit here-! “WHAT-!? No, no, you present really well… I just… I dunno I guess I kinda find standing up there and throwing a project out to a waiting world kinda… easy.” You couldn’t help but agree with him, thinking on it for a moment, maybe that’s why he was known so much for ideas around here. For the way Nolan would always pitch them; even though his personality would make him out to be a quiet wallflower who did as he was told. Your team were waiting for you when you got back, and seeing you both joking together made them look at one another with knowing smiles. They wondered if you even realised it yourselves yet. You’d been oblivious before, they’d seen it – but Nolan was positively swooning. Yet, you were giving off vibes like you were interested. They’d grabbed a spare packet of confetti from the last time one of the team had a birthday, and as you both entered the room laughing they were staring you down. “I feel like we don’t need to ask, but how did the presentation go-!?” “Well, really… REALLY well!” Nolan flashed a grin, causing them to give each other the same knowing look before laughing themselves and throwing confetti everywhere. “Congratulations-! We knew it!!” For a minute he looked at a loss and you were laughing, quickly explaining the significance of throwing confetti whenever anyone did a good job – although you also had black confetti tucked somewhere for a slightly more ironic version of the celebration. It just made things in the team a little more fun. “OH.” He said, as if he immediately understood and ‘of course how could it be anything else? Teams always do this!’ - but Nolan did smile. “I guess it’s back to it now, right?” “OH NO!” Sorrento also noted your team had their coats on, “You don’t think you’re getting away with just confetti – do ya Nolan-!? It’s celebration time-! We’re going to the BAR!” “Oh?” He wanted to say the bar wasn’t really him, that he was a one drink and go kinda guy, and that really he ought to be saving any money he made and not drinking it… But you were pulling your jacket on too and that made him torn. Again they turned to each other, and they almost wanted to lock the both of you in here until you figured it out yourselves, so they did the next best thing. “Well, you two come when you’re ready.” “Guys, it’s gonna take us like five seconds…” You scanned your emails quickly, but as nothing was urgent opted to sign off. “No, no! Take your time!” “Besides, you know how crowded it gets down at Campari’s, Y/N, we’ll get a table!” “First rounds on me!” You shook your head after them, and turned back to Nolan, tentatively pulling on his coat. “You know, you don’t have to come.” “No- I- It’s for us right, I feel like I should.” “Nolan, it’s alright, really – I’m not the greatest drinker, I’ll have one and head home. Okay, maybe I’ll get a round, it’s my team but… honestly, if bars aren’t your scene.” Nolan shook his head vigorously, blonde hair flying for a moment, meaning he had to scrape it back off his face, slight blush maintained; “No. I want to come. Maybe we can leave together and just have one, right?” “That’s good with me.” You smiled, “But trust me, you do not have to stay.” By the time you got outside they were long gone, and you debated for a moment calling a taxi, before you decided it was better to just walk it and use the exercise. “Man-! I forgot something-!” Nolan turned to you as you suddenly stood stock still on the pavement, “Do you wanna go back?” “No.” You shook your head turning to him, “I forgot to tell you something.” His face immediately turned puzzled, and he straightened before leaning slightly away from you; “What?” You took a deep breath, before beaming, “How proud I am of you. And what you’ve achieved. That I’m just… lucky to have a friend like you… really lucky. We’re pretty like-minded, but different enough for it to work. And I really like being with you Nolan, it makes me happy. I’m probably the happiest I’ve been in a long time and… relaxed and… wow… oh my god…” Your smile faded slowly and your eyes widened, you weren’t looking at his face, or in fact anything at all and you could forget about talking. All you’d succeeded in doing was confusing him; his heart did nothing but sink at the word friend, and for a minute Nolan decided he would have to accept defeat… But suddenly you were talking like him – like the way he felt about you – and it was pouring, until you stopped. Why had you stopped when there was so much more to say? Or Nolan hoped there was – but then did he dare even hope-!? He didn’t hold his breath. You pulled your eyes back to him, and suddenly everything made sense. EVERYTHING made sense, and maybe you were trying to repress it, or you didn’t want to see what you thought you saw. Perhaps you just thought it’d be inappropriate considering, and you didn’t want people thinking you were helping him because of your feelings – but because Nolan Sorrento was worth helping. Now you were standing on a street in the middle of Columbus, Ohio, staring at each other and one thing was clear to you; Nolan projected his feelings. But Nolan wasn’t acting on them. No matter.

You stepped forward, minimal gap though there was between you - because of the way you walked together, shoulders almost always brushing - closing instantly as you pulled him into you. Pushing up on your toes your lips touched his. Nolan froze – he wasn’t even sure of the way he should react. Well – in his head he knew plenty, hold you, pull you closer, kiss you back at the very least!, but his brain would not compute the actions to the rest of his body; he was shocked. Because this was really happening. Nolan could count the number of girlfriends he’d had on one hand, one finger even and it’d never been serious. He also didn’t need both hands to count the number of kisses he’d received – and if he was honest, how many of those were real? How many of them were dares the other party never really wanted to be involved with in the first place? Sorrento didn’t want to dwell on that, and closed his eyes, but if he didn’t do something you would let him go and all too soon. That thought compelled him to wind his arms around you. His kiss back was tentative, as he made sure that was okay to do, but you didn’t pull away from him – encouraged Nolan held you a little tighter. His stomach was full of butterflies and when he thought on it later, all his dreaming didn’t even come close to this feeling – more nervous and more confident than he’d ever been in his entire life. Part of him wanted to go back to his apartment, slam the door and scream in joy (perhaps not, though, that’d only have the neighbours threatening him again) – maybe he could just do that in his head. But right now, Nolan was holding you, and that was all that really mattered. You let each other go gently, both a little breathless, both a little blushy, and both with no idea what to say next. “N… Nolan?” “Yeah?” “I…” “I know…” but his voice pitched, “Me too.” You giggled, finally stealing a look back to his face; “But I meant it.” He nodded, blush rising, “I-I know that too. You said… everything I’ve… wanted to say.” You nodded along, and both of you laughed as conversation became silence once more. Nolan took a deep breath; “Let’s… uh… they, they’re probably waiting for us.” “Yeah. Yeah, good shout!” But as you continued to walk, this time Nolan held his hand out for yours, and felt elated as you took it, entwining your fingers with his. He knew he would have to take this one step at a time – but his confidence was suddenly sky high, and Nolan felt about ready to take on the world. You watched him walk for a moment, how he even seemed to hold himself better – strides giving him the look of a man on a mission. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched Nolan Sorrento literally change in front of your eyes. You’d been in relationships before, and although that wasn’t what this was yet, you knew that you were in for a wild ride no matter where it headed. But one thing was for sure, you were going to give him the adorably sweet picture-perfect romance that he deserved.

--- Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed! 😊💜

#Nolan Sorrento #Ben Mendelsohn #Ready Player One #Nolan Sorrento x Reader #There will never be enough Nolan Sorrento on my blog #AMANDA - I can't unsee Cody Ko and this feels like cursed information!!#Special Shoutout to Amanda and Joss for the hair discussion!#150!!!#linzi writes #smol bean drabbles #Thank you Amanda for beta reading parts of this... All the way back in March!#Actually theres a lot of wisps of your ideas from our conversations in here...#It... it gets ropey in places but it's got a strong beginning and strong points SO...#Hopefully you enjoy the baby intern-!!#She's a little Lorena but it also feels like Lorena with the personalities flipped

38 notes · View notes