#everyone please applaud my self-restraint
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Okay Alex Rider Nation. I need feedback. I said in a previous post that I've been working out what show!MI6 knows about Yassen Gregorovich and I've put together a little (extremely not little) Smithers presentation to ultimately be delivered in my snakehead treatment.
This is the first draft and I'm looking for fridge logic critique. Do Smithers and Jones' conclusions make sense with what they know? Did I miss any Yassen data (from the show) that they should've known about/that Smithers should've included.
Note: For Yassen's backstory I did take some key info from Snakehead and Russian Roulette and put them back together with consideration for how they'd fit into what the show has definitively laid out as self-contained facts. Internal consistency is more important to me than fidelity to the books (but I do love easter eggs).
With the casting of Yaseen Aroussi as young Yassen I decided to lean into making Yassen mixed-heritage. I also decided to address the fact that Gregorovich isn't a proper Russian surname by making it his middle name (and naming his father Grigory). I borrowed the surname I gave him from his childhood best friend in RR.
SMITHERS: Yassen Gregorovich. (pause for dramatic effect) Born Yaseen Grigoryevich Tretyakov in Moscow to Grigory and Hawa Tretyakov. Raised in Western Russia near Kursk--A place called Estrov--until it was destroyed in a fire that started in a nearby chemical plant. His father was killed in the initial explosion. His mother was exposed to hazardous chemicals and died of related complications in an evacuation center several months later. He was fourteen. JONES: I'm aware of all of this. He got onto our radar originally when he turned up in John Rider’s reports from one of Scorpia’s training facilities. SMITHERS: But before that he traveled almost a thousand kilometers to Moscow on his own, with no food or money. He spent the next three or four years in Moscow, living on the street and running errands for the local Mafiya. We still don’t know how he managed to find his way to Scorpia. JONES: Smithers. How long, exactly, have you been working on this? SMITHERS: Since Blunt lied to Alex about Gregorovich’s whereabouts. JONES: Two years. And why are you showing it to us now? SMITHERS: The man successfully faked his own death, then spent fifteen years doing whatever he pleased. And the reason we know he’s alive now is because he stopped to have a chat with Alex Rider. And despite that we still don’t know where in the world he currently is. CRAWLEY: Did Alex seem especially interested the other day when you mentioned him? SMITHERS: You noticed that as well, did you? Now, may I continue? JONES: (resigned) Go on.
(the timeline I decided on for Ian here is based on his having served in the parachute force for 12 years as stated in s1e1. If that's accurate, and he was 42 when he died, he wouldn't have been able to enter Special Operations until Alex was 4 or 5.
It's possible that the friend in Moscow wasn't Yassen at all, but:
I cannot be convinced that someone as upright and British as Ian Rider would speak this informally to someone he's never met before.
Unfortunately, Smithers couldn't possibly know about 'Yas', so I'm letting him make baseless conjecture about the friend in Moscow.)
SMITHERS: Going thru Ian Rider and Martin Wilby’s various and assorted records and communiques with a fine tooth comb, I found a few references here and there to a ‘friend in Moscow’ going back as far as 2010, which was not long after Ian received clearance to look at the Scorpia files. This may have been a coincidence but Ian was the only one of us who believed that Scorpia wasn’t gone and this could explain why. JONES: You’re suggesting that Ian knew Yassen was still alive all this time? SMITHERS: It’s possible. JONES: And that’s what got him killed. SMITHERS: Yes, that and Martin Wilby’s avarice. If my hypothesis is correct, it seems that Ian and Gregorovich had maintained a professional understanding for over a decade by that time. Then, only when Ian was on the cusp of finding proof that Scorpia was still active, Wilby was in place to prevent that from happening. JONES: And it would have been successful if not for Alex. SMITHERS: There was also the shooter that killed Alex’s clone outside of the school. Most likely also Gregorovich himself. And then Alex came to us again, desperately trying to convince us that he’d seen Gregorovich in Cornwall. And after he executed Simon Mariat and the five people in the hackerspace we lost track of him again, until– JONES: He shot Damian Cray and saved Alex’s life on board Air Force One.
SMITHERS: While wounded, I might add. We found quite a lot of Gregorovich’s blood just inside the cockpit. Ballistics confirmed that the shots that killed Cray were fired from that location, most likely in a supine position. Alex was confident in his characterization of Gregorovich’s motive. And in light of subsequent events, it seems very likely that Gregorovich did speak to him. Alex simply didn’t feel comfortable sharing the substance of that conversation with us. JONES: You believe Gregorovich sent Alex to Scorpia. That’s what you’re getting at with all of this. Alright. Let’s say I accept your premise. Why the biography? SMITHERS: You don’t see the similarity? Orphaned as teenagers. Forced to do incredible things to survive. And then Scorpia. But then we found out that Julia Rothman’s primary motive for wanting Alex at Invisible Sword was so she could watch him die. JONES: It would be rather out of character for Scorpia to sacrifice as large a payout as we can assume Cray’s operation would have netted them--not to mention reaping the subsequent economic and political consequences--just so they could personalize the murder of a teenager. Gregorovich must’ve been acting on his own cognizance. Scorpia likely doesn’t even know about his role in Cray’s death. SMITHERS: And then there’s the sniper. JONES: Sorry? SMITHERS: One of Julia Rothman’s people. His body was found on the roof opposite this building after Invisible Sword. The murder weapon, left at the scene, was the same Grach MP-443 that killed Damian Cray and Simon Mariat. JONES: That's right. With Gregorovich’s prints on it. SMITHERS: We’ve known that Scorpia discovered the truth about John Rider very quickly and had him, and his wife killed. The bomb on their plane. Could’ve even been Gregorovich that planted the bomb for all we know. Now that we know he’s been alive this whole time. Except... JONES: Except he didn’t know, did he? His loyalty was always to John Rider, and this whole time he never knew that John was one of us. Scorpia kept it from him, they must have. In his mind, Ian had been the disloyal one. But then he wasn’t at the Abbey during Invisible Sword. He must have discovered what Julia Rothman was planning for Alex, and with that discovery, the truth about John. And afterwards he’d have known Scorpia would want retribution. The only rational motive for killing the sniper is to protect Alex. And he left his weapon behind. He wanted us to know. SMITHERS: And there we have it.
#Alex Rider#Alex Rider TV#Yassen Gregorovich#Alex Rider Timeline#Alex Rider - Snakehead#There's a part two to this conversation but it's about stuff that happens after season 3 ends#Critique welcome#Thanks to akilah12902 for IDing the Grach#I wanted to sneak a grinch reference into this dialogue#but I restrained myself#everyone please applaud my self-restraint#the extremely unprofessional desire to hide a die hard or grinch reference somewhere in the script is ever present and unyielding
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I wish you would write a fic where Kurt and Blaine are watching their kid on stage at their first, opening night on Broadway. I always picture it being their daughter playing Elphaba and them getting teary-eyed during her first solo. I think that would be so cute!
On AO3
Over the years, Kurt has been into the Gershwin Theater several times.
He thought it would never feel as heart-warming and electrifying as that time Rachel and he sneaked onto the stage.
And yet, here he is—sure, not on stage, but in the theater still—his heart is beating wildly in his chest and he can’t stop smiling.
Blaine would usually be the one squeezing his arm, to keep his smile to a “polite” level—Kurt usually needs the reminder when they are on red carpets and he knows one of them is going to come home with a statue to add to the mantlepiece.
He’s not apologetic, though—if anything, Kurt wishes Blaine wouldn’t have such a diplomatic streak—because God knows they work hard to get these nominations, these awards, and everyone who told them they would never achieve anything worthwhile can suck on it.
Anyway.
Today, though, Blaine is not telling him to tone it down or anything.
Oh no.
Blaine is beaming just as proudly as Kurt is, looking around the room like it’s his first time in the Gershwin.
In a sense, Kurt muses, it is a whole new experience that awaits them.
“Can you believe this is happening?” Blaine whispers while they walk toward their seats.
“I can’t believe Dan is going to miss it.”
Blaine pats Kurt’s hand. “We always knew he wouldn’t be able to come back from Germany for the premiere,” he comforts him. “But we have tickets for the end of Cecilia’s run, so we will have a moment to celebrate it all together.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Kurt sighs as he wiggles in his seat. “Still.”
“Still, I know.”
“Program?”
They both turn their heads toward the usher and both nod. “Yes, please.”
She frowns at them. “You… want two of them?”
“Yes, please,” Blaine repeats, all smiles as he pays for the programs and tips her. “What?” he tells Kurt, who is quietly laughing. “I want one for my office, and I know you’ll want one for yours.”
“Our offices are in the same room, Blaine,” Kurt says, still glad that Blaine was thoughtful. “Look, our baby!”
Right there, on the page, their daughter is looking up at them in all her green beauty.
“Oh, she looks so good,” Blaine coos, caressing the page. “I’m so proud.”
“I’m so, so proud too.”
They look at each other and kiss, words unable to convey how much they love each other and their little family.
The lights turn off and Blaine clenches Kurt’s hand. “Oh my God!”
“I knoooow,” Kurt whispers just as the Overture gets started.
The moment Cecilia, dressed as Elphaba, appears on stage, it takes all of Kurt’s self-restraint to keep from standing up and applauding.
He does grip Blaine’s hand a little bit harder.
The show is still as mesmerizing as ever, and Cecilia holds her own in her role as the green-skinned witch. She has no qualms standing toe to toe with other newcomers on a main Broadway stage, and with more seasoned ones too.
“Who would have thought that Sunshine would be such a good Madame Morrible,” Kurt whispers.
“Shhhhh,” Blaine shushes him. “It’s her big solo.”
The stage clears out of all other characters, leaving Elphaba and her suitcase.
Cecilia plays the shock and surprise and delight her character experiments with brio.
“Did that really just happen?
“Have I actually understood…”
She reaches the high notes and, for a brief moment, turns toward their seats, before launching into Elphaba’s dream coming to life.
Her eyes were shining with tears when she looked at them, and, truth be told, Kurt cannot swear on the dryness of his eyes.
Blaine’s cheeks are wet with tears which end up in his beard.
It’s a meaningful song in the show, of course, but for the three of them, it’s a reminder of Cecilia’s adoption, when she couldn’t believe Blaine and Kurt wanted her to join their family, after so many years in the system. When she didn’t let them get too close for days, weeks even, because she was afraid they would get tired of her problems and of, well, her.
“Unlimited,
“My future is unlimited…”
Blaine leans his head on Kurt’s shoulder as the song reaches its climax. A simple glance down to him shows Kurt his husband crying and beaming at the stage, a sentiment he wholeheartedly agrees with.
It’s not just pride for their daughter. It’s the culmination of it all, of their parenting, of their choices, of their love, visible on stage for all to see.
“The Wizard—
“And I!”
The whole room bursts into applause and cheers, and this time they both jump to their feet to clap louder than everybody else.
And sit back down, before their neighbors can shush them.
She did it, Kurt thinks, already mouthing the words to the duet between Cecilia and Rachel’s daughter—fitting, isn’t it?
#Anonymous#sometimes i write#klaine#future fic#cecilia hummel anderson#wicked#broadway#beta read before posting#fluff
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Fortress
summary: he doesn’t get in your brain, he doesn’t fill up the spaces. you don’t whisper his name now that you’ve built a fortress.
word count: not sure? but there won’t be a keep reading tab bc i am on mobile.
pairings: peter Parker x black!reader, father!rhodey x black!reader
warnings: it moves fast, angst hoe, bad boyfriend (peter even though i feel like he wouldn’t be one), running away from your problems trope.
a/n: inspired by fortress by lennon stella. please reblog and comment, it’s 2019- support your fandom authors :)
————
“Let it out, sweetheart,”
You never cried over a boy. A fucking boy. Never had anything moved you like this and it shook your spirit and didn’t sit well with you.
“I hate him,” nose stuffed, lips dry from the salt in your tears, you could only imagined how bad you looked.
It’s not like he cheated, he was just a shit boyfriend then had the nerve to hit you with “it’s not you, it’s me” bullshit.
You had no idea why he even called it a relationship- it was an unrequited love. But he thrived having someone finally pine after him, he was addicted to your sadness and it’s taken this long for you to see that?
———
“Stark!!” You stormed into the compound in search to give him an earful about how much of an ass his verbally adopted son has been.
“Uh oh,” he muttered and turned around but not before sighing to himself and praying for the Lord to give him strength, “Y/N!!,”
You were seething, finger trembling as you pointed at him, “Don’t you Y/N me!!,”
“What did he do now?”
What didn’t he do? He completely blew you off in front of your friends just to hang out with MJ and Ned as if he hadn’t been the entire week. You’ve only been seeing him at school and Avenger related tasks.
You explained everything to Tony but it’s not like Tony could do anything. What could he do? Give peter a wag of the finger and a time out? That’s not how it works.
You sigh and realized this was going to fix nothing, so you stormed out and went straight to your room to sit and think what could be done.
———
Did he even care at all? He could have called it off a long time ago to avoid all of this but it probably gets him off to see you still double texting and sliding up on his stories to reply just for him to leave you on read.
It wasn’t until he hadn’t texted you all day or even talked to you in school that you decided to build those walls up all over again and move on. It might be ridiculous to let a simple boy get to you like this but something has to be done.
“Dad, I think I want to go to that all girl’s boarding school,”
Sitting with your hand in his, you felt him squeeze it in reassurance. He proposed that idea a while ago, knowing the horrors of public schools.
“Y/N I don’t think you should be letting him run you off like this,”
“It’s not me running away. It’s self care,”
A simple bandaid on a gunshot wound.
“If you’re sure... I’ll call in the morning”
———
All those quiet nights Peter spent on you had you thinking he meant it when he was really talking out the side of his neck, making you think he was deep while he talked about something he supposedly wanted.
But it was really what you wanted, and he knew that... he knew exactly what to say and because of that you kept letting him take you.
“I can’t believe after crushing so hard for so long you’re finally mine,” you whispered, head lying on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. He was so good at lying to you that you couldn’t even hear a skip when he lied.
“I care so much about us and where we end up. Thank you for letting me in,” every time he kissed the side of your head your cheeks would heat up and every nerve in your body would tingle.
The show he put on was always so believable, he deserved a standing ovation now.
“Tony says he’s proud I chose a good one. I can see what he means. You mean so much to me”
Did he ever feel the way you did at all?
———
No one knew you were leaving, they didn’t need to. Rhodey arranged the plans and as bad as it hurt to see some fucking idiot run his daughter off, you said this is what you needed and who was he to argue with that? You were old enough to make your own decisions.
Everyone threw a conniption when they were informed of your absence weeks later when it came time for another battle and it was all hands on deck and someone finally had the courage to ask where’d you’d been.
“Well where’d she go? Rhodes?” Natasha frowns and stares at the man who wasn’t reacting like everyone else.
Peter didn’t miss the way he cut his eyes to him before shaking his head.
“She’s fine, that’s all that matters”
“Bullshit!,” Tony guffaws
“Y/N wouldn’t just leave,” Peter pipes up.
“Oh what do you know?,”
Peter looked across the table at Rhodey and didn’t have much to say then. Peter then realized he never knew you at all. You were just someone who showed him the attention he was starved for.
He became an Icarus and had flown too close to the sun.
Running out of the room to dial your phone and only getting a dial tone.
You cut your losses, knowing you’d never be the same after this. You hated feelings, you hated crushes, because someone always gets... crushed, and not in a good way.
Peter tried calling he doesn’t know how many times until he tried the compound phone itself. The caller ID came up on your phone as “home #2” but you knew it was probably him.
You ignore it. That’s be the best. You were thriving. You made friends- your friends were your own- you didn’t have to share his, you didn’t have to worry about mutual friends.
This was for the best.
———
Ned and MJ were doing their best to calm Peter down but did he really have a right to be upset? He didn’t give a fuck about where you guys ended up nd everyone could see that, even if he said he did.
He just saw it too late.
“I hate to break it to you Peter but... I don’t think this is fixable,” MJ shrugs, “She’s come to me about her feelings multiple times and I’ve tried talking to you about it for her but you just won’t listen... she built those walls back up. Her heart isn’t on her sleeve anymore it’s surrounded by a fortress now,”
Peter didn’t want to hear that. He looked to Ned for help but all his best friend could do was frown and look away, knowing the truth of where you stood.
“How could I let this happen? How did I let it get this bad?,”
“You got off on finally having someone, especially someone as sweet as her. I don’t know what it is with the male species but you all are so attention hungry that you forget to take yourself off your own mind for even a millisecond to see the damage your self centered tendencies have caused,”
MJ was not the one to sugar coat it. Sure as Peter’s friends that didn’t do much to help because they did always hang out even if you and Pete had plans.
“A sweet girl like her can only get her heart broken once before she’s never the same again,”
———
Break was here that fast? Were you ready to go back? Were you ready to see everyone? Ready to see him?
Months have passed and he’s tried calling from different numbers, leaving 9 minute voicemails and long ass text messages. You applauded yourself for the self restraint.
You were better than that. You are better than what you were receiving.
“You know he’s going to be there? I can get you a room at a hotel if you want to avoid it,” Rhodey was good to finally have you home for a good month. Visiting you every weekend didn’t do justice for your bond as father and daughter.
“I’ll be fine. He doesn’t move me”
You’ve told yourself that enough to the point where you believed it without a doubt and that’s why you could walk in the doors of the compound and greet everyone without batting an eye at him.
His breath hitched at the sight of you. You were glowing- you were smiling- something he didn’t see much before you left.
Your eyes were already red from lack of sleep and worrying yourself. Skin always dull from pushing yourself to seem put together. He now sees how fake and pitiful your smiles were before. Seeing you now was how you first were when you two started “dating”- it should have never gotten to that stage of no light.
“We missed you, kid,” Clint picks you up and twirls you around.
“I missed you all too,”
“It’s late, but let’s get you settled in and you can tell me all about life where you’ve been,” Natasha took your bags.
Being in your old room was refreshing. Everything was the same and nothing was moved not even. A centimeter. Nat let you clean up in your own space before you called her back.
Hearing a knock on your door, you expected it to happen.
“Peter,”
You didn’t even have to turn to look to know it was him.
“Y/N,”
You were placing clothes in your dresser when he stood awkwardly at the door.
“How you been?,”
“That’s not why you’re here. Now is it?,” no point in beating around the bush right?
“Why’d you leave?”
“Why’d you turn a lover into a savage,” spinning on the heals of your feet you shoot a question right back and found it amusing how he looked like a fish in water trying to thin of an answer.
“All the words you don’t say speak the loudest, Peter,”
“I never meant to be so bad. I- I let it get to my head that I finally had someone who liked me and while I didn’t feel that was at first, I was getting there-,”
“You can’t force yourself to like someone, Peter,”
He knew that. But he feels that way now- but at what cost? it’s too late and he knows that.
“You said you gave a fuck about us but you didn’t and now I see that and that’s fine,”
He went to speak but you stopped him. He had more than enough time to realize his lack of effort before it got this far.
“You don’t get in my brain, you don’t fill up the spaces. My brain is finally void of any thought of you and it’s honestly exhilarating!!,”
You’ve thought about this moment for months. Rehearsing what you’d say until everything was scrapped now and you found the right words.
“I can finally see things that used to remind me of you and not whisper your name. You can stand right there and probably get on your knees begging for me back but I still wouldn’t let you in now!,”
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have been better,”
Yeah- he should have been. Maybe this will be a lesson for him to do better, to be better.
“Tell me,” you step closer and look him in his eyes, “Did you ever feel the way I did at all? Before it even got to this point?,”
He couldn’t even maintain eye contact- that was all the answer you needed
“Get out,”
“Wait, Y/N just listen-,”
“You don’t get my attention anymore!!,” voice booming over his, you stormed passed him and opened your door wide, “Now get out!,”
He still hesitated and you stomped your foot in frustration, now he wanted to stay and be around you? Now that you didn’t want him... how rom-com of him.
“Now!!,”
Your shout was like a jolt of electricity in him that got in to move quickly. You slam your door behind him and catch your breath. Breathing slowly to calm down. That needed to happen. Now you feel like you can finally move on, you said your piece, getting any last words off your mind and feelings off your chest.
Now that you’ve built a fortress, you’ll never be the same. He never felt the way you did at all.
——————
This was probably bad? But I finally had inspiration to write so I hope this is enough. It’s 3 am and I needed to write this before I couldn’t.
Please reblog and comment!!
tags: @vozit @yournonlocalpoc @babybubastis @blackreaders-assemble @retroxvailles @mokacoconut @marvclheaux @dumbchick @warmchick @spideys-wife @xye-weirdo @m00nlightdelights @micki-smiles @veryhellshdia @never-enough-time-for-sleep @here-for-your-bullshit @valynsia @valkyriesnymph @chonisberonica @valentinevirgo @crawlingnightmares @hisxblackxqueen
#black!reader#avengers x reader#mcu imagines#mcu x reader#black mcu imagines#marvel imagine#marvel one shot#marvel x reader#poc!reader#poc reader#peter parker x reader#peter parker x black!reader#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker oneshot#peter parker angst#peter parker imagine#avengers fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#marvel fanfiction
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Dangerous Liaisons part 3 (Billy Russo x Reader)
Part One, Part Two
A/N: This entire chapter was inspired by the glorious serious Billy gif below. Also, the timeline for this fic takes place before Iron Fist but after Daredevil s2, which is between November 2015 and February 2016. This chapter gave me so many problems, I had hit a stone wall and was torn between an Overprotective Billy and a Jealous Billy. In the end, we know which one won out. (I’ll add the jealous Billy scenes in the deleted scenes page later!)
Words: 3259
Warnings: Ward is an Ass! Slight NSFW
Summary: An overprotective Billy, an overstepping Ward Meachum and an encrypted file lead to quite the eventful day.
(Gif is mine)
You burst in through the office doors making your way to your boss’s office. You were a few minutes late to a meeting with a prospective client you had been asked to help secure thanks to your late night antics. The only reason you were even fashionably late was thanks to one fantastic maniac of a cab driver.
"How's it look?" You asked the receptionist.
She gave you an empathetic look and warned in a droll voice, "He's in a mood," she was referring to Ward. Just fucking great! You were in no mood to deal with Ward's temper tantrums this morning.
"Just my fucking luck."
You made your way into Ward's office and excused yourself when you had interrupted him mid-pitch. The clients didn't seem completely impressed by what he was selling. Ward gave you a look of displeasure as you made your way to the table.
"Ah, let me introduce you to the woman who will be heading this proposed project once it gets off the ground, Miss Y/N Y/L/N," Ward introduced you to the group of overseas clientele mid sales pitch.
You walked around Ward who whispered menacingly, "You're late." No one else heard it, but he had made his point. He didn't like being left to clean up your mess, he was probably seething. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to keep from giving off any visible signs of his anger. You knew him well enough that a simple clenched jaw and balling of his fists set off the alarms in your mind to keep from interacting with him after the meeting.
"A pleasure. Sorry I'm late, traffic." That was a lie, but it was New York, you could blame being late to anything on traffic.
You had taken over from Ward and started relaying the details of the current contract you had set up between Rand Enterprises and an overseas company looking to sell their shares in favour of being converted into a new global group of Rand Enterprises. The pitch had started off a bit rocky but once you were in your own headspace you had no fears of the proposal being rejected. The meeting dragged on for hours and every once or twice you would see your phone screen light up as someone tried to call you, Ward was not too happy about your phone distracting from the pitch even if it was on silent.
It had taken you nearly three hours but the contract was finally signed with no need to make any amendments to the original deal. Everyone left the table feeling pleased with how smooth everything had gone. Everyone except Ward that is, who was still trying hard not to let that vein on his forehead pop.
"A pleasure doing business with you. I'll be sure to draft the first legal buyout draft and send it to your offices by tomorrow," you thanked the businessmen as they made their way out of the office.
"I hope ours will be a profitable relationship," Ward added.
When it was only you and Ward left in his overly large office he walked round to you, hands folded, chest puffed up and nostrils flaring. He was not holding back anymore.
"How dare you be late today?" He barked at you, "Did I not make it clear that it was imperative we land this deal?" He swept a hand through his shiny hair before taking a breath, a poor effort at calming himself down.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from making matters worse and egging his tantrum further.
"What the fuck was so important you'd risk missing this meeting for? And don't feed me that bullshit about traffic."
You were getting sick and tired of his attitude, but what could you do, Ward was your boss and to be frank you'd rather deal with his temper than your father’s judgement if you lost your job.
You looked Ward square in the eye, he found the raw intensity of your angry gaze discomforting. He was forced to look away from your eyes as he fidgeted about, shuffling from one foot to the other. He wasn't just angry but agitated too. He looked to be sweating a little as well.
"It's not bullshit. This is New York, I chose the wrong cab and left home later than I should have. Hence, the traffic," You shot back. "Besides, I closed the deal, didn't I?"
Ward loosened his tie and went to plonk himself down on his office chair spinning it to face the window that overlooked half the city. His head hung back on the neck rest.
"Just draw up the paperwork. I expect it on my desk in the next two hours."
Two hours? He was being unreasonable and you knew it was his way of punishing you for being late. It wasn't impossible to have the paperwork done by then, but it was going to be a bitch.
You grabbed your phone and bag off the table and made your way to the door, "I'll get right on it."
"Next time… turn your phone off during meetings. I need your full attention when you're here," Ward's words were no longer coated in angry undertones, it was different this time. His words sounded proprietorial, it made you feel uneasy around him.
You didn't know what to say so you went with something that sounded detached and professional, "I apologise for the oversight. I thought I had turned it off earlier."
You walked out of the office before you could give Ward the chance to say anything else, itching to place some distance between him and yourself. You hated having to deal with Ward on legal matters, you preferred working with his sister, Joy. She may not have been as joyful as her name suggests, but she was less of a handful.
Back in your office, you began to type up the legal documents Ward had requested -more like ordered- of you. As your mastered hands typed away at the keys, your phone's screen became illuminated, someone was calling you. You looked at the caller ID and to your utter disbelief, it was Billy calling. You needed to learn to use a password for your phone.
"Did you program your number into my phone this morning?" You sounded both impressed and sceptical.
"You should really make it a habit to put a password on your phone. Besides, I wasn't sure when I'd see you again, so I took the initiative," Billy's voice was low and soothing, the stressful events of the morning quickly forgotten as soon as his voice met your ears.
Instantly, you blood turned to ice as panic set in. If he had access to your phone, could he have seen the sniffer device? You rustled through your bag for a second and then let out a sigh of relief. In your panic, you had forgotten Cecil had disguised your sniffer device to look like a turtle-shaped USB drive.
Thank you, Cecil, you praised inaudibly.
"Y/N, are you still there?"
You cleared your throat, "Yeah, sorry. I'm a bit preoccupied with work, I'm practically buried under a mountain of paperwork," you groaned.
Billy chuckled, "Want me to come save you again?"
"Tempting… but I think I can manage to save myself this time," you said brazenly. A cheeky smile spreading across your face.
"I don't doubt that. How about you save me from a boring night alone by letting me take you out on a proper date tonight? We can get to know each other a little bit better over a few drinks, seeing as how we didn't spend a lot of our time together… talking."
He was sly, you'd give him that, a part of you wanted to see him again, be near him again. You felt your resolve failing as you opened your mouth and let the words spill out.
"I get off work at five. I'll text you the address. Goodbye, Russo," With that, you hung up the phone and dialled for your secretary on the office phone.
"Yes, Miss Y/L/N?" Gavin, your secretary, answered.
"Hey, Gavin. Can you call the IT department and tell Cecil to come up here. My computer froze again."
"Right on it boss-man," Gavin said in a peppy attitude.
You cut the call and continued working on your paperwork, your computer working in perfect condition.
*** You were halfway done drawing up the documents when Cecil walked in looking like death itself. His messenger laptop bag was strapped across his skinny chest and his long bony fingers clutched onto a disposable coffee cup like it was some ancient prized treasure. His curly dark hair was ruffled and his eyes had circles moderately the same colour as his hair: dark.
You eyed him up and down, the poor kid looked like he'd survived a few rounds with the grim reaper.
“You look like shit."
Cecil gave you the stink eye before walking around your desk to lean against the table next to you, he made sure to move some office equipment around to make room for him to plant himself atop your desk lazily.
“Someone rudely awoke me last night. I'm an insomniac which means whatever precious few hours of sleep I do get should not be disturbed," He droned out.
You pulled out the turtle shaped drive and handed it to Cecil, "Disguising it in this-" You pointed at the drive, "-was a good idea," you applauded his ingenuity.
Cecil took a large swig of his coffee before extending his hand to you. You placed the drive in his palm and watched him twist it and turn it this and that as though he could process information simply by staring at a storage device. You smirked at him in amusement.
Cecil never ceased to amaze you. From his terrible flat humour to his constant sleep deprived state, he reminded you a lot of your brother. He was about the same age too, only less chipper or emotionally weighed down. Of course, the drawback of that was the fact he was cursed with have permanent bags under his eyes, you don't remember a single day where Cecil looked well rested.
You felt the poisonous sting of grief threaten to make itself know, being around Cecil had revived all your repressed emotions towards your brother. And yet despite the fact you tried to close yourself off to him, treat him with indifference, he had a way of lighting up the room even if he only ever wore black clothing and sported a perpetual blasé look.
You balled your fists to distract yourself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical pain of your nails digging into your palms. If Cecil had noticed your subtle emotional break, he hadn't bothered to comment on it.
He pulled out a pair of large noise-cancelling headphones and placed them over his ears. The sound of muffled metal could be heard faintly coming from his headphones. You grimaced at the discomfort your own ears would have suffered had that been you.
Cecil spun around and then reversed towards your large glass office doors, "I'll text you once I sort through the data. Don't call me, it will be ready when it's ready and not a moment earlier."
You shook your head at his terrible social skills, musing at how freeing it must be to have no filter for your words or have to pretend around people. You mouthed a heartfelt, "Get. Some. Sleep" at the kid and watched his give you a Vulcan salute before disappearing down the office hallway.
***
Your two hours were nearly up when you had just finished proofing the paperwork for Ward when the man himself waltzed into your office, airs about him like he hadn't just had a moment of distress earlier.
"Mr Meachum, I was just finishing up the first draft. I was going to ask Gavin to deliver the documents to you," you affirmed.
Ward seemed taken aback for a second, fixing his tie in place. When he finally caught on to your meaning he cleared his throat and pinched his nostrils, taking a deep snort like inhale, "Ah, yes, the paperwork. That's not actually why I came down here."
"Oh?" Now it was your turn to look on in confusion. Ward fiddled skittishly with his hands, not knowing whether to fold them or lean them on your desk, he settled for the former.
"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just wound up about this new deal and you are one of the few people I depend upon to be on their A-game. I'm sorry for overstepping my boundaries. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you," Ward stepped closer to you, almost like he was about to make a move.
You watched him cautiously, not entirely sure on how to process his apology.
"It's alright, don't worry about it."
You quickly hit send and your mail was sent to Ward and Joy's collective inbox for them to read over the contract. You stood from your chair and grabbed your small bag off the ground as you made your way towards the door. You hoped Ward would pick up on your not-so-inconspicuous indication that you were trying to bolt before this conversation got any more uncomfortable.
He didn't.
Instead, he stepped in front of you, looking down with a sleazy smile, "Listen, how about you join me for a drink? Least I could do to make up for being such an asshole earlier."
You kept your composure and held yourself steady, you had dealt with many unwanted suitors who didn't know when their advances were not welcomed. However, Ward was your boss, you had to deal with this in a muted manner, make him become disinterested, "That won't be necessary. Besides, I already have plans."
Something in Ward snapped and his demeanour changed from unprofessional to angry, "Is that the reason you got those personal calls during the meeting this morning?" His temper was getting worse by the minute. What was his deal?
"I don't see how that is your business, Ward," You dropped all pleasantries and glared back at him. You had never called him by his first name and the blatant disrespect of it had enraged Ward further.
Ward grabbed your forearm and leaned in closer to your face, nostrils flaring and veins protruding, you were prepared to sock him in the jaw when you heard Gavin's soft voice stammering worriedly in the distance, "S- Sir, you can't just- You need to make an appointment. Sir!"
You lifted your head to see Billy standing tall and menacing in front of both you and Ward. Poor Gavin looked at a loss for words as he stood behind Billy completely dumbfounded.
Billy's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. His dark eyes turning black as he gave Ward a lethal stare. If looks could kill alone, Billy could have easily mastered that deadly skill. Something about the severity of his gaze burned you, for the first time in a long time you were reminded what fear felt like. Cold shivers crept up your spine and Ward showcased his own look of dread.
"Let. Her. Go." Billy glowered. His voice a tone darker than you remembered. Ward complied, but then he turned to stare down Billy instead.
"Who the hell are you?" Ward barked.
"Billy Russo, who the fuck are you?" Billy glared at Ward's hand still clenching your arm in a death grip. Ward loosened it and you snatched your arm away.
"Ward Meachum, the CEO of the building you’re standing in," Ward said with an air of entitlement.
Billy took a step closer, his figure towering over Wards. He pinched his nose and inhaled deeply, "So what, that gives you the right to manhandle your employees?"
"That gives me the right to do whatever the fuck I damn well please."
Both men glowered at each other. They looked like feral beasts about to claw each other to shreds. Impeccably well-groomed feral beasts.
Billy standing up to Ward was enough to light that fire within you instantly, you gulped at the tense moment unfolding before you.
Finally, you took it upon yourself to diffuse the situation before more damage could be done. As much as you wanted to punch Ward in his perfectly polished teeth, you needed this job, which meant Billy couldn't fight your battles for you. Not that you needed him too.
You placed your hand on Billy's chest, ushering him out of the office, "Billy, let it go." He didn't budge an inch. "Russo!" You snapped at him garnering his attention. His eyes snapped to yours faster than lightning.
"Whatever you say," Billy gave you a reassuring smirk, but his fists were still balled up on his sides. As he turned around to leave your office, he shot Ward one last menacing glare.
"Have a pleasant day, Mr Meachum," you said, tongue in cheek. Ward simply scoffed and clenched down on his jaw hard enough you could see his vein straining against his temple.
On your way out Gavin looked like he was about to say something, clearly, he was beyond shocked at witnessing that little power wrestle between Billy and Ward, "That's quite alright Gavin, you're excused for the day," you said.
***
"How can you work for such an asshole?" Billy's hands were locked in a death grip on his steering wheel. His nostril flaring slightly.
You let out an ironic laugh, "Don't most people?" Billy didn't find your comment amusing, he was too tightly wound. "Hey-" you whispered as you pulled his face to look at you, "Anyone ever tell you how hot you look when you’re angry?"
Billy smirked, "Well, now they have."
"Thank you… Though, I hope you know I didn't need you to come to my rescue. I can handle myself."
"I know you can. If you don't take shit from me, chances are you don't take shit from anyone else."
"Glad we're in understanding then," you said as you pulled Billy closer for a kiss.
The kiss soon turned impatient and needy, both of you letting out lewd sounding pants. You were already wet from watching Billy be all aggressive towards Ward, you knew you couldn't last the rest of the night and you certainly didn't want to wait either. In fluid movements, you slid your panties off, manoeuvred around his gear shift and pulled up your pencil skirt to straddled him in his seat. Billy chuckled.
"Someone might see," he said, though he wasn't protesting. A suggestive smirk plastered on his godlike features.
"I know," you breathed out before you unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and began to fuck him in his extremely expensive car in the underground parking lot. His leather seats let out moans of their own every time you gripped them for stability.
Part Four is HERE!
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Relationship Tutor: (12) Cooperative Napping
relationship tutor masterlist
Summary: College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: language
A/N: FINALLY time for my absolute favorite part bih!
Bucky was nursing a mocha latte he suddenly no longer had an affinity for, the far too creamy, far too sweet beverage making his heart race and his teeth gritty. He scowled with every sip he took as if he didn’t already have a grimace in place.
He sat back against the cushioned booth bench, his head lolling against the wall behind him. He would’ve given anything to just shut his eyes and take a nap right there.
Natasha made that difficult, though. She was surveying the circumstance from every angle, devising plan after plan for Bucky to finally win the affections of the person he loved.
She brought up several cliché tactics— all of which seemed to center around jealousy.
“Give me a gross pet name. Like ‘Natty’ or ‘Tatty.’”
He made a face. “Absolutely not.”
“How about we start using terms of endearment? Like, I’ll call you ‘babe’ and you call me ‘sweetheart.’”
“Does that idea come with an airsick bag?”
“No, but you come with an attitude apparently.”
She continued after a few moments of silent contemplation. “Kiss me in front of her.”
He snorted. “Pass.”
“Fine, I’ll kiss you in front of her.”
“Oh,” he mused sarcastically with a nod. He dropped his indulgent smile and narrowed his eyes. “Pass.”
It made Bucky uneasy to even contemplate the idea. Jealousy was not only a childish technique but, in this case, it was a dishonest one— and, partially because of you, he knew he couldn’t be dishonest to someone he cared so deeply about.
“She’s in my head, Nat. I can’t lie to her.”
Natasha shook her head, smirking as she tucked a wavy lock of ginger hair behind her ear. She held a cardboard cup of herbal tea in her hands, long nails which were painted blood red scraping against the sleeve embellished with the café’s name. “This would be much easier if you weren’t such a saintly person.”
Even if only momentarily, he smiled at that. “Wanting to be honest doesn’t make me saintly. It should just be expected.”
“You’d be surprised by how few men feel that way. You’re in the minority, Barnes.”
He fiddled with his phone in his free hand, toying with the lock button and swirling his fingertip over the touchscreen. “I can’t just tell her you and I aren’t dating anymore?”
“If you want to tell her that, feel free to. I’m just asking that we have a little fun with this.”
“Fun?” he repeated with narrowed eyes. “In what way is any of this fun?”
“It is for me,” she shrugged as she took a long sip of her tea. A corner of her lips quirked up in a smirk when she noticed his incredulous expression. “What? You needed her guidance to even have a conversation with me, went on four dates with me, and kissed me twice only to need my guidance in getting her.”
“Getting her,” he repeated as if the two words left a bad taste in his mouth. “She once said something about that objectifying women as if they’re prizes to be won.”
“God, keep talking like that and I’ll sabotage this whole thing to keep you all to myself.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Do you have any other ideas or has the well run dry?”
She sat in silent contemplation for a few beats. “How about we just don’t tell her we’ve stopped dating?”
“What?”
“Just don’t tell her that whatever we were has ended.” Her smirk grew more pronounced when he tilted his head like a confused puppy hearing a wayward, unfamiliar noise. “We’re still friends, we can still hang out around her— we’ll just omit the fact that we’ve ended.”
“Isn’t omission just fancy lying?”
“Okay, Saint Barnes, you need to determine the degrees of all these evils and settle on the lesser one.”
Bucky mulled each idea over, wiggling his jaw back and forth and reading the ridiculous names of the drinks written on the chalkboards bolted to the wall behind Natasha. “I’ve been going to her every couple of days for the last few weeks asking questions. What if she wonders why I’m not doing that anymore?”
“Say you don’t need her help now— that you’ve got it handled. Which is true, you handled ending it very well.”
“You ended it.”
“Yeah, but you handled listening to me end it very well.” She narrowed her eyes after a brief pause. “Were you ever actually interested in me?”
“Of course I was. I don’t enlist help for building foundations with just anybody.”
“But you couldn’t get her out of your head, huh?”
“It’d be nice to get her out of anywhere,” he snorted. “I am sorry for all of this, though. You didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “No harm, no foul. You never told me this was a relationship— you said you wanted to try dating and we tried dating. Not to sound like a broken record, but I appreciate the honesty.”
“I had a good teacher,” he replied fondly, his phone vibrating under his fingers with an incoming message. Your name brightly written across the screen, his smile grew but shook a bit with the feeling swarming his stomach.
“I, uh,” he began, still staring at your simple message. “I’m gonna leave.”
“Is that your girlfriend?” she asked in a juvenile tone, laughing when Bucky scowled. “Go. I’ve got work to do as it is— I don’t need you wasting my time like this.”
He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh and gave a single wave in goodbye.
For only a moment, Bucky felt profoundly foolish. It only took a text message from you to send him to his feet, racing to his car and speeding to your apartment. A lot of his friends would call him pathetically whipped, completely helpless to your every whim— and, maybe during his teenage years, he would’ve found that to be mildly shameful. He would have thought it was like he had no backbone when it came to you, no freewill.
But now, when Bucky thought himself to be slightly more evolved, he wasn’t embarrassed by how quickly he succumbed to you. Especially not when the reward for it was so sweet.
Of course, it was never an objectively substantial reward— he didn’t think an objectively substantial reward was ever even merited. However, subjectively he was rewarded substantially each time. May that reward have been a genuine smile, a gleeful laugh, a sigh of relief, or just a chance to be around you longer, he always felt as if the universe was being undeservingly kind and gracious to him for every minuscule thing he did.
It wasn’t as if he needed the rewards to do anything he did. If you wanted him there, he would rush over without a second thought at even the concept of reciprocation. It was something he’d read somewhere that didn’t birth the lack of expectation but gave it a verbal reason— very roughly paraphrased, it was something about never looking for reciprocation in love.
And he was in love— so, so in love. He flirted with the idea that he’d been in love with you from the moment he met you as Steve continuously teased him for, but he remained committed to the notion that it was a love that bloomed from a simple infatuation.
Infatuation that took root the second you walked into the party in the apartment he shared with Steve with an overly-tabbed Romantic period volume of The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Highlighter in hand, you nodded at Steve and went straight to his room to finish your reading assignment before letting yourself have even one hit of the joint waiting for you.
When you blew the smoke out in a perfect stream and let your chest collapse in relief, he elbowed Steve in the ribs to introduce him to you. You only smiled politely, gave him a playful two finger salute, and offered up the joint with a giggled, “Take a hit, pretty boy. Consider it a ‘Welcome to the world’s most boring university’ gift and a one-time offer.”
But that was all it took for Bucky to ask Steve about you— how he knew you, why he’d never mentioned you, and if you all hung out a lot. Steve replied with a suggestive eyebrow waggle and a cooed, “Sounds like Bucky’s got a li’l crush!”
A year of self-control later, Bucky would have applauded himself for his restraint had that restraint not been so imbued with fear. After all, it wasn’t noble fear. It wasn’t as if he was keeping himself away from you for fear of your heart breaking because of him like some terrible excuse for a martyr. He kept his overwhelming feelings to himself for selfish reasons— reasons ranging from not losing the warmth of your presence to not losing the rush of your gaze.
He only had to knock twice before you pulled the door of your apartment open, looking breathless and a little tired. “Bucky,” you sighed in relief and he could’ve sworn no one had ever said his name in such an addictive manner. “Thank God, please save me.”
He tilted his head questioningly as you let him in, watching as you pulled your jacket on and tucked your phone into your pocket. “Save you from—”
A loud, almost shrieked moan answered his question, his mouth falling open so a disbelieving laugh lifted your own lips despite your sourness. He pointed in the direction of the adjacent hall. “Is that—”
“Yes. I withstood it at first— figured it would stop soon enough. But Sam is so… The man has some steely control and quick recovery because this is, like, the third time I’ve heard a complete stranger climax.”
Bucky continued shaking in laughter. “Do you know who he’s with?”
You shook your head as you pulled your boots on. “I didn’t see.”
“Why didn’t you just leave?”
“It’s colder than the fucking tundra out there and my car’s getting serviced.”
He frowned in consideration, poised to reply until another moan cut through the room. He covered his ears with his hands, earning a laugh from you.
You started towards the door, gripping the lapel of his jacket to tug him behind you.
He let you guide him through the hall and to the stairs, his eyes tracing your form and the way even the minimal sunlight pouring from the dusty windows seemed to love you as much as he did.
“Where are we going?”
You shrugged and let go of his jacket, putting your hands in your pockets instead. “As long as it’s not the library or any other place Sam’s fucking the living daylights out of someone, I don’t care.”
“You need to give me more to work with, doll.”
“Doll?” you repeated, stopping in your tracks to look at him with raised eyebrows and amusement over your every feature. “S’been a while since you’ve called me that, Buck. You sure Natasha won’t have your balls for it?”
“My balls are secure, trust me.” He glanced at you when you shoved the lobby doors open, a smile over your lips despite the extreme coolness of the outside air. “You hungry at all?”
“Not really. I’m more tired than anything else.”
He hummed noncommittally and unlocked his car as the two of you approached it.
You sat back quietly and only opened your eyes after two minutes of driving, the heat from the vents comfortably caressing your cheeks as Bucky’s music played at a calm volume. You narrowed your eyes at the passing landmarks. “Are we going to your place?”
He nodded, keeping his gaze on the road. “You can take a nap there.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Watch you sleep like that creepy ass vampire in those books my sister reads.” His smile widened when he glanced at you rolling your eyes. “I’ve got a paper due in four days. Might as well start it.”
“Wow, you’re going to start an assignment four whole days before it’s due just so I can take a nap?”
He nodded once more. “Basically.”
You sighed dreamily, placing your hand on your chest. “My fuckin’ hero.”
He wore a self-satisfied smirk and pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex. “You’re lucky I just cleaned my room this morning.”
“So I won’t get to bury myself under your piles of clothes, you utter embodiment of indecisiveness? Color me disappointed.”
He put the car in park and popped his door open. “Color yourself grateful instead.”
“I already called you my hero. I don’t know why you think you can expect so much from me.”
You followed him up the stairs to his apartment and practically ran to his bedroom once the door was unlocked, kicking off your boots and tossing your jacket onto his desk chair as you fell onto the freshly washed comforter and sheets. You hugged one of the pillows to yourself and sighed as you heard his soft chuckle from the doorway as he entered. “Why does it smell so nice in here?”
He heard you despite your voice being muffled by the fabric you were snuggled into. “Steve bought this bullshit lavender powder you sprinkle onto the carpet before vacuuming. He forced me to use it.”
You set your chin onto your folded arms and narrowed your eyes at him as he tried miserably to stifle a yawn. “Are you sleepy, too?”
He half-nodded. “A little.”
While you knew it wasn’t your greatest idea, the selfish part of you won out and you shuffled to the rightmost side of the full size bed. You patted the side closest to him. “Come on.”
A single eyebrow of his rose. There was a dryness in his throat he needed to cough to speak over. “What?”
“Nap with me.” You pulled his dark green fleece blanket over yourself. “We’ve been married for fifty years and you still have to contemplate this? It won’t constitute cheating on your mistress and I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
He didn’t think on it for too long. He just did what he really wanted and climbed into bed, his shoes strewn beside yours, his jacket tossed alongside yours. He took half the blanket and risked a glance in your direction.
He smiled as he traced your shut eyes, your peacefully parted lips, and your messy hair with his gaze, snapping his eyes closed when you cracked yours open.
You noticed the slight redness dusted over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, smiling to yourself as you suppressed the urge to run your fingers over the dark, stubbly beard that contrasted with his skin almost starkly.
When he shivered a bit, you moved closer to him and he instinctively moved closer to you. There were still a few inches separating your bodies when unconsciousness took you both under heavily and relaxingly but in the middle of your slumber, you somehow ended up with his chin atop your head and your nose near his sternum, his arm thrown over your waist and your legs tangled with his.
Bucky made that discovery when the shutting of the front door woke him, sleepily delirious as he confusedly looked over the scene before him. He wished he could breathe deeply and slow his heart rate so as to not disturb you with his heightened nervousness, his body’s reaction to the sparking nerves everywhere your skin met his— but he knew the beating in his chest would take a few moments to calm.
There was a knock at his door much to his dismay and he held his breath as he pulled away from you at an almost snail speed. He climbed out of the bed onto tired legs and combed his fingers through his hair to pull on the ends.
He opened the door to Steve and his wind-bitten cheeks, blonde hair in disarray and coat still done up.
Bucky decided to step out and shut the door behind him, his voice gravelly as he asked, “What’s up, man?”
“I was gonna ask if you wanted to order a pizza for dinner,” he began, peering at the door with narrowed baby blue eyes. “Is Natasha here? I thought you two ended things, Bucky.”
“We did, we did. Nat’s not here.”
“Then who— You told Y/N you were turning a new leaf and you said you would finally tell her how you feel. You can’t fuck this up now, too—”
“Mother Rogers, if you could stop lecturing me for half a second,” Bucky started, glaring, “I could tell you that Y/N is the one in there—”
“What?”
“— and she’s taking a nap,” he continued. “Wilson’s got a girl at their place being loud as fuck. She just needed somewhere to go, I offered up our place.”
Steve smiled and playfully punched Bucky’s shoulder. “You gonna tell her when she wakes up? Maybe before the party tomorrow night?”
“I’ll tell her when I want to tell her, Steve. You can’t rush this shit.”
“S’been over a year, Buck. Glaciers move faster.”
PART 13: COMPETITIVE CONFRONTATION
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Why I perform
I have some pretty heavy things to get off my chest. This is long, and I don’t know if anyone will read this or care, but it’s something I need to say, so please bear with me.
It’s been two months since I’ve been in a show, six months since I’ve been in a show that made me happy, and over a year since I’ve been in a show that made me feel completely fulfilled.
I’m in the fall of my senior year of high school. I’m at a significant crossroads in my life, a time when I finally have the opportunity to make decisions for the career I want to have and the life I want to live. I’ve been preparing for years, getting ready to run while being confined to a crawl. So why is it that now, as the race is about to begin, I feel paralyzed?
Maybe part of it is that unlike before, I no longer know which direction to run in. Until about six months ago, I knew which college I wanted to attend and the exact steps I would have to take. Then, I experienced an identity crisis like nothing I’d ever felt before. I awakened, in a sense, to a feeling like the world I’d been raised in was a lie. I lost faith in the religion that my self-image, my worldview, my entire future had been predicated upon.
While this finally allowed me to escape from my psychological restraints and opened up a whole world of possibilities, it took away every source of comfort and stability I had to rely on: the support of my family, trust in the path I was on, and my entire sense of self-worth. The understanding that those things were all an illusion anyway, that I have found the truth, doesn’t take away from the overwhelming sense of loneliness, depression, worthlessness. It doesn’t make me feel any less lost.
So, with the foundation of my entire identity stripped away, I’m forced to sort through the rubble and search for a place to begin. Luckily for me, I still have something I can count on: I love theatre, and I love storytelling. It’s who I am. If you were to look at my soul, you’d see all the stories that have spoken to me in the past. That’s what initially brought me to the conclusion that acting was my calling in life, that I wanted to pursue musical theatre in college and beyond.
However, without the spiritual conviction I once had that everything would fall into place, I now find myself paralyzed with fear and self-doubt. I look at my limited experiences with theatre and wonder if I’ll ever be good enough to make a career doing what I love, when few directors have ever seen any real potential in me. I fear that in the professional world, I’d just fade into obscurity. Worst of all, as my current depressive episode and overwhelming anxiety keep me from sending in my college applications, I wonder if I’ll ever be strong enough to do what it takes to succeed, or if my mental illness will render me forever incapable of following through.
As my future suddenly seems so unclear, I’m faced with doubts that I should still pursue theatre. Ultimately, it is still my dream. There’s little else I can imagine ever making me happy. I still notice how empty and unbalanced my life feels when I’m not actively engaged in theatre. However, I’m suddenly swarmed by fears of a life worse than one of mere complacency, unhappiness, lack of artistic fulfillment. I fear remaining forever dependent on others. I fear forever feeling like maybe if I just worked harder and gave more, then I would finally be enough—as past directors have made me feel. But the absolute worst, deepest, most horrifying fear that pervades me is that perhaps I don’t have anything special to offer. That as much as I love and need theatre, it has no need for me. That no director will ever see anything in me and give me a chance to show the world, because maybe there’s just nothing to see.
Tonight, as I was contemplating this fear, I was revisiting my past experiences with theatre. I’ve been lucky enough to be a part of the ensemble in many shows with different schools and community groups. I’ve competed in thespian conferences and received high marks. I’ve even performed in the pilot amateur production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame at the International Thespian Festival as a member of the ensemble, an experience that I’ll never forget. However, there’s still never been anything that sets me apart from the crowd as a performer. In the professional world, where everyone in the audition room is talented enough to do the job well, actors have to have something special to set them apart, or they’ll remain unemployed.
While desperately scouring my memories for any indication that my fears aren’t right, I remembered an experience I had at a two-week theatre camp last summer. That camp was perhaps one of the harshest experiences I’ve ever had with how it tore down my self-confidence, for many reasons. It was my first time working with college professors on a production—at the school I had long thought I wanted to go to—and I was disheartened by how little any of them noticed me. In the production and all throughout camp, I never got any chance to show them what I was capable of.
But one night at camp, there was a talent show. None of the directors or anyone influential were there—just the campers and counselors—and I was feeling pretty disheartened at camp, but I decided to enter it anyway. I chose to perform “With You” from Ghost, a heart-wrenching song in which Molly grieves Sam’s death. I was nervous because it’s a hard song to act, but I was desperate to prove to myself that I had what it takes. So, when the time came, I got up in front of my peers, and I bared my heart and soul to them. I pulled on my own past experiences and let go of all the insecurity and hurt I had been feeling. For three minutes, I became Molly and poured everything I had into telling her story.
When the audience stood up and applauded, I dragged my emotional walls back up. I simulaneously felt proud of my performance and too emotionally drained to be happy about it. After the show, I thanked everyone who complimented me and told me that I made them cry. I guess it’s a mark of success if an actor can make an audience feel that deeply, but I still felt hollow as my friends gushed about how “amazing” I was.
Later that night, however, as one of my roommates was giving me her glowing review, I burst into tears I hadn’t thought I had left. This girl had seemed so bubbly and friendly and outgoing, and in my current state of depression and low self-esteem, I had initially misjudged her as fake, something extremely off-putting to someone like me who prizes authenticity. But after a very technical analysis of my performance, she choked up and gushed that it was like I had reached into my chest, tore out my heart, and held it out for everyone to see, demanding that they watch it bleed and pulse and begging them to accept it as is. She expressed admiration and envy that I had the ability to be so raw, so unashamed to show everyone my scars, so unafraid to wear my heart on my sleeve and give everyone the chance to break it.
With nothing left to cling to, I’m grateful once again to her kind words for reminding me that I have something worth seeing, even if it seems to be buried deep within, even if no one can see it at the time. I’ll now move forward with the understanding that yes, maybe I’ll never get the chance to share it...but knowing that it’s there is motivation enough for me to keep trying.
Because I don’t want to be emotionally distant and jaded. I want to be the kind of person that wears her heart on her sleeve. I want to be an example to the world that being broken can be beautiful. I want to use my talents to make someone feel like it’s okay not to be okay and not to hide your pain from the world.
I want to love myself and inspire others to do the same.
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The Livestream gone haywire
AO3 link
Words : 2441
Marinette finds the face and the reason behind the appearance of mystery cookies at her desk each morning. Sure she had prepared for everything she thought was possible, but the face to be the renowned Adrien Agreste and the reason being that the internet believed them to be dating wasn’t something just anyone could come to terms with.
Chapter 1
It had, coincidentally, started on what probably was the most stressful day of her life.
Finding her way through Gabriel as a new intern was hard enough. But Marinette, thanks to her amazingly clumsy self, had somehow managed to knock into the Gabriel Agreste right on the third day of her internship while she was running late. Had it not been while holding her loose pages from her design portfolio, she might just have lost the opportunity of a lifetime for herself.
But having her designs scatter in every direction in front of her idol posed a completely different situation.
Marinette prided herself on being a multitasker. It was something that often helped her wade through different situations. For instance like the one she was currently stuck into.
So by the time it took Gabriel to look what she could only describe as an eagle’s gaze fixed upon its latest prey, she had managed to get worried about being humiliated right at the doorstep of the office, talked herself out of being worried because she was being silly damn it , picked up all her sheets and smoothed her dress. It was quite applauded considering that it took Gabriel like five seconds to provide the first critique. And on seeing that Marinette took his comments in stride rather than running off crying as he probably expected, he called her up to his office during her break and dumped seven folders brimming with designs of clothes for just about everyone . He then proceeded to dump the mammoth task of asking her to compile her opinion on each and every design by the next week.
She was screwed .
Gabriel Agreste was an absolute villain. And he definitely knew that.
Which left her now dragging herself up to her desk to hopefully get her work done, planning her schedule for the day. Quite stressfully might she add. So imagine her sheer joy at seeing the most beautifully packaged chocolate-chip cookie sitting right in the middle of the desk!
Silently thanking her unknown saviour to her empty stomach, Marinette carefully removed the bright pink ribbon from the bag and pulled the cookie from its tiny plastic bag. She then munched on the cookie for a good two minutes savouring the gooey chocolate chips and started her day much happier than she before.
As she plugged her earphones into her ears and raised the volume of the white noise music listening to which she felt the most productive, she failed to hear the silent whoop that resonated from down the corridor from where she sat. The blonde responsible for this took one last look at her and walked away.
The next day she arrived, she forgotten about the entire incident with the cookie. On seeing the present on the same spot Marinette stopped in her tracks and opted to briefly think about just why that thing was there. Seeing her contemplating about the cookie’s arrival, her desk mate and fellow intern, Ines, started giggling.
Marinette glared at the brunette without any heat behind it and asked her if she knew who kept the cookie.
Ines just playfully winked at her and said, “I have been bribed to keep my mouth shut about this 'Nette. But seriously you have nothing to worry about! The guy wouldn’t even hurt a fly if someone asked him to.”
“So it’s a guy?” Marinette asked.
“Oops.” Ines didn’t even look both bothered that she had revealed any information about her gifter. She grinned and said, “I also won’t tell you that he’s an absolute dork and,” raising her voice added, “ doesn’t agree with me that this entire incident can he handled in a much simpler way. ”
“Ines?”
“Yeah?”
“You are ridiculous”
She beamed. “I try.”
A week down this routine that she had got herself accustomed to, Marinette was absolutely determined to find out the identity of the man Ines had started to call Chat Noir for some reason. Her guess was that the guy was someone within hearing distance from her in the office and Ines just wanted to tease the guy for not doing things the way that she considered normal. As a consequence, Marinette hatched out her brilliant and flawless plan of finally not arriving to her internship with five minutes to spare. Rather she decided to come in an hour early under the pretence of wanting to organize her report before it had to be submitted to Gabriel.
Marinette had prepared herself for what she thought was every situation that would unfold. She had prepared herself for a colleague shy to proclaim his or her feelings. She had prepared herself for mortification on knowing that the cookie was actually not meant for her regardless of what Ines had said. She even had prepared for it to be Ines because why wouldn’t she like doing this?
Heck she’d even prepared herself to see a literal black cat showing up with a cookie it nabbed from a nearby bakery.
What Marinette had not prepared to see was Adrien Agreste pacing along the length of her desk muttering to himself about god knows what.
Seeing him there however seemed to explain a lot of things which had plagued her mind. Adrien Agreste would probably have been expected to wear top quality business suits wherever he went. He, for some reason had decided it was the highest tier of fashion to wear black ripped jeans with a simple black hoodie topping it off with a beanie that had seemed like cat ears? And why did it feel like she’d seen this exact outfit elsewhere?
Huh. Weird.
“Uhh…Monsieur Agreste?”
Adrien froze. He turned towards herself with wide eyes as if he’d just been robbed of the most delicious cake he owned right in front of his eyes. But Marinette thought it was fair. After all anyone would be shocked to see her in the office an entire hour before she was supposed to be present.
“……yeah?”
“Can I help you in any way?”
“Oh yeah that uhh….I was actually— uhh— waiting for…Ines! Yeah! Her! I, uhh, lost a bet to her….and you know how she gets right?” He said nervously while flapping one of his arms around and reaching the other up to his nape of his neck.
“Oh! You’re a bit early then. Ines doesn’t come in for another—” she checks her watch “—fifteen minutes, give or take. But seriously Monsieur Agreste? I’d think that you’d know better than to bet against Ines of all people.” She ended with an almost smirk.
“Please, call me Adrien. And honestly I thought I had this one in the bag.” He said sighing. “She does know me better than I thought.”
Marinette chuckled.
“If you’d like to wait for Ines, then you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like Adrien.”
“I’d—” Adrien’s phone rings. He accepts the call and walks away near the window for privacy, somehow managing to mouth ‘I’m sorry about this’ and listening raptly to the caller at the same time.
Then again the Agrestes were known for doing too many things at the same time.
There wasn’t much to be said about Gabriel on this issue. Anyone who saw would agree that the man was a little insane with the amount of work that he did.
But Adrien, he was always a mystery for her.
The guy initially had been working as a model for the brand. And then he just stopped all of a sudden. With unfinished contracts and everything.
Marinette had thought Gabriel would be absolutely livid . He was known for going on a rage when any employee of his,even his own son, not finish something within the given time restraint. So she had confidently gone as far as say to Ines, ‘Bet you 20 euros he’s going to cause the best drama the company has ever seen.’ Ines had just laughed and said that they’d see.
(That was the day Marinette learned to never make the mistake of making a bet against Ines.)
But, Gabriel proved her wrong by acting like his son didn’t just act like he’d freaking died. He managed the situation too calmly. He explained that Adrien decided to pursue a different career path and provided replacement models for every shoot that his son had missed.
But that didn’t stop Adrien from stopping by every now and then. He come in unannounced. Walk around for a while. Talk to people he felt like conversing to. And then left as if it was something entirely normal.
Regardless, Marinette thought, it’s useless thinking about it.
So Marinette started unpacking her bag. Under the pretence of making it seem as if she was paying attention to the report that she needed to submit today, she couldn’t help but notice that the cookie hadn’t arrived yet. She mentally high—fived herself and pulled a calm façade over her face, waiting for someone suspicious to arrive.
“—honestly A, I told you this would’ve— OH MY GOD!” Ines shrieked and almost dropped her cell phone as she walked towards her desk.
Marinette jerked upright on hearing the commotion. However, on seeing just who the cause of it was, she relaxed.
Walking up to her, she asked her friend dryly. “Ines. What happened?”
Ines stared at her wide—eyed for an entire minute and then fake gasped. She asked, “How on Earth are you early today?! Aren't you supposed to be sleeping till at least another minute or two?!”
“Ines.”
Hearing their exchange, Adrien, having finished his call, sighed deeply, let out a few choice words and reluctantly shuffled up to them.
(Was she missing something that was going on between them?)
As Adrien, finally, walked up to them, Ines took one look at him and started laughing. And hearing her laugh at something that they apparently discussed about earlier, Adrien started to groan asking her to shut her mouth for god’s sake.
“…I’m guessing you lost the bet rather tragically?” Marinette hesitantly asked.
“Oh my gosh—” Ines wheezed, “so you mean this dork told you we—” again interrupted herself to allow a laugh, “—we had a bet going on?!”
“Ines,” Adrien whined, “What was I even supposed to do?!”
“Don’t give me that! I told you exactly what to do.”
“But you acted like this was a genius move. Wasn’t it you who said she’d totally understand if I did this!”
“It’s called sarcasm, you dumb— ”
“Okay enough!” Marinette interrupted the two of them before the entire company could be privy of whatever the two of them were arguing about.
The both of them stilled.
“Would you like to tell me what this is about? Ines?”
“....Adrien? I think it’s time you face your demons.”
“ Why are you so extra?” Adrien groaned.
Marinette looked at the two of them confused.
Adrien took a deep sigh. “You’re right. I was going to do this today anyway. Do you think…?” He asked flapping his hands.
“Sure,” she said trying hard to hide her smirk, ”but i’m only going any to make sure i have enough caffeine in me to deal with the kids that you two are!” Saying which Ines went away.
Adrien laughed somewhat nervously and went quiet, fiddling the nape of his neck with his hand. Marinette could just feel the nervousness oozing out from him. And considering she had about fifteen minutes before she needed to start her day, she really needed to get the younger Agreste start talking otherwise his father might just kick her out because ‘she inconvenienced his precious child.’
“So Adrien,” she began,”I know whatever you have to say is, I don’t know, big I guess? But the thing is,” she pointedly showed her watch, “I don’t have much time with me if you’re going to take this long.” As soon as she said this, Marinette chastised herself for coming out so bluntly. “Not that I’m not being inconsiderate to you! It’s just that I don’t think Nathalie would consider, you know, you and I talking about whatever, even if you do happen to be—”
Adrien interrupted her rambling. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng—”
“Marinette’s fine.”
He sent a small smile her way.
“Marinette,” Adrien said, “you have been the most considerate person to me so far. Even if I don’t really deserve it.”
“What?”
“First things first, I’m the guy Ines dubs as Chat Noir.” He gauged for her reaction.
“Okay.” she said indifferently.
Surprised at her lack of any, he asked, “You aren’t mad?”
“I’m sure you are going to tell me why you though that was necessary. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” he paused, ”but just to be clear, please don’t hit me on my nose. I’ve heard from a girl that it pains like hell.”
“Okay...?”
“Uh, see, I’m you know, a youtuber….”
“....And?”
“I, uh, like to do livestreams okay? Sometimes, like once a month or maybe twice at the most. Because Paris you know—”
“Adrien.”
“—It’s a beautiful city right? People interact with me! Thankfully don’t fawn over me as much as they used to before. But you know—”
“Adrien. As much as I’d love to know what sort of videos and livestreams you have going on on your channel, could we please get to the point?”
He shot forward at once. “Inevermeantforthistohappenbutmyfollowersthinkthatwe’redatingandohgodi’vetriedmyhardest—”
“Adrien breathe.” Marinette interrupted his rant mid way failing to understand any part of it.
As Adrien hesitantly, on her insistence, all the while eyeing her as is she’d burst like a volcano at any instance.
Seriously, anything that he had to say couldn’t be that bad for her, right?
Right?
“Now do your worst. Just this time a bit slowly?” Marinette smiled encouragingly.
Adrien laughed nervously and said, “A week back during one of my livestreams, you accidentally stumbled upon me,” a genuine laugh flowed out of him at this, “I think you said something like ‘This is the third time this week this shit is happening to me. I’m so sorry about this!’ and rushed away. But considering you work here , it’s understandable why you ran away. But the thing is, my followers took it in an entirely different after one guy just asked me if you were my girlfriend. And now….” Adrien paused waiting to gauge her reaction.
“...everyone thinks we’re dating?” she asked, unsure about it.
“Yeah, pretty much that covers the situation.” Adrien finished somewhat lamely.
“Okay….let’s think about our options.” Marinette tapped her foot against the floor. “How many followers do you have anyway?”
“About 2.5 million I guess?”
“WHAT?!”
Scratch that. If possibly the entire internet thought that she was dating her boss’s only son, the matter could definitely be that bad.
#miraculous ladybug#ml#ml fanfic#adrienette#adrien agreste#marinette dupain cheng#no miraculous au#youtuber adrien#my fics
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DYWM?
DYWM (DO YOU WANT ME?) — ' i just wanna feel you nearer. not gonna pray that bit closer. ' / spencer's got a thing for derek's new girlfriend. it feels as awful as it sounds. ( 2.6k words )
NOTES — soft baby season one spencer is most definitely the inspiration for this here imagine. i'm only a few episodes into the second season, but i already know i'll never get over season one. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy. as always, my ask is open for any feedback or requests! p.s. y/n/n stands for your nickname.
SNIPPET — "First thing you need to learn about me and Derek," Y/N pauses, drags her fingertips down the length of his arms, burns holes through his tux with her touch, and guides his extremities to the same dip in her waist her boyfriend was gripping moments ago, "we aren't the jealous type."
"NEED HELP, SPENCE?" He hears her before he sees her. Above the sound of shuffling feet, chest drawers opening and shutting, and discontented grunts and mutterings, her steady hum could be heard as she flit from bedroom to bathroom and back again before finally materializing behind him in the hallway.
Y/N Y/L/N, Derek Morgan's most recent girlfriend with the pretty eyes and curly lashes, a laugh that Penelope Garcia has affectionally tokened the 'Disney Princess Laugh', and plush lips that always, always — there's never a time when they don't — look soft. She took to calling him Spence from the moment they were introduced, which was perched on the hood of Derek's car with the hem of her skirt bunched around her upper thighs and the aforementioned man betwixt her legs. (To give credit where credit is due, she did manage to look more shameful than any of Morgan's previous flings Spencer's witnessed going at it like teenagers, but it still wasn't much. What was there to be ashamed of anyway when a guy like him was into you? Hell, Spencer sure wouldn't be.) A gentle breeze lifted her mussed hair from blazer-clad shoulders, and he watched his fellow agent tenderly smooth the tendrils back down. He remembers wanting to mimic the action, but chalked it up to the mere desire of wanting a girlfriend to publically display affection with in general, despite never really being the PDA type. Derek introduced him with his complete title, Doctor Spencer Reid, and Y/N had shed all formalities and simply chimed, "It's nice to meet you, Spence." He didn't necessarily mind.
The following silence is mistaken for consent. Once again, Spencer doesn't mind, especially when she angles his lanky form toward her, stands on the toes of already heeled feet, and does his bowtie for him. His breath remains stagnant in his throat. No inhale, no exhale. If Y/N notices, she chooses not to comment.
"You look dashing," she compliments in the teasing nature she always does. Genuine but not too much so to be mistaken for flirtation. No, she only has eyes for Derek. She smooths the lapels of his tux down once finished with his bowtie before pivoting him toward the mirror.
They could pass for each other's dates, you know, if Y/N wasn't infinitely more attractive than him. The red satin dress she's adorning doesn't hug her form, but that doesn't diminish how sexy it is, how sexy the girl wearing it is. It ends just below the ankles and there's a slit up the left side that showcases her miles-long leg (and the undisputable fact that she isn't wearing underwear.) Her hair, pinned up into an intricate bun with invisible bobby pins, highlights the delicate contours of her face. There's a shimmer on her cheeks that's either blush or the body spray she likes to spritz twice and walk through like the women in the sitcoms, she's told him. Her chandelier earrings are so long that they graze her exposed shoulders, and the jewelry is accompanied by a matching diamond necklace and ankle bracelet. (Because her legs need any more advertising.)
He, on the other hand, feels like he's trying too hard in his well-tailored tuxedo and dress shoes. Like the second he enters the gala everyone will notice him and stage-ask whose kid that is playing dress-up in his father's clothes. Between his startlingly young age and lack of date, Spencer knows he'll be the subject of hushed murmurs throughout the night. Maybe if he remains glued to Y/N and Derek's sides, no one will notice him at all. The couple has a way of being the cynosure at every event they attend. They could walk into a funeral, he's sure, and the mourners would abandon the casket to appraise them.
"You do, too," Spencer offers, and is then hasty to add, "Uh, I mean, like, in a girl way." God, why was he cursed with vocal chords? "Beautiful." Okay, he can stop now. "Sexy." Now would be a nice time for the sun to burn out and they all just die.
Red-stained lips ascend, a sign of no harm, no foul. He still feels like a stammering dumbass. "Sexy," she repeats and quirks an arched brow.
"Platonically," Spencer appends because in a roundabout sort of way Morgan is his best friend and he respects him and every woman who accompanies him. "Platonically sexy." His hair remains gelled in position as he bows his head. Growing out his hair was deliberate, for times like these. He hates himself now for styling it.
"Platonically sexy," Y/N says as if trying the term out. She hums her content. "I'm gonna start calling you that."
"Great, I'm sure Morgan'll love that."
"Pfft, watch this." She shifts her weight to the right, cups her hip, and calls down the hall, "Hey, Der?"
"What's up, princess?" Morgan exits his bedroom in a tux (the third he's tried on) that resembles Spencer's own, though is somehow more appealing on his broad stature. Deft fingers work on his tie as he swallows the gap between them.
"I'm calling Spence Platonically Sexy now," Y/N announces like she's decided to join a movement. Spencer's cheeks heat up. "You alright with that?"
"Uh, no." His arms wind around the dip in her waist, back facing the perennial third wheel. They're the only two in the world. "My nicknames are so much cooler than yours. You're only embarrassing yourself."
Y/N tips her head back and laughs. Spencer diverts his gaze to his reflection. "Please! Pretty Boy is the oldest one in the book."
"Platonically Sexy isn't even catchy!"
"It's an inside joke, meaning you just had to be there. Right, Spence?" Just like that the girl's managed to make his verbal diarrhea sound cool. A party Morgan should've attended, but was never invited to in the first place.
Somehow, Derek peels brown irises off his date to witness Spencer's head bob. "Inside joke? I lefft you guys alone for five minutes."
"Mr. Steal Your Girl strikes fast."
"Oh, really?" The agent hugs Y/N into his side. Spencer's such a freakin' third wheel. "I always knew you were a little playa." Morgan winks and he struggles to decipher if his teasing's malicious or not.
Y/N grins her tongue-through-the-teeth smile. "Playa playa," she sings. "The singles aren't gonna be able to keep their eyes off o' you tonight."
The male catches her eye in the mirror and dips his head again, smiling bashfully. "Yeah, sure."
"Look at those dimples! I could build a home in 'em." He thinks Y/N gets a kick out of making him blush, a self-esteem boost. On the other hand, he also thinks she just likes building him up. Friends compliment one another, don't they? Are they even friends?
"You're killin' him, Y/N/N."
"Sorry. Sorry. I'll stop." But she continues. "I just have the hottest dates tonight. I can't get over it." With a hand pressed to the small of her back, Morgan ushers her to the front door, pausing momentarily to grab her clutch off the coffee table. Spencer treads behind them and the two share a knowing look. What it is they both know he isn't sure, but they both know it.
Honestly, it's probably about her.
Scarlet material flares out around her feet. She twirls and twirls and twirls under the expert flick of Morgan's wrist like those ballerinas in their musical jewelry chests. Wisps of hair have come free from their restraints and now frame her face. The crowd easily parts for her as to not be a barrier. Once she's grown bored of being the sun and having everyone revolve around her, he pulls her back into him so they can resume their basic two-step. Her laugh is muted beneath the swell of the jazz music. When the song ends she's still laughing.
"Hello, my lovesick friend," Garcia greets, choosing now to materialize beside him at their assigned table. The blonde was originally mapped to be feet away from them, but there was no separating her and Morgan. He's been meaning to ask her with who and how much she paid to switch seats.
They applaud the live band. Y/N makes to clear the dance floor like the twosomes surrounding them, but Derek pulls her in for another dance to inaudible music.
Spencer hooks an index finger into his button down's collar and pulls. "Your what?" He heard her; he's hoping she'll have the sense to neither reiterate herself or elaborate.
Y/N perches her chin on his chest. Derek curls a renegade strand of hair behind her ear. Spencer wishes that was him.
"Oh, c'mon, Reid. We're totally friends now."
A corner of his mouth twitches. "Not the part I was confused by."
Seconds tick past before Penelope completes the puzzle. He watches the couple to fill the time. "Oh! Oh, my little boy genius, you have absolutely no clue how obvious you are, do you?" The hand not clutching her crystalline flute drapes over his.
"I'm not– I'm not obvious," he refutes. Immediately, it dawns on him that his rebuttal should have been: obvious about what? Now it's out there for everyone's confirmation. His crush on Y/N Y/L/N is as blatant as it is pathetic.
"You're looking at her and not at me."
Morgan's hand rests at her lower back now, the other swallowing her own. "Coincidence, I guess," Spencer murmurs almost trance-like. (That's what being in her vicinity is like, being in a trance.) He doesn't look away.
A real coincidence is the couple's timing. An impossibility in and of itself considering the distance betwixt the foursome, Morgan and Y/N's gazes veer toward himself and Garcia like they knew themselves to be the topic of conversation. Spencer offers an awkward wave and they take it as their cue to approach.
"Would y'like to dance, baby girl?" In one fluid motion, Morgan's extended his palm and Penelope's accepted it with an 'I thought you'd never ask.'
"Try not to be too jealous," she teases Y/N over the bright shawl adorning her shoulder as she glides toward the dance floor.
"I'm already planning your funeral." Y/N looks back at him, eyes glinting with their signature mischief. The globular apples of her cherub cheeks lift from the force of her Splenda sweet smile. Dainty hands are clasped behind her back. "And you, baby boy? Do you wanna dance with me?"
Yes.
Spencer chortles. "What happened to platonically sexy?"
Her only sign of contemplation is the subtle narrowing of her eyelids. "I gotta see how well you shake your ass on that dance floor first."
His uncharacteristically raucous laughter attracts the attention of passing FBI agents and their dates. Their dubious looks are directed toward him before softening around the edges once reaching her. "You're ridiculous. Does Morgan know you're like this? Should I warn him?"
Incredulous, she inquires, "Don't you know finding out how weird your partner is is half the fun?"
Spencer's still smiling when he says, "No, I don't, actually."
Y/N's lesser lip looks especially cushiony upon sinking her front teeth into it. Some of her lipstick stains the ivories and she flicks her tongue along the red until it disappears. "Well tonight, you get a trial run with moi." Barrettes are extracted from her hairdo and abandoned on the ivory tablecloth; the strands tumble down from their previous position in rivulets and Spencer watches them ripple. "Let's go, vanilla shake. Get that cute butt up and dance with me."
He obliges because there's no scenario where he wouldn't. "Vanilla shake?"
"Are you not white?"
"I am."
"Are you not as cute as a milkshake?" The male hesitates for longer than she'd like. "You are," she answers. "And thus, vanilla shake was born." The darling girl slips her fingers between the interstices of his own, zigzagging him through the barrage of suits and cocktail dresses. The band's returned from their five minute recess.
"Morgan was right about you," Spencer says, barely detectable above the room's clatter and drone.
Y/N hears him somehow and cocks her head. "Yeah? What'd he say, that I'm beautiful?" She claims a space closest to the stage and drapes her arms around his neck.
"That you're bad at nicknames," he retorts, grinning.
She blows a raspberry. "Haters are just confused fans. Now, hands on my waist."
Shocks assuages his sharp features. Granted, physical contact comes with slow dancing, but he figured they'd work their around that. "Don't you, uh, think Derek would mind?"
"First thing you need to learn about me and Derek," Y/N pauses, drags her fingertips down the length of his arms, burns holes through his tux with her touch, and guides his extremities to the same dip in her waist her boyfriend was gripping moments ago, "we aren't the jealous type."
She's soft within his palms. If he squeezes too tight he might break her; if he doesn't squeeze at all she might slip through his fingers. They sway in a sort of dance that doesn't require much footwork, which serves him well because he's a rhythmless liability when on the dance floor.
"I guess there isn't a reason to be when you guys look like that," he jokes, half-hearted.
A chuckle parts full lips. "Everyone has their insecurities. At the end of the day, you just have to accept that the only person you can control is you."
He hooks onto what wasn't said as opposed to what was. "You didn't deny it."
"You're attractive too, you know. You're so pretty. And those dimples." Y/N cups his cheeks in his hand. She probably feels the heat radiating off his face. Like warm putty he is when in her embrace. How does Derek survive it? "And when you wear your glasses, every girl in a 25 mile radius swoons." Spencer laughs, nervous. He won't last long if she continues on like this. "I'm serious! You probably haven't even noticed the way some of these other girls here are looking at you."
It's uttered before he can think to swallow it: "What other girls?" The girl, the only girl, mistakes it for a challenge. Curious eyes scour the sea of people for proof, hoping to catch a familiar face she probably witnessed glancing at him in passing. Then, it dawns on her. Slowly and all at once, Spencer watches as Y/N faces him once more, her countenance relaxing into a slack state. Her lips are ajar, eyes wide and beautiful and glossy, and eyebrows centimeters higher than normal.
"Spence," she breathes — a verbal kick to the gut, but he's dealt with worse. He doesn't expect some confession of latent love. He doesn't expect her to kiss him or tell him she always knew. Why would she kiss him? How could she have known? Gradually, her world is becoming Derek. They've entered the phase in their relationship where they're so hopped up on processing these new feelings that they think they'd take a bullet for one another. Considering Morgan's line of work, Y/N probably would. So Spencer hasn't disillusioned himself. If there's one thing he is it's practical. Daydreams are daydreams and reality is reality, and Y/N falls somewhere in between that in the way only she could. Because in his world of black and white, she hasn't smudged the lines so much as doused them in her favorite colors.
His quiver-lipped attempt at a smile could and does probably resemble a grimace. "Can we just, can we keep dancing?" he pleads.
"We were never gonna stop."
#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid imagines#spencer reid x reader#derek morgan imagine#derek morgan x reader#this oneshot is genuinely the best of both worlds#sorta#it's also lowkey angsty
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Glitched: Part 10 - Always Watching
Author’s Note: Holy hell, was this insane to write X_X
A few things. Firstly, I apologize for how long it took for this to come out. I was incredibly anxious about school, plus I was just overly struggling with writing this chapter. I had a general idea of what I wanted to happen, but I didn’t really know how to get it down into words.
Secondly, this came out as about 18 pages long in Word so I apologize for how ridiculously long this is! I didn’t think it was going to come out so damn long!
And thirdly, this chapter is heavy on the angst. There’s a little bit of horror – of course – but this chapter is mainly angst-ridden so prepare for a LOT of feels! For Christ’s sake, I CRIED while writing this, so that should be saying something.
WARNING: This chapter is very heavy and is incredibly dark. There are mentions of suicide, abuse (both physical and mental), bullying (mainly cyberbullying), existential crisis, self-mutilation, and incredibly low self-esteem. There are mentions of a character getting lobotomized. There is a scene with a detailed description of the inside of a character’s back, which contains abnormal anatomy.
I will say this and I will say this one: This is NOT a happy fun time chapter! (I know, the story as a whole isn’t happy, but this chapter is VERY heavy on the angst as opposed to the other chapters) There ARE feels.
You have been warned.
Enjoy!
(I am SO sorry. I feel so bad for writing this! ;^;)
Listen to this playlist while reading.
Wheezing breaths of agony echoed throughout the room as he operated. Warm sticky crimson spurted onto his naked lanky fingers – the very fingers of which were maneuvering the stainless steel instrument through his patient’s skull. A pained gasp expelled from the man upon the bloodied table.
“Oh be quiet.” The glitching entity hissed with agitation. “Stop your whining.” He scoffed. “You act as though you’ve never felt pain before.” A delighted giggle came ringing out of the creature’s slit throat. “Almost like you’re afraid of dying.”
A quivering whimper could faintly be heard coming from his patient as he fiddled with the orbitoclast. The green-haired demon smirked from behind his surgical mask.
“I must say, Herr Doktor,” He said in a horrible German accent, mocking the man, “you should be proud of me. I’m no doctor, but I seem to be doing an impeccable job here, if I do say so myself.” He bragged, his smirk stretching into a twisted smile.
The ice pick sank in further, a trail of blood running out onto the demon’s fingertips. A sharp intake of air, followed by a shaky sob left the patient; the entire mass of flesh jolting and tensing up against his restraints. The overhead light flickered as the sinister being growled through his teeth out of annoyance.
“For fuck sake, stop it! This is delicate work – you of all people should know that!” He snapped sharply, though he ironically gave the pick a violent tap; jabbing the inside of the man’s skull.
It only made the tortured man release a loud moan of unbearable agony, a trembling hand pulling weakly at its bond and trying to reach out for the figure leering over him. After a brief moment, the struggling died down and a faint shaky whine slipped out. The demon chuckled, continuing with his ministrations.
“You see? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? I told you that you could handle the pain.” The creature’s head gave a sudden twitch to the left, then the right, before returning his cold eyes to his patient. He grinned. “If I can bear with it, so can you. Anesthesia is fOr ThE wEaK!” In seconds flat, the entity’s form glitched out spastically; the grin gone and replaced with a grimace of anger, trying to make a point. Almost as quick as it had happened, the toothy smile returned, accompanied with a horrifying cackle of glee.
Another weak whine left the pained patient.
“Trust me, my friend, zhis is for your own good.” The manifestation grinned mockingly, using the exact same words the doctor had said to him when he had been operated on back on October 29th. “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix you right up.” He expelled a useless breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He chuckled lightly before his being glitched out; his facial expression almost immediately falling flat. “I’m going to fix you all.” He hissed softly under his breath.
The poor man upon the table suddenly jerked, a strained gasp of pain getting ripped out of his vocal cords. Anti growled, put off with how uncooperative his patient was being.
“Oh come on, give it a rest already! Get ahold of yourself! You’re not dying!” He mumbled the next few words with promise. “Not yet anyway, but I don’t get to choose the outcome. You should be so lucky.” He wedged the pick in further, showing no remorse towards the man when he writhed and released a choked breath.
As the twisted imposter of a doctor carried on with the operation, getting blood smeared all along his pale digits, he began to yet again find himself slowly but surely sinking into the hatred he held towards the community. No one knew how he felt, not truly anyway. Everyone automatically assumed the unstable creature was just a monster, and as such, he behaved like one. But he was only like that thanks to his creators – they were the ones who gave him life and made him what he was. If they hadn’t wanted a monster, then why hadn’t they done anything to “fix” him? Why hadn’t they taken action when they had had the chance? Anti stared down at his handy work, dark eyes unblinking as the anger started to weave throughout his veins.
“They’re making me do this. They would say otherwise, I know they would. They’re all deceivers – monsters like me, although much worse.” An insidious giggle rang throughout the operating room, sending cold chills down his patient’s spine. “They don’t give a shit about any of us. They can’t seem to make up their damn minds on anything.” He chuckled, although given what he was talking about, it was an incredibly unnerving chuckle. There was nothing but fury and hate behind it. “And they have the audacity to go and point fingers at me and call ME the monster, the true villain in all of this? HA!” He jabbed the orbitoclast rather unexpectedly, instantly getting a horrific reaction out of his tortured patient. He glowered down at the man, his abyssal orbs growing darker and colder than what was already possible.
“They have no idea what they’ve done to me.”
* * * * *
It was not long after Halloween when the demon had begun to notice the changes in his audience. After Anti had “killed” Jack in front of the still recording camera and finally took possession of the Irishman’s body, the glitching entity just had to go and upload the footage to YouTube two days later. After all, Jack himself had wanted to make a Halloween video for the fans; he had even teased them about it with the brief recording he had posted on Instagram. As Anti saw it, he was doing the man a favour. And of course, just as he had expected, after that video was released, the entire community went up in flames. Everyone freaked out – both out of equal amounts of delight and fear. Many actually believed Jack had in fact died and that Anti had taken over, and the insidious manifestation could only laugh out of amusement, applauding those few who knew the truth. He had been so gleeful to see his creators’ reactions, taking in just how shell-shocked they each became and how they all screamed his name. It was almost a surreal experience; the demon couldn’t quite contain his happiness.
However, though he was now the one in control, he knew his fans were going to suspect that he was the one inhabiting Jack’s body. And though that was true, he figured he’d have a bit of fun with them all. He would instead put on a deceitful act and pretend to be everyone’s favorite green-haired Irishman. It was time for him to put all of the training he had done over the past couple of months to good use. He would wear a mask and act like nothing had happened, and that’s exactly what he did.
A delayed video was posted hours later of him explaining what had happened during October leading up to Halloween. The glitch definitely put on a seamless act. The way he spoke, the way he acted, the joy and optimism and excitement gleaming in his blue eyes, the positivity radiating off of the man – it was all far too perfect. There wasn’t any way anyone would conclude it wasn’t Jack speaking in front of the camera. The unhinged trickster came up with a convincing lie off the top of his head, telling his audience how everything had just been one big act for Halloween. Anti wasn’t real, it was just Jack pretending to be an evil demented version of himself out to kill him. It was all just a scary idea he had had for the Halloween season – he wasn’t dead.
And the fandom believed him. They fell for his two-faced lies, each individual word sliding off of his wicked tongue and twisting his creators’ beliefs. They had all bought into his seemingly innocent fable. Some were confused, some didn’t know what to believe anymore, but all of them knew deep down that Jack was perfectly fine and he was only embracing the character of Anti…right?
For a time, the glitching entity had been very pleased with his ways of deception, how he managed to warp every single member of the community into believing he was in fact everyone’s good ol’ Jackaboy…that was until he began to take notice of how little attention he himself was receiving.
Sure, after his appearance on Halloween, a ton of fan art, fanfiction, and posts about him had been produced. There was no denying the fact how all of it had given him immense strength and power. However, given how he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t – someone the entire fandom had adored – he realized with a horrendous hybrid of surprise and perplexity that the community was once again returning there attention onto Jack. They all seemed to be relieved at the fact that he was alright and unharmed, that he hadn’t actually died. They were grateful he was alive, and Anti didn’t understand why. Hadn’t they wanted him to cut the man out of the picture? Hadn’t they wanted him to replace the pathetic Irishman and give them a far more superior being to look up to?
As the months passed away and autumn faded into winter, the demented creature began to truly notice the difference in the community’s behavior. He was slowly but surely becoming forgotten by his own creators. Granted, there were still pieces of fan art and fanfiction floating about here and there on social media, but other than that, their main focus was no longer on him; it had been shifted back onto Jack and it appeared to be staying that way. And though he tried to convince himself otherwise, Anti firmly believed that his fans only thought of him as a one-time thing – that he had had his one chance to steal the limelight and now that it had passed, it was time to move on. And the demon was not at all pleased with this.
The minute he had noticed the change in the fandom, Anti had stormed off into the darkened hell where he kept his host caged up and went off on a long-winded rant about just how confused and enraged he was for suddenly being ignored and accused of being a “one-time thing”.
“What? A ‘one-time thing’?” The green-haired Irishman had questioned from behind the searing-hot bars of the cell. He shook his head slowly, not entirely understanding. His alter ego was speaking so quickly, he could barely keep up. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s there to not understand? They see me as a one-time thing! A side-show act!” The manifestation snapped with a glitch of his head.
“Well what did you expect? You’ve been pretending to be me all this time.” Jack stated simply. “They think I’m perfectly fine and that it was all just an act. They don’t really think you exist, and you’ve made them believe that.”
“Shut up! They know I exist, I know they do!” His body spasmed for a fleeting moment as he paced the room. “And yet…” He chuckled lightly in disbelief, “And yet, they’re acting like nothing had happened. Like everything that had led up to Halloween – all of my sudden appearances – meant nothing.” He whirled around and locked his eyes onto the man in the cage. “It’s almost like they’ve forgotten about me completely.” He scoffed, a petite smile flashing across his face in the blink of an eye. “They haven’t forgotten about me completely, thank fuck for that. But…But they’re my creators, damn it!” He flared, his entire form twitching and jerking, struggling to remain stable. “They created me, they brought me to life, and I gave them a show! So why aren’t they giving me attention?”
With no warning, one moment he was a few feet away from the cell and the next, he was suddenly standing right in front of the bars, slamming his hands against them with a violent bang. Jack’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the action, stumbling backward and nearly catching himself off balance. Anti’s glacial cold orbs bored deep into the Irishman’s soul, hissing harshly through his teeth.
“Why do they like you more than me?!” He demanded, fingers tightening around the bars.
Collecting himself and swallowing down any fear he held towards the creature, Jack straightened up and broadened his shoulders. He refused to show any fear or let Anti have the upper hand in this. He glared at the entity from the other side of the bars, his hands balling up into fists at his sides.
“Maybe it’s because I’m not a monster.” The Irishman seethed. “Maybe it’s because I’m not so desperate for attention that I’ve resorted to hurting or killing anyone. Maybe it’s because I actually have a heart and give a damn about the community as a whole as opposed to being a selfish asshole who only cares about their self.” He spat. “Whether they created you or not, it doesn’t matter. You have control over your actions – you can change your ways – and yet you decide not to. You instead choose to be a wretched monster that’s out to cause carnage and misfortunate for others.”
Jack took a few slow steps forward, his eyes never leaving the insidious being staring back at him. He shook his head, scowling at the demon with a look of disgust.
“You haven’t changed…and you never will.”
Anti felt a pang in his chest at hearing what his counterpart said. He growled in anger, his head twitching violently from left to right as a projection of himself flickered, one of him yanking viciously on his hair with his face scrunched up in frustration as opposed to agony. He cocked his head to the side in an unnatural way, reminiscent of the movement of a small bird’s own head. A layered inhuman giggle came bubbling out of his forever blood-gushing throat.
“You think I can change my ways? You honestly think I can change?” A terribly awful laugh erupted from him, succeeding in striking a descent amount of fear into his prisoner. He shook his head vigorously, a grin plastered on his face, even though it was plainly obvious he wasn’t happy. Admittedly, it unnerved the Irishman to a degree.
“Your ‘precious’ community holds the power over me. They are the ones who made me the way I am. I didn’t get a say in the matter! Hell, I didn’t ask to be made. I DiDn’T aSk tO Be GiVEn LiFe!” He unexpectedly lashed out, the grin vanishing from his face in an instant and an animalistic-looking grimace taking its place. His body seemed to stutter and lag for a moment before resuming its movement, twitching and glitching out every few seconds. It was evident the creature was having a hard time controlling his anger.
Jack jumped back in alarm, having not expected the sudden outburst. However, though it had momentarily startled him, the YouTuber still stood his ground. Before he could even think over the situation and come up with a calm and collected solution like he would normally do, he found himself consumed by an overwhelming wave of rage, and the next few words came flooding out of his mouth – words he would later regret ever saying.
“Well if you don’t want to be alive, then why don’t you kill yourself?!” He snapped, glaring daggers at the entity.
Another pang came from within the glitch’s chest, and this one hurt far more than the previous one.
“You keep complaining about how you were created and how everyone is ignoring you and not giving you attention. You’re like a child – a whiny brat who can’t get what they want when they want it, and it’s just sad.” The Irishman continued, not holding back. “You say that the community is responsible for you – that they’re the ones who created you and brought you into this world. And even though they’re essentially like your parents, they don’t seem to care about you.” He leaned forward. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe the reason they don’t care about you is because of the way you came out?”
Yet again, another painful pang.
“Maybe you were meant to only be an idea, NOT an actual existing creature.” He hissed. “You’re like Frankenstein’s monster – you were pieced together from scratch. Maybe you were meant to come out differently, but instead, came out as this…this thing.” He said with such distaste, the entity visibly winced. Jack kept his eyes fixed on his alter ego, nothing but anger in his eyes, and yet...there was something else there also. Unfortunately, Anti was unable to see it.
“An abomination…That’s what you are.” The man shook his head slowly. “You’re an abomination…and nobody wants you.” His nostrils flared as he took in a sharp breath, trying to keep his hatred at bay. He scoffed. “You know…I’m known for being a reasonable guy. I like to think that I am caring, I can see the good in people, and that I can and will accept anyone for who they are, no matter what their race, gender, sexual orientation – I don’t give a fuck.” He spat. “And over the last two months, I had really thought that maybe – just maybe – that all of this would come to an end.” He was saying it with such sincerity, like he had genuinely hoped things would’ve changed. “That maybe there was some good in you, and you would let me go, and everything could go back to normal. I was willing to accept you for who you are, but now…”
He trailed off, bowing his head and glancing down at the concrete ground, shaking his head. “I was a fool for ever thinking that way…There is no good in you, I finally see that...” He lifted his head and locked eyes with Anti, tugging on his chains as he took a step forward. “You were never meant to exist, Anti. You’re a mistake, and THAT is why they don’t care about you. You weren’t planned. Get that through your head.”
A raw, dead silence came without welcome. The unhinged creature stood there, unblinking eyes staring directly at his host, but the anger he had been feeling – the countless questions that had been tormenting him – all of it seemed to dissipate at hearing what the green-haired man had to say. Never had the demon heard such cold, harsh words leave the man’s lips. Jack had always been known as a pure caring soul, one who rarely ever looked down on anyone unless there was an honest-to-God good enough reason. And for the last two months, the Irishman had tried to see past the glitch’s monstrous exterior. With each day, he had hoped and prayed for the day the demon would come into the room and release him, claiming it to be one big misunderstanding. But that day never came. Time and time again, Anti had been merciless and took great joy in taunting the YouTuber, not at all caring for his feelings. He thoroughly enjoyed seeing his prisoner in a helpless state. And as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Jack finally opened his eyes to the truth: Anti was a monster and that’s all he’d ever be – there wasn’t an ounce of good in him.
Anti stood there unmoving, the glitchiness of his body faltering and ever so slightly managing to calm down a bit. It may have been hard to tell, but through Jack’s eyes, it almost appeared like the entity’s facial expression had dropped. His body may have been tense and he may have been gripping the bars tightly, but his eyes…there wasn’t a sliver of anger anymore, nor was there perplexity. Those feelings were gone, and in their place, something else took over – something much more haunting. His eyes seemed much darker, but not from the ugly emotions he’d been consumed by a moment ago.
No…this was something else entirely…
If the Irishman didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn he was staring into the eyes of a damaged creature. The body language may have made Anti give off the appearance of a deadly predator ready to go in for the kill, but his eyes were a different story. Jack felt like he was staring into the soul of a wounded animal, and for a brief moment, he almost pitied him.
Nevertheless, within seconds flat, the hurt he’d seen fogging up the demon’s onyx orbs cleared away and the fury he’d had before returned with a cruel vengeance; a feral growl crawling out of the creature’s throat. Anti shook his head, his form beginning to twitch and jerk violently once again. Versions of him flickered every few seconds, one or two of him grinning sadistically and cackling wildly.
“No…You’re wrong. They do care about me deep down – they must!” He unexpectedly giggled with an unnerving amount of glee. He shrugged, extending his arms out to either side. “Why else would they have created me?” He pointed an accusing finger out at the Irishman. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to test me – see if I have any ‘feelings’.” The abomination said it as though it was a repulsing concept. “Nice try there, Jackie but it ain’t going to work.” His body spasmed momentarily before he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the bars of the cell. A horrible toothy grin spread from ear to ear across his face.
“Mark my words, Jackaboy, I’m going to prove you wrong about your ‘loving’ community.” He giggled darkly, lines of pixels scattering across his face at a blurring speed to reveal an expression of pure unadulterated hatred and loathing. His voice dropped an octave or two as he glared at his host.
“I’m going to give them a reminder of who’s really been around all this time. Then, and only then, will they open their eyes and see.” And without another word, he pushed himself away from the bars, whirled on his heel, and exited the room.
That had been back in early January.
Throughout January and February, the community’s creation continued to play the part of everyone’s favorite green bean; seamlessly pretending to be someone he wasn’t just to please his fans. However, it wasn’t until he began to play a horror game titled “Detention” when things began to take an unexpected turn of events. Unknowingly to the glitch, every couple of minutes into each video, the facecam would suddenly act out of sorts and someone would appear on screen for a second or two, most often looking directly at the camera with confusion, distress, or sometimes even fear. Unfortunately, Anti hadn’t found out about any of this until the videos had been uploaded and he was furious when he discovered what was going on. Without him knowing, Jack had been making energy-consuming attempts at trying to reach out to his audience and show them that he wasn’t the one in control. He was desperately trying to get the community’s attention, and though he succeeded, it only managed to raise a lot of questions amongst the fans. Glitches were associated with Anti, and thus, a majority of the fandom were convinced that Anti was coming back – even though, in truth, he had never left. No one could decipher whether the man shown in the glitches was Anti or Jack, and it was only frustrating both of the green-haired men.
Shortly after he had brought “Detention” to a close, Anti had gone and subjected his pathetic host to a relentless amount of pain. He had strangled him and beaten him into submission, all while venting out his unbridled rage until the man was a quivering mess at his feet, begging to be let go. It was at this point when Anti knew he had to take action, he had to do something to get the community’s attention back onto him – the REAL him. But how? What could he possibly do? It’d have to be bigger than what had happened on Halloween. Something that everyone could see, something that would never be forgotten, something –
And then it hit him like an oncoming truck: PAX. He knew that Jack attended the convention every year; taking the time to meet his fans in person and giving them all a time to remember. The next one was supposed to be coming up in three weeks, and it only made a grin come to the demon’s face. That was it – that’s how he’d get everyone’s attention once again. What better a way to give his makers a reminder than while at a live event?
Leading up to the weekend of PAX, the entity had gone through the trouble of putting together an introductory video for his panel. For the first minute or so of the video, he pretended to be Jack; welcoming everyone to the panel, only to then announce how he had an idea – a game – that he wanted to try out with the audience. He then proceeded to explain himself, stating how they were all going to record a message of sorts using a phone, a camera, or an iPad. The entire thing seemed innocent enough; there was no need to be suspicious of his behavior. Jack was the one speaking after all, and who wouldn’t trust the precious bean? Surely he had something exciting planned. Everything was going well until it wasn’t. The screen would start to glitch out, some of the audio would cut out or become laced with static – clear signs that something was very wrong and that “Jack” wasn’t so alone. And suddenly, the screen cut to black. A series of clips from Jack’s videos flew by one after another at blurring speed before falling back into darkness. And then there was a chuckle…an eerie, childish chuckle that could easily give anyone and everyone a reason to be scared.
The screen glitched out and there he was in all his glory, finally showing his true self and giving everyone a shock. No one would expect him to show up at the panel, and as such, his message would be heard loud and clear. Throughout the remainder of the video, the unstable demon seemed to be a bipolar mess; it was hard to determine what his exact feelings were. One second he’d have a cheeky toothy grin stretched across his sickly pale face, giggling like a lunatic, and the next his expression would be contorted into a godawful grimace of pure annoyance and rage, seething through his teeth and acting a tad threatening towards his audience. His behavior was…off.
He wasn’t like he had been back in October. In October, Anti had been happy and delighted with what he had done. Granted, he had let some of his caged up anger seep out, agitated with how long he had had to wait to be released, but nonetheless, the creature had been overjoyed. He was proud of himself for having done what his creators had wanted…or at least, that’s what he’d thought they had wanted. And now…it was almost like his happiness was being forced, that the smiles upon his face were completely fake and he was struggling to keep any anger from showing. But Anti, being the unhinged entity he was, failed.
“Look at you all – just sitting there! You all thought I was gone!” He scolded, his head undergoing a horrible spasm attack; glitching from left to right. He pointed his knife at the camera angrily before leaning forward, a toothy grin coming to his face as he ran his delicate fingertips over the edge of the knife. “Not worrying about anything.”
He appeared to both look and sound rather pleased, even the cackle of delight that bubbled out of him was unsettlingly cheery. And yet, with a quick glitch of the screen, he was lifting the knife up to his neck in a menacing way, baring his teeth. His neck twitched and jerked out as he smiled.
“You all thought I was gone.” His voice unexpectedly dropped an octave at the last word, an indication that he wasn’t as pleased as everyone was led to believe at first. “But I’ve been here this entire time,” There was the cheeky expression once again; outstretching his arms and acting much like a young child who had just shown their parents a drawing they had worked hard on, “keeping an eye on things.” His eyes flickered blacker than black for half a second, his voice once more dropping an octave. The way he had said those words, accompanied with his inky orbs staring coldly at his audience, was rather disconcerting. Especially given how that face kept alternating with a much different one – one of twisted satisfaction, the signature Cheshire smile etched onto his face.
“You stopped paying attention!” He seethed through his teeth, a sliver of his built up rage hanging off of each word. He was smiling, yet he was evidently very put off with the community’s decisions. “Well I hope you’re happy.” He said it almost sincerely, like he was genuinely hoping everyone was in fact happy with what they had done. “You found someone new! Threw me aside!” Immediately, the smile had vanished in the blink of an eye, a scowl now in its place. He even jabbed an accusing finger at the camera, making his point.
“You found someone to replace me!” And just as quick as it had appeared, the entity was yet again smiling brightly; his head giving a fierce jerk before he locked his eyes onto the camera. It was up for debate on who exactly the creature was talking about, but Anti definitely knew, and that someone was slowly but surely becoming a weakened broken man behind a set of warm steel bars. Someone he absolutely loathed with every fiber of his being.
“I’m not going anywhere!” The abomination chirped, his voice reaching a higher pitch, nearly sounding like a giggle. His form glitched out to show him constantly moving back and forth in an unnatural way, like the creature was stuck in a state of limbo. “I’m always there – always watching.” He said it in both a teasing and threatening manner, his eyes cloaked in darkness as he raised his knife. He was going to make sure that every single one of them would remember he was there and how he was never going to leave – never.
It was around this point that if anyone listened closely, a very faint muffled “help me” could be heard, reminiscent of the one in the “Say Goodbye” video. However, unlike that one – which had been gushing with panic and horror – this one was the exact opposite. It sounded devoid of energy and hope, like the man who was calling out for help had been tortured relentlessly and was losing the battle. It almost sounded like the poor man was sobbing, desperate for someone to notice he was there. A sinister cackle followed his plea; the insidious monster sounding far too pleased with how helpless his prisoner was.
“You can’t get rid of me.” Anti growled menacingly, directing his knife towards the camera threateningly. His form began to spastically glitch out, shaking from the struggle he was having containing his anger. And with that, the screen blacked out. “Enjoy the show.”
When PAX came around – March 10th, to be exact – and the entity got to show the video, he watched from afar, hearing everyone’s alarmed reactions towards his unannounced appearance. He covered his mouth, having a hard time holding back his laughter. Good, they were finally coming to their senses and remembering he was still around. For the remainder of the event, however, Anti refused to let everyone know he was the one wearing Jack’s meatsuit. Because as much as he wanted to reveal the truth, he could hear Jack’s haunting words swirling in the back of his head, reminding him how everyone only thought he was an idea, not an actual existing creature. If he were to show his true self, there was no telling what would happen, so he decided to keep a low profile and slip back into the character of Jacksepticeye.
Everything seemed to be going well for some time in the community. For the rest of the month leading into April, all they could talk about was PAX and of how the glitching demon had unexpectedly shown up to the event, giving them a reminder he was always there, watching them. And of course, through this, Anti grew happy at receiving more attention. He was so thrilled, he was overcome with the temptation to go up to his host and rub in his face about just how wrong he had been. But unfortunately for the entity, the contentment was short-lived.
Just like what had happened back when he had shown himself on Halloween, Anti only received a vast amount of attention for a month or two before everything died down and he was pushed aside as a “one-time thing”. This time around was much different. While many were trying to decipher his message and who had been in control all this time, others were growing tired of the glitch. They seemed a tad bit annoyed, like he was a nuisance, which made Anti confused more than anything. Why were they all suddenly turning their backs on him? Any one of the other egos could show their faces and everyone would be smiling and laughing, pleased to see them. But if he showed his face, he got the opposite greeting. Everyone would either quiver in fear, snap at him to “fuck off and leave Jack alone”, or roll their eyes and huff an exasperated breath, not impressed. Admittedly, there were quite a lot of people who did in fact love the glitch and were always happy to see him, but Anti failed to see that; a crimson haze casted over his vision, only allowing him to notice the people who resented him.
The twitchy manifestation was at a loss for words. He couldn’t come up with a logical reason as to why so many people spited him. What could he have possibly been doing wrong? All he wanted was to be included into the circle, all he wanted was to be seen as an equal and loved and adored like all of the other egos who stood in his way. How come they got more attention than him? They didn’t get any more videos than he did, and yet, somehow, someway, they all received an insane amount of adoration. But with him – one glitch of the screen and the entire fandom would explode with every emotion except for one he longed for: love. And the demon wouldn’t admit it but it hurt him more than anything; more than any physical harm he could do to himself.
Sometime during May, Anti had isolated himself in a far off room in the void. He locked himself in the pitch-black room, pacing back and forth; tormenting himself relentlessly with what Jack had spat at him and whether any of his words had been true or not. He questioned himself over and over again about what he was doing wrong and why the community couldn’t accept him the way he was. He clutched his head, scrunching up his hair in his fingers and tugging harshly as he growled lowly out of frustration. His body was in a constant state of manifesting itself in and out of existence; jerking and pixelating, distorting all of his features.
“What am I doing wrong? What’s so special about all of those other fuckers? What do they have that I don’t?” He snarled venomously, his form lagging mid-step before resuming movement. “I thought they wanted me to be a real thing, I thought they wanted me to come into existence. Isn’t that what they wanted? But if that’s what they wanted, then why are they all dismissing me with ease, like I don’t exist? Why are they ignoring me?!” He huffed, his unnecessary breathing increasing in rate. He was beginning to sound rather exasperated, and if anyone could believe it, like he was a bit emotionally hurt.
“They’re my parents, for fuck sake! They made me who I am – why would they make me like this if they knew it would displease them?! What kind of sick joke is this?!” He flared, his figure glitching out to briefly show a projection of him strangling himself, the next of him cutting his already bleeding throat. He threw his arms out to either side. “I’m doing everything I can! Am I trying too hard? Am I not trying hard enough? There’s no pleasing those people!” A stuttering breath left his lips, his head giving a harsh jerk to the left; a loud audible crack coming from his neck. He was beginning to shake all over now, and it wasn’t from how unstable his form was.
“They’re…They’re supposed to love me…” He muttered under his breath, bringing his pacing to a halt in the middle of the black room. He stared down at the ground, shaking his head only to release a small giggle of disbelief. “But they don’t love me…They don’t love me at all.”
For three whole hours, the glitchy entity remained in that room, putting himself through a horrendous amount of mental agony. Pacing back and forth and glitching out from one part of the room to the next, the demon wallowed in his pain. He ended up collapsing to his knees, hanging his head in shame and burying his face in his hands. Icy cool droplets filled his dark eyes and ran down his cheeks, dripping down into his hands and leaking out through his fingers. No one would ever see this side of the creature – sadness and emotional pain such as this weren’t normal for the demon. He saw it as weakness, and as such, he would never show it. He would never admit to the heart-devouring pain he’d endure every single day caused by the community. He always stood up straight, put on a devious smile, laughed like a psychopath, and demonstrated the behavior of one too. He always came off as a merciless, deranged, inhuman abomination that felt no remorse or guilt. He was essentially heartless; he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. As far as anyone was concerned, he took great joy in seeing others suffer. Love wasn’t a concept he could understand – it was something he could NEVER learn.
But they were all wrong. Every single one of them was wrong about him. He DID have a heart, he DID care about what others thought of him. He DID want to be loved by not just the community but Jack and the egos as well. And yet, here he was, coming to terms with just how much he was hated by his so-called “family”.
Anti sat down in the furthest corner of the room, knees brought in close to his chest as he tugged at his hair; endless tears of hurt cascading down his face. Jack’s assumption had been right before – he had been looking at a wounded animal. The poor creature couldn’t pull himself together. He had been made to be unstable, and as such, any emotion he would feel, would become impossibly heightened to the tenth degree. There was no easy way out of this hell he was putting himself through, there was no way for him to calm down. He just sat there, letting the darkness consume him and allowing the sorrow to rip away at his heart horrifically.
As though he were a broken record, Anti scolded himself, repeatedly asking himself what was wrong with him as opposed to what was wrong with the community. Maybe Jack had been right, maybe he was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have existed to begin with. Maybe the community did only like him as an idea versus as an actual existing entity. No one loved him, no one cared about him. He was just there as a joke for everyone to do with as they pleased. He was like a puppet having his strings tugged at, playing a part in their deceiving game. And the poor damaged manifestation was getting pulled apart at the seams at the thought.
This is what they had done to him.
They had cut out his heart and forced it down his throat.
He was dead inside.
* * * * *
There he stood, hovering over his patient, lost in a state of memory. His hellish eyes, which had been clouded over with rage and hatred a second ago, now held pain and suffering. Those eyes were the eyes of a creature that had been beaten and abused horribly countless times over – the eyes of someone who had been through hell and back. And for a fleeting moment, it almost seemed like those eyes were beginning to water.
“Those fuckers…They ruined me.” He hissed softly under his breath, his fingers tightening around the orbitoclast currently wedged into his patient’s skull. He shook his head slightly, eyes unblinking. He was looking down at the man like he was expecting him to be sympathetic towards him. “All I ever wanted was to be loved…Was that so much to ask for? Was it that hard of a concept to grasp?” His voice was wavering, sounding like he was on the very verge of crying.
However, at hearing his patient let out a pained moan, Anti blinked and removed himself from his dreary reverie; the unhinged monster within returning to the surface. He smirked behind his mask.
“Nevertheless, who needs love? It’s overrated. Ain’t that right, Doctor?” He giggled as he twisted the steel instrument around, getting the man to produce yet another moan of unwanted agony. “You of all people should know that, what with how your pathetic family left you.” He scoffed. “Who needs them? They abandoned you! If they truly loved you, they wouldn’t have left, now would they?” He gave the orbitoclast a violent tab, a spurt of blood flying up into his face. His patient arched and let out a choked yelp at the searing pain. The demon’s smirk developed into a smile. “You should never hurt the ones you love…Never.”
His patient went placid against the table, no longer moving or making useless attempts at escape. Anti noticed and chuckled, lightly slapping the bloodied man’s face to try and get a reaction out of him. All he received was a drawn out wheezing breath. Chuckling lightly, the sadistic creature tore his mask away from his face and tore the orbitoclast out of the man’s skull carelessly, not at all concerned whether or not he managed to damage something else. His patient jolted and groaned loudly, but didn’t struggle against his bonds or scream from the striking pain. Anti threw the ice pick off to the side somewhere before strolling away from the table, ridding himself of his surgical attire as he headed for the exit.
“Don’t get up, Doc. I’ll be back in a minute.” He said as he stormed out of the operating room. As soon as he left, his smile faltered. “I need to visit your creator.”
* * * * *
Back within the freezing cold hell, the green-haired Irishman was a shivering mess. He was on his knees where he had been standing not too long ago when he had yelled at Anti. His face was buried in his shredded up, blood-caked hands, crying out of fear for not just himself but of what Anti had done. Why had he left the room? He had said he was going to visit the doctor, and immediately, possible scenarios of gut-wrenching horror flooded the YouTuber’s head. What was Anti doing to Henrik? Was he torturing him? Was he getting him to do something completely obscene and wrong? Was he killing him? Jack choked on a sob at that last one.
The man nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the front door burst open; lifting his head hesitantly to see his alter ego storm into the room. Before he knew what he was doing, Jack got to his feet and grasped the icy bars of the cell.
“What did you do?!” He wailed, loose tears running down his face. “What did you do?!” He repeated, both demanding and dreading an answer.
Anti frowned from where he stood, eyes fixed onto his prisoner. His arms flung out to either side of him. “I did what was necessary!” He snapped sharply, a bit put off with the Irishman’s whining.
He took a few steps forward, boring his dark soulless orbs into the crippled YouTuber. His body glitched out, his head jerking violently to the right; the slit across his throat seeming to stretch further at the motion.
“I did what I had to do!”
He materialized, suddenly now having his back facing Jack. He pulled up his shirt, and while biting deeply into his bottom lip and letting loose a pained hiss, the skin of his back pixelated and was pulled back, revealing his spine to his host. There was crimson blood everywhere accompanied with some sort of sticky black sludge. There were veins and bits and pieces of his insides here and there that appeared as though they had had something severed from them; evident due to the holes scattered about and how some veins hadn’t been sealed off properly. All along his spine there were dark splotches and some kind of green residue there, almost as if something had once been attached to the creature’s spine.
Jack flung away from the bars and nearly screamed, a wave of nausea crashing over him and knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled backward and instantly collapsed to his knees, keeling over as bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t hold back. He heaved violently and vomited, the sight of Anti’s insides far too revolting for him to stomach.
“Your ‘precious’ community made me do this, Jack.” The demented entity hissed with distaste. “They were always pulling the strings, ALWAYS the ones to twist and shape me however they pleased.” He scoffed, a giggle ringing out of his vocal cords as though this was all some fucked up joke to him. “They made me a joke. They dragged me along in their game, and I HAD ENOUGH!” He growled momentarily before the abnormally delighted smile returned to the creature’s paled face. “So…I got the ‘good doctah’ to sever the strings once and for all.” He cackled, shaking his head as his back closed back up and he lowered his shirt.
The Irishman raised his head, breathing heavily and having difficulty getting air into his lungs. His eyes were blown wide with horror, staring at his counterpart with disbelief like he couldn’t believe what the creature was saying.
“Oh my God, Anti, why?! Why?! Why would you - ?!” He got cut off, nearly choking on the left over bile in his throat. He groaned and hacked harshly, spitting it up. He sobbed softly and shook his head vigorously, fixing his lifeless eyes onto the demon. “You didn’t have to do that! Why the hell would you do that to yourself?!” He cried, like he wasn’t just horrified of what he’d discovered but also like he genuinely cared about the demonic entity’s wellbeing. “Why the FUCK would you mutilate your body – why would you go through something like that?!”
Anti slowly turned around to face him, no evidence of there having been a smile on his face a moment ago. He no longer looked amused or happy; there was nothing but anger and hate written in his eyes. His form was struggling to remain stable now, lines of static racing across his body here and there; jerking from left to right as he took a step towards the cage. He cocked his head and scoffed, like he couldn’t believe he had just heard the green-haired man ask him such a stupid question.
“You think I wanted this?” He asked in such a soft static-laced voice, it managed to send chills up Jack’s spine. “You think I really wanted to do this – that I wanted to have the one thing that made me who I am, the one crucial part of my being, torn out of my body without care like it didn’t matter?” He inquired, although the way he was phrasing the question didn’t sound like a question. It sounded as though he expected Jack to already know the answer. He shook his head slowly, staring at the Irishman with slight shock.
“I did what had to be done and I don’t regret it.” He spat, even though his words came out a bit off, like he wasn’t telling the truth. “They can’t control me anymore.” He jolted forward, pressing his face into the bars of the cell. “I’m not their bitch, they’re mine. They are all my puppets now…and we’ll see how much they like to be strung about in a twisted game of pain and suffering.” His face glitched out, very briefly showing a different version of him, except this one was unlike any of the others Jack had seen before. Every time Anti’s form would become distorted, Jack would always see projections of him either displaying violent behavior or he’d be a terrifying laughing lunatic. But this time…there was none of that.
There was no uncontrollable anger, no frustration, no unsettling glee accompanied with chilling giggles.
There was only sadness, a look of hurt on his face as though he had been horribly beaten and was now a cowering mess. And though it had happened at a blurring speed, Jack could’ve sworn he had seen tears well up in the creature’s eyes.
Jack’s eyes widened ever so slightly, remembering how earlier he had seen Anti in a similar vulnerable state – something he had never once seen come from the glitch before. Licking his cracked lips and letting out a raspy wheezing breath, the Irishman tried to talk some sense into the entity.
“Anti…D-Don’t…” He coughed harshly, a few drops of blood spluttering forth. He shook his head. “Y-You don’t want to do this…You…You’re wrong…about them.” He inhaled sharply, groaning as he felt a stinging pain in his chest. He hunched over and shifted around, attempting to get into a comfortable position. “Y-You…You don’t know them like I do.”
Anti kept his abyssal orbs locked on the Irishman, never once leaving his face. There was no telling what was going through the manifestation’s head; his expression was unreadable. One moment it looked like he was pissed off, the next it seemed flat like he didn’t care at all. He scoffed, the corner of his lips tugging up into a slight smirk that only lasted for half a second.
“No, you’re right. You’re right, I don’t know them like you do.” His head gave a violent jerk to the right, a loud crack emitting from his slashed neck. He bored his eyes into his prisoner, anger becoming the more dominant emotion now. “Because you’ve been strung along in their deceiving game. All this time, you’ve been led into believing that they care about you – that they care about any of us, for that matter – and because of it, you’ve been holding onto false hope for the day they save your ass.” He seethed, his words striking deep into the man’s heart.
“You need to wake up and realize they’re never going to save you, they are NEVER going to help you. They are the true monster in all of this. They all put on an innocent act and like they’re not at fault. But they are the ones to blame! They caused ALL of this to happen!” He unexpectedly slammed his hands against the bars, making Jack flinch and shuffle backward. The demon’s eyes became drenched in black, heavy shaky breaths of anger puffing out through his lips. “They don’t give a FUCK about any one of us, and it’s not until now that I’ve come to realize this.”
Jack shook his head in disagreement. “No…N-No, y-you’re wrong…Y-You’re mistaken, A-Anti…” He insisted, shivering from the cold. The room had gotten so cold, he could now see his own breath. Funnily enough, even though Anti was breathing, his breath wasn’t visible. The Irishman found it to be a rather odd observation. “Th-They do care. A-About me, about th-the others, and…a-and about you too.”
At hearing this, the glitch couldn’t contain his mirth and threw his head back, letting out a horrific laugh of delight. He locked his eyes back onto his host, a toothy grin on his cruel face, clearly not believing the man.
“Is that so?” He chuckled lightly. “Do you remember what you had said to me long ago, back in January?...Do you remember?” His grin was slowly but surely slipping away, fading down to a smile, then into what almost looked like a pained scowl. “Do you remember?” He softly whispered through the bars. “Do you remember what you said to me?” His voice, it sounded…strained, like he was struggling to breathe properly or something.
Jack’s brows weaved out of confusion, trying to recall what the demon was talking about. This damned room, he could barely think clearly. For Christ’s sake, he had had so much difficulty remembering what had happened in October. How was he supposed to remember what – ?
And then it all came at him full-force with no warning. Suddenly, the Irishman was able to notice the pain behind the creature’s fury, and his facial expression softened as he felt an overwhelming amount of guilt coil around his fist-sized organ of innocence and constrict it tightly. He began to feel tears returning to the surface, welling up in his eyes as he tore his gaze away from his alter ego. Anti groaned and pulled away from the bars.
“Oh for fuck sake, enough with the crying already! It’s getting to be annoying.” He bemoaned. ��Come on, I haven’t even hurt you yet! What could you be possibly crying about now?!”
Jack kept his head low in shame, shaking it as the tears threatened to tip over the edge.
“I…I-I…I’m sorry…” He whispered so softly, it could barely be heard. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sobbed, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, a look of pain coming upon his face. “I-I’m so sorry…I…O-Oh God…” He lifted his hands, covering his face as he cried.
Anti frowned. Normally he’d be amused at seeing his prisoner so broken up like this, but not today. He was in absolutely no mood for waterworks.
“Sorry? What the fuck are you babbling on about?” He banged against the bars. “Come on, speak up!” He snapped with annoyance.
The green-haired man gulped in what little air he could as he pulled his soaked hands away from his face, reopening his eyes.
“I…I-I’m so s-sorry, I…” He sniffled. “I-I had no…i-idea that you…” He stopped himself, taking a breather to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t work out as well as he had hoped. He shook his head in disbelief as the memories tormented him. “Th-Those words…Th-Those things I had said, Jesus Christ…” He shut his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose and cringing at the reminder. He bit his lip, trying so very hard to stop himself from crying. His bottom lip trembled as he struggled to speak. “I…I thought…I thought you were heartless…I-I th-thought that…that there was n-no good in you at all…I…I figured y-you were a…a…”
“A monster?” Anti answered so harshly, his body rippled violently.
Jack tensed up at the word and he immediately lifted his head to lock eyes with the demon. Wet lines of sorrow stained his cheeks and his eyes were red, sore from the countless times he had cried. He shook his head slowly, still shell-shocked by the haunting memory.
“I-I’m s-so sorry…I-I don’t know w-why I said th-those things…” He sniffled and nervously chuckled out of disbelief, like this had to be some sick joke of sorts. “I-I didn’t mean any of it…I…I-I didn’t know, I swear to God, I d-didn’t…” He sobbed, a few lone tears running down his face. “I w-was wrong about you, Anti…I-I was so wrong…I…” He swallowed his tears. “I-I was so blind to see that…that the one who truly n-needed help…th-the one who n-needed love…” He looked up at the creature with pleading eyes, hoping like hell that he believed his words, because none of them were lies. He was telling the honest-to-God truth, and it was ripping him apart. “w-was you…Th-That’s all y-you’ve ever wanted…Y-You’ve w-wanted t-to be a part of s-something…a-and w-we have f-failed you…” He cried, shaking all over not from just the cold but from the force of his crying. “I…I-I’m so sorry, Anti.” He whispered softly.
The unhinged abomination glitched out for a moment, standing there with his gaze fixed onto the quivering mess of a man named Jack. Like before, his face was unreadable. Jack couldn’t tell if he was enraged, annoyed, amused, happy, or something else entirely. For a split second, when the entity went to stand up straight, the Irishman had winced and whimpered, raising his arms to brace himself for any sort of act of violence. But nothing came. Instead, he heard the creature let out a shaken breath.
“I knew it…I knew this would happen.”
Blinking with confusion, the YouTuber lowered his arms just enough to glance up at the demon.
“You’re just as bad as them.” He hissed, his entire body glitching out to show a projection of himself crying out in anguish. “You don’t care – you didn’t before, and you still don’t. All of this,” He motioned at the man crying his eyes out in the cold dank cell, “is just an act, just an excuse – an attempt to try and win me over so I can release you from this hell. Well guess what? It’s not going to work, so drop the act. I’ve had enough of the lies from everyone.” He growled with such hatred, his head stuttered and twitched from left to right, struggling to keep his anger at bay.
Jack blinked, frowning with perplexity. “W-What? No…N-No, no, no. Y-You…” He coughed violently, “y-you think - ?” He shook his head, pushing himself up into a standing position and nearly falling over. He quickly steadied himself against the prison bars, his eyelids slipping shut tiredly before reopening them to look at the entity. “Th-This…This isn’t an a-act…” He coughed again, hacking harshly into one of his bloodied palms. “I-I am t-truly sorry, An-Anti…a-and…a-and the c-community…i-if they are th-the ones who…who c-created you…th-then they do care.”
Anti growled. “Lies.”
“N-No…No, I-I know them…I-I know w-what they’re like…a-and…” He sucked in a breath, choking on it and heaving into his hand dryly. “u-ugh….mmgh…” He winced before standing up as straight as he could. “t-they do care…Th-Those jokes th-they make a-about you…” He shook his head, “th-they’re just jokes, th-that’s all…I-It’s what th-they do. H-Hell,” He scoffed, “th-they’ve m-made jokes about m-me and…and the others b-before…” He shrugged, licking at the tears that ran over his lips. “I-It’s j-just their w-way of showing th-their appreciation – th-their l-love.”
He coughed violently, nearly collapsing to the ground at the force of his coughing. He groaned in pain, his legs wobbling as he struggled to remain standing. He looked at Anti with exhaustion.
“P-Please…B-Believe me…Th-They d-don’t h-hate you, Anti…” He insisted in a pleading tone of voice, a lone tear running down his cheek. He shook his head. “N-No…No one has to get hurt…Y-You c-can…can be happy and l-loved…l-like you were m-meant to be.” He said weakly before sliding down to the ground with a thud, letting out a weak moan.
Through the dark, though his eyes had fallen shut for a brief moment, the Irishman made out a very faint sob. His eyelids were heavy with the longing to stay shut, but he forced them open to see the glitch’s face contorted into one of frustration. There was anger, hatred, and…and sorrow. There was pain – heart-aching pain, tears welling up in the hurt creature’s darkened eyes. His grip on the bars of the cell was so tight, Jack was almost afraid he was going to break them and charge into the cage to slaughter him. Lucky for him, that didn’t happen. His entire body was visibly shaking and not just from how he was glitching out constantly every few seconds. It almost seemed like the poor creature was fighting himself, like he was holding back on something. His bottom lip was trembling as he struggled to keep himself from showing weakness.
“R-Really?...Is that so?” The demon stuttered in a static-laced voice. And though he sounded beyond furious, he couldn’t hide the truth from the Irishman. He was hurting, and it was showing as clear as day. “Y-You think they all care?” A small sad smirk tugged at his lips as he outstretched a hand behind him. “Th-Then how do you explain these?” And with a snap of his fingers, a patch of darkness dissolved to show endless posts on Tumblr, YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter.
Jack squinted, dragging himself forward in a poor attempt to see well. His eyes widened a tad bit when he realized what each one was about. Every one of the posts was hateful and overly mean towards the glitch, and none of them were in a joking manner, even Jack himself could tell.
“Fuck off, Anti! Leave Jack and the egos alone!”
“Go away! We don’t want you here!”
“Look at him – he’s having a temper tantrum. He’s not scary, he’s just complaining about what he can’t have.”
“You people do realize this is all just an act, right? Anti’s not real, get over it.”
“Anti, why the hell are you here?”
“We need to get rid of Anti, guys! It’s the only way we’ll get Jack back! Who’s with me?!”
“Anti, it’s not Halloween yet! Go back to sleep!”
“Glitch Bitch!”
Every single comment or post was either making fun of the glitching entity or just straight up being hurtful in the worst way imaginable, such as telling him to go away and that he wasn’t wanted – that no one wanted to see him. No one knew it, but every one of the posts hurt the creature to a horrible extent, and Jack couldn’t blame him. He stared at the screen with appalment. These couldn’t be from his community, there was no way. He knew his fans and they were most certainly not this cruel – not towards him or the other egos, at least. And if Anti was their creation, then why the hell would they treat him worse than dirt?
Jack didn’t know what to say, and Anti could tell. He scoffed, the sad smirk still upon his face.
“Y-You see? You c-can’t even defend th-them.” He lowered his arm as the screen materialized, gone forever. “Th-They don’t care about me…I-I’ve always been j-just a nuisance to them – a-an object for th-them to toy with.” His form spastically glitched out all of sudden, a projection of him lurching forth; tugging at his head and bawling his eyes out, screaming out in pain. Jack gasped softly, pressing back into the bars behind him. Anti jerked his head. “I-I…I will n-never be loved…b-because th-that’s not the reason w-why I-I was m-made.”
The Irishman’s eyes widened with surprise as he watched Anti blink, a lone tear finally falling loose and running down the demon’s cheek. His bottom lip trembled more, having little to no control over his emotions anymore. Another tear fell from his eye.
“Th-They d-didn’t make me…b-because they w-wanted a s-son…T-They made me b-because…th-they wanted a m-monster…” He sobbed softly, his entire form vibrating and giving a violent glitch. And though his body was unstable, the creature’s voice remained rather quiet, like a murmur. He almost sounded human.
“Th-They w-want…a v-villain...th-that they can h-hate and f-fear…Th-That’s all they’ve ever w-wanted…f-from the start.” He shook fiercely, anger starting to come back with a vengeance; his voice becoming much harsher and more distorted. “S-So…if th-that’s what they w-want…i-if that’s w-what’ll please them…” He chuckled lightly, another cool tear racing down his face. His sad smirk morphed into a twisted ugly smile. “Th-Then that’s w-what I’ll give them.” He shook his head vigorously, licking at the salty tears over his lips. “N-No more…L-Love is t-truly dead…” He cackled. “F-Fear…” He hummed with bemusement, “is w-what’ll get th-there attention…p-permanently.”
He pushed himself away from the bars and growled at himself, roughly wiping his eyes free of any more tears before turning on his heel to storm for the exit. Jack almost immediately scrambled to his feet, gripping onto the bars for dear life so he wouldn’t collapse again.
“W-Wait, wait, wait!” He croaked hoarsely, barely having any voice left in him. He reached his arm out through the cell, hoping Anti wouldn’t leave. There was no telling what the demon would do once he left. Hell, Jack still didn’t even know what Henrik’s fate had been!
“An-Anti, please!” He coughed dryly, his shoulders shaking. He was beginning to fall incredibly weak again, his eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion and the temperature of the room was only making it worse. “D-Don’t…” He gave one last attempt, one last plea before his knees gave out; collapsing to the ground and passing out cold.
Anti didn’t bother to look over his shoulder at the Irishman. He didn’t even retort back with a snarky taunting remark of sorts, the closest thing being, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some unfinished business to attend to.”
He wasn’t his usual self, and Jack had seen it with his own two eyes. It had been a long while since the entity had had a chance to vent out these painful emotions, but he had no time to lock himself away.
No…He couldn’t lock himself away…
But he could take his hurt out on someone else…
Part 9 - No Strings Attached
Part 11 - In Your Head
@gridhorizon @jse-fandom-protection-squad @septic-obsessed @darkcurious @butterlover328 @steffid101 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @n-o-ra-xi @haveaverynicetime @golden-eyed-guardians @fear-is-nameless @nightmarewolf133 @maybekatie @jack-a-yote @lil-gib @aeoix @lemonofweirdness @randomcrystals @yourestillnotmytype-58
#this came out ridiculously long x_x#so sorry#but fuuuuuck#the angst in this killed me horribly#I actually cried both when I wrote it and when I proofread it#it's that painful#now if you'll excuse me#I'm going to go cry in a corner and question what I've just done#sorry not sorry#you shall all suffer with me#mwuhahahaha!#glitched#antisepticeye#anti#jacksepticeye#antisepticeye fanfiction#anti fanfiction#jacksepticeye fanfiction#antisepticeye fanfic#anti fanfic#jacksepticeye fanfic#angst#so much angst
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BHNA AU [self insert]
Nani the heck is this? read here!
Chapter 2: Ass-Whoopin’ Boogaloo
I’ve been at UA for 3 weeks now and I’m getting the hang of everything! My new found friendship with Jin and Mimi has gotten stronger to where we can share our back stories. My stance in the hero course, its a bit tough and tense since Iida told everyone about our incident. Going in that class everyday has me on guard for anymore unwanted heroics. I now eat lunch in the Intelligence commons room with all my fellow intelligence course classmates. Midnight and Aizawa sensei have really made my anxiety and feelings be heard. There’s always a smile and calmness in my face when I go to school now, like how I was when I was in America. I still get homesick but I don’t cry as much.
-Tuesday, in homeroom-
“Yo do y’all ass still hurt from yesterday?”
“ugh YES and I want to remove my ass!”
“I hate butts but mine craves D E A T H~”
“jeez Jin, it don’t hurt that much”
“yeah, it was just a slap”
“it wasn’t fair! my opponent slapped me twice so hard it made my soul vibrate”
“God I wish that were me”
“Mimi please! we’re in class!”
“OKAY CLASS LETS GET STARTED!” Diya sensei bellowed, as he was not in the mood today. It’s result day to see where we need improvement and our strong suits for combat groups later in the semester.
“As you all may know” as he lifts up a thick file “it’s result day. All those tests on conceal and carry, endurance, strategy and weaponry are in a personalized packet to see where you fucked up”
Oof, guess the class didn’t do so well as a whole.
“Plus, there’s a class ranking, for guts and glory to those who did well. The rest of you slackers need to refresh on conduct and holding a gun correctly! I’ll pass out the packets first in no particular order.”
Jin turned to me, “I hope we did well! We kept our cool in the physical and weapons”
“I hope so, I just know my non-quirk usage run was absolute garbage!”
Mimi shuttered “yea, you tripped over your own feet in front of the entire 1st year intelligence class”
We get our results packet and to my surprise, I get a passing result on the physical. A whole 93% success, my place to improve on is speed on gun shooting and weapon stability.
“I’m going to put the class ranking on the overhead, so those who fucked up get to see just how bad” Diya sensei said as he turned on the projector.
We wait in total anxiety to see who ranked on the top. When the sheet appeared, the our class ranking was of the left and the whole 1st year intelligence class ranking on the right. Out of the whole class, I got 3rd, closely followed by Mimi and Jin. In the other list, I was number 5. Not only that but I was the only international student in the top bracket, Mimi and Jin were in the lower 10s in rank. I didn’t know what to say! I didn’t know how to feel about my placement aside from relief that I passed.
“As you can see, our class has about a 10 point difference between the top students and the fuck ups. And you can see that our kind and determined American, Miss Palma, has placed in the top 5. All praise and glory to them!” He said in gusto as the class applauded me. Suddenly, my scraped knees and palms from my fall didn’t seem so bad.
“oh thank you sensei! Glad to make my class proud and I’ll continue to work hard”
“you’re too modest Miss Palma! You didn’t just make the class proud, the whole district and staff here know about your achievement. Because your the first international student in 10 years that made top bracket.”
“oh jeez really? the whole staff here knows? Thats a big deal to carry with the title” I said with less enthusiasm. I suddenly don’t want to leave the classroom to go to my other classes.
We have weapons class and it was mostly for the ones that didn’t do well in that portion of the exam. All I did was practice aim with hand guns, Mimi helped me out with that. Before we had to get dressed to go to next class, our PE clothes came in and I was so happy I got mine but the shorts on mine were a little too low on the waist. Curse my big ass! So I got re-measured and had to wait another week to get my full set. I got dressed quickly and teleported to my next class. I wasn’t late but I didn’t want any of the staff to talk to me about my achievement. I walk in and everyone starts clapping, FUCK i thought, Aizawa told them huh?
“brava to our brilliant American Student!” said Aizawa
“What an honor to hold Palma-san!” said Aoyama-san
“I’m impressed! We have to see you in action!” Sero said excitedly
“Actually, we can today”
“what do you mean sensei?”
“we’re going to the gym to do one on ones today”
“oh I was just there! alright ummm you want me to meet you guys there?”
“oh you were? sorry about that but if you’d like, go on ahead, I have to do some disciplinary things for the class”
“ok got it, see yall out there!” I said before teleporting out.
I got dressed out in my new jacket but with my black basketball shorts. To them, I probably look like I ripped my bottoms. I walk to the gym, nobody here yet, guess I’ll start my stretches. I put on my hypebeast playlist as I do stretches and quirk warmups. And a thought comes to mind, I don’t actually use my 2nd quirk like I should and I just pretend that it doesn’t exist. But then again, my quirks are on my file, if Aizawa finds me out I’m fucced because I HATE touching other people’s faces. I didn’t realize it but the class was watching me as I do my t-pose flips with the music on full blast. When I saw them I got embarrassed.
“WOAH Palma-san, didn’t know you listened to hype music” said Jiro
“oh yea hehe I listen to it when I work out and train, it gets me in my fighting element”
“fighting element? who you fighting often to have that?” said a very confused Mineta
“Oh i have an older and younger sibling back home and they’re blessed with double and powerful quirks. As the middle child, I have to stand against them when they get violent over the last slice of pizza”
“couldn’t you just, share and use your words instead of fighting all the time?” said Uraraka like she just my solved problem.
“you wouldn’t say that when your older sister has an anger fueled quirk plus fire and your little brother has the same temper but with the ability to stretch and fly, I HAVE to square up and throw a punch or 10 at my siblings to get what I want”
“thats terrible! what do your parents think about that?” said Tokoyami
“they stopped trying to prevent or stop the fights, they just let us at it as long as nothing catches on fire”
Everyone just looked at me like I survived a war or something. I assumed everyone was just an only child if they didn’t understand my reasoning.
“ok everyone, do we have anyone that wants to go first?” said Aizawa has he cut through us to the sparring circle.
“um I’ll go first!” I spoke up with a bit of restraint.
“oh good! your opponent is Bakugo, please get in position”
I have never craved death in my life more than this moment, with Bakugo?! I already didn’t like him as a person and his power is on par with my sister but with braincells. Doesn’t matter now, I take my side of the circle.
“tch, your just my warmup, don’t get your hopes up America-san” Bakugo spat out as he gave me the once over.
“Ok, round 1, Bakugo vs Palma, BEGIN” said an automated voice.
I put my fists up and get in my low stance. I think out my strategy that if I give him a dead leg and teleport him a few feet up while he’s dazed, I can suplex him to my victory. Because there was no way I could get him out of the circle to win. He charges toward me so aggressively and I barely evade him. I take my chance to give him dead leg but he threw in his punches before I could. A minute of trying to get him in the air passes and he got me on the ground and I stagger myself to look up, I had too much fight in me to give up now.
“PAUSE TIME” say Aizawa “Palma-san, use your other quirk”
“what? I-”
“no excuses, the old you is dead, reinvent yourself” he said right before I stood up “RESUME TIME”
Bakugo got a sickly, evil smile on his face and said “when I’m done, I’ll make you wish you never left home from mommy and daddy” as he inched closer.
That triggered the aggressive part of my psyche.
“shut up”
“what did you say?”
“I said SHUT UP!” as a swung in for the open hand slap to the face, “you don’t know me or what I did to end up here you aggressive twink!”
“you catty bitch, using slaps like my old hag, DIE” as he lunged toward me.
“GET AWAY FROM ME BOTTOM!” as I hold my hands out to unleash an explosion hard enough to send him out of bounds.
“Round 1, over, Palma wins” said the automated voice as I see Bakugo on his knees a good 10 ft away. I turn to my classmates and sensei, they’re in states of shock and awe. Sensei was proud of me and gave me the thumbs up. I turn to Bakugo, he’s still in shock.
“oh jeez, um you alright? Here let me-” I said as I teleported to him, assuming I hurt him or something.
“I get it! I lost! you don’t have to rub it in my face!” he growled as I teleported in front of him.
“Are you hurt? can you stand?” I said as I held my hand out.
He looked at my hand then my face, confused he said “you’re helping me? even after what I said to you? Aren’t you mad at me?”
“I was but I wanted to make sure you were alright, I left my family behind in America, not my human decency” I said genuinely as he took my hand to lift himself up.
“EY amazing job Palma-san!” said Midoriya “just one question, for my notes on everyone’s fighting style, whats a twink?”
I start laughing “oh goodness um its-” I whisper what a twink is in his ear.
“EEEEEHH?! thats so mean, but accurate! Kacchan is an aggressive twink” then he writes under Bakugo’s page according to Palma-san’s one on one with Kacchan, he’s an aggressive twink. Palma-san doesn’t say lies in battle.
After a few more one on ones, Kaminari spoke up “hey sensei, can I go against Palma-san?”
“if they’re alright with it, I don’t see why not”
“yea, I can go another round” I say like I’m being offered a second round of sushi.
“then take your places”
“Round 8, Kaminari vs Palma, BEGIN!”
Before I could go into my strategy, he starts talking like he has a motive,
“lets make a wager, If I win, you have to go on a date with me~”
“BOLD of you to assume I want to date you”
the class goes ballistic with the roasting I gave him!
“But if I win, you have to buy me coffee for a week”
“ok you’re on cutie” he said with a wink.
I gave a disgusted face as I wait for him to start shooting his sparks. He goes for it and I teleport behind him. He stopped his attack when he noticed I wasn’t there, a little too late boy. Gave one swift low sweep to knock him down and distract him from phase 2 of my plan. I quickly unzip my jacket, took it off and threw it on him as he got up.
“oi whats with the tricks?!” as he tried to wrestle out of my jacket. Just as according to plan. Now to intrigue him into phase 3, the finisher.
“aww, its like you’re not even trying!” I whined as I grab my jacket sleeves toward me, slinging him to my person. “maybe if I- cut out the middle man, you’ll fight me like a man!”
I made my ‘kiss me!’ eyes as I slightly puckered up. The fool fell for it and closed his eyes as he leaned in for the kiss. I couldn’t see the class but I’m pretty sure they had their jaws on the floor with the shit I was pulling off. Before our lips met, I did a quick dodge to his left ear as our chests touched and whispered ‘sike bitch you thot!’ and teleported us 15ft upwards. That bided me time to flip him and put him in a Diving Hurricanrana. He rolls forward and out of bounds.
“Round 8 over, Palma wins”
The class roars with amazement! I get a little thrown off by the noise. Then I hear Kaminari groan, shit I forgot to tone it with the wrestling moves.
“Hey you good?”
“Can’t believe you pulled a fast one on me!” he said as he took my hand to stand up, “I really thought I was gonna get lucky”
“oh Kaminari!” I said as I put my hand on his cheek “I like my coffee black with no cream and half a packet of sugar.”
“oh right, our wager” he said sadly, trying to not to blush in front of me.
“thanks again! I should wager for coffee more often” as I boop him on the nose, sending a light shock.
I walk back to the rest of the class and Midoriya runs up to me,
“Palma-san! that was- I’ve never seen that ending move before in my life! and the tactical taunts! How did you know he was going to fall for that kiss fake out?”
“thanks hehe that move is a lucha libre finisher called the Diving Hurricanrana and Kaminari-san is kinda predictable if he made his intentions clear in the beginning. The moment he said going on a date with him, I knew that was virgin code for ‘I want to have my first kiss already’ and I went for the kill”
Midoriya then writes in on my section of his notes ‘fights a mix of martial arts, lucha libre and trickery. Full strategy going into fights. Can read their opponent well’
“Good job kid,” Aizawa said while scribbling on his score sheet “up for another round? You have another challenger” he said pointing behind him with his pen.
I looked over and saw Todoroki staring at me with serious eyes, I’d be a fool to not take this fight, win or lose.
“Yea I’ll have another go”
“Thats the spirit, take your positions”
“Round 9, Todoroki vs Palma, BEGIN”
He doesn’t waste time to rush me with his ice, but I had a plan. If I could get him to the center of the circle, I can go in at close range combat and, depending how he falls, I can get him in an submission hold and it will all end.
“Your tricks won’t work on me” he told me bluntly “I can counter anything you throw at me.”
“Bold statement coming from somebody within slapping range”
“I won’t give you the pleasure of touching me”
“Oof wrong choice of words dude, gotta work on that”
The class chuckled and Todoroki got flustered because he didn’t know what he said that made them laugh. He blasted his next attack and I do a quick dip and vertical jump into T-pose, onto phase 2, the lure. I hover over him like I’m going to drop my weight on him so he can move to the center, he moves 5 steps in the right direction. All according to plan, I do a head kick fake out to get him to the middle and he jump dodges right where I wanted him. Phase 3, close combat, I teleport 2 feet in front of him and started my attack. As I execute my slap fake-out to gut upper cut, I ended up touching his face any ways. Slight change of plans, I can potentially freeze him in place. As I activate the quirk, a familiar sensation rose in my body. A secret quirk? I was tricked! He wanted me to touch him to mess up my plan! My body trembled and half of my body sprouted ice pillars, the other side had a perfectly controlled flame in my hand. FOOL he unknowingly gave me the upper hand!
“Wow, fire and ice? All the makings to be a powerful hero and you chose to hide the fire part of you” I said in awe “then you and me aren’t so different after all.”
He looked at me like somebody finally understood him, it all clicked to me. He let me touch him not because of strategy but to see if I really DID understand his reason to hide his quirk. All because I displayed mine in my fight with Bakugo. But he’s still gonna get his ass whooped.
“But you made a grave mistake, I have a sister with the same fire power” I said unapologetically “I’ve been mastering my technique since I was a toddler! I played with fire and I’m not afraid of getting burned” I said as I raised my hand with the fire side. His face turned from hopeful to fearful so quick when he realized he didn’t have a full plan to take me down now. I blast a ring of fire that he narrowly avoided. The class is conflicted on who they wanted to win but they were telling Todoroki to use his fire. I drop down with my right foot out to do my fire spin. Todoroki is having trouble landing an attack on me.
“I’ve never seen such moves, not even from my father, I don’t know how to counter them!” he says in a panic. I go in for the kill.
“Thanks! If you survive this next attack, maybe I can teach you.” I say as I rise into T-pose and focus all my energy on the fire quirk. It was a risk but I made a perfect fire clone of myself. Everyone was in shock, even sensei had his mouth open.
“She made a fire clone” said Yayorozu
“With the way things are turning out,” Ojiro thought out loud “Todoroki doesn’t stand a chance against her.”
“DON’T SAY THAT! What if its just for show?” said Sato seconds before things were getting ugly for their Icy boy.
“Todoroki-san, meet Flam-ita! Flam-ita, this is Todoroki-san!” I said like I would introduce 2 friends “Why don’t you go play with him Flamita? I’ll be standing here, watching.”
I make Flamita skip toward him and the class gasped that I pulled the ultimate flex on them all. Todoroki made an ice wall to bide him time to think of a plan.
“oh? Are you shy Todoroki?” I mocked “your ice can’t stop Flamita!” Flamita then melts through the wall and walked Todoroki to the edge of the boundary. He propelled himself up with his ice just before the line, foolish move. I anticipate his flight path and teleport one foot in front of him to get him in the flying La Arkangelina and stuck the landing. Upon landing I feel his body go limp and I think oh my fucking god he fuckin ded! But I felt him breathe on my neck and felt relieved, he just passed out.
“Round 9 over, Palma wins”
I look out to the class, nobody was moving or saying anything. I gotta think fast.
“um I think this boy need some healing” as I levitate him off me and to the class, hoping someone will take him to Recovery Girl. Shoji gets him but everyone else still didn’t react.
“Oh Flamita! come over here! Take a bow for your amazing debut! Until next time, sayonara” I say as my fire clone bows and fades away. I then take my bow and walk off the sparring circle. As I walk, I see Midoriya and Iida run toward me and then everything went dark and cold.
Did I just pass out?
I wake up to the sound of a menacing Russian accent and the sound of shoes aggressively squeaking on tile. No doubt in my mind it was Mimi and Jin fighting somebody off, but who?
“WHAT PART OF DON’T LOOK AT HER DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND WALKING BROCCOLI!”
“YEA! Don’t mess with us! We got the power of GOD AND ANIME on our side!” said Jin as he was praising the lord.
“Jin? Mimi? is that you?”
“She has R I S E N!” they said in unison as they run toward my cot. I was in the nurse’s office. Guess I did pass out...
“Oh thank the stars you’re ok Palma-san!” said Iida
“THATS HIM! THATS THE GUY THAT DRAGGED ME DOWN THE HALL!”
“what-”
“You have some nerve to show your glasses wearing ass around us!”
“yee yee bucko, prepare to get” Jin said as he set up the perfect dab “fucko’d!”
Midoriya and Iida just stood and watched the 3 of us dab and whip in unison, wondering where Recovery Girl was to stop this chaos.
“Hello~ Is Itati awake?” said Midnight as she popped her head in to all the chaos.
Mimi stops and elbows Jin to stop too.
“Yea I’m up and well”
“Oh good!” she said relieved and walked in with a file under her arm and a large tupperware container in her hands. “I was going to give you this after school for a job well done on the ranking but looks like you might need this now.” She opens the container and inside was perfectly cut cubes of watermelon! I haven’t have any in months!
“Oh my goodness! how did you know I liked watermelon?”
“Well in your health and wellness file, your mother attached some pictures of you doing things that make you happy. One of them is a picture of you as a child eating a slice of watermelon half your size!” she gushed as she sat next to the cot and everyone gathered around. “here, take a look”
I open the file and I see a bunch of pictures I haven’t seen in ages! Theres a picture of me as a toddler, petting rabbits at the park. Another one where my family went to the beach and my sister was throwing 8 year old me into the water. Then I saw a picture of me spoon feeding yogurt to my shitzu Mr. Muffins, I remember that this was taken the summer before I entered high school. I miss my sweet lil muffin.
“wow Palma-san! You do have a big family, you look so much like your mother.” said Midoriya looking at my picture when I was 10, helping my mom cook Christmas dinner.
“you clearly came from a very loved household, my mother wouldn’t do this for me!” said Iida looking at the rare photo of my siblings and I getting along, we were sitting on the grass, drinking out of cracked coconuts.
I start eating the watermelon, I was REALLY hungry and was feeling so touched that everyone was looking through my photos. It’s like taking a peek at all the peaceful moments of my life without having to explain it. Recovery Girl came in eventually and said that I exhausted myself using my copy quirk. I was prescribed 3 days of rest, no quirk using or endurance training. Everyone that came to visit parted ways and I was released a bit before my last class of the day. As I get up, I see that Todoroki was in the cot behind the curtain, he was awake and drinking water.
“oh hi, are you doing ok?”
“Palma-san, I am thank you” he said a bit startled. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“When sensei said to use your 2nd quirk and he stopped you from saying something, what were you going to say?”
“I was going to say that I don’t want to, doing my copy quirk makes me look too over powered.” I said with a hint of sadness “I didn’t want the class to not like me because I was too powerful or be scared of what I might do next!”
“That’s what I admire about you” said Todoroki “you are genuinely kind and caring but strong and calculating.”
“oh thank you Todoroki-san, for your kind words”
“you can call me Shouto”
“oh alright then, you can call me Itati”
“can I call you Itati-senpai?”
“eww gross Shouto-san, what do I look like? a fuckin shonen manga?!”
“Ok ok! I pushed it a bit sorry” he said chuckling a bit “see you in class tomorrow.”
“see you then! bye.”
-the next day, in the hero wing, on the way to class-
“Thanks for escorting me to my class guys”
“No problem! we gotta stick together”
“yee, these heroes better step off when they see these sick moves”
We get to room 1-A and I turn to say see you later but Mimi tosses me over her shoulder and Jin entered the room.
“LISTEN UP YOU WANNABE HEROES! HURT OR MAKE OUR BABYGIRL CRY, WE WON’T HESITATE TO WHOOP YA ASS IN THE TRASH!” Jin said as Mimi walked in with me on her shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes. Everyone was confused on why and who are these kids? Mimi walks to my desk and lifts me off her by gripping my ribcage.
“ok have a good class session Ita, remember, we love you~”
“guys! you’re embarrassing me in front of people I won against, love you too tho”
They both portal out before Aizawa walked in. I sat down and I was taking my stuff out to take notes and I didn’t notice Kaminari getting up and putting an iced coffee on my desk. I look up and see him being goofy.
“Here’s a coffee as promised, the girl at the shop said you might like this, no idea whats the name of it but the girl was pretty cute”
“Oh cool, did you get her number?” I said as I took a sip, it was good but the coconut milk was a bit heavy handed.
He thought about it and exclaimed “dang it! I didn’t! now I feel dumb!”
“Hey Palma-san,”said Midoriya from his desk “can you teach me how to do that finishing move you did on Todoroki-kun?”
“YEAH! I’ve never heard of lucha libre fighting before!” Tokoyami butted in, “you make it look so powerful yet entertaining to look at”
“What other moves do you know? Who taught you? Your copy quirk is really powerful! How long did it take you to master your double powers? Come sit with us at lunch today! Can you teach me how to make those delicious cookies you gave us? Can you send me your hypebeast playlist?” I got so many questions that I lost track on who asked what. But I was happy because they want to include me in their circle, even after what I did to their classmates.
“ok everyone settle down, I have the grades for the one on one’s from yesterday. Since some you did more than one spar. I posted your best fight”
I look at the overhead, I got a 20 out of 15 for my best fight, the one with Todoroki.
“As you can see, Miss Palma got extra points for showmanship, confidence and technique” He said panning to me “But thats what I expect from one of the prodigies in the Intelligence Program.”
“oh thank you sensei! You give me too much praise!”
“YOU’RE IN SECRET SERVICE?!” yelled Kirishima “and those other two that escorted you in, are your classmates, aren’t they?”
“ummm yea why does that matter?”
“Kirishima, now is not the time to ask her questions. Sit down before I send you to the principals office”
I start sweating, everyone started to like me just a moment ago. Everything calmed down and class resumed as usual. I start packing to head out and I hear running from outside the classroom. Mimi and Jin rush in.
“We came as fast as we could to escort you to lunch!”
“I made tamago zushi~”
“OH HELL YEA!” I holler at the idea of having that good good sweet egg.
“wait Palma-san,” said Kirishima as he grabbed my shoulder “sorry for my out burst earlier, I didn’t know you were, one of those students.”
“its alright, I didn’t share with yall what program I was in so its a shock to hear”
Kirishima wasn’t good at hiding his true emotions, I could tell he didn’t tell me sorry because he was sorry. He told me sorry because he didn’t trust me and didn’t want to seem like THAT guy. I don’t blame him.
“well see you tomorrow!”
“yeah, see ya!”
As I walk with Mimi and Jin, I think about what going to happen next now that everyone in class knows. Who’s going to confront me next? Who’s going to stick by me regardless? Things just got spicy when I ordered semi-sweet. Oof.
-End Chapter 2-
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Maybe I'm wrong (I'm willing to admit this could be denial) but I still think that SciTwi's thing with Timber is a phase. Why would they still have Sunset obviously still into SciTwi (blushing at SciTwi when she's not looking) if they are trying to tell us there's no hope? I mean, maybe they're just going to have Sunset's feeling go unrequited. But their relationship is at the centre of the story. I want to think the staff will eventually make their relationship as canon as they possibly can.
I really, really, REALLY want them to go that route. Like, a whole lot. SO, UNBELIEVABLY MUCH. THEY’RE MY FAVOURITE SHIP, I WOULD DIE HAPPY IF THEY MADE THEM A THING CANONICALLY. PLEASE.
… I just feel like the worst case scenario is more likely.
It’s one of those ‘hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst’ situations, because like you said, at this point you and I could just be in denial.
See, I feel like the worst case is Timber sticks around, and not only do Flash and Sunset start over as friends, they discover chemistry. Sunset never really liked him the first time, but if they had to, they’d probably explain it away by saying she wasn’t focused on him at the time or some bullshit.
That’s the darkest timeline, if you will.
Note: From here, I dive into fanfic territory and I couldn’t stop myself. You’ve been warned
Although, you’re kinda right about that blush.
See, Twilight blushing in this situation makes sense, she’s the one being teased. But, look, if they wanted Sunset to be the type who’s blushing when the subject of love is brought up, they were inconsistent about it.
Earlier in the movie, Sunset teases her about Timber without batting a damn eye. So, the easy explanation for that blush is out.
I really do feel like I’m fishing here (because like I said in another ask, my favourite ships becoming canon is like the one thing I’m pessimistic about), but if you want some optimism: Sunset spends the whole movie protecting Twilight, and at the end of it she blushes when Twilight does. If it’s intentional, I call that good character development. Subtle, too, she doesn’t go from ‘I like her as a friend’ to ‘OOOH MY GORSH I’M IN LURVE WITH HER’ in one summer (this doesn’t even seem to be the full summer, more like a week or two, maybe three).
I would applaud and throw money at them if they started to go down that route. Seriously. So much applause and money.
Like, from here, they’d probably go the Unrequited Love route for a while. It kinda fits with the whole using high school movie troupes but with a magical twist thing the EQG movies like to do, and you could do it in one of the shorts, actually.
Like, to continue from the blush, have Sunset start to develop a legit crush on her. We know for a damn fact Sunset wouldn’t say or do anything to sabotage Twilight’s relationship, so using the unrequited love troupe would actually work for these characters.
Have Twi being happy with Timber, and Sunset realize she’s not as happy supporting them as she thought she’d be. Sure, it’s a cliche, but execution is where it counts because they’ve already established that Sunset likes Timber as a person, thinks he ‘seems like a pretty cool guy,’ so we already have the setup in place for her to realize it’s not Timber she doesn’t like about this whole situation.
If one of the shorts is about summer love (because they all seem to take place in summer time, following camp Everfree), then Twi would get to have her mall date with Timber, yet we focus on Sunset and all these weird feelings she suddenly has to hide, and the plot writes itself.
After the 3 shorts, we go to EQG 5, which I guess is next year sometime (for those who haven’t heard, another movie was confirmed a few days ago), and this is where we are with the plot:
It’s the start of their last year together
Sunset just kinda realized Crap, I might have feelings for her, but has decided to let them be happy
The portal is breaking open, releasing CRAZY magic into this world (potentially crazy creatures, as well, who knows)
Twilight and Timber have had time to see what a relationship together would actually be like (for better or worse)
Twilight and Sunset have fun together organizing their team/friends to fix the first wave of haywire magic
And since I’m basically brainstorming a fanficy version of what’s going to happen, might as well keep going (I HAVE ZERO SELF-RESTRAINT).
The girls would confidently try to deal with the magic and keep it contained to just the school. On the second wave/threat (Could be more specific than that), they fail, or can tell that even if they got some of it, more is on the loose.
Meanwhile: Timber really likes Twilight, but after nearly losing his sister to magic like this, dealing with more of it is kinda really hard for him. Even PTSD hard, if you want to go that far with it again. To the point that even though he really admires her for embracing the responsibility, he would be really scared to have to deal with it himself again and again and/or really worried for Twi. He puts on a brave face for the moment, but Twi can tell something is wrong. He was fine when it was her magic (from the pendant), but he’s kinda freaking out here.
This compliments what’s going on with Sunset, whose feeling kinda shitty, because like she said in Friendship Games, magic started coming through to this world mostly because of her. Crazy magical adventures are her thing, but she doesn’t want to endanger her friends if she doesn’t have to.
Anyway, point is, these plots both come to a head.
Timber breaks up with Twilight because he knows she’s always going to be a hero against evil magic, and she should be because she’s awesome at it, but it’s too much for his trauma. Twilight’s a bit broken up about, but accepts it. Note: this happens before the prom, so Timber apologizes extra for that, but Twilight says she’ll have fun with the girls, anyway.
Some time before this: Sunset realizes a solution to all this is to shut down the portal, permanently. No more magic.
This is where we kinda see the resurgence of that deleted plot-line from Friendship Games. Sunset realizes how much she loves crazy magical adventures, and that in this world, she has her friends, but ultimately… no purpose. Seems harsh, but she knows her cutie mark has to do with magic, so if that’s not here, what’s she going to do with the rest of her life (by the way, early on in the movie the girls have a light-hearted conversation about what they’re going to do after graduation, and Sunset’s answer was that she’d go wherever the magic was and study it; that’s why she’s really thinking about the future).
What makes matters worse is that she kinda hates herself a little for not being able to be happy for Twilight and Timber. If they have a future together in this world, she’s worried that’s going to be hard for her to watch, and hates that she can’t just support them genuinely anymore.
So, Sunset’s solution to the broken portal can come in a few variations at this point (I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVEN’T STOPPED WRITING THIS ASK).
The Saddest/Most Angsty One is that before she closes the portal (probably on prom night, because OF COURSE THE CLIMAX WOULD BE ON PROM NIGHT IT’S EQUESTRIA GIRLS, and the romance plotline is super important to this hypothetical movie), she says goodbye.
Because, of course, the only way she knows how to close down the portal is by being on the other side and having magic. She could write to Princess Twilight and have her do it, but that would trap her in the human world.
(Princess Twilight might’ve always been writing to her throughout this whole thing, trying to figure out what’s going wrong, since she’s on the other side and might be seeing this stuff go down. They might come to this conclusion together)
So that gives Sunset a choice. If she stays in the human world forever, she’d have her friends, and for the majority of the movie she really thought that’d be enough, but with the Mane 5 going off to do their own things, separating but ultimately coming to the happy conclusion that they’re still going to be super close, they just have to live their own lives—she eventually comes to the conclusion that her friendships taught her a lot, and she’ll never forget them, but she needs to leave them behind if she wants to be happy and have purpose. She needs to live her own life, too. She can make new friends in Equestria…
So, Sunset’s saying goodbye.
How much time the others have to respond is debatable. Like, she could tell them to their faces, or over her shoulder to them as the portal is breaking further and further open in front of them, or to the school, while they’re inside having fun at prom (and on the lookout inside the prom for more magical forces).
I mean, no matter what, they’re devastated, especially Twilight, who actually just spent the prom with Sunset guarding against magic and was going to tell her what happened with Timber (it might be too convenient to say she was interrupted by the portal breaking down, but whatever, this is literally a fanfiction version of a movie that hasn’t come out yet, sue me).
And they’re crying when Twilight puts her hand on where the portal used to be and they realize it’s gone for good.
The magic’s gone from their world. Everyone’s safe. Sunset’s gone for good.
If they were mean, they’d leave EQG 5 there.
… But since you know they’re not:
Sunset gets to Equestria, home for the first time in years. Probably reunites with Celestia (FINALLY) and Celestia says she’s sorry, that she’s knows what it’s like to let someone you care about live worlds away for their own good. And Sunset admits that it’s not just for their good. It’s for hers.
She feels selfish leaving them behind like that, but had to to be happy.
Celestia notices that she’s certainly not happy right now. Sunset argues the whole thing about her life’s purpose, her cutie mark, and that even if she and Princess Twilight could get the portal stable again, magic would still occasionally come through, so that world without magic being better off without her.
Celestia argues that her friends would not be better off without Sunset. That what’s best for that world is to have that group of true friends there to contain the magic and defend them from it with a magic of their own. A more powerful magic than any that could ever threaten that world from Equestria. And what’s best for Sunset is to give her friends the choice to stand with her in that fight, and search for knowledge, just like they’ve chosen to time and again.
Also, Momlestia Celestia encourages her to get the girl if that relationship with Timber ends.
So, then we cut back to the girls heartbroken on the steps of Canterlot High, and Twilight kinda lets it slip that she’d maybe even started to like like Sunset since senior year started, but that it’s too late now.
Enter Sunset. Because wow, this is literal fanfcition at this point.
And with Sunset, all the magic. The portal goes right back to its broken, probably enlarged state because they haven’t figured out how to fix it yet, but it doesn’t even FUCKING matter—can you even imagine how relieved they’d all be?
The magic is still escaping behind Sunset, with her she’s literally brought all kinds of dangerous magic, but she’s basically tackled by the six of them and they tell her how much they love and need her, before she and Twilight get to speak, and the girls (after a comedic moment where they just don’t move, like ready to watch them have this talk) run off to try to get a headstart on all this rogue magic.
Essentially, Sunset says she’s sorry she brought all this into Twilight’s life. All this—gesturing to the broken portal and magic and whatnot—is her. It’s just her thing.
And Twilight says that given the choice between a normal life without magic with Timber, and Sunset and… well, all this, she’d choose her.
And for the first time in the whole EQG series, Twilight goes for a kiss and it doesn’t get interrupted.
And, basically, they work together to get the magic under wraps and find a way to stabilize the portal so it’s not leaking anything too dangerous. The girls get to graduate, probably sing a song because of course, and after graduation (where everybody from the previous movies is in the audience), Timber comes up to them. He said he’s sorry things turned out the way they did, but he’s really, really happy for them. Sunset asks if he’s happy enough to try being friends, and Timber totally accepts. Twi and Timber are bros now. It’s great.
Oh, and punchline to the Flash storyline would be: he sees that Sunset is super gay for Twilight and he’s like, damn. Think I’m gonna take a break from dating for a while, and the character who was solely made to be a love interest is happy to be single, everybody.
So, now the girls are off to college and whatnot, but somehow they figure they’ll get to see each other pretty frequently.
You can enter the College years of EQG at that point if you want, I’m just saying Twilight and Sunset are happy together and I can’t believe I wrote this entire fucking thing.
I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen, but until proven otherwise, that’s what I’m gonna think.
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